#daemon fluff
Text
Capital (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)
Summary: You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.
Warnings: Mature language, sexual thoughts, canon typical violence.
Requested: Yes! But since I am particular about my aesthetic, I didn't answer there. Jealousy + arranged marriage. Brought to you by the seven deadly sins.
Gluttony /ˈɡlʌtəni/
the habit of eating and drinking too much.
Claw Island is as good as getting vanished from the court. You know it. Your Lord husband knows it. Even the tenants know it. Why else would the King order your marriage to Daemon Targaryen?
It was not as much of a punishment as the King had hoped. The Celtigars are a prestigious family, one of the few left with Valyrian blood. While not ones to flaunt their riches or seek for great power, you led a luxurious lifestyle.
The finest wines. Myrish rugs. The newest books. And of course, the riches from the surrounding sea. Beautiful pearls, a fleet that, while small, sailed with speed. The best foods.
The small island was your perfect little world, sequestered away from the troubles of the mainland. What else could a person long for, when they lived in a paradise? Claw Island had it all. Miles and miles of tempestuous sea, soft sands and gorgeous wildlife not seen anywhere else. Humble, but good people. Natural riches enough to last a lifetime.
But as of late, your breathtaking lands did nothing to bring you peace. Sometimes, in truth, as you walked along the shoreline, you wished for a tremendous sea wave to swallow you whole.
It would be better than this. Among the crabs, the sea life and wreckage of old ships, you would feel at ease. At home, even. And finally, finally untroubled. But things were not as you wanted them to be. With your Lord Father at court, someone had to mind the island. And no one knew the lands as you did.
You shuddered to think of something happening to you. In that case, the island, and its people, would go to your husband. Considering how much he hated it here, Prince Daemon would make a poor ruler.
You glare. He glares right back. Remembering your manners, you serve him a cut of spider crab seared in butter. The meal is rich and decadent, a show of the best Claw Island has to offer.
“Crab, Lady Wife?” Daemon raises both eyebrows. “Again?”
“What else does the Prince wish to eat?” You do your best effort at keeping your tone even. You try hard to not raise your voice at him, remembering the rumors about what happened to his last wife. So far, it seems to be working. Despite being older than you, the man behaves as a child. You have found he benefits from being managed as one, too.
Ever since you got married, he has been desperately trying to rile you up. The Prince always seemed to deflate when you refused to engage. He was clearly itching for a fight, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“You seem too willing to indulge in cannibalism for my tastes.” Daemon, in what he surely believed to be the absolute demonstration of cutting wit, smirks. You smile at him, sedate. You have heard enough remarks about crabs to last a lifetime. “It’s worrying.”
You could answer him. Perhaps make a mockery of his inability to perform in bed and the behavior of the female praying mantis. You do not. Instead, you force yourself to give him a tight smile.
“Don’t worry. I will ask the servants to bring you fish.” You took your napkin out of your lap and placed it on the table. Dutifully, you rang the bell to call for a servant.
“Again?” Daemon complained, sounding much like a petulant child. You smiled and went back to your seat. Your crab was getting cold, and it would most likely be by the time your husband’s fish was served. But good manners dictated you could not start eating without him. You resigned yourself to another night of eating a cold dinner.
“You should write to the King, my Prince. I would serve you venison, were it not for the fact that your dragon has nearly extincted the population here.” While you were by no means poor, feeding a dragon was an expense you didn’t care for, especially one so picky as Daemon’s was showing to be.
While a dragon was a marvelous creature, and having one guarding your lands was a great perk, it was also hard. Caraxes ate the same as five grown men in a day, if not more. He didn’t eat just anything you served him, either. Much like his owner, he was picky. He had come with dragon keepers, and needed to be built a shelter.
You had hoped that his serpentine appearance would mean that he would eat a lot in one sitting, then hibernate, but no such luck. Your island couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard you tried. Animals didn’t reproduce at the pace required.
“Of course, my Lady. Of course.” Daemon says, in a dismissive tone. It’s then, when a servant comes in with his fish.
Your crab is cold. Again. Daemon is not pleased with the fish, but seems wary of extending dinner even more. For once, he doesn’t complain.
Dinner is eaten silently. In your head, you make plans for tomorrow's meals. Perhaps oysters, served cold, will withstand the wait better. You finish dinner and settle down to read some before bed.
When the time comes for it, you close your book. Daemon departs with a cold kiss to your cheek. You go to your bed, just as cold and empty as the kiss was, and fall asleep.
It’s around the witch's hour when he comes back to you, getting into the bed next to you. He stinks of cheap perfumes and oils. As he pulls you closer, to be able to hide his face on your neck, you can feel the smell of sex and alcohol induced sweat. It comes from the clothes Daemon hasn’t even bothered to shed before getting in bed with you.
You don’t like him drunk. He gets sloppy. You do better when he hides his indiscretions, the proofs of your failure as a woman. As a wife. He seeks his pleasure from other bodies, never yours. With you, he is unable to perform to completion.
Perhaps the same happens to him with others, on nights like these. That thought soothes you, and it’s the only reason why you allow Daemon to seek comfort in your arms. Sometimes, he has nightmares. It’s expected then, too, that you are the one to soothe him back to sleep.
Shifting in his grip, you rub his back, gently. You card your other hand through the matted strands of blonde hair, as a mother would do to his child. In many ways, you guess he is one. You pity him, your husband. A man with a void so deep, not even all the vices in the world could fill it.
You are unable to fall back asleep. You lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling. When you hear the rooster’s first crow, you roll out of bed. Sleep is not coming for you. Daemon, unperturbed in his slumber, only sprawls more. You tuck him in.
When you get to your vanity, you catch the servants leaving the correspondence for the day on it. She giggles when you point at the bed and the mess of clothes, gesturing for silence. It makes you feel better, that they think your husband comes from the pleasure houses straight into your arms for more than just cuddles.
One of the letters catches your eye. It’s written in the strange alphabet used for High Valyrian, bearing both the royal seal and the King’s name. You don’t mean to pry. In fact, you open it because you are worried your husband has upset his brother even more.
Marriage is like being tied to a ship. When the tides are good and the ship strong, you soar above the sea. But no one wants to be tied to a sinking ship. It’s that fear what leads you to heating a knife on your candle’s flame and lifting the seal.
You read as you brush your hair, unrushed. You know Daemon won’t be awake for at least six more hours. But the more you advance, skipping polite greeting, the more your stomach sinks, and you jump from sentence to sentence.
“And while I understand your dislike of Claw Island, it is a less harsh punishment than you deserve. Much you complained of wanting a Valyrian bride, and now the opportunity presents itself, ripe for the taking. Yet, you do not seem keen on it. Is it, again, the lack of a throne you find off-putting? Perhaps, the lack of a child bride you can manipulate? Your Lady Wife might not have purple eyes or silver hair, as you mention, but she is a maiden in the bloom of youth. Tales of her beauty have graced the court, shared among the eager mouths of her family and previous suitors. Both Lord Velaryon and Lord Mooton agree that the woman is a delight, well-mannered and easy on the eyes. She has impeccable breeding and education. I will not grant you the annulment. I will not allow you to go back to your whore.”
There is a coppery taste in your mouth. Blood, you realize. From biting your tongue so hard to avoid letting out a scream of rage. It feels like being stabbed, countless times. In your back, and in your heart. Betrayal and deep, hurtful sorrow.
What have you done to deserve this? To be blindsided so? You have stood firm through all the humiliations your husband puts you through. Never once reproaching the way he goes out after dinner and does not come back until sunrise. Never complaining of his audacity to search comfort in your arms when he is drunk and stinking of whores. Never once raising your voice at the insults to your people, your home, your family.
But for Daemon Targaryen, it wasn’t enough. You would never be enough. Childishly, when you had first heard of your betrothal to him, you had hoped for companionship, if not love. At least, you thought, you would have a friend. But you hadn’t been enough of a woman to keep him in your bed, you had not been enough of the blood of Old Valyria for him to give you children, and you had not been enough for him to stay married to you.
He took from you, and took from your island and from your family, and not once was he satisfied. Not once, he was sated. And now, Daemon has done the unspeakable. Not satisfied with making a mockery out of you, with his constant unfaithfulness, he seeks to ruin you further. It’s only King Viserys who protects you and your family from further embarrassment.
You have underestimated him, pitying him while he planned your demise. The ruin of your house. You have been sharing your bed with the enemy. The thought frightens you and fills you with anger at equal parts. What will happen, when the King dies and the awful Princess with whom your husband was so taken ascends? Will you be put to the sword, accused of an imaginary crime to get you out of the way? Treason, perhaps? Hands shaking in anger, you fold the letter and reseal it as carefully as you can.
That is the day you decide you will retreat into your shell, like any good crab. You will close yourself over, put up walls and keep him as far away as you can. And you will wait for the day to stab at his heels until his physique reflects exactly the useless kind of man he is inside.
One day, this man might kill you. You will have to make sure he does not get away with it.
Envy /ˈenvi/
the feeling of wanting to be in the same situation as somebody else; the feeling of wanting something that somebody else has.
It’s not often you are summoned to the court. But your father is about to be named Keeper of the Keys, a prestigious position often held by members of your house before being promoted to Master of Coin. The implication is clear. Soon, another Celtigar will be handling the finances of the Kingdom. It’s a ploy, to intertwine you further with the Royal Family. As soon as King Viserys dies, it will be your father who serves on Princess Rhaenyra’s council.
Hence, the need for a celebration. Traveling from Claw Island to King’s Landing is exhausting, especially considering that you do the journey by ship while your husband does so in his dragon. He seems overjoyed about it, but you can only think of how much the separate travel is costing your purses.
Daemon arrives early, because of course he does. Meanwhile, you spend your time preparing to put on the play of your life. You must be the most dutiful wife in the Seven Kingdoms, or else he might find a reason to get rid of you. Setting apart your most fashionable dresses, preparing gifts for the King and Queen and otherwise looking radiant.
Knowing Daemon, he is already whispering poison in his brother’s ear. You need to dazzle the King and the whole court, convince them you are not only an adequate wife but a perfect one. No stain must be perceived in your reputation.
You arrive punctually, just in time to prepare for the feast. It’s inside the Hall where you meet Daemon, and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Chaste, but affectionate, performed under the King’s approving look. You are radiant in your house’s colors, with subtle references to Targaryen’s ones.
The feast is torture. Viserys, Daemon and Rhaenyra are all seated at the same table. They get along wondrously, while you, Queen Alicent and Ser Laenor are ignored despite being next to them.
The only thing that calms your heart is watching your father, sitting at the table of the Master of Coin.
“My Queen.” You say to her, hoping to curry favor. The Gods knew you needed as many allies as you could. “I brought you this.”
You take out a beautifully engraved rendition of the Prayers Book. It’s a gorgeous edition, with a gold finish. You hope that at least, if she doesn’t like it, she would think it is a gift to the babe she carries. It’s a thoughtful gift, the kind of thing you excel at.
“Oh, Lady Targaryen!” The Queen says, and takes it, admiring it in the light. Fortunately, she seems truly charmed by it. “It is the most wonderful thing!”
“I have one myself.” You tell her, as if you had not purchased it for exactly this moment. “When I heard you were from Oldtown, I couldn’t think of a better thing to bring.”
“It’s lovely.” Alicent says, as your husbands ignore both of you. Viserys and Daemon are too busy having their fun to care about what women are doing. “Will you join me in prayer tomorrow?”
“I would be delighted to.” It’s the first genuine smile you wear since your arrival. And it’s the first time that someone from the royal family smiles back.
You do attempts towards Rhaenyra and Laenor. They both ignore you, and so, you decide to keep strictly to conversing with Alicent. You decide to leave Viserys out of it, despite your gratitude to him because you would rather not look like much of a sycophant.
Your happiness at finally making a friend between your in-laws makes you oblivious to Daemon’s silence. During the whole dinner, he barely taunts you. None of the crab-based insults he so favors are present, either. That should have warned you. If you have learned something about your husband is that there is never a time when he is quiet.
He bides his time. The desserts are already served when Daemon delivers his greatest insult up to date. Some couples are even swaying to the rhythm of the music already, no matter if the tables have yet to be cleared.
“I wish to dance, I think.” Daemon says, getting up from his seat. You start to get up too, knowing you cannot refuse him, but he turns towards Rhaenyra. “A dance, niece?”
Rhaenyra preens under the attention and takes his hand. For a second, you stay frozen, hand falling uselessly by your side just when you were about to reach for him. You feel like you are being stabbed. Again.
The humiliation is so great you wish for some great disaster, perhaps one of the couples bumping against a table and overturning it, just to get the attention away from you. Half the hall has now seen you get rejected by your husband. In a celebration meant to honor your father, nonetheless.
You struggle to keep your face emotionless, curved into a polite little smile. You have made a fool of yourself. Hot tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill.
Noticing your despair, Alicent places a hand on your arm, softly.
“Thank you, Lady Targaryen.” She exclaims, loudly. “With the babe getting bigger and bigger every day, I find it harder to stand. You are very thoughtful.”
Her rescue, as she stands and walks down the dais, helps you save face. Your smile turns more genuine.
“It’s but good breeding, my Queen.” You answer, just as loud. “What kind of noble could see a Lady of your station and not aid her?”
Alicent smiles, and she cradles her stomach.
“Indeed. Only a savage, I would think.” Her glance at her own husband is unmistakable. But Viserys is too busy watching Rhaenyra and Daemon dance to help his pregnant wife. His eyes never leave his brother and daughter, his expression twisted into one of annoyance.
Alicent makes her way towards a table where a few knights sit. Most of them are from Oldtown, and you cannot help but smile at her doing the rounds her husband so neglects. But her rescue, and quick exit, leave you in an uncomfortable position. King Viserys and Ser Laenor are engaged in conversation, including you only when they remember your presence, which means once every half an hour.
Without Queen Alicent, you have no conversation partner. The only thing you can do is watch. Daemon twirls around the room as if he were not a married man, taking every eligible bachelorette in the room for at least one dance. He is enchanting, pulling blushes left and right. He dances twice with Rhaenyra and Laena Velaryon.
You play your part to perfection. Each time he glances your way, you give him an indulgent smile or a sweet tilt of your head. Even when he dances again with Rhaenyra, your expressions don't shift. Instead, you lift your cup to them and even find it in yourself to give a small clap.
It’s torture. It’s exhausting, having to play the devoted but never jealous wife, when he is doing his best to embarrass you. Finally, the King retires, but orders that the celebrations do not stop. You consider making your way towards your father, uncaring if leaving Laenor sitting on his own is rude.
Just as you are getting up, a knight, dressed in a fine green gambeson, steps in front of you. You look up at him, wondering what he could possibly want.
His voice is soft and eloquent, with the barest hint of an accent. His voice reminds you of someone, but you cannot quite place who.
“Lady Targaryen. You look beautiful tonight.”
“Thank you.” You answer him, politely. Is he about to ask you for a dance? Is this a ploy for your husband to embarrass you further?
The knight smiles. He is tall and slender, very different from your husband, yet handsome just the same.
“If I had a wife as pretty as you, she wouldn’t be sitting here.” He compliments, and startles a laugh out of you. It has been months since the last time a man complimented you so. Before marrying, you had quite the suitors, but no one dared practice courtly love with the Rogue Prince’s wife. And your husband never once spoke to you kindly.
It’s a thrill, to feel wanted and appreciated again. You love having his eyes on you. It fills you with a forgotten kind of confidence. As the daughter of the man whose star in court is rising, as a beautiful woman and as the wife of a Prince, you deserve to be admired. It’s not your fault your husband can’t see it, you are desirable. People should be currying for your favor. You shouldn’t be begging for the scraps of a man whose only interest is his niece.
“Would she be on the dance floor?” You tease the knight, falling back into the practiced flirtations that had made you so popular before. You feel like you are glowing again.
The knight shakes his head, a hint of mischief appearing in his brown eyes.
“I would forbid her from leaving my chambers.”
At that, you laugh again, blushing. Despite how charming he is, you are still a married woman. You cannot give anyone reason to suspect or judge you, else Daemon might have basis to rid himself of you.
“I am not your wife.” You say, politely. The knight gasps, as if wounded, making you laugh again. You do not realize someone is glaring daggers at you, entranced as you are by him. “But perhaps a dance might suffice?”
The knight gives you a cheeky grin. He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, gently.
As he leads you towards the dance floor, you barely notice Daemon looking disgruntled on the edge of it. You look over and see Rhenyra dancing with some tall and broad knight. He is probably jealous of him.
“You must give me your favor, for tomorrow's tournament. We are, after all, celebrating your family.” The knight says, making you focus back on him. His eyes are brown and kind, so soft. They remind you of someone, but once again, you can’t tell who.
“Ah, I see you are a tough negotiator.” You tease, your tone turning slightly more girlish. This time, it is the knight who laughs.
“What can I say? It’s in my blood.” The man winks, as he starts to twirl you around.
“I think, my lord, you have yourself a deal.” You grin.
It’s only when a Hightower knight approaches the stands the next day and offers you his lanze, you realize the mistake you have made.
Wrath /ræθ/
extreme anger.
Daemon can’t believe his ears. Out of nowhere, a sweet sound reaches him. It’s the sound of a Lady’s laughter, but something about it makes him turn his head.
Perhaps, the fact that the sound has managed to catch his attention at all, despite the loud music, chatter and other laughs. Perhaps it is that the sound is familiar to him. He doesn’t know what it is, but as the piece finishes, he steps aside and tries searching for the source.
It’s then he sees you. His wife. Glowing and laughing on that Hightower cunt’s arm. And no, it’s not Alicent he is referring to. Otto’s spawn seems to have a proclivity for you because this is the other one. The elder.
Gwayne. His hands all over you, a gentle touch to your lower back to guide you forward. And are your eyes brightening? For him? As you pass by Daemon, you barely spare him a glance. He manages to hear a piece of the conversation.
“Your favor, for tomorrow's tournament…” The man has the gall to ask, as if he could win you the flower crown! The nerve of that Hightower pup, to think himself able to win. It’s clear he doesn’t remember the last time he faced Daemon, and while he was already planning on entering, now he knows with absolute certainty he is competing. Gwayne Hightower seems to have forgotten his lesson. He needs to remember his place.
“… Tough negotiator…” Your cheerful voice answers. Probably telling him he has to win if you do so because you are Valyrian and proud like him. Surely, the idea of getting crowned Queen of Love and Beauty appeals to you. You want a flower crown? Daemon will get you the damn thing.
When he was no more than a boy, his father used to have a particularly overzealous hound. Daemon had taken great delight in setting him free just when ladies were visiting. The dog loved sniffing beneath the ladies' skirts and humping their legs. The whole scene often ended up with Daemon getting yelled at, either by the ladies or their husbands. Now, as he looked at the proverbial dog humping his wife, Daemon understood why the ladies' husbands were so enraged.
He should cut his hands. Hightowers. No sense of shame at all, with their whorish ways. They were all the same. There went Alicent, throwing herself at Viserys when poor Aemma was not even in her pyre. There went Gwayne Hightower, placing his paws all over you and trying to charm you when Daemon was still in the room.
Couldn’t he tell you are his? It’s not that Daemon likes you, but it’s an affront to his honor. You are the wife of a Prince. The mere fact that a measly knight thought he could compare it’s outrageous. And the fact that he dared touch you! The nerve!
It’s Daemon who shares your bed, back in Claw Island. It’s Daemon you hold during the night, who pays for your silly little dresses. It’s for him you have clearly gotten all pretty today. How dare he, that Hightower fool.
He can’t have you. Gwayne Hightower is not allowed to just swoop in and try to steal his woman. You are meant to sleep by his side, be his solace. You are not the kind of woman for whom a simple knight would be enough. Just like him, you love the lush life. Could Gwayne Hightower buy you a dress like that? Could he use a dragon to protect your little island?
Daemon clutches at his cup so hard, he thinks he might bend the metal. You are his bride. He is the only one allowed to have you. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, but it doesn’t mean someone else can.
Rhaenyra approaches him again, no doubt wanting another dance. But not even her allure, which is usually so hypnotizing to him, manages to get him out of his bad mood. He hates when other people touch what is his.
Daemon decides to retire for the night, before she can reach him. He needs to think. How he longs for your shared rooms back at Claw Island. At least that way, he wouldn’t spend the night tossing and turning, wondering if the Hightower cunt escorted you back to your rooms, and if so, at which hour.
Strange, isn’t it? Such a small act can cause such a big shift in perspective. So many months, he had spent thinking of Claw Island a prison, longing to be able to come back to court. Now, he sees it as it was. A shell made to protect the most valuable pearl the sea had produced.
Had Daemon known men at court would try to steal his bride, he would have never authorized this trip. Your father could have been named Hand, but you would have never stepped foot outside your castle if Daemon had known. You would not be taken with Gwayne Hightower if he had a say in it.
He had a plan. The knight would make a fool out of himself. Daemon just had to encourage him in the right direction.
Daemon is up and about as soon as the sun is. He strolls towards the space prepared for the tournament, armor in hand. He changes slowly, giving plenty of time for Gwayne Hightower to arrive.
The foolish knight does. So do you, sitting next to your father in the stands, all pretty and glowy under the sun. You wear a red gown that compliments not only your skin tone, but pays homage to both of your houses. After all, both House Targaryen and Celtigar have red on their coats of arms. A clear show that you were meant to be his, and his alone. What would you even look like, if you were married to a Hightower fool? Red and green would look hideous in a dress.
As the highest-ranking competitor, Daemon gets to make the first challenge. To no one’s surprise, he picks Gwayne Hightower.
Daemon waits with bated breath, already seated on his horse. Does the man dare? Oh, he dares! The Hightower cunt gallops towards the stands. You don’t rise, looking towards the Hightower whore. It’s then he realizes you must be truly innocent. You are either doubting the boldness of the man or are not aware of his house, and do not recognize him under the armor.
But as Gwayne Hightower reaches the stand, Daemon close on his heels, he takes off his helmet. You gasp.
The Hightower whore makes a move as if to get up. Her brother’s voice cuts her off.
“I was hoping to get a sign of your favor, my Lady.” The man says to you, and your eyes widen. You stand, shakily. You look at Daemon, then at the cunt, then at him, then back at the cunt. Daemon arches an eyebrow, visor lifted. “For you have already struck me with your beauty, and the fact that you cannot be mine. Allow me the consolation of placing a crown of flowers upon you, and soothe my wounded heart.”
You gasp at the bold declaration. Daemon has to admit it, the cunt has some nerve. Not only has he praised you in ways that are too bold even for a couple courting, but he has slighted Daemon in front of the whole court. He has made explicit mention of your marriage to him.
Viserys eyes him warily. Daemon scoffs. The distrust is unnecessary. Why would he slaughter the Hightower now, when he has the chance to plummet him into the ground without consequences in just a few minutes? Besides, it would be in bad taste, slaughtering the brother of his sister-in-law.
Your father urges you forward, with a forced laugh. You grasp one of the favors from your box, which has only two, and place it upon the Hightower’s lanze. The pretty ribbons sway in the wind. White and red from House Celtigar proudly displayed.
Daemon clears his throat, and presents his own lanze.
“How touching.”
You ignore him, as Rhaenyra approaches. Surely thinking how he will want to wear her favor, after his rejection of last night. Curse him, Daemon thinks. He should have danced with you. If he had known that up jumped son of a rat was going to try his luck, you would have not left Daemon’s arms the whole night.
“Thank you, niece. But today I fancy wearing my wife’s favor. For it would be a shame for her to be lacking her crown once her champion undoubtedly disappoints.” He loudly declares, uncaring if his niece’s face falls. Rhaenyra will get over it. But this has turned into a manhood competition. He can’t let Gwayne Hightower, of all people, win.
“Can I do that?” Daemon hears you whisper towards Viserys and his whore. “Can I have two champions fighting each other?”
Viserys, as if this is the most fun he has had in a while, answers cheerfully.
“Of course, my dear girl.” It probably is the most fun he has had in a while. Really. It must be very amusing to him, after hearing Daemon complain about you for months. Who would have known he would have to fight some Hightower for your attention? Laughable, really. A Prince groveling. “Double the chances for you to get the flower crown, is it not?”
“Of course.” Your father jumps in, clearly trying to prevent a scandal. “Go on, love. Give the other one to your husband. If more are needed, we will get more ribbons.”
You approach Daemon, pretty little favor on your delicate hands. You smile at him, pleasantly. But this close, he can tell you are shaken by the power play happening right in front of your eyes.
Daemon lowers his lanze as you stretch to place your ribbons. You give him a confused and hurt look. He stretches closer.
“Save that one.” Daemon says, as he places a hand on your hair and pulls out the red ribbon that holds it back. “I’m your husband, I get some privileges.”
His gesture makes you laugh. Daemon feels on top of the world. He gives a superior glance to the Hightower cunt, as if saying: Look at me, I do not need half your effort and get double the results.
Daemon is not so deluded as to think the laugh is more than half nervousness and half playing the part of the dutiful wife you are, but to Daemon is still a win. He can see why the other lords want you. With your hair loose, smiling and with your skin glowing from the sun, you are actually quite pretty.
He ties the ribbon around the pommel of the lanze.
“A kiss, for good luck?” Daemon knows he is pushing, but cannot help but be smug. His pretty wife gave him her hair ribbon to tie around his chosen weapon, for all the court to see. Smugness radiates out of his pores.
Without any expectation, the sweet peck you give him is even more of a delight. Even more sweet is the disgruntled look on Gwayne Hightower's face.
Safe to say, the man gets unseated so fast, it has to be the quickest defeat ever registered. The crunch he makes as he falls from his horse it’s the most satisfying sound Daemon has ever heard. The crowd gasps and cheers. The man does not get up.
That will teach him, he decides. Gwayne Higtwoer will never again even look your way. Daemon turns his horse back around, ready to face his next opponent, but it’s stopped by the pages.
“Ser Gwayne Hightower has requested to continue with the sword.” At that, his blood boils. He nearly jumps off his horse, discarding the lanze and unsheathing Dark Sister.
“What will it be, boy? First blood?” He saunters towards the man, and the sight of him this close only serves to anger him more. He shares Otto’s slender build, tall and slight. In Hightower armor, he even looks like him. Daemon is going to enjoy this.
“Why stop there?” The knight asks, hatefully. “Until one of us yields.”
“As you wish.” Daemon charges, forgoing his shield. He is just too angered for politeness. This is not jousting anymore, it’s his hate for Higtowers, and the fact that this man has tried to take something that’s his. He should have never looked your way. Never. And if it’s up to Daemon, perhaps he will leave the arena without the ability to repeat the feat.
The fight is quick and dirty, but even when he has disarmed and cornered him, Gwayne Higtower refuses to yield.
“What are you..?” Daemon asks, utterly confused because the little savage is grabbing Dark Sister with gauntled hands and pulling.
“Just as marriage is not an excuse for not loving…” He grins, teeth bared in a feral little grin, and Daemon lets go of his sword in surprise at the boldness of the fool. “No weapon is no excuse for yielding.”
He loses it, then. Later, he will only remember red. Daemon throws himself at him and starts punching him, until the asshole goes limp on his arms and has to be pulled away from him.
Only the fact that the Hightower fought back is what allows him to keep participating in the tournament, instead of being exiled again. The split lip and bleeding eyebrow do serve to build a case in his favor.
He wins the tournament without any opposition. With bloody hands, he places the flower crown on your head. Your horrified look is not as satisfactory as he would have thought.
Pride /praɪd/
the feeling that you are better or more important than other people.
Daemon manages to get a hold of you before you vacate the stands. You are trying to avoid the crowds, waiting patiently in your seat. He doesn’t allow it, urging you towards his chambers with a firm grip on your wrist.
Some other ladies titter and giggle, pointing towards the two of you. No doubt, they think he is about to ravish you. They are not wrong.
It’s not often Daemon feels desire for you. In truth, while you have a pretty mouth and a soft body, you do little for him. But today, you are enchanting. The flower crown still sits atop of your windswept hair, making you look like a forest nymph. There are a few red stains along your temple, left there by Daemon’s hands when he placed the crown on top of your hair.
Never has there been a woman more deserving of the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. As you walk with him down the halls, he feels a smug sort of satisfaction. Here is the woman half the court wants, Daemon wants to scream. Here is my wife.
The feeling is not unfamiliar to him, but it is in relation to you. His possessive nature so far has only extended towards members of his house. The lust is new, too. Daemon has experimented it many times, but never towards whom he should.
As soon the door closes after you, he kisses you forcefully, only for you to shove him away.
“What are you doing?” You ask, as you spit out some of his blood. You are remarkably strong, having been able to push him while still in armor. But what shocks him the most is the fact that you did it at all. Months of marriage and you have done nothing but smile, regardless of what Daemon does.
“Shh, Lady Wife. Nothing unusual, I assure you.” He pulls you back in, kissing along your neck. This time, you push him even harder.
Daemon stumbles and blinks, hard. Are you rejecting him? He sits down on the bed and takes off his helmet. He has beaten the Hightower fool half to death and won you the silly flower crown. Why would you reject him?
“You prefer him, don't you?” That has to be the answer, surely. You must be having an affair with the cunt. Why else would you reject him? It’s not allowed. While Daemon is not particularly keen on forcing you, you are his wife. He has a right to your body, and you shouldn’t deny him. You know it. Never before have you refused him, due to the same reason. So this must be something else.
“What nonsense are you on, now?” You barely lift your eyes from your work, busy with pouring some water in a bowl and taking out clean linens. Efficiently, as if a seasoned healer, and not a soft lady from Claw Island, you rip them apart.
“Don’t play daft, wife.” Daemon reproaches, scowling. Your innocent act is starting to tire him. You can’t possibly believe him so dumb. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“If this is about Ser Gwayne…” You start and he feels the urge to scream. He can’t help but cut you off.
“Of course it is! Of course it is about that fucking Hightower.” Daemon’s voice goes high-pitched, imitating yours. “Ser, Ser.” He rolls his eyes. “How easily they hand titles now. Is every scum in this realm a knight?”
Your face doesn’t even twitch. That is one of the things about you that drive him to insanity. No matter what Daemon says, he never seems to get a reaction. It’s infuriating. You are all manners and dimples, even in the face of the most vile insults he throws your way. You either have no honor, letting him stomp all over you, or you think him right. Pathetic. Even the Bronze Bitch bit back.
His nostrils flare. Softly, you step between his parted legs and dab at the cut on his brow with a soaked linen. Ever dutiful.
“You do know adultery is a crime.” Daemon says, in a low, threatening tone. You give him a pleasant smile, squeezing water out of the cloth. It runs red and fast down your wrist.
“So is incest.” Your voice is far too cheerful for someone who just got accused of a crime that’s punishable by death if he so chooses. And not only that, but you have the nerve to threaten him.
“I am a Targaryen.” Daemon practically growls. You glare at him. He should be angry, but instead, his loins seem to heat up. Who can fault him? Any man would feel the urge to take you over and over, when faced with those eyes and those lashes.
Surely, after it, you would understand you were his and not Gwayne Hightower’s. It was not such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a lesser man would have trouble with it, but not Daemon. Give him ten minutes between your legs and you would be singing his praises.
“And I am a Celtigar.” His pause has allowed you enough time to form a retort. You press down on the cut on his brow with a viciousness that startles him. Daemon winces in pain. No getting distracted, he notes. Less you murder him when he is not paying attention. “To stifle the blood flow.” You explain, but Daemon can see the bloodlust in your eyes. You want him to hurt. The past few months have not gone in vain, it appears.
“Mine, you are mine.” He replies, gruffly.
You let go of the cloth, hands on your hips. Your mouth opens and closes, astonished.
“You don’t have any right to speak those words to me.” How he longs to grab you and show you exactly who is in charge. There you are, screaming! You! The woman who Daemon doubted knew how to make sounds louder than polite conversation. “Am I not the bride you never wanted? Your chain? Well then, sail free. Go!” You scream, and Daemon needs to pick his jaw off the floor because never has he seen you this angry.
Are you screaming at him? He feels the urge to pinch himself, to see if he is dreaming. But the way you are pointing your finger towards the door seems very real. Still a bit confused by the sudden personality change, Daemon does not obey.
It feels like a dream. Like stepping into a parallel world. The words that come out of his mouth are spoken by a stranger, and he can only watch as you turn more and more furious.
“No. Come here.” Daemon grabs at your gown, trying to pull you into him. He doesn’t really know what he is going to do if you budge. Place you in his lap and placate you with a kiss? He doesn’t get to find out. Grabbing you has clearly been the wrong move.
You slip out of his grip with a harsh jerk. Daemon is not as young as he used to be, but the sight makes his lust bubble up. You are alluring when angry, all passionate lines, and bloody temples. Valyrian, in a way you had never been before, with your darker coloring and soft manners. Yet, when mad? You are a conqueror goddess made flesh.
“No! I will not. I am not yours. We might be married but I will…” You stomp your foot at him, all angry little crab. For the first time, he sees fire in you.
Such a shame this is the moment you chose to grow a spine. He couldn’t understand where you had been all this time. So many months wasted with the meek little wife, when he could have had you instead.
Why had you decided to show you had a personality now, of all times? It was not fair, if it was for that Hightower cunt.
“Why Gwayne Hightower? Out of all the men on earth?” Daemon mutters, clearly not low enough because you answer him.
“This is not about Gwayne Hightower.” You glare, crown of flowers balancing precariously on top of your head. As you move, a few petals fall down. Angry little dryad that you are, you bat them away.
“If not, what is it about?”
“You!” You scream at him. It’s hateful, it's rage filled, it’s everything you are usually not. A true Valyrian goddess, letting mere mortals feel her might. Daemon would have enjoyed the display more if he wasn’t the mortal in question. “I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. To be looked at as someone who was desirable. Do you know how I have felt? Begging for scraps of attention, trying to make this work?”
“Wife…” He pleads because now there are tears in your eyes, and while Daemon doesn’t do begging, he doesn’t do comforting either.
“Do not call me that! Didn’t you petition for an annulment?” And how had you found out about that? While he had not been exactly secretive with his correspondence, he didn’t believe you to be proficient in High Valyrian. He has no time to ponder on it because you intend to go further. “Well, you are in luck! I will make my own request!”
“Viserys will not allow it.” Even if Daemon has to go beg him on his knees to not grant it, you are not annulling this marriage. Not when he is just starting to see the real you.
“Fine! Then I am going back to Claw Island. Stay here.” You scream, and you look so determined it scares him. For a second, he actually thinks you have the power to ban him from the island and force him to stay, giving you plenty of time to receive visitors. Male visitors, all surrounding you, courting you, as if he were already dead and not just exiled.
“Look. I’m sorry. Can we start over?” Daemon offers, in his most pleading tone. He has not apologized since… Gods. He barely remembers how to do it.
“You made me forget I deserved more than scraps.” You laugh at him, as his first apology to someone in more than ten years is the funniest joke existing. Then, enraged. “It will be a cold day in the Seven Hells, when I give you another chance.”
Hurt. He realizes, as you throw the flower crown at his feet and slam the door. Hurt. You are hurt, not angry. He has done the worst thing a man can do to a woman. Damage her pride.
Lust lʌst/
very strong sexual desire, especially when love is not involved.
Much to your dismay, every time you try to speak alone to the King, you are swiftly intercepted. If it’s not Corlys Velaryon asking you to help him pick a book in the library, it’s your Lord Father summoning you to his chambers. It seems like the whole palace is in it because even Princess Rhaenys asks you to stroll with her through the gardens when you lurk too close to Viserys’s chambers.
Daemon was smarter than you thought. He had taken to using your own weapons against you. The need to be polite kept you from rejecting all these new invitations, and so, you often ended up stuck an entire afternoon with nonsensical plans.
As time passes, your rage starts to subside. Much to your disgust, it morphs into shame. You cannot believe how you lost control in front of Daemon. Everything you have worked so hard on could vanish for a single afternoon pf foolishness.
You would rather not be his enemy. When the time comes for the two of you to go back to Claw Island, Gwayne Hightower is still bedridden, despite it already being days. Daemon is a dangerous man to cross.
Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. In fact, your husband has never been more attentive. With the talent of existing just at the right moment, Daemon appears at your side each time there is a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled.
“No one has ever seen him like this.” Queen Alicent marvels, as he watches him go fetch you a blanket in case the room is too cold for your liking. “Whatever you did to him…”
“Nothing, I assure you.” You answer, sternly. You don’t want her getting funny ideas, like that you are dabbling in witchery or the Seven knows what. It’s not something you can afford. Already balancing on a tightrope after the fight, any accusation could be your ruin. You do not trust Daemon’s change of heart. He is probably just biding his time.
Noticing something is amiss, Daemon comes back with the blanket, wrapping it around you. Alicent falls quiet.
Daemon stares at you, his hands lingering on your back more than necessary. He seems to be taking you in. His eyes fixate on your bosom a tad too long before you realize what he is doing, and you cover yourself more with the blanket.
Your cheeks heat up. You cough. Alicent’s brows raise.
“You are so beautiful, wife.” Daemon says, a bit dumbly.
“And you are a fool.” Your response is heated, and stupid, too. But you feel too embarrassed to care. Alicent is still sitting there, with a scandalized look on her face. Anyone would be ashamed to be the object of such obvious ogling, much less when they have never been exposed to it.
You are unused to this side of your husband. At most, when trying to consummate, Daemon would glance at you with disdain and proclaim it was all your fault. His eyes would never watch the heaving of your chest as you breathed, or the sway of your skirts when you walked. Were you superstitious, you would have thought him a man possessed.
Daemon laughs, either at your comment or your expression. It’s good, you suppose. At least he has not taken offense. You would have thought he would be angered, never one to suffer affronts to his pride without reacting.
“Your fool.” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead, before walking away.
You stare at him. Alicent stares at you. Neither says anything. You are not sure what to make of it. It’s strange. It’s him now, who serves you dinner. The choicest cuts of meat, the sweetest of wines and meads, never asking for anything in exchange.
He has gotten unusually affectionate. Or possessive. Whatever it’s going through his mind, you don’t know. Daemon has never been open about his thoughts and feelings with you, unless they stem from displeasure.
Perhaps it’s a burst of boastfulness. He flaunts you, a hand on your waist, lower arm, whatever he can get away with. He is suddenly interested in the dresses you wear, commenting on them and gifting you new ones just because he thinks they would suit you. You do not miss the fact that the dresses are always in his house’s colors or styles he personally favors, with intricate needlework and embroidery.
It’s interesting. Once again, his testing of boundaries seems to come back. His hands are always playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, or the folds of your skirt. You have even caught him toying with the buttons of your bodice. It borders on the inappropriate.
“You are pushing it.” You say to him when his hands curls around yours as you dance. He is supposed to keep his hand extended for this step. He doesn’t seem to care. The other guests give him amused looks. No one is about to chide a Prince for his lovesick behavior towards his wife. Especially in a goodbye feast for the couple.
In truth, you are starting to think most of the fathers at court are relieved. If the Rogue Prince is chasing after his wife, then he is not chasing their daughters.
“Holding your hand is pushing it?” Daemon holds your hand more securely, as he makes you spin. This is another new and unexpected development. Now, he only dances with you. No heated looks at Rhaenyra, no longing glances towards Laena. You are not sure how you feel about it.
“It is. You are inconveniencing everyone.” You say, as he spins you again with a flourish. Despite wanting so badly to keep being cross with him, you cannot help but laugh with childish delight. What girl doesn’t want to be twirled around and made to feel special? “You are supposed to exchange partners.”
The balance of the dance has been thrown off by his refusal to let go of you. Any time there needs to be a switch, the couples flounder around the two of you. It’s childish on his part, but he seems unwilling to let you dance with another man.
“Oh, you haven’t seen me pushing it yet.” Daemon laughs, and pulls you in until your body is flush against his. It’s improper and probably not allowed. Scandalous, even. Yet again, no one is about to say anything.
Much less you, suddenly realizing that being pressed so close to Daemon is quite enjoyable. He smells surprisingly clean this evening. No trace of alcohol on his skin, or other women’s perfumes. Instead, he smells of the soap he usually favors and some sort of aromatic oil.
“Will you push further, then?” You raise your brows. It’s sort of amusing that Daemon is trying so hard. You would have not taken him for the seducing type, not when he had been so keen on dissolving your marriage.
“I will.” Daemon leans in, to whisper in your ear. His voice is low, thick with desire. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I want you. I burn for you. I need you in my bed, on top of me, under me, any way you will let me have you.”
You give a scandalized little gasp, softly hitting his shoulder. Daemon grins, pulling you in even more. The two of you are so close, you imagine you can feel his heart beating against yours.
“I’m not done.” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your jaw. Daemon’s lips trail kisses towards your ear, teasingly blowing some air against it. “I want to spend the nights feasting between your thighs, on the valley of your breasts…”
“Stop it! We are in public.” You squeak, yet you look up at him like a flower searching for the sun. The attention he bestows on you is flattering, and you can't help but want to hear more.
“Do you want to hear a secret, wife? Every time you walk, I find myself lost in the sway of your hips. I want to drown on it. Drown on you. Until no trace of another remains, until the taste of your lips is the only thing I know.”
By this point, your skin feels so hot you worry you are about to combust. You gape at him. Not only has he dared to make a bold declaration, but he has done so in a room full of people.
You take a moment to gather yourself. Daemon could be bluffing for all you know, and so, you decide to match him. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone, feather-light.
“Then do it. No one is stopping you. Come to bed. Drown on me. Drink me, take me, ravish me.” You are trembling, and you only realize it when Daemon holds you tighter against him. You feel feverish, voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Give me Valyrian sons, to hold my island when we are both gone.”
“No. No.” He says, against the curve of your neck, embraced much closer than the dance requires, making a spectacle. “I want them to have your smile and your eyes, and that infuriating curve of your shoulder. Give me daughters with your smart mouth, and your even temper. I want them to be proof of the love I had for you.”
You tremble more. Love. He really said… Oh, by the Seven.
“You are shaking.” Daemon kisses your brow. “Don’t. Unless it is from pleasure.”
Laughter rings in your ears. It's yours, but it feels foreign. You are too stunned to think clearly. Daemon tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.
“Are you still there, Lady Wife?” He taps at your lower lip with his thumb. There is a teasing tilt to his smile, but his eyes are nervous. Vulnerable. Daemon was clearly not planning on confessing tonight. “Or have I broken you?”
“Prove it.” You say, still caught up on the love part. His declaration has sent your mind reeling, and shown you all of your latest interactions in a new light. You don’t know if Daemon knows what he is doing. He is a deeply passionate creature, much like his house’s sigil. Daemon doesn’t do infatuations, nor does he do dislikes. He loves or hates, and there is no in between.
“I will.” He promises, playing with a stray piece of hair that has fallen out of your up do. “Our whole lives. But perhaps I can start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” You frown, puzzled. You even pull back from his embrace to be able to look at his face. What an odd thing to say. Despite it, you admire the utter shamelessness he has about it. Were it you the one accidentally confessing, you would be a bundle of nerves.
Daemon doesn’t even blush. Of course, there is the small fact that he believes himself to be the Seven’s gift to humankind. You suppose if you believed yourself to be irresistible, you wouldn’t be nervous either. Cockiness wasn’t something you thought did it for you, but it seemed like you were learning new things every day.
“You will see.” Daemon smiles. You let him keep his secret, figuring it can’t be anything that bad.
You discover what he means when you arrive at Claw Island. A dragon egg waits for you, the fireplace clearly modified in a hurry, judging by the new stones and bricks that were added to the hearth.
“Even if it never hatches, I want you to have it. For you are as Valyrian as we are, and I was a fool not to see it sooner. You are worthy. It should have been on your cradle as a child.”
Greed /ɡriːd/
a strong desire for more wealth, possessions, power, etc. than a person needs.
The way his eyes trail after you now, it’s quite unfamiliar. Not lust, nor disdain. Something entirely new. Heavier.
Your afternoons have been filled with new entertainment. You coo at the egg, holding it over the fire. Sometimes, Daemon kneels beside you and helps you hold it, making a game of it. How long before either of you gets burned? How long can you endure, hands so close to the fire, before you are yelping and giving it to him?
When you think he is not looking, you speak to it in High Valyrian, whispering soft promises of how loved him or her will be once it hatches. There is no doubt in your mind it will. Perhaps not in weeks, or even months. Yet, your heart tells you there will be a dragon before your life ends.
Every night, you place the egg in the bed next to you. On your side, you curl around it, trying to share your warmth. Daemon reaches forward, sometimes. When he thinks you are asleep, his hand will curl over your waist and touch the egg, pressing it more against your stomach. You wonder what he means by it.
Does he know what he is doing? The low lullabies he half sings, half mutters under his breath indicate a yes. The way his lips curl into a soft smile against your nape show a longing that’s very much not subconscious.
Just as a pot of boiling water, the egg hatches a night no one it’s looking at it. Both Daemon and you are curled in a love seat, engrossed in a book. He is reading something about the doom of Valyria, your legs over his lap. You are submerged in a text about a man’s travels around the Free Cities.
One of his hands is wrapped around your ankle, in the sweetest of chains. Each time he flips a page, he will brush it with his thumb, softly. While not unwelcome, it’s strange. You are not used to being comforted in the same way you did for him during the first months of marriage. While Daemon doesn’t expect any kind of retribution, you find yourself granting it anyway.
The domesticity is quickly broken, however, when a strange noise fills the halls of your home. At first, you are unable to hear it through the background noise, but if you strain your ears, you can just make it out. It’s a shrill cross between a bird’s chirps and someone crying.
“Daemon?” You close your book and stare at him. Unable to help it, you get a little sidetracked, watching his face. His mouth is pursed in concentration, the candlelight giving his features a golden glow. Despite him being several years older than you, you cannot help but find him terribly handsome. Age has only turned him more distinguished. You betted he was dashing when younger, but unlike his brother, he has aged like a fine wine.
Sensing your eyes on him, he gives you a lazy smile.
“Little wife.” His voice comes out in a pleased rumble at having caught you looking. Your face heats up. Daemon's eyes shift from yours, to your mouth, then back to your eyes. You squirm under his gaze, trying to focus.
“Do you hear that?” You force yourself to utter.
“Hear what?” Daemon leans more towards you, his hand squeezing your knee. You give a small, delighted shiver. Good gods, what is it about him that gets you to turn into a puddle of want with the simplest touch?
“Some sort of animal crying.”
Daemon frowns. He tilts his head to the side, as if to listen better. You keep quiet, hoping to aid him. Then, his face breaks out in the biggest grin.
“It hatched! You amazing, wonderful woman.” He praises, pulling you into him. The hug is awkward, but it doesn’t last because you are too eager to see the baby dragon. Your dragon. You squirm out of his hold and rush out of the room, not even bothering to put on shoes, Daemon hot on your heels.
When you open the door to your chambers, you find the cutest thing ever. A baby dragon, slimy and confused, sits in the middle of his egg in the fireplace. It’s all big, dark eyes and long limbs, much like a baby horse. Unable to resist the temptation, you reach towards them.
“I do not…” Daemon tries to stop you, but the baby dragon climbs right up into your arms, curling close to your chest. Eager to touch it, you let it climb over your shoulder and nuzzle you, even if the sudden weight makes you stagger a little.
“That was really dangerous.” Your husband reprimands, trying to lift it away from you. The baby dragon snorts towards his direction, as if attempting to breathe fire. It only manages to give a cute little sneeze. Daemon glares.
“Aw, you are just like a baby.” You coo at the dragon, petting its head. Daemon looks even more disgruntled.
“Your dragon tried to burn me.” He complains.
“It’s a baby, husband. They don’t know any better.” You rub the scales on its back, soothingly. Unwilling to let go, you find yourself looking around your bedroom. “Let it stay here? Just for tonight.”
Daemon glares. You give him your biggest, most pleading eyes. He relents.
“Fine. But it’s not sleeping on the bed with us. And only for tonight.”
“Only for tonight.”
A month after, and the baby dragon is still sleeping in your bed. He has taken to laying between Daemon and you, leeching off your warmth. Daemon complains of having to sleep on the edge of the bed and his back being sore, but despite it, never once asks you to send the dragon outside with Caraxes.
The trouble starts, how not, with a trip to King’s Landing. This time, you ride with him, as a passenger to Caraxes, while the baby dragon follows. When Daemon lands, the dragon keepers fret around your baby, unsure of what to do with the unexpected visitor.
You command him to stay by your side, despite the protests of the dragon keepers. You are arguing and complaining and shielding your baby while Daemon only watches, amused.
Perhaps the commotion attracts more people, or someone calls for them, but you end up cornered as King Viserys makes his way to the dragon pit.
“What do we have here?” He asks, smiling at you. You give him a nervous look. Your dragon has gotten bigger, and so, you can not pick him up gracefully, but you usher him behind you regardless.
“Nothing, your grace.” You say, lacking your usual charm. You feel nervous about leaving the baby dragon on his own in the dragon pit. What if the other dragons don’t like him? What if he gets lonely?
With one hand, you reach for Daemon. His fingers meet yours halfway, squeezing reassuringly. More often than not, being a woman, your orders were not taken seriously. But if your husband gave an order, people would rush to obey. You hope he intercedes in your favor.
“Daemon, please.” You say, under your breath. “Don’t let them send him away. He will behave.”
“What do I gain, little wife?” He asks, interlocking your fingers together. Daemon gives his most charming grin to his brother, before pulling you into him. You go willingly, body lax and pliant for him. “A kiss, perhaps?”
“Please.” You turn to look at him, hoping to move him. This close, once again, you feel slightly distracted. Your husband smells so nice, and his hands feel so good around your waist, it’s no hardship at all. You press a kiss to his cheek.
“Must you always arrive with such a ruckus?” Viserys frowns. Daemon gives him a small smile.
“You know me.” Slowly, he starts to lead you towards the Red Keep, a hand placed protectively on your lower back. The message is clear. Daemon wants you to make your dragon follow you. You don’t even need to order it because your baby, smart as it is, is already following. The dragon keepers step back, muttering unhappily.
“Is it going inside?” Viserys point at your dragon. Foolishly, you had been hoping he didn’t notice, and so, your stomach drops. But Daemon doesn’t falter, strolling confidently inside as if he owned the place.
“He will behave. As long as no one touches her.” Normally, you despise when people talk about you as if you are not there. Currently, though, you can only feel relief that your dragon is not getting sent to sleep outside in the cold. He is just too little for it.
Viserys walks you towards his private dining room. A blonde child runs around, playing. The Princess and Ser Laenor are already there. And Alicent is even more heavily pregnant than before.
“How have you been?” You ask Alicent, sitting next to her. You half expect to be left out of the conversation as you were a few months before, and so, choose to sit next to someone who has been kind to you. The baby dragon hops on your lap when you take your seat.
Alicent looks absolutely horrified.
“Good enough.” She speaks, blinking slowly. It’s clear she cannot believe her eyes. She stares at the dragon in a mix of awe and fear.
“He is harmless.” You explain, petting it as if it were a small dog and not a baby dragon. “Do you want to pet him?”
Alicent reaches forward with a trembling hand. The dragon sniffs her, and curls to sleep again.
“… And I was thinking of changing the layout of the hall, to make sure he fits…” You hear Daemon complain, and your ears immediately perk up. Is he talking about your baby?
“So you keep it inside?” Viserys asks, sounding disbelieving.
“I have never seen such a close bond.” Daemon boasts. He sounds as if he is proud of you, you realize. It makes something warm flutter in your stomach. No longer are you the wife he never wanted and tried to get rid of. “Damn thing sleeps on the bed with us. It’s better trained than a dog, seriously. We should have given Celtigars dragons a long time away.”
“Why not leave it outside?” From where you are seated, you can’t see his face, but you imagine by his tone, Viserys is smiling.
“She will riot. She loves him as her own son.” Daemon explains. You keep your eyes trained on the nervous Alicent, who has managed to lay her hand on top of your dragon’s head. She looks about to bolt.
“Isn’t he the nicest thing?” You say to Alicent, excited. “He thinks I am his mom, or something. Isn’t it great?”
Alicent does not look as impressed as you hoped for, but she gives you a kind smile. She seems willing to tolerate your eccentricities if for the sake of not having to make conversation with Rhaenyra.
“Very nice.” She compliments. “Pretty colors. Prince Daemon was very kind, giving it to you.”
“He is.” You smile, softly. “Although he complains all the time.”
Alicent shrugs. This time, both of you tune in the conversation between Daemon and Viserys.
“Perhaps, as you build him something outside, you can distract her with an actual baby.” Viserys says. Alicent looks torn at the comment, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the topic.
It’s not something you had thought about before. Well, you had. Never with him, though. As a girl, you dreamed of being a mother, and as a woman, Daemon and you had discussed the issue of heirs already. You had spoken about it during your last goodbye feast, in this same castle. But those words had been spoken in the height of passion, and neither of you had done anything about it.
“Trust me. Next time she holds a babe, it will be a proper human one.” Daemon says, and his hand finds yours over the table. You look up at him, meeting his purple eyes. He looks hungry. Starved, even.
You lower your eyes demurely. Viserys laughs. And Daemon, greedy as he is, lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.
Sloth /sləʊθ/
the bad habit of being lazy and unwilling to work.
The light filters in through the open curtains, giving the room a soft glow. Daemon’s face scrunches up, bothered by the sunlight in his eyes. He has tried to convince you to sleep with them drawn, but you are unwilling. To you, the best way to wake up is slowly, with the sun. Or so you say. He is not very convinced.
Daemon stretches. You reach for him in your sleep. He gives himself a moment to savor it, the fact that he can finally pull you closer. The dragon is finally gone from his bed, although he is no way near distracting you with a babe.
Dragons are not pets. Daemon had been taught that since the cradle, even before he had a dragon of his own. Their control over them was only an illusion, and so, they should be trusted but feared. He had lived by that rule, never once questioning it. Until you.
Watching you raise yours as if it were your own child had proven interesting. You lacked his education about them, but you made up for it by sheer enthusiasm. The fact that your dragon had not bitten your hand off yet or burned you to a crisp could only mean two things: You were some sort of forest nymph, or they were mistaken about their approach to dragons. He knew which one he thought was true.
How much was nature, and how much was nurture in their relationship with dragons? Trying to answer that question would occupy his entire lifetime. Daemon hoped that watching you gave him some insight. Even if he ended up discovering you were a nymph in disguise or some sort of goddess of the hunt. He wouldn’t regret it, fascinating as you were.
No matter how much food for thought you gave him, Daemon had been enjoying the joys of marriage. Perhaps, a little too much. Seeing you with the baby dragon had awoken some unexpected feelings. Targaryens were dragons, after all. When the time came, you would make a good mother. Not only were your instincts well-developed, but you seemed to thrive on having something to nurture.
Ah, the joys of domesticity. Daemon loves that you trust him enough now to allow him to witness you at your most fragile. Asleep and wearing a soft white night shift, you are deliciously innocent. Giving, too. You do not complain when his hands find your hips or when he pulls you flush against him. Nor do you move away when his face hides in your lovely locks, mussed with sleep.
Your expression is open and vulnerable in ways you are never when truly awake. Your eyes open just the tiniest sliver, before you hide your face on your pillow, rubbing against it like the sweetest kitten.
He adores you like this. Worships you, even. Obsessed with the curve of your hip, or the soft flesh above your womb. Daemon can’t help but rub it, hoping to manifest a child into existence without actually fucking you.
If he believed in such a thing, as so many fools in this realm did, Daemon would say this was the Seven Heavens. But he knew the truth. Just like you, who worshiped the Old Gods of Valyria, Daemon did too. How could he not when he had a tiny goddess sharing his bed?
Your nose scrunches up. You twitch. Worshiping a little nymph, now that was hard work. Especially when the nymph in question does her best to escape his personal worshiping time.
If Daemon could spend all day in bed, just like this, he would. He would trace your features with his mouth, peppering your face with soft kisses. He would feast on the soft curve of your neck, drink up all your sweet little noises. Trace a path down your soft limbs, draw nonsensical patterns on your stomach. But you are an energetic little thing, always jumping out of bed, no matter the pleasure he tempts you with.
Convincing you to stay is hard, but Daemon likes to think it’s an art he has perfected. It’s not a ritual, by any means. Each morning goes differently. Sometimes, you need to be kissed silly. Sometimes, you need to be gently worshiped and coaxed back to sleep. But his favorite mornings are the ones that go like this.
“I have to go check on the tenants, down by the shore. The rain season just started.” You complain, as he noses along your hairline. Suddenly, Daemon’s arms are empty. He opens his eyes to find you sitting up and pulling your robe over your night shift.
You look delectable in red. He should buy you more robes like that one. Especially because he is about to ruin it.
“Did you say at what hour you are going?” Daemon sits up as well, toying with the edge of your robe. You bat his hands away, playfully.
“No.” You are hurriedly standing up, perhaps knowing what comes next. Daemon grabs your robe, and pulls you back in, using all his strength.
No matter how much you try to keep your feet planted on the floor, you end up tumbling back into bed. You give a girlish shriek, a smile already forming on your face. You struggle, kicking the blankets off the bed.
“Come back here, you little minx.” He tugs you by the ankle, making you laugh. Your hair is sticking up in all directions and your chest heaves up and down with the exertion of putting up a fight.
Daemon secretly loves it. He would never tell you because you would be outraged, but he enjoys the idea of overpowering you. Perhaps, once you fully trust him, he could ask you to play like that. But for now, he takes what he can get.
“Or else what Lord husband?” You tease, still trying to escape him. More blankets and furs are sent flying off the bed. You give a mean little tug to his hair.
“That was it!” Daemon complains, and starts tickling you. The night shift rides tantalizingly up your hips, giving him an unintentional show. He feels his blood warming, arousal turning into a dull throb in his loins. Your legs kick wildly, you squirm on the bed, and your eyes fill with tears from laughing so much.
It’s only when your poor body can’t take it anymore, and you are crying from laughter that he stops. He thinks of how it would feel, to overwhelm you in a different context, make your body take and take until tears ran freely down your temples. A different sort of crown for his forest nymph, one made from her own silver tears. The visual is too much for him to take without giving himself away.
Daemon lies on top of you, smothering you with his weight. He licks a few stray drops of sweat from your neck, making you flay once again. There will be a day when play wrestling will turn into something much less sweet. That day, though, it’s not today.
“Get off!” You complain. “That’s disgusting.”
“I could eat you up.” He teases, nuzzling into your neck. It's the truth. Daemon loves the taste of your skin and your smell. If he thought he could get away with it, he would crawl between your thighs and feast on you. “You are delicious, wife.”
“Daemon.” You push lightly at him, trying to get up. Again. But your words lack their previous conviction. Daemon can tell he is getting to you. “It’s getting late.”
“The tenants can wait. Let us hide from the world a little longer.” He pleads, clinging to you. Under him, exhausted after the play wrestling, you go limp. He knows he has won then.
You spend the whole day in bed. The tenants end up being visited closer to sundown. Daemon does not regret it one bit.
#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x you#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon x oc#daemon x y/n#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon x fem!reader#daemon targaryen fic#daemon fluff#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targeryan#prince daemon targaryen#prince daemon x reader#the rogue prince#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd daemon#asoiaf fanfic#asoif fanfic#cristi's bingo#daemon targaryen fluff
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Fatherhood
Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader
More of Daemon's Wife au
Summary: A glimpse into Daemon's life as a father.
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Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.
After watching your husband act like a fool for days you finally lost your patience so tonight when Daemon climbed into bed with you and started kissing your neck you pushed him away.
“What did I do?” He asked, knowing that you were upset by the frown on your face.
"You're ignoring Baelon," you accused him without any doubt of your words.
Since the two of you had came back home from the war, Daemon had barely been to the nursery and when the whole family was at the table he never tried to talk to Baelon. You didn't expect him to instantly become familiar with his role as a father., after all, he hadn't been able to meet their son before, but you never thought that your husband would look for any excuse not to be with your son.
"He doesn't like me so I'm not going to bother him" he responded, wanting to appear unconcerned but you know him well so you know that this actually bothered him.
When you and your husband returned from Stepstones, your son had burst into tears the first time Daemon spoke to him. You noticed the pain in your husband's eyes when Baelon hid his face in your neck, refusing to see him. You didn't blame your son for being afraid since it was the first time he saw his father. You knew Daemon had been excited to finally meet Baelon so you understood that the boy's reaction would have disappointed him but you didn't expect him to decide to distance himself because of that.
"He doesn't like you because he doesn't know you yet," you explain now in a softer tone. "Daemon, I don't know what you expected from your first meeting but he acted like any other child would. He doesn't know you so you have to earn his trust. He's not going to love you just because im tell him you're his father. You have to spend time with him," you advised him as you traced random patterns on his chest, hoping he wouldn't take your words the wrong way.
"I will," he promised before kissing you on the lips. He was satisfied to see that this time you didn't push him away so he continued kissing you again and again.
And Daemon really considered your words because after that night he started spending more time at the nursery. At first, Baelon looked uncertainly at Daemon when he spoke to him but you always encouraged him to respond. In addition, it also helped that your son saw that you were always calm and smiling around Daemon, so little by little the boy began to gain more confidence. Every time you were about to tell him a new story, Baelon asked his father if he knew it too and he listened attentively every time Daemon contributed. When he realized that his father also knew High Valyrian, he began to proudly tell him the words he had learned so far and asked him to also teach him new words, now at the table after the servants brought the food Baelon spent his time asking his father what he liked and what he didn't, interested in knowing more about him. Not only that but Baelon also started inviting him to the walks the two of you take together on the beach. Seeing all this, you were proud of the progress between father and son and it made you happy to see the happiness on Daemon's face every time Baelon asked his opinion or asked him something, not to mention when he held his hand for the first time while the three walked together in the beach.
But still, you couldn't help but notice that the two of them were never alone, you were always there as if they wouldn't dare to be alone.
"Where is he going?" Baelon asked, looking with a pout at his father's back as he walked.
"You Kepa is going to go see his dragon" You smiled as you came up with an idea so that they could spend some time alone "Do you want to go with him?"
You weren't surprised when he let go of your hand and started running after Daemon shouting "Kepa! Kepa!" Your husband soon stopped and turned to see the little copy of him running towards him with a big smile. He felt his heart warm at the sight. When Baelon was a few steps away from him, he approached and picked him up without warning, making the boy squeal with happiness.
"I want to go with you," the boy announced before his father could ask him what was happening.
Your husband looked at you waiting for you to say something but you were already raising your hand saying goodbye to them with a smile. Baelon moved his hand back and forth until you became a distant speck on the beach.
"What's the name of your dragon?" the boy asked, still in his dad's arms as he walked.
"Caraxes" the father responded with a smile even though this was not the first time his son had asked him that.
"It's like Wing?"
Daemon would be lying if he said he wasn't fond of hearing how Baelon called your dragon Wing because according to the Nightwing boy he was too long.
"Caraxes is much grander than the dragon on your muña," the prince responded, feeling his smile grow larger as he imagined your indignation if you would listen to him. A part of him hoped that Baelon would later tell you this just to see your reaction.
"He's giant!" Baelon exclaimed impressed when he saw the red beast. "Will my dragon be like that too?" He asked excitedly.
"Probably but in many years" Daemon replied and poked his nose when he saw him pouting "Do you want to pet him?" Instantly the pout was replaced by a smile.
"Yes!" the boy shouted excitedly and before Baelon went to touch the dragon, Daemon took his son's small hand before placing it and his carefully on the dragon's face. He did not believe that Caraxes would do anything to him but he preferred not to risk it, it was known that dragons did not usually react well when someone who was not their rider approached them with too much confidence and the last thing he wanted was for his son to end up hurt so he was for a while talking to his dragon while they both caressed it.
Daemon could remember the proudest moments in his life: when he claimed Caraxes, when his father gave him Dark Sister, when he called you his wife for the first time when you told him you were pregnant and now it added up to see his son bond with his dragon.
They were there for a while. Daemon listened with amusement to Baelon's ramblings about how giant Caraxes was and that he surely had to eat a lot to achieve that size, all while never stopping petting the dragon. Until started to get dark then they headed back to the castle.
"I like Wing more" the boy confessed once the figure of the dragon became a distant speck.
"Tomorrow you will come to fly with me and you will see that Caraxes flies faster," the prince said instantly. He had to change Baelon's mind before he said that again but in front of you. He could already imagine your cocky smile and how you would never let him forget it.
"Let's fly now!" the boy squealed excitedly.
"We can't now, your daughter must be waiting for us for dinner" the father explained, and seeing that Baelon seemed about to complain he added "Would you like her to have dinner alone? I'm sure that would make her sad"
"No, let's go with muña!"
During dinner, Baelon spent his time talking non-stop about Caraxes and how tomorrow he would fly with his Kepa. You listened to everything with a smile and only interrupted your son's ramblings to remind him to eat before the food got cold.
In the middle of Baelon's talks, Daemon took your hand and kissed it. He didn't need to tell you anything, you could see it in his eyes, he was grateful that you encouraged him to stop hiding and that he would make an effort to form a bond with his son.
When it was time for Baelon to go to sleep you and him got up from the table to go to the nursery but first Baelon said goodbye to his Kepa with a kiss on the cheek. You encouraged your son to go ahead with one of the maidens while you stayed with Daemon.
"I'm proud of you," you said as you took your husband's face in your hands and leaned in to kiss him "I can't wait to see you with the next one" you declared between kisses.
Your husband took a while to register your words because he was distracted by the taste of your lips but once he did he stopped kissing you to look at you impressed.
"Are you pregnant?" He asked just to make sure he understood correctly although he could already feel his heart racing.
You nodded with a smile and let out a laugh the moment Daemon pulled you onto his lap. You kissed his neck while his hand rested on your stomach. You still didn't show but he couldn't wait to see how the life inside you grew. He couldn't be by your side when you were pregnant with Baelon but this time it would be different, this time the two of you wouldn't have to discuss the baby's name by letter, this time Daemon would feel the baby's kicks instead of having to imagine it, this time if you wanted him, he would be by your side when you gave birth, this time he wouldn't have to wait years to meet his son. This time he would be there to see him grow.
"This time I won't miss anything," he promised, kissing your forehead.
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Alpha!Daemon Targaryen meets his Omega
The king had taken you in upon realizing that you were an Omega.
You were the daughter of Vaemond though he would never acknowledge you as his as you were just a bastard, though you were also the first Targaryen offspring of any kind that was an Omega in nearly 100 years. There were a few Alphas such as Daemon and Corlys but no Omegas.
Viserys ensured you were given the best education possible (considering you didn’t present until you were 14 and had lived as an orphan until then) and kept you close with constant guards, unwilling to risk a rouge Beta deciding that fucking a Targaryen Omega would be fun.
You became quite close with Rhaenyra and neither of you was usually seen without the other. You had arrived in the palace after being found by a guard in the street only about 2 weeks after the beginning of Daemons war in the step stones.
You had been told plenty about Daemon by your best friend who admitted she had had a little crush on him before falling in love with Ser Harwin Strong. You wondered quite a bit about the rouge Prince but for the most part you put it out of your mind.
You didn’t meet Daemon until 3 years later, you had settled into being a lady and for the most part gotten a handle on life in the capital, so of course someone would show up and turn it on its head. The smell washed over you almost instantly as he knelt down before the king, handing over his make-shift crown and you froze. You had always been tense around Alphas, it’s just common sense when you’re an Omega, especially one without any kind of defense training which you didn’t have since you had guards at all times but you do wish you could feel safer in knowing you could protect yourself, at least a little bit.
His scent though…it washed over you in waves and you were overcome by the rush of calm and need your Alphas scent delivered you. He was in the middle of hugging his brother when his body went stiff and you knew he smelled you too.
“Help?” You whispered to Rhaenyra, her looking over you and realizing what was happening fast.
“Are you sure? It could only be-“
“Your Omega brother! This is wonderful! Y/n is the only Omega in the castle, where are you child?” Rhaenyra pulled you down and through the side door, having avoided the guards who were listening to Damon’s shocking news.
“You do know you can’t avoid him, right? Daemon is…tenacious to say the least.” She teased and you smiled a bit as you both quickly made your way outside and into the gardens.
“I understand but I don’t want all of those people watching like it is their own affair.”
If anyone understood you in the world it was her, for the most part at least. You were only alone in the Godswood for about 5 minutes before you heard footsteps and looked up to see her father walking towards you with a battalion of guards.
“Go, it’s okay. Get back to your room, you’ll be safer there than anywhere else. I’ll handle my father, go!” She pushed you and you stumbled back before running through the bushes of flowers and trees, only just having looked back to see if she had followed when you plowed into a firm, hard body.
“You must be Y/n.” He spoke and you nodded your head cautiously, taking a step back but his face softened. “Don’t be frightened. I know my reputation but no harm will ever befall you while I am here lovely Omega.” His face was smirking but the thrumming bond that snapped in place the second you smelled each other was weighing down on you, pushing you to relax. “I mean what I say, you are safe my sweet Byka rūklon. I am your protector now.” (Little Flower)
He held out his arm, I suppose trying to be less intimidating and I enjoyed it quite a bit having heard the tales of Daemon Targaryen, rider of Caraxes. Everyone said that you couldn’t help but feel fear when he stared down at you, an intimidating presence to say the least but all I felt from him in that moment was adoration. I took his arm after a brief pause and he smiled, his face relieving itself of that signature smirk and led me back to the castle. “Oh Good! You’ve found her brother.” The king spoke as he stood by the door with my guards who moved to stand behind me before Daemon stopped them.
“You two have been relieved of your duties.” They looked stunned for a second but given that its Daemon that said if they quickly took off before he decided to have their heads removed from their bodies for standing too close to me.
“Brother? You can’t possibly think you can protect her alone, you have duties to-“
“I very well could protect her alone! However I will choose guards to stay with her who won’t lose her in a throne room whenever she decides to go for a walk. I need men far less stupid and I will appoint them when we return to Dragonstone to marry. You’ll love it there Byka rūklon, I promise you. Let us go, the flight will take about 6 hours.”
“You’re leaving already? Daemon, don’t you think-“
“I would like to marry my Omega as soon as possible, you understand that brother. Nothing that need be too planned, we will marry in the ways of our ancestors. I will wait until you and Rhaenyra can be there, I’m sure my Omega wants her friend there, don’t you Byka rūklon?” I nodded quickly.
“Please? It would feel wrong without her…Alpha.” I added Alpha at the end, seeing how much he longed for it by the look on his face.
“Anything you want, always.” Daemon pulled me close to his chest, kissing my head and I welcomed the comfort he now delivered me, his scent flooding my senses and effecting me greatly. “Will you bring her things for her my dear niece? It will be greatly appreciated.” I could tell Daemon was rushing as he began moving again and I knew how much he hated these people and this place, pulling me towards the exit with the King and my friend behind to see us off I suppose. Rhaenyra had told me how much Daemon preferred Dragonstone to Kings Landing, less conniving, conspiring people there and one less Otto Hightower who I admittedly didn’t like either. Speaking of whom.
“Daemon, leaving already?” We we’re almost at the door to the front gates when he had cut him off, looking at me the entire time. He had always stared at me and struck me as the sort of Beta I needed to be protected from. My guards always kept me at least a good 5 feet from him making me incredibly grateful that they answered to the King directly and never the Hand.
“I would like to be back on Dragonstone with my Omega as soon as I can, not that it’s any of your business.” I could hear my Alphas distaste in his voice as he practically spit the words at him. As Otto took a step closer I tightened my grip on Daemons hand and he looked down at me curiously, seeing I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him and that seemed to be enough.
“Well we will certainly miss your presence in our halls my dear Omega.” Daemons hand was gone from mine so quickly I barely had time to look up before he was pressing him to the wall and choking the life out of him.
“Daemon!” Viserys shouted, watching his brother but keeping the guards from stopping him, turning his head to me.
“You think you get to call her that? You think that’s appropriate for you Beta?! No one calls my Omega that but me, you disgusting old bat!” Otto was making a choking noise and while I enjoyed it I knew I had to calm him now before the Hand lost his head. While Daemon would be in his rights to protect me, many would dispute it and we surely wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.
I reached out, placing my hand onto his shoulder and while his muscles tensed for a second they quickly relaxed again. “Alpha. It’s okay.”
“Why do you fear him? Answer me quickly Omega.” He warned, his hand tightening and a quiet whine coming from Otto.
“I am uncomfortable with the way he looks at me, however the guards never let him close. All is well…Please Daemon? If you kill him leaving now is not an option.” I reminded, his hand releasing the man instantly and turning to me before he collapsed to the floor.
“His eyes will never linger on you again Byka rūklon, you have my word…brother. I will see you in a few days. Do not bring this snake with you.” He turned to hug his brother as Rhaenyra hugged me close.
“Hop on Syrax and come visit often, okay? You can stay a few nights, escape Alicent and skip your schooling with me.” I teased feeling her giggle as she held me.
“I promise. I’ll come a few weeks after the wedding.”
“Weeks?”
“You’ll be busy afterwards, trust me. I know Daemon. He has the blood of the Dragon, and it runs hot. Be safe, and good luck in the sky. Hold on tightly.” I was confused for a moment before understanding her meaning. I had always hesitated to get onto Syrax with her, scared of falling off but now it’s not Syrax I’ll be riding.
My hand was taken again and pulled out the door and towards the big red beast in the courtyard causing me to pull back, Daemon turning to face me and smiling at my nervous face. “It’s alright Byka rūklon, I won’t let you fall.”
“What about getting eaten before I even get onto him!?” He snorted, holding me to him tighter and leading me forward, the dragons eyes on me as we got closer.
“Caraxes understands more than you think, he feels what I feel for you and he would never hurt you because that would hurt me.” The white haired man took hold of my hand and held it in his with his other arm around my waist, holding my hand in his up to the giant scaly creature. “You are the only person other than me that he will feel the need to protect. All dragons protect their riders mates, but Omegas even more so.” He leaned into my much smaller hand and I felt his cold scales on my skin, Damon moving my other hand to stroke up his snout.
“Rytsas Caraxes.” I knew my pronunciation was shit but the Blood Worm made a purring noise that rivaled my own with how deep and lovely it was.
“That was wonderful. Has Rhaenyra been teaching you?” I nodded my head.
“So that we could talk without most understanding, especially the Queen.” I giggled, continuing to pet the Dragon who leaned his head into my body which would have knocked me over had Daemon not been behind me holding on.
“Lykiri!” Daemon commanded though he just continued leaning into me.
“It’s okay…I like it.”
“Hmm…just wait until you are carrying my child. He will never want to leave your side. Aegon the Conquerors Omega was nearly always with Balerion when she was with child, he was a protective beast. Knowing Caraxes you’re going to have an even harder time being alone.” He teased and while he meant to make me laugh it actually sounded quite nice to be honest.
“We’re going to be the best of friends, huh?” He trilled out a wonderful sound but unlike the sound a bird makes the ground nearly vibrated with it, it was so deep. “I think I like the sound of that.” I told Daemon whose hand traveled down from my waist to cup my sex through my dress making me gasp as my body became tingly.
“Then we’d better get started, shouldn’t we?” He spoke in my ear, causing my body to shiver excitedly. “I’m going to fill you up so full there will be no doubt that you are carrying my child, and no Beta will dare lay eyes on you again! You will spend the rest of forever filled with my children, Gods I want to fill this cunt so desperately! All mine!” He growled, his other hand now squeezing my tit as he kissed my neck roughly.
“All yours Alpha! Whenever you want, forever!” I was becoming very turned on but just as quickly as he started groping me, he stopped and lifted me over his shoulder roughly, climbing up onto Caraxes and placing me in front of him so I would not fall off.
“Hold on Omega.”
“You think!?” He cackled at my shout and I rolled my eyes.
“Riding dragons is what you will be doing the rest of your life, enjoy it, there’s no way to get away from it now.” His threat was playful but I considered it for a moment…I don’t think I want to get away from this. This is perfect.
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Love Flames
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female OC
summary: Daemon Targaryen simply loves his wife.
Word count: 2,8K
Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, movement restrain, slight body worship
Masterlist 1
Masterlist 2
The morning sun bathed the chambers of the Red Keep in a warm, golden light. Marleina Harroway moved gracefully through the opulent halls, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished marble floors. The Red Keep, home to the Targaryen dynasty for generations, was a place steeped in history and power.
As she made her way toward the private chambers where her sons were receiving their lessons, Marleina couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the ancient fortress. The Red Keep had seen the rise and fall of kings and queens, and now it was her family's home.
Entering the room where Maester Elyas was instructing her three sons, Marleina's presence commanded attention. Aenys, Maegon, and Baelon, the Targaryen princes, looked up from their studies, their eyes brightening at the sight of their mother.
"Good morning, my lords," Marleina greeted them with a warm smile. Aenys, the eldest and the spitting image of his father Daemon, nodded respectfully. Maegon, with his dark hair and keen intellect, acknowledged her with a nod as well. Baelon, the youngest and most spirited of the three, practically bounced in his seat.
Maester Elyas bowed respectfully. "Lady Marleina, a pleasure, as always."
Marleina returned the gesture before focusing on her sons. "How are your studies progressing, my loves?"
Aenys spoke first, his voice steady and assured. "We are delving into the history of the Red Keep, Mother, and learning about the responsibilities that come with our lineage."
Marleina's violet eyes gleamed with pride. "A worthy subject, Aenys. The Red Keep is a symbol of our house's enduring strength and legacy."
Maegon chimed in, his analytical mind at work. "I find the intricacies of court politics intriguing, Mother. It's like a never-ending game of strategy."
She nodded approvingly. "Indeed, Maegon. Understanding the game is essential in the world we live in."
Finally, her gaze turned to Baelon, who was practically bursting with enthusiasm. "And you, Baelon?"
Baelon's eyes shone with excitement. "I want to ride dragons like Father one day!"
Marleina's heart warmed at her youngest son's dream. "One day, my sweet Baelon. But for now, remember that knowledge and wisdom are the true sources of power."
As Marleina watched her sons absorb the lessons imparted by Maester Elyas, she knew that their upbringing within the Red Keep would shape them into formidable leaders of House Targaryen. In the heart of the Red Keep, surrounded by history and tradition, her family's destiny was being forged.
Daemon Targaryen, her husband and their father, was a man of ambition and charisma, but it was the love and guidance they received from their mother that would prepare them for the challenges that lay ahead.
Marleina was determined to ensure that the Targaryen legacy endured, even within the formidable walls of the Red Keep.
After ensuring that her sons were settled into their lessons, Marleina decided to check on her husband, Daemon Targaryen. It was unusual for him to be absent from his morning training sessions with the sword. Daemon was known for his unwavering dedication to honing his combat skills, even in times of peace. His absence from their shared chamber was a rare occurrence.
As she approached the door to their private quarters within the Red Keep, Marleina's steps grew cautious. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. With a gentle push, she entered their chamber, her eyes immediately falling upon Daemon.
He sat by the window, bathed in the soft morning light, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city of King's Landing below. His usual armor and weapons were nowhere in sight. Instead, he wore a simple robe, and his long silver hair cascaded down his back in disarray.
"Daemon?" Marleina's voice was filled with concern as she approached him.
Daemon turned his head slowly, as if pulled from deep contemplation. His violet eyes, so like those of their sons, met hers, and there was a weariness in them that Marleina had rarely seen.
"Marleina," he said softly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he rose to his feet. "I didn't expect you back so soon."
She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "Is something troubling you, my love? You've missed your training this morning."
Daemon's shoulders slumped slightly, and he sighed. "I needed some time alone, to think."
Marleina studied her husband's face, her concern deepening. "About what?"
He hesitated, then took her hand in his. "About the future, Marleina. About the burden of our name and what it means for our sons."
Marleina knew that the weight of the Targaryen legacy was a heavy one. The realm was always watching, and the expectations placed upon their family were immense. But she had never seen Daemon so affected by it.
"Daemon," she said softly, "we will face whatever challenges come our way together. Our sons are strong and capable, and they have a mother and father who love them dearly."
Daemon nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "You're right, Marleina. I mustn't let my worries consume me. We have a duty to our house and our people."
Marleina leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And we will fulfill that duty, my love, as we always have."
As they held each other close, Marleina couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of determination. The challenges of ruling the Seven Kingdoms as House Targaryen were formidable, but they had faced adversity before and emerged stronger.
Daemon being himself couldn't keep up the intimate image. His arms tightened around her waist pulling her closer to his body. Their marriage may have not been one of love in the beginning but now it surely was.
"Daemon" Marleina warned. Her words went straight over his head and captured her lips silencing her. His kisses were always rough and passionate.
"Shhh, dārilaros" Princess. Daemon shushed her. His calloused fingers slowly began undoing the bodice of her dress. Marleina ceased complaining, she never truly hated the idea of bedding him, even from their first night he showed her nothing but pleasure.
"I'll take good care of you, dārilaros" Daemon whispered against her ear. Marleina basically melted in between his arms at that point.
In minutes Daemon had her fully naked on their bed. His eyes wide and pupil blown with lust. Marleina guided his head closer to her, kissing him straight on the lips. Daemon moved his head down needing more than the taste of her lips.
Marleina's head fell back with pleasure when he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Daemon was anything but gentle, he was a monster in bed. His teeth sank into the flesh earning a cry of both pain and pleasure from Marleina. She enjoyed the pain he inflicted on her way too much.
Daemon pulled away from Marleina to watch her reaction. She had her eyes closed merely enjoying his touches. Daemon smirked and moved off the bed completely. Marleina whined disappointed with the lack of his touch.
Her eyes flew open when she felt him grab her wrist and tie something around it. She looked down to find a silk like rope in his hand. He raised his eyebrow when their eyes met. He held open his palm for her other hand.
"What are you doing?" She asked confused. Daemon wiggled his fingers asking silently for her other hand. She hesitantly gave him her other hand. He tied her wrist with the other one before raising them above her head.
She squealed in surprise. He tied the rope to the head board of the bed chuckling darkly at her reaction.
"Shhh sweet dārilaros" Daemon placed a finger on her lips. He pushed it into her mouth. Marleina sucked on his sole finger in her mouth. Daemon groaned at the feeling.
"Dirty girl, probably imagining my cock" Daemon smirked when she nodded her head. His cock twitched in his trouser. This woman was everything to him, she was his wife, she was the mother of his children, children he intend to have more of from her.
He moved to climb on top of her, slowly pressing kisses to her neck, teasing her. His lips trailed down, completely ignoring her breast much to her annoyance, she was just too sensitive there ever since she had their first child.
His lips continued their way down her navel, pushing her legs open Daemon wanted to dive right into her soaking cunt but held himself back. His lips littered the inside of her thighs with kisses, sucking and marking them, He wanted to devour her if possible.
"Daemon" Marleina cried, growing even more annoyed with his neglect.
"Patience sweet dārilaros, let me love you, let me love your body" Daemon placed a hand on her belly and pushed down when she attempted to push her hips in his face.
Daemon trailed kisses up from her knee to the corner of her lower lips. Marleina's breath got caught in her throat, heart beating faster with anticipation.
Daemon finally placed his lips on the area that was crying for his touch. A loud moan escaped Marleina's lips when his lips placed a small kiss to her pearl. He took it between his lips sucking gently, her whole body shook at the feeling.
"Taste so good" Daemon prasied. His tongue ran through her foold, maoning at the taste of her on his tongue. Marleina's back arched when his tongue pushed.
The feeling of his wet muscle teasing her inner walls sent shock waves through her body. She wanted to claw at her own flesh, she wanted to claw his flesh but she couldn't her hands were tied.
She tried to fight against the restrains, she wanted to escape. Her wrists began to hurt with each tug but to no use they wouldn't come out. He was a soldier, he knew how to make a good knot, one that would never unravel, he know how to restrain movement.
"Bad girl" Daemon delivered a quick slap to her pearl when she tried pushing her cunt closer to his face. Daemon's demeanour changed and he dived in with all he god.
"Fuck, your body is perfect" he whispered. Hand running up her side, feeling every curve, every extra layer of skin from each pregnancy. She was an angel, she was just perfect for him.
"Daemon, please" She pleaded, hips trying to rock into him. He climbed back up to lay on top of her.
"Shhh" Daemon nuzzled his nose against hers. She didn't notice him reaching down to grab himself. She didn't see him place his tip against her entrance, too deeply concentrated on the kisses he was placing on her neck.
Her shocked gasp tickled Daemon's lips from their closeness, the way her eyes widened was comical to Daemon who chuckled. The second he pushed his cock in, he pushed the entire thing, he just shoved it inside of her.
It was painful, painful as hell even with preparation, but Marleina loved pain, loved his pain. The mere move of him shoving himself inside of her sent her spireling down a hole of shakiness, her orgasm moving through her body along with her blood.
"So tight" Daemon's head fell back at the feeling of her walls contracting around him. Her legs rose to wrap around his hips, locking above his bottom pulling him even closer.
"So perfect, Daemon, so full" Marleina whimpered in his ear. Daemon with his face buried in the crook of her neck, hand trailing up to hold the knot he made around her wrists, the other hand holding her thigh in a bruising grip, began moving his hips.
No rocking, no gentle movement, straight to slamming into her. Her screams of his name echoed around the room bouncing against the walls in a race with his own groans and moans of pleasure.
"Daemon! Please please please, more" She cried. Daemon's finger hooked around the knot pulling at it releasing her wrists free. He wanted to feel pain, he wanted her to scratching, hold him and scream in his ear.
Hands free went straight to wrap around him, scratching down his back, definitely drawing blood. Daemon groaned in her ear at the feeling, he loved so much. His hips moving in a pace no one could imagine, she just felt so good around his cock.
"I'm coming" She warned. Daemon pulled away from her neck leaving behind bruises that she will surely be mad about once her head was clear again. He looked down at her face, eyes tightly closed hiding eyes rolled back, mouth open letting through screams of his name and warnings of her coming soon. Tears rolling down her cheeks he leaned down to kiss away loving the salty tang in his mouth from them.
"Come for me, come on my cock, let your perfect cunt come around me" Daemon sat up on his knees, hand on her hips raising them to the same level as his cock letting it reach new depth inside of her.
"Daemon!" She screamed, whole body going into another dimension, shaking and spasming in his arms.
"Fuck" Daemon groaned, her orgasm made her walls the tightest they could ever be. He felt his whole body going numb at the feeling, falling on top of her, balls deep inside letting his cum shoot deep inside of her painting her walls white.
"Fucking hell" She cried too oversensitive. Her hips squirming under him trying to get away from him but all the movement did was make her feel even more pleasure, pulling a quick second orgasm for herself without even meaning too.
Daemon chuckled pulling out of her gently and rolling to lay by her side, cock softening. She immediately rolled into his arms, head on his chest and arms circled around him, one leg draped around his waist. Daemon wrapped his arm around her, finger trailing down to her bottom giving it a quick squeeze before continuing down to her cunt, touching it from behind, feeling his spend leaking out of her and gathering some. She whimpered at the feeling of his fingers on her wiggling a little. Daemon pulled his fingers back up and shoved them in front of her face, she didn't waste a second to take them into her mouth sucking them like the good girl she was.
"Perfect wife" He praised, kissing her forehead gently. She giggled snuggling deeper into his embrace.
Nine months after that fateful night, the Red Keep was filled with the joyous cries of a newborn. Marleina had given birth to a daughter, and the entire Targaryen household celebrated the arrival of little Visenya. The baby girl was a bundle of energy and happiness from the moment she entered the world, her cries echoing through the castle like a song of hope.
In the chamber where Marleina held her daughter for the first time, Daemon stood by her side, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness. Aenys, Maegon, and Baelon gathered around, their faces filled with awe as they beheld their little sister.
"Her name suits her," Marleina whispered, her voice filled with affection as she gazed at the tiny girl in her arms. "Visenya, the princess of our hearts."
Aenys, being the eldest, was the first to reach out and gently stroke his sister's cheek. "She's beautiful, Mother."
Maegon nodded in agreement, his analytical mind already considering the implications of a sister in their lives. "What does this mean for our family, Mother?"
Marleina smiled at her sons, realizing that this new addition would indeed bring changes. "It means that you now have a sister to protect and cherish, just as you have each other."
Baelon, who had been eagerly waiting his turn, finally got a chance to hold Visenya. His eyes sparkled with delight as he cradled the baby in his arms. "I'll protect her with my sword when I'm older, just like Father."
Daemon knelt beside Baelon and ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's the spirit, my boy. But for now, you must protect her with your love."
Visenya, oblivious to the discussions about her future, continued to gurgle and coo, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp at the world around her. In her presence, the worries and responsibilities of the realm faded away, leaving only the pure and unbridled love of a family united by a new life.
As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Visenya became the heart of the Red Keep. Her laughter echoed through the halls, and her siblings doted on her endlessly. Marleina and Daemon, despite the challenges of their position, found solace and joy in the innocence of their youngest child.
With Visenya's arrival, the Targaryen family was more complete than ever before. The boys, once an army of brothers, now had a little sister to protect and guide. The Red Keep, filled with history and tradition, had a new princess to grace its ancient halls.
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine#game of thrones#daemon targaryen#daemon prince#daemon fluff#daemon fic#daemon#daemon targeryan#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon fanfic#daemon imagine#daemon smut#daemon x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#kinktober
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fresh out the slammer | daemon targaryen
Description: Daemon Targaryen always found himself running to you after his failed marriages.
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/The Hand!Reader
Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you.
Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to.
The Dragon Prince was always an unpredictable figure. He made choices of his own, allowed his hot-blooded anger to rule his decisions instead of his mind. "Lord Otto warned me years ago, he knew that Daemon would try this..." Viserys cursed underneath his breath, it was a mere second ago when Lord Otto Hightower delivered the news about Rhaenyra's excursion with Daemon.
"I know Rhaenyra, she wouldn't do that in her own accord - this is Daemon's doing, my husband." Queen Alicent followed behind him, and you both exchange a look. Viserys takes a deep breath.
Viserys wanted to believe that his daughter was as innocent as Alicent thought but he knew that it wasn't the case. "The same blood flows through their veins, Rhaenyra and Daemon, they are both unpredictable - untamed by tradition. I would approve of this but my brother has a wife, we cannot risk offending House Royce." the King responded, waiting for your reply.
"We must do something about Daemon." Viserys articulated, "I believe that we have exhausted all our efforts into taming your brother, my king. You've already named him as the Commander of the City Watch. If that position has not taught him anything about honor and respect, I-I cannot see a possibility that anything could." you mused, his eyebrows merged into each other.
"We can send him away, force him to return to his lawful wife." Alicent suggested. "- the people at court, they'll talk about Rhaenyra, they'll bring her moralities into question. If she is to be the future Queen, then shouldn't the court respect her?" Alicent added, hoping to sway her husband into making the decision.
"It is already an endless cycle, my queen. Prince Daemon is forced into exile, he returns a few years and he does something that forces him to exile once more." you argued, on top of that, the prince was an asset to the crown - a warrior if not anything lesser.
"- to catch him would be to catch the wind." you ended and a sigh escapes the King's mouth. "- and we are still unsure if Prince Daemon was with Princess Rhaenyra. Mayhaps, it was just a whore from Lyss who bore resemblance to our princess." you defended, mentally reminding yourself to confront him after this conversation.
Viserys was silent for a second.
He takes a deep breath.
"I shall speak to my brother, confirm or derail the allegations. Then I shall call the small council and make a decision there." he concluded.
Daemon clenched his jaw, seeing you walk towards him in his periphery. A child in his eyes - decades lesser than his age, and yet his brother found you more fitting to be the Hand.
What did you have, that he did not?
"Lord Otto reports seeing you with Princess Rhaenyra late at night in Fleabottom." you opened the conversation and he did his best not to show any facial expressions. "What do you want?" his eyes narrowed.
"It was her then? I'll have you know that your brother plans to wring your head because of that." you chuckled, amused by his childish antics. Was it his first time in court? "If it is her, if it is not her, it is none of your business, hand." he grits his teeth.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
"Your brother will send you back to your wife. He will not grant you disbarment, nor will he grant you marriage with your niece. You are caught in a limbo, my prince." you explained his situation.
He could give lesser of a fuck.
"- but I can offer you a way out." you offered, and his pupils dilated. Suddenly piqued by your proposition. He takes a strand of your hair and moves it behind your ears. Your faces were mere inches away from each other. "A pretty lady offers me a proposition, I cannot decline." he agrees with the deal.
You stare deep into those purple eyes.
"I'm fairly new to court, they don't trust me - I've made a few enemies. Especially Lord Otto, and I know enough to know that you are smarter than you seem - that he fears you to some extent." you whispered, your voice low so that he'd have to lean closer to hear.
"You protect me, and I'll protect you." you offered. "- this thing with Rhaenyra will die down, just pretend that it was some Lyseni whore you bedded, and not your niece. You can still fuck her, if you wish, but be a little more discreet." you counseled.
"Sure." he hummed, pulling away from your body.
It's been a few months since the start of your alliance with the Rogue Prince, and surprisingly he's become a decent friend. Hilarious, when he tries. "Drink this," he placed a cup of ale in front of you. It wasn't your first time in Fleabottom, but it was your first time going here incognito beside him.
"Gods, aren't you going to help Harwin?" you chuckled, taking a slight sip of the ale. It was much too strong for your tastes. Daemon laughed in return, raising his hand and calling out to Harwin. "Are you alright?" he inquired and the man nodded his head sluggishly, fighting against the effects of alcohol.
"He's alright," Daemon antagonized, biting back a few giggles. "This is my first time seeing you loosen off. You're kind of a boring prude." he insulted jokingly, and you responded with an eye-roll. "Fuck you." your eyes narrowed.
"Seven hells, aren't you going to do anything now?" you raised an eyebrow, seeing Harwin led to the stage by a few bedwarmers. One of the girls pressed kisses on his cheeks. "I thought I was your only one," Daemon chuckled, not planning to stop Harwin from having his fun. "I thought you were old friends." you teased.
"Closer than friends, lesser than lovers." he shrugged and a laugh escapes your mouth. You always managed to laugh at his antics. He always pretended to be close to the people that hated him, sometimes even referring to Otto Hightower as the father he never had - of course, that was an insult to the man's physical features.
There was a comfortable silence between you, a silence that was only marred by the habitual sipping of ale. "You frequent these types of places?" you inquired, only beginning to realize the slight reddish tint on his cheeks.
"I used to, but not much now, they've grown...boring." he waited for the right words to exit his mouth. The truth was, he found himself slowly liking your company - liking the words that came out of your mouth, the insults that made him laugh, and the thought of fucking a woman who was only paid to moan and groan left him unfulfilled. He craved something deeper - like an idiot, he wanted a woman that understood him, that was able to shake his soul with avarice.
He needed someone like you, but he hasn't quite figured that out yet.
"The Prince of Flea Bottom, finding his own kingdom...boring." you mimicked his tone. "I've merely understood the fact that there are much better things to do than empty my spend on a whore's belly." he retorted, the conversation turning serious. "You should return to your wife and empty your seed on that belly." you teased once more, you've always laughed at the topic of his wife.
"I fucking hate you," he took a large swig of his ale. "- get me pissed enough and I'll fuck you, I swear to god." he cursed and you froze slightly. He made you feel dangerous for a moment. Like something could sweep by and take him, and you won't even have the right to mourn - you'll just watch him go, and wallow in the memory of him being vulgar with you.
#daemon targaryen x reader#prince daemon x reader#daemon x reader#prince daemon x you#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x you#daemon x y/n#daemon x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen fic#prince daemon targaryen#daemon fanfic#daemon fluff#daemon fic#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd daemon#hotd fanfic#asoiaf fanfic#asoif/got
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So anyway there was this horse
when he was told Rhaenyra was at a brothel and he went "what of it??" 💀
And when he had the maester bring her the moon tea 😭😭😭 like here’s your plan B sweetie hope you had fun
#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house of the dragon fic#hotd fanfic#daemon angst#daemon crackfic#daemon angst#daemon fluff#daemon x rhaenyra#daemon targaryen#alicent hightower#daemyra#rhaenyra x alicent#rhaenya targaryen#rhae#queen rhaenyra#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenicent#targaryen#hotd fanart#hotd oc#hotd art#hotd#house hightower#daemon targeryan#hotd daemon#daemon x reader
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Princess in Pentos
daemon x reader x laena
AN: this was a request for a fluffy relationship between daemon and his two wives
TW: smut, breeding kink, slight exhibitionism ig
word count: 1,444 words
You’re surprised when Daemon walks through the door of the nursery, with it being nearly 4 o’clock in the morning and all. You’re cradling your newborn babe that you’ve just managed to get to stop crying as he enters the room, closing the door behind him.
“What is my little wife doing awake at this hour?” He asks softly, striding over and tucking a strand of lush hair behind your ear.
“Your daughter is a crier. I don’t want Elaenora waking Baela or Rhaena.” You explain tiredly.
“A wetnurse can settle her in the night, my love. You shouldn’t exert yourself so.” He presses a kiss to your head. “Let me see her.” He holds his arms out and you pass your darling girl to him.
“I know, but she wanted her mama.” You give him a little pout and he chuckles.
“My sweet wife, you spoil her.” You glare at him playfully.
“She deserves to be spoiled. Just look at that cute little face.” You smile at Elaenora who’s close to drifting off to sleep.
“She gets that cute face from her muña.” mother. He coos and brings his baby girl up for a kiss on the forehead. “So beautiful.” He whispers with that look of love on his face that he only has when he’s looking at one of his girls.
“How is it that you always get her to sleep instantly?” You pout again.
“Maybe it’s because she knows she’s already got me wrapped around her little finger. Makes her feel safe in kepa’s arms.” father. He grins, placing his littlest girl back in her crib. “She’s just like her mama in that way.”
“Oh? You assume that I always feel safe in your arms?” You ask in a teasing tone.
“Of course you do. I’m the King of the Narrow Sea.” He says cockily as he saunters over to you. “And I’m wrapped around your finger.” He kneels in front of where you sit and takes your hand, bringing it up for a kiss.
“Are you now?” You giggle as he lays his head in your lap and buries his face in the fabric of your dress.
“Absolutely cunt-struck.” He mumbles through the silk and you feel him begin to lift your skirts.
“Daemon! Our babe is in the room!” You whisper-shout at him.
“She’s sleeping.” He justifies and tries to get his head under your skirt but you push him away.
“I’m going to bed. You can have a taste tomorrow.” You say as you stand and he grumbles in response, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind you.
“You are a cruel cruel woman.” You feel him kiss at your neck and you chuckle, pushing him off.
“Goodnight.” You say with a smirk and slip out the door.
***
You rise late the next day, still feeling groggy from your long night. You dress yourself in something light due to the hot weather and begin to make your way downstairs. You find your husband with his daughters in the library and watch as he tells them a story. Rhaena rests her head on his lap and Baela leans against his shoulder as he recounts the history of Old Valyria. Both of the girls hang on his every word. His hand lies on Rhaena’s hair, stroking it softly as he speaks; his other arm holds Baela close. You smile at his tenderness. After a moment, Daemon looks up to you. You watch as he admires your dress
“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He teases and the girls hurry over to hug you.
“Muña, muña, Kepa said that Moondancer might be as big as Caraxes one day!” Baela says excitedly.
“Oh that’s lovely, darling. And if Kepa said it, then it must be true.” You smile down at her. You look at Daemon. “Where’s Laena?” You inquire, knowing that she often spends mornings with the girls.
“Doting on Elaenora. It seems our babe holds both of my sweet wives’ attentions.” He gives a playful pout.
“What a baby my husband is.” Your comment makes the girls giggle and you soon send them off to their septa.
“Does the Rogue Prince require doting on?” You ask playfully.
“I do when my little wife looks so alluring.” He gazes at you with hunger.
“She does look quite alluring.” Laena comments. You didn’t even hear her walk in and you blush at your words. “Your dress is very pretty, love.”
“My sister sent it from back home.”
“Ahh I thought it looked Dornish.” Daemon says, his eyes drinking up the sight of you. “Explains the very minimal coverage.” Your husband’s eyes fall to your breasts.
Laena walks over and begins tracing the fabric that covers your hips. You gulp.
“W-Was Elaenora putting up a fuss?” You try to change the subject.
“Not at all. She’s a lovely girl. Just like her mama.” Laena says and brushes the hair off of your shoulder so she can kiss your neck.
“Spoiled like her mother you mean.” Daemon says as he walks over, pulling Laena in for a kiss and making you watch. You pout.
“Don’t be so mean, Daemon.” Laena says, coming off of the kiss.
“I could never be mean to my pretty girl.” He walks up to you and gives you a kiss before taking the left arm of your dress and pulling it down to reveal your bare chest. “No corset?”
“We never wore corsets in Dorne.” He smirks at that.
“Mayhaps we should move to Dorne.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. His hands on your waist guide you backwards until the back of your knees hit the couch, causing you to fall into a sitting position. Laena sits beside you as Daemon kneels. “Since you wouldn’t let me last night.” He grins wolfishly before lifting up your skirts.
You try to speak but Laena silences you with a kiss. Daemon’s head goes under your dress and you can hear him groan at your lack of smallclothes. He licks at your folds and you whimper into Laena’s mouth. She nibbles at your lip and pinches your nipple as your husband begins sucking at your pearl. He eats you slowly for a few minutes, taking his time appreciating your cunny before he stops. You whine at the lack of contact.
“It’s okay, princess.” Your wife assures as she moves you around so you lay on your back with your head in her lap.
“I think it’s time for me to fill that belly up with my seed again.” Daemon coos at you sweetly, motioning at his other wife to help lift your legs over your head.
“Perhaps this time it should be you who pushes out a babe.” You glare at him.
“How can one be so feisty with her bare cunt presented to her husband?” He teases as he unbuttons his breeches. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks again and that blush gets worse and your husband pulls out his length.
“Don’t worry, love. You can take it.” Laena says, her fingers going down to rub your peal to sooth you as Daemon sheaths himself inside of you. You wince slightly but don’t complain.
“What a good girl I have.” Daemon praises as he begins to move in and out, fucking into you gently. You moan as your wife continues to tease your pearl.
“She seems to like that.” Laena comments with a smirk as Daemon thrusts into you.
“Of course she does. Our sweet wife loves to be filled with her husband’s cock.” You whine as they tease you and they both chuckle at your reaction. “Good girl.” Daemon says, bringing his thumb up to your lips and parting them slightly. He then proceeds to stick two fingers into your mouth. You squeeze around him at the gesture, causing him to groan.
“Looks like our little wife might be close.” Laena says, knowing you’re gripping Daemon tightly based on the look on his face
“Cum on my cock then, pretty girl.” Daemon picks up speed a little. “And i’ll spill my seed deep inside of you.” You quickly obey your husband, feeling your peak wash over you. The way your cunny milks his cock has his release following soon after. He pulls himself out of you slowly and then places you in his lap. “You did so well, baby. My perfect girl.” He kisses you tenderly and Laena rubs your back.
“I think your other wife needs some attention.” You say mischievously.
“Oh, do you want a turn watching?” Laena raises an eyebrow. You nod with a little smirk on your face. “Then who are we to refuse you?”
taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627
#daemon fluff#daemon targeryan#daemon x reader#daemon smut#daemon targaryen smut#laena velaryon#daemon x laena#laena smut#laena x reader
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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄.
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader
A sleeping morning with your husband.
fanfiction | House of the Dragon
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"Go to sleep, love," his weary voice whispers, as his arm envelops your figure. His eyes, heavy with fatigue, struggle to stay open. Daemon draws you closer to his chest, a soft hum escaping his lips as he drapes his leg over yours, gently spooning you in his embrace.
The morning sunlight caresses his face, casting a gentle glow upon his features. He yawns and presses a tender kiss to your bare shoulder before succumbing to a deep slumber, while the golden rays continue to filter through the curtain, casting a serene ambiance over the room, as if nature itself is embracing this tranquil moment of rest and intimacy.
#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targeryan#daemon x reader#hotd#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#daemon fluff#daemon targaryen x male reader#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen x y/n
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The Wolf Amongst Dragons
request: Can you pretty please do a daemon X reader where it's his niece who teases him about being super smitten with the reader BC she is a headstrong stark and makes a fool out of the court because she can. Perhaps she gets quite hurt in a battle that the king sends her and others out to fix. Basically it just ends up being fluffy where the reader knows his feelings and just soaks up the complete love he has. Like this boy has been knocked off his feet and he hates to admit it hehe
pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n stark
word count: 1k
warnings: canon typical violence, injured reader, blood
a/n: i tweaked this a little, hope you don’t mind!
You made a promise to yourself the day your older brother, Cregan, loaded you and your belongings into a carriage headed for the capital. Until this point you’d never stepped foot out of Winterfell, let alone were you prepared to move to the other side of the continent. Yet you had no choice. When the King of the Seven Kingdoms requests a Northern representative for the royal court, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to send his little sister.
When you finally arrived at the Red Keep you were meet with by King Viserys, his wife Queen Aemma, their daughter Princess Rhaenyra, and the king’s brother Prince Daemon. The Kingsguard stood tall in gleaming armor in full force surrounding the royal family, who was also accompanied by their personal staff.
“Lady Stark!” King Viserys cheers as he opens his arms in greeting. “We are honored to welcome you to the Red Keep! I hope your travels went smoothly?”
“Thank you, your Grace,” you answered as you bowed respectively. “The Kingsroad is fine, your Grace. It’s more the climate that’s concerning me. i’m not yet used to such... conditions, to say the least.”
Queen Aemma steps forward, “I’m sure you’ll adjust before you know it. Please, allow me to show you to your chambers.”
The queen was gracious enough to accompany you not only to your chambers, but she then took you on a tour of the palace. She began with the throne room, then took you out to the royal gardens where she took you to the Godswood. Having a weirwood tree right here in the Red Keep made you breath easier. At least this place had some trace of the North. Being so far from home unnerved you deeply, but in this place you could feel a connection to home.
Over the next few days you attended Small Council meetings where you watched from the sidelines. King Viserys assured you would have a seat on the council soon enough, but others suggested you have an ‘adjustment period’ of sorts. You scoffed at the idea but still took your seat outside the council table.
Being separated from the council, however, was not enough to restrain you from calling Otto Hightower a ‘spoiled southern cunt’ for suggesting Daemon send members of the City Watch into Flea Bottom to reprimand those who are already fighting to survive. During these meetings you happened to catch the violet eyes of the rogue prince, who had yet to make your acquaintance.
Not long after your arrival in Winterfell, King Viserys announced that Queen Aemma is with child once more, and the palace went into a mode of celebrations. A feast had been prepared and the throne room transformed into a dining hall with room for dancing.
Most everyone had finished their meals and began mingling and dancing their way around the room, but your attention focused mainly on the many molten swords of the Iron Throne. You had to admit the sight of the royal seat of Westeros was quite an intimidating sight.
Something inside told you to take a step towards the throne, and so you did. You stopped when you approached the first line of molten swords and reached out to trail your fingers lightly across the hilt.
“I’d be careful if I were you,” Daemon advised teasingly as he came up on your right side. “My brother does not take kindly to those who yearn for his precious throne.”
“I merely grazed the hilt of one measly sword,” you refuted. “I did not sit my arse upon it and call myself the queen. Nor do I want to.”
“Truthfully?” he inquires, a look of curiosity upon his face. You take the moment to take in the sight of him, and you cannot deny he’s an incredibly handsome man. Like the rest of his Targaryen ancestors, Daemon is beautifully crafted by the Gods of Old Valyria— blessed with silver blond hair and lilac eyes.
You nod and look back up to the throne. “I could think of nothing worse,” you admit. “To live my life upon this ghastly thing and have to sit through endless bore-me-to-death Small Council meetings? Sounds miserable to me.”
With that you excuse yourself respectively to retire for the evening. You make quick rounds to the other members of the royal family to excuse yourself for the night totally unaware of how Daemon’s eyes are following you the whole time. He watches as you begin with his brother and sister in law, before finding Rhaenyra (who’s in the middle of the dancefloor with Alicent) and saying goodnight to her, too.
He laughs to himself when Rhaenyra and Alicent each take one of your hands and pulls you around in circles with them, as if trying to convince you to stay with them just a bit longer. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but his heart beats harder at the sight of your dark gray satin skirts flow around you while you twirl, at the smile on your face as you laugh with his niece and her friend.
Eventually you pull away from the girls before officially making your way out of the throne room and away from the chaos.
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Several months had passed since the death of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon, and war had begun in the Stepstones just as Corlys Velaryon warned King Viserys and the eternity of the Small Council. Still Viserys refused to step in as king and help the Lord of Driftmark defeat the Triarchy once and for all. After the king rejected Corlys’ offer of Laena’s hand in marriage and instead married Alicent Hightower, the seasnake took off to fight in the Stepstones. It wasn’t long after that that Daemon joined Corlys in his war efforts.
You stayed in the Keep for awhile, trying to convince Viserys to aid Corlys and Daemon in their efforts of holding the Stepstones to no avail. Viserys had allowed you to take a seat on the council while Corlys and Daemon were gone, and each time you tried to plead with the king to see reason Otto Hightower would weasel his way in the king’s ear against you.
So you decided to go to the Stepstones yourself, naturally. You recruited Ser Harwin Strong to accompany you once he swore on his honor he would not say a word of your plan to anyone until his safe return to King’s Landing.
You and Harwin arrived on the shores of the Stepstones in time to rush to Daemon’s side as he was overrun by members of the Triarchy. You wore the armor your father had gifted you after many years of insisting on joining your brother Cregan on the battlefield with the Stark bannermen.
Vaemond Velaryon scoffed at your arrival and insisted Corlys send you away. Daemon stepped forward, piercing Vaemond with his furious lilac gaze.
“Put your cocks away, boys,” you tease, unimpressed. “We’ve a war to win, do we not?”
You joined the war torn men around the large table set up with the maps of the battlefields. Conversation continued back and forth as the lot of you tried to come up with a plan to take down the Crab Feeder and Triarchy. Laenor’s plan of sending Daemon to the Crab Feeder as a scapegoat of false hope only for both Caraxes and Seasmoke to burn the Triarchy men alive.
For the most part everything went as planned, until you jained Daemon’s side as he was ambushed, unarmed, by a circle of the enemy. You’d jumped into the fight, effectively taking out several Triarchy soldiers before tossing a sword Daemon’s way. He showed his thanks by slaying the rest of the men with you, but not before one of them slashed you in the side, leaving a bloody gash on the side of your thigh.
“Fuck!” you yell as you clutch your leg, losing your balance and hitting the ground. Blood streamed down your leg in a slow, but steady, flow. Daemon joined your side in a flash, ripping the white flag he’d had to feign surrenderance to tie the cloth as tight as he could above the gash in your thigh.
The battle continued around you though for the most part Caraxes’ and Seasmoke’s flame had discouraged most of what was left of the Triarchy. With Daemon’s aid you were able to safely make it back to the shore where you’d first arrived to be treated by the healers available.
Daemon stayed by your side through the stitching and even went as far as to hold your hand and offer sweet words as comfort. You were grateful for him, this way you had something else to focus on other than the pain. And if you needed an alternative to keep your mind busy, there was no better pick than Daemon.
His silvery white hair fell around his face perfectly despite being slightly matted with sweat and blood. He’d always been handsome, that you couldn’t deny, but seeing this softer side to him made him even more so in your eyes. It’s no secret Daemon is a troublemaker, and you should probably keep your distance, but after this how could you?
Long after the battle was over Daemon was crowned King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. He’d cut his infamous long hair short, and it suited him. Sometimes little wisps of silver hair would fall down into his face and you had to remind yourself to breathe at the sight.
Your relationship with Daemon changed after the war in the Stepstones. Whereas before the war you would avoid Daemon in court, you now sought him out. Not that you had too, because he often would join your side in Small Council meetings or invite you out to the training yards.
Tonight however, you opted to stay in your chambers.
You’d already stripped down to your nightclothes when a knock came from the other side of your chamber doors.
“Come in.” you called.
The doors open and Daemon entered, dismissing your guards. They looked to you before leaving once they had your reassurance.
Daemon didn’t hesitate to step right up to you. “Forgive me for the hour, my lady, but I’ve found myself in a situation I am quite unfamiliar with and it seems you are the only one who can help me.”
“Oh?” You tilted your head, trying to ignore the fluttering of your heart. “How am I supposed to be of aid?”
“Be mine,” he responds quickly with confidence. “I must confess from the day you arrived here in the Keep I’ve been quite taken with you. And the day you rode onto the shores of the Stepstones, I knew I could not live without you by my side—”
You reached your hands out to cup either side of his face. “Daemon, do not jest. I’m afraid my heart could not take it.”
A genuine smile breaks out across his lips. “I would never,” Daemon insists. “I’ve felt this way for a long time, my little wolf.”
Daemon’s hands fall to your waist as he pulls you into his body, leaning down to kiss you firmly. You pulled away and kissed his forehead before resting your own against his.
“Come to bed, Daemon,” you purr and pull away towards the bed.
He laughs and smiles down at you. “As you wish, little wolf.”
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x reader#prince daemon targaryen#daemon headcanon#rogue prince daemon targaryen#hotd daemon targaryen#daemon fluff#daemon angst#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fanfic#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon#king viserys i targaryen#king viserys targaryen x reader#king viserys targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#stark!daughter#stark!reader#young rhaenyra#young rhaenyra targaryen#house stark#y/n stark#otto hightower#young alicent#young alicent hightower#queen aemma#viserys x aemma#brother cregan stark#brother!cregan
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Hi! For the bingo: Daemon Targaryen & courting?
Mirror (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)
Warnings: Targaryen reader. Mature situations. Mature language. A bit of angst, incest, and innocence kink.
Summary: Courting. Daemon’s version.
A/N: Everyone who writes Daemon fics has tackled this trope. I missed oneshots so bad.
There was little King Viserys wouldn’t do for his lovely daughters. During your childhood, there were two of everything. Two Septas, two dolls, two play daggers. For as long as you have been alive, there have been efforts made to make things fair.
No doubt, it was the legacy of your mother. Your father was nice enough, but you doubted he had the foresight to try to avoid sibling rivalry. Queen Aemma’s influence had been greatly missed after her passing.
It had been then when the problems between you and Rhaenyra had started. Your relationship had gotten even more rocky when she was named heir. The situation had turned so bad, even your father had noticed. And just as if it were one of his models, he had demanded perfect symmetry in all aspects.
The same rooms. Same number of servants. Same number of dresses you were allowed to own. An even split of your mother’s jewels.
Unfortunately, there were things not even King Viserys could fix. This was one of them, you thought, as you sat on one of the rails of the dragon pit.
Daemon and Rhaenyra race on their dragons in the open sky right above you. They shriek in laughter and shout things in High Valyrian. You are not sure which you resent more. Rhaenyra, for dragging you along with the promise of tending to Syrax or Daemon for interrupting your time with your sister.
It seemed as if all you did was fight now. The occasion where you did not was rare, and so, intrusion on it was not welcome. But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder if Rhaenyra is playing a cruel trick on you, dragging you here so you can see what you are missing.
Despite your best attempts at keeping yourself calm, you can’t help but feel rage bubble up in your throat. Rage, and a deep sense of failure. You had heard even Laena Velaryon, younger than you, had managed to claim a dragon. Was this why your father had chosen Rhaenyra to be heir and not you?
It felt cruel, and hurtful. Not only did your uncle always pay more attention to Rhaenyra, but now you had to watch them do things you couldn’t do. Go where you couldn’t follow, and made you watch them go.
They dismount a few feet away from you. With them, comes all the hassle and fretting of the dragon keepers. Caraxes always takes a long time to settle after going flying, and so, you relax in your seat. You hope enough time might go by, they forget about your existence and you can slip out unnoticed. It would save you the embarrassment of having to hear them flirt and tell you everything as if you were a child.
No luck for you today, though. You smell it before you see it. Sweat, leather and the unmistakable stink of dragon. Your nose scrunches up, and you jump off the railing just in time to avoid your uncle’s ruffling of your hair.
Rhaenyra snickers a little. Despite the dragon ride, she looks as royal and regal as ever. It’s a feat you admire and despise greatly.
“Trying to sneak up on me?” You frown. You don’t need any further embarrassing. Being startled and falling into the mud would have been just the cherry on top.
Daemon ignores you, tugging on your braid.
“No dragon yet?”
“No.” Your answer it’s harsh, and perhaps a bit rude, but this feels as if they are targedly mocking you. Daemon raises his eyebrows, looking on the edge of apologizing, if such a thing it’s even possible for him. Rhaenyra, more used to your moods, just rolls her eyes.
“Let her be, Kepa.” She whispers, as if you are not there. “She is always like this.”
“Pouty?” Daemon tilts your chin up with two fingers. You jerk your head away, glaring daggers at him.
“Bitter.” Rhaenyra speaks, and you glare at her instead. You do not understand why she is so mean, lately. Her being named heir has not done anything good for your relationship, but you had tried your best to play nice. She didn’t seem to care.
“I can hear both of you.” You complain, but they just laugh. Angrily, you stomp off.
You feel too jittery to go back to your chambers. It would make you more angry, if you were to go inside the castle so soon. It’s too pleasant of a day to be spent cooped up at the Red Keep. Too preoccupied with your thoughts, you don’t notice someone is following you.
Your feet lead you to the training yard. It makes sense, in a way. This is where you have been coming the past few months when the castle got too small to house both you and Rhaenyra.
Early in the morning as it is, the yard is empty. Save for your sworn shield, of course. While Rhaenyra had gotten Ser Criston Cole, handsome and dornish, you had gotten Ser Harwin Strong. Riverlander, just as handsome and with a clear infatuation with your sister.
But kind. Unbearably so.
“I figured your meeting with the Princess would not go as planned.” He explains, as he helps you out of your cloak and jewelry. Ser Harwin helps you put on some protective gear before handing you a wooden sword.
He has been teaching you swordplay for the past few months. Not so much for self-defense, but as a way to curb your more violent impulses. When you feel like you might throttle Rhaenyra or perhaps smother her with a pillow, you come to him.
It's good. You have not learned a lot, but there is something utterly satisfying about hitting someone as hard as you can. With wooden swords and against Ser Harwin, you know there is no real possibility of hurting him. He is much taller and stronger than you.
There is also something satisfying about blocking his blows, too. In the smacking sound, in the effort it takes. You understand why men enjoy battle so much, finally. When you walk away, you are always sore and bruised, but your mind is finally quiet.
“I have just resigned myself to an arranged marriage.” You say to Ser Harwin, as you block his sword with great effort. “All the men in the court are panting after her, it’s no use.”
And you do think you are on the right, this time. Too often, you feel overshadowed by her, and seeing your uncle and Ser Harwin on the same day just confirms it. You have no chance at finding true love, not when every man here only has eyes for her.
You didn’t necessarily were a romantic person, but a bit of attention would be nice. Feeling desired and admired in the way Rhaenyra was. They even called her the Realm’s delight, for Gods’s sake.
“Are they after her? Or her tittle?” Ser Harwin tries to disarm you. You hit harder, a low blow aimed to his ribs that he avoids with little effort.
“You tell me.” You pant, a little out of breath. It was something you frequently wondered yourself, but never about him. Ser Harwin clearly wasn’t hoping to be King. What he wanted was something much more carnal. You had seen the way his eyes trailed Rhaenyra’s figure when they were together in a room. He appreciated her personality, perhaps, but he clearly wanted to bed her.
You loved teasing him about it. For such a big man, he could sure get sheepish.
“Fair.” Ser Harwin chuckled, raising his wooden sword again. You liked that he was very good-humored. He didn't mind your teasing. “But think of the bright side. If someone is after you, they are really after you.”
You frowned. He had a point, you supposed. If a man were about to pursue you, it might be because you are a Targaryen, or because of your valyrian looks. But never because of the Iron Throne. With baby Aegon existence, you are certain that whatever your place in the succession line is, plenty of people would have to die for you to even have a weak claim to it.
“Wise words for one so young.” The voice startles both of you. As if you were children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you freeze. Ser Harwin even drops his wooden sword. “You should heed your knight, niece.”
“Uncle.” You answer, casually. You know Daemon. If he senses weakness, he is going to pounce. While Ser Harwin has given away already that you are not exactly doing something your father approves off, you are not going to have your Uncle thinking he has something to blackmail you with.
Daemon ignores you, choosing to attack the weak link. He tuts at Harwin.
“Poor form. And a poor trainer. Leave us.”
Harwin hesitates. He is not supposed to leave you alone and unprotected. Much less, with your uncle. Daemon it’s not known for his trustworthiness.
“With all due respect, Prince Daemon, I am not allowed…”
“Leave us, boy.” Daemon’s tone turns harsher. Channeling all the authority he has as a Prince. Now, your sworn shield can’t refuse. It’s an order, not a suggestion. But Harwin remains where he is, looking to you for approval.
Your uncle’s eyes flash dangerously at the defiance. You look at Harwin and nod. He leaves.
You twirl your wooden sword. Daemon smirks.
“Commendable.” He gives a slow clap. “Very loyal guard dog, you have there.”
“You could learn a thing or two.” You answer, vicious. The human equivalent of an animal biting down and refusing to release its jaws. By the brief look of hurt on his face, you have touched a nerve.
But soon, his expression smooths down into a vicious little smile, to match yours.
“So this is where you have been disappearing to.”
“So?” You ask, all nonchalance.
“Feisty.” Your uncle kicks Harwin’s discarded wooden sword away and unsheathes his. Whatever this is, it’s long overdone, you realize. You are bouncing with pent-up anger and frustration.
Daemon strikes at you, hard. The flat side of his sword hits your ribs. It hurts even with the protections Harwin makes you wear, a dull sting on your torso.
“If this was a real fight, you would be dead.” His tone is smug. You cannot take it, and so, bang your wooden sword against his hip.
“And you would be unable to walk.”
Your uncle laughs, coldly. He is angry too, you realize. In that messy way he gets, sometimes. Teeth bared in a cocky grin, still high on the thrill of riding Caraxes and chasing Rhaenyra.
Despite your best attempts, you are no match for him. He is a seasoned warrior. He has been at war for the last couple of years. No amount of anger can match his technique. Soon, he has you disarmed and cornered, Dark Sister at your throat.
“Not bad. I might even bruise.” His tone drips condescension, but there is something odd going on in his face. His pupils are blown, his chest is heaving, and there is no way it’s with exertion. While you were panting and begging for a respite, Daemon hadn’t even worked up a sweat. “You need a real sword.”
“Perhaps. But then Rhaenyra gets one, and this is only mine.” It’s more honest than you would like, but you are still trying to decipherate what exactly he is feeling. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy. You feel confused.
“Is that why you want a husband? To have someone only yours?” Daemon suddenly is much closer, twirling the end of your braid between his fingers.
You scoff, and push him away.
“That’s none of your concern.”
You storm inside the Red Keep, scowling. Finally, it seemed, Daemon and Rhaenyra had managed to run you off the castle’s grounds.
The encounter is barely given a second thought. You decide to keep yourself busy for the rest of Daemon’s visit to King’s Landing. Knowing him, he is due to get exiled soon. There is no point in worrying about it.
You fill up your days with activities, be it harassing some tutors, your Septa, or even visiting orphaned children in King’s Landing. That activity is one you and Ser Harwin particularly enjoy. It fills you with joy when you get to run around and play in the mud with your stern guard having no choice but to tag along. You have even caught him smiling when little girls ask to braid his hair.
Things are surprisingly calm. You would have expected your uncle to be involved in a scandal by now. Yet, there are no rumors of him bedding three whores in one sitting, nor there is an irate Otto Hightower asking your father to send him away.
Until one night, you find a jeweled sword resting on your bed. It’s small, but you can tell from the sharpness of the blade that it is made from Valyrian steel. You start training with it the next day, getting used to its weight. If Ser Harwin thinks anything of your sudden interest in doing more than hitting him, he doesn’t show it.
You are not surprised to find your Uncle waiting for you after your morning practice. At first glance, the courtyard is as empty as when you began your training. Despite it, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching.
Just as you are entering the Red Keep, sweaty and ready for a bath, Daemon steps out from the shadows.
“You look so grown up in riding attire.” He says, from beneath some trees. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Almost didn’t recognize you, either. No scandal in nearly a month?” You start to loosen your braid, accelerating the process of getting into your bath as you walk. There is nothing you want more than to just soak in hot water and let the warmth wash away your soreness. “You must be getting old.”
“Youthfulness is in the spirit.” Daemons hurries to reach you, falling into step right beside you. You resist the urge to walk faster if only to see him struggle. Power play. Always. Push, and pull, and don’t let anyone else get the upper hand.
“Ah, that makes sense.” You slow down your steps because while you enjoy angering your uncle, you would rather not anger him too much. “You have the spirit of a child.”
“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.” Daemon ruffles your hair, uncaring that’s matted in sweat. You make a face. “Did you like your gift?”
“Depends.” You give him a feral little grin. Your uncle looks at you, as if deciding whether he wants to bite or not. Knowing him as you do, you know he can’t stand the intrigue.
“On what?”
“How many of Rhaenyra’s necklaces you had to melt to get the sword.”
“That blade is worth at least five of her necklaces.” Daemon boasts. You give him an unimpressed look.
“Huh. Then I like it.”
“Not love it?”
“It wasn’t ten.” And with a cheeky grin, you are off towards your chambers.
You don’t see Daemon for a few days. You hear him, unfortunately. He is everywhere at once, yet never wherever you are. You know of him in the shape of rumors and hearsay.
When you go fetch yourself a tea tray in the kitchen, your uncle is in the middle of the servants. “I heard last night he was with four whores!” As you ask a maid about your sister’s whereabouts, he is her chosen companion. “Princess Rhaenyra went out to race your uncle, Princess.” And of course, when your father complains, Daemon is in the midst of it. “He insulted Otto and then walked out of the council meeting.”
Despite your wishes, your uncle starts to occupy more of your mind’s space than you would like. You keep wondering what he is up to, each rumor more outrageous than the last. You cannot help but wonder if it’s you who was prompted him to wreak such havoc. The idea of having such power over him, that an offhanded comment can cause such a reaction, makes something tingle in your stomach.
You find him next in the gardens. Alicent and Rhaenyra are fighting again, a nasty thing that soon turns into a screaming match. That's a dynamic you have stayed out of, since you had memory. While Alicent and Rhaenyra were friends, you never felt anything towards Alicent besides a slight sympathy. She seemed nice enough, but she was not your friend.
Rhaenyra and you loved in the same way, you see. Possessive, harsh. As Princesses, you never learned to share. You wanted your person to be only yours. Alicent was Rhenyra’s, and so, you stepped aside.
When she married your father, you weren’t exactly pleased. But you had the emotional detachment Rhenyra lacked, being too close to the situation. In time, you had come to understand that it wasn’t like she had a choice, either.
So, it wasn’t like you were going to break with tradition now. To avoid their screams, you had decided to pace the gardens. Daemon seemed to have the same idea because you find him sitting on a bench with a book in his hands.
“Came to join me?” He asks, voice smooth like honey.
“Rather to escape the screeching.” You sit by his side, curiously peering at the book he holds.
“A Cautionary Tale For Young Girls.” Daemon’s smirk is the only thing that gives him away, that, and the fact that the book is written in High Valyrian. “Most illuminating read. You should try it.”
You laugh, despite yourself. His lips twitch into a more genuine smile, less full of smugness and bravado.
“I was getting lonely.” You say, softly. The admission surprises even you. “You are with Rhaenyra all the time.”
Don’t go where I can’t follow, you wish to say. Don’t take her from me. My other half. But you don’t speak the words aloud, from fear of him repeating your confession. You don’t want to beg Rhaenyra for affection, not when you have been competing with her all your life.
Daemon makes a face, as if pained of what he will say next. He seems wary of hurting you. You wonder if that means he cares for you, in his own twisted way. It’s not often he worries about what others think.
“She has a dragon.” No matter how gentle the tone, it hurts anyway.
“I miss her. Not you.” But it’s a lie. You know it’s a bad pattern, and you shouldn’t miss him, but you are so used to competing for affection that Daemon has become both your rival and the one you crave. The weeks without him have been lonely and taxing. No matter if it was you who pushed him away and didn’t care to reach out after.
“I remember you two were close.” Something must change in your face because your uncle reaches toward you, gently squeezing your arm.
“We used to be. She is just… So angry, all the time. And has all these new people. Admires, prospects…” You feel like a fool. There is a deep sense of unfulfillment and being wronged yet at the same time, you know you are being unreasonable. This was always going to happen. You can’t share the Iron Throne, and she has always been your father’s favorite. Rhaenyra was always going to be the heir.
“Which one am I?”
You shrug.
“It's not like I care.” But you do. You do care, despite your best sense. Because you want to be his favorite. You have always wanted to be someone’s favorite, but Daemon has a special brand of devotion for those he cares about. You wish you could be counted on that list, lately. By the smile on his face, Daemon can probably tell. “And it's not like before she didn't have things that were only hers.”
"I thought you shared everything.” Your uncle tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes.
“She has Alicent. Had. Still does.” You know when the time comes, Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra. They are tied together by destiny in ways Rhaenyra and you are not.
“The curse of the younger brother.” With your eyes still closed, his hand gently brushing your hair back, the words do not feel as if they are being spoken aloud. The gardens around you feel muffled, distant. Perhaps it’s the soothing touch, or the deep pang of sadness in your chest, but you do not understand what Daemon means.
“I beg your pardon?” You open your eyes, giving him a confused expression. Not only is he muttering nonsense, your uncle is much closer to you than he was before. Daemon’s forehead is nearly pressed into yours, his thumb now gently rubbing across your jawline.
“Viserys and Rhaenyra are the same.” He explains, tracing your cheekbone next. As if he is keen to learn your face from touch alone, carve it on his mind. It makes you smile slightly. The pain from mourning your innocence is very much still there, but it doesn’t feel like it’s tearing you apart. “Just as you and I are the same.”
“I…” You are not sure of what to answer. Naturally, it makes sense. You can feel it in your bones, but you can’t quite articulate the thought.
Daemon’s thumb presses against your lips in a downward motion, closing them.
“We could fly off tonight. Go to the Free cities, marry. No one would care.” His tone is fervent, urgent. Pleading with you. You keep quiet, and so does he. The silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind races.
Just as your lips flutter behind his thumb to answer the proposal, your uncle speaks again.
“We are free, you and I. But the Iron Throne chains them.”
It’s then you realize it was not a proposition, but rather an explanation of the thoughts you were unable to articulate. And perhaps it’s the sting of rejection or the deep sadness that has taken root on you since the death of your mother, but you cannot keep the words in. They come flowing, tumbling, rushing out of your mouth.
“I want to be a girl forever.” You say to him, starting to tear up. “I am not ready to be a woman.”
You are scared, you realize. No longer are you a girl playing to be a woman, dressing up in your mother’s jewels and dresses. Five years down the line, you will be married. Ten, it will be you who is a mother.
Your uncle gathers you into his arms, painfully soft. You would have never believed Daemon capable of such a tender touch.
“You can’t be innocent forever.”
“Everything is so complicated now. I just… I don’t want anything to change.”
You whisper against his neck. It’s a doomed wish. You know already it’s too late for it. No longer are you an innocent, no longer anything is the same. It will never be.
“Not all changes are bad. There can be pleasure in losing one’s innocence.” Daemon kisses your temple. “And I intend to show it to you.”
That night, the two of you sneak out of the Red Keep.
“I wanted to give you something only yours.” Your uncle says, as he leads you down the Street of Silk. Both of you are wearing rough cloaks, for discretion. You cling to his arm, afraid of getting lost in between the strange sights and smells.
There is so much to see and so much to hear. People laughing in the streets, singing, drunkards and patrons from the brothels mixing. While you are familiar with the streets of King’s Landing, you have never seen them at night. It’s both frightening and exhilarating, watching the city come to life in ways new to you.
There are no children in sight, only adults. The message that Daemon hoped to convey by bringing you here is loud and clear. You are no longer a girl, you are a woman. And so, instead of sleeping soundly in your bed as you have done all your childhood, you get to enjoy the wonders of the night.
The crowd gets even more rowdy as you pass the bigger pleasure houses and walk towards the ones that are at the end of the street. Secluded as they are, they spark your curiosity.
“Where are we going?” You ask your uncle, tugging at his arm. “Inside one of those? Why?”
“They cater to tastes that the rest do not.” Daemon comes to a stop in front of one, and takes off his hood. The woman at the doors takes one look at his hair and quickly ushers you both inside a room.
The room is bare except for a couple of chairs and a bed. You examine everything closely, noting the inferior quality of the furniture. These are not the kinds of chairs you are used to, at the Red Keep. After a while, and only when you notice no one else is hiding inside, you lower your hood. Being overly cautious never hurt anyone, after all.
“What tastes?” You squeeze Daemon’s hand. He gives you a puzzled look. “You said they cater to tastes…”
“You will see.” You are saved from the wait to know what he means by the door opening. Two servants, dressed in little clothing, step inside. Men, near your age. They are completely unique, yet similar. You get the feeling they are not simple servants, even though they serve you and Daemon goblets of wine.
You stare. You do not understand why they are not leaving.
Your uncle steps behind you, to whisper in your ear. His arms circle around your waist.
“Look at them.” He presses a chaste kiss just behind your ear. “Really look.”
So you do. One of the men is tall and strong. Almost wide. All bulging muscles. He has dark hair and light colored eyes. The other man is slightly slender, yet strong either way. He has lighter hair and a much sweeter face. They are both handsome, yet you do not understand what game Daemon could be playing.
“You wanted something only yours.” He mutters, kissing the crown of your head. He perches his chin on top of it. “Most girls, they don’t get to choose whom they lose their innocence to.”
It dawns on you then. He wants you to choose one of the men to… Well. It’s a nice thing to do, but so undeniably Daemon it hurts.
Feeling mischievous, you turn around in his grip.
“And I can choose any of the men in this room?” You smirk. Your uncle’s brows draw together, in disbelief.
“That’s the point, yes.” Daemon speaks slowly, as if explaining to someone particularly daft. Or innocent. “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”
“Good.” You smirk, and kiss him. You feel him smirk right back against your mouth.
#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon x oc#daemon x y/n#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen smut#daemon smut#daemon fanfic#daemon fluff#daemon targaryen fic#daemon targaryen fluff
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I always knew you would come
Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader
another part of Daemon's Wife au
Summary: You think your husband is going to be angry with you for going to the Stepstones but he surprises you.
REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥰🥰💖💖
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Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.
You paced back and forth inside Daemon's tent as you waited for him to arrive. You were ready to argue with him. You had plenty of anger after listening to the scolding of your father, your uncle, and the concern of your brother, you had deludedly hoped that they would be happier to see you. You wouldn't care what they or your husband told you, you wouldn't come home. You were determined to stay on the Stepstones until the war was over. You couldn't sit idly by for another year in Driftmark and wait for your family to return.
You stopped as soon as you saw Daemon enter. You felt your heart speed up. The first thing you noticed was that he now had his hair a little shorter. You hadn't seen your husband for almost three years. There wasn't a day that you hadn't missed him. You always looked forward to his letters and you hoped that one day one of them would tell you that the war was over but that letter never arrived so you decided to act. You hoped that with your dragon you could be of help because at this rate you doubted that King Viserys would deign to help with anything.
You expected Daemon to yell at you about what the hell you were doing here and that you should be home taking care of your son, like your father had, but to your surprise he strode towards you and pulled you close to him as he smashed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes feeling how all the tension and frustration you felt minutes before disappeared before the warmth of his lips. You kissed him with the same devotion hoping he could feel how much you love him.
Your husband's hands left your waist and you were about to complain at the loss of his touch when you felt his hands caressing your hair, he caressed it so softly and with so much affection that for a moment it made you want to cry. You had been deprived of this. You had missed him so much. You wanted it all to be over so he could bring you and Baelon home again.
"How is Baelon?" Daemon asked, breaking the kiss but still stroking your hair. He had spent nights dreaming about you, dreaming about the baby you told him in letters that looked like him, dreaming about waking up next to you and admiring your beauty while caressing your hair, like he used to do before he left for the war.
You were supposed to go to Stepstones with him but then you two found out you were pregnant then you stayed in Driftmark with your mother. Daemon could not accompany you during the pregnancy or be at the birth of his child. But you still decided together on your baby's name by correspondence. At first, you weren't sure about naming him Baelon because you were afraid that Viserys and Rhaenyra would be upset with you for naming your baby after the son and brother they both lost that caused Queen Aemma's death, but your husband told you that he only wanted to name him Baelon in honor his father and you couldn't refuse.
Daemon was also unable to witness how his son grew up, he missed his first steps, his first words, and his name days. Even though he had never met him, he cared about his son.
"He's fine. “He drives me and mom crazy because he doesn't stop running,” you responded with a smile. The affection in your voice was evident and I could see the love in your eyes. “He's obsessed with his dragon like you” you mocked earning a small pinch on your waist and making you let out a small snort “If I don't let him see his dragon before going to sleep he gets in a bad mood” Now he could hear the pride in your voice, evidently his son was not having a hard time bonding with his dragon.
“Definitely a Targaryen,” Daemon said, also feeling proud like you. He wanted to see with his own eyes how his son bonded with his dragon and teach how to care for him, he wanted to be there for Baelon.
“Prince Daemon, they are waiting for you,” a man's voice was heard outside the tent.
“I'll be there in a few minutes,” he responded and it didn't take long for you to hear the man's footsteps walking away. “Come on, we have a war to plan,” he said after giving you one last kiss.
“Do you want me to go to the war council with you?” you asked, clearly surprised.
“Of course, you came to fight with us right?” the prince said without understanding your reaction, gently taking your arm to prevent you from walking away.
"Yes, I came to fight" you responded instantly but you were still confused that he would accept your participation on the battlefield so quickly. "So, you're not upset and you're not going to send me back home to Baelon? You're going to let me fight?"
"I'm sure you once told me that you don't need my permission to do anything," your husband reminded you, arching an eyebrow, still not understanding what you were getting at with this.
"It's true," you said, feeling confident again. "And I'm glad you're clear about that, it's just that I was ready to argue with you. I thought you would tell me the same nonsense that my father and my uncles told me, that I shouldn't be here, that Now I'm a mother so I should go home and take care of Baelon, that's what a good mother would do, that I shouldn't fight, that they don't need my help or Nightwing, that Caraxes and Seasmoke were enough" when you started talking about your family You looked like you were spitting poison.
Daemon frowned, noticing that behind your anger was also pain. He felt furious that someone dared to tell you that you were a bad mother. The worst thing was that it was your own family. He wanted to cut out their tongues but he knew that despite your anger with your family you would never want them to suffer any kind of harm.
"They are idiots for refusing your help, for thinking that you would listen to them and return to Dirftmark without hesitation," he declared. "I'm sure you fight better than some of your father's bannermen and would make them cry on the battlefield," he said. making you smile. You knew he wasn't lying to you just to make you feel better. Daemon was not that kind of person. He didn't give fake compliments and besides every time the two of you faced each other he had never been afraid to be harsh with you "I always knew you would come sooner or later. I know you and I know that you can stand to sit around doing nothing, the birth of Baelon wouldn't going to change that. Besides, it's not like you left our son alone and helpless, you left him with your mother. Don't let those idiots get into your head, you're a good mother" he emphasized the last words, wanting you not to have any doubt about what he thought.
"I'm glad I married you," you said without any shame, happiness lit up your eyes and your smile was warm.
Neither of them knew who was the first to bring their faces closer to the other but it didn't matter because their lips met again. Daemon kissed you as if it were a necessity as if you were the air he needed to breathe and you loved it. You want to stay in his tent and satisfy the insatiable hunger you feel for him. But you can't, there are already people against you staying and if Daemon missed the war council then they would blame you. You would just give them one more reason to keep insisting that you come home.
"Come on, we have a war to plan," you said breaking the kiss and tucking a loose strand of hair behind Daemon's ear.
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can you pleaaaae make a daemon smut where he just married a girl who had a difficult life was physically abused by her parents or partner so when she makes a mistake maybe dancing with aemond he is jealous and flexes his fingers and she thinks he will beat her and like comfort hurt type fluff
A/N: I hope you like it!
pairing: Fanon!Daemon Targaryen x Reader
summary: Daemon just married a girl who had a difficult life and was physically abused by her parents or partner so when she makes a mistake maybe dancing with Aemond he is jealous and flexes his fingers and she thinks he will beat her and like comfort hurt type fluff
Word count: 3,3K
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Jealousy, Hurt and comfort, mention of abuse, fingering, P in V, cunnilingus
Masterlist 1
Masterlist 2
You and Daemon have been married merely three moons, and you two still were not much acquainted with one another, you knew basic things about one another but nothing too profoundly. Your marriage was purely out of duty to the king who had arranged the marriage between your houses after the king yet again refused to marry him to Rhaenyra who was already married to Laenor, he mentioned that like the Conquerer had two wives Rhaenyra can have two husbands but that fell on deaf ears. Your father was over the moon and accepted without a second thought however your brother was furious, he tried everything to stop the wedding but could not.
Your childhood was not the best, your father despised you for simply being a girl, you were born after seven sons and your mother bled to death on your birth bed- your eldest brother was already twenty in age at the time and he made it his life mission to take over the role of the father in your life and loved you to no end. Later on, he married a lady from house Tyrell who was just as loving as him and they basically raised you.
However that did not change the fact that they were not your parents, your father still saw you and he always voiced his disappointment in you. He wanted to raise you the way he saw his own father raise his sister, beating was the only punishment otherwise you would not learn properly. He assigned you the meanest septa he could find in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. She always had a stick in hand and the scars on your palms were the proof of her using it on you.
All seven of your brothers attempted to save you and all seven failed, they even made a whole plan to help you run away before your wedding but that also failed when your father moved you from your chambers in the middle of the night without telling anyone, especially them knowing they were not in agreement with him over the marriage. So you ended up marrying the Targaryen prince who seemed to have eaten a sour lemon most of the time and glared at everyone the rest of it. He was not harsh with you, quite the opposite actually- he was gentle when touching you never failing to notice the small winces you tried to hide in his presence but never mentioning them, he was nice and kind always with you in mind.
Daemon however was a rogue and lived a life many dreamed of, he wanted a Valyrian wife and was furious once he knew he was not getting that for a second wife but when he saw you so small in size almost unhealthy, head bowed and not daring to even look in your father's direction, always preferring to be with on of your brothers or their wives and children he knew that he got to have you, save you even from your father. He never once thought he loved you, he cared for you maybe but far from love.
Tonight was the nameday of young Princess Helaena and the King wanted to celebrate his second daughter's twentieth nameday and threw tourneys and feasts in her honor. As her uncle Daemon was present at the feast and you by his side. Your eyes were focused on the dance floor wishing you were one of the ladies twirling and showing off her new gown. Your eyes did trail to your brother every once in a while smiling at their happy faces whether they were with their wives or children, and there were many of them, your eldest alone had five children the youngest being five moons old.
"Excuse me, my lady, would you care for a dance?" Your head snapped up to see who had spoken to you and found Aemond, the kingäs second born son who was closer to you in age than your own husband but who were you kidding no one cared about age.
"May I lord husband?" You turned to Daemon hopeful. He did not want to ruin your fun so he nodded as he sipped his wine. A smile bigger than the one you wore on your own wedding adorned your face as you took Aemond's hand and let him lead you into the dance floor.
Daemon watched closely as if he was a hawk and you a prey, he wanted to make sure you were alright and that creep of a nephew he had did not do something he was not supposed to. You were still smiling as Aemond wrapped an arm around you and led the dance, swaying you from side to side before pulling you up in the air and turning in circles.
"Are you alright, my prince?" Daemon turned to glare at Alicent, the rage burning inside of him like wildfire. Her cunt of a son was indulging his wife and she had the audacity to question his mental state.
"I am just fine, your grace" Daemon downed what was left of his wine before pushing back his chair and moving in your direction.
Aemond saw him before you did and paused his dancing. You turned to see what Aemond was looking at and found Daemon glaring at the both of you as he approached, immediately the smile was wiped off and a tremble shook through your bones.
"Nephew, do allow me to dance with my wife" Daemon smiled sarcastically at Aemond. Aemond nodded his head and moved back to the table without another word.
"Follow me, wife" Daemon ordered. He left the hall without a glance your way expecting you to follow him and you did, you prepared yourself mentally for the pain and hateful words you knew were coming your way soon.
Daemon opened your chamber doors and stepped in first and let you in after him. He was not blind and saw the way you were shaking, the way tears build up in your eyes but he simply did not know why. He was jealous, true he cared for you, and besides you were his wife, he was entitled to be demanding of your attention.
"Did you enjoy humiliating me, wife?" Daemon asked. He smirked watching you as you froze just a couple of steps away from the door.
"I- no husband never, I never meant any harm" You whimpered. You looked down at your hands trying to find a happy place before the beating began.
"Yet you still did harm my reputation by dancing with my nephew" Daemon was now playing with you, he enjoyed this game even when the words were true he never liked to show his emotions and chose to show them more as a game but let reality slip through.
"You gave us permission" You whispered. Daemon's head was cruel, it flashed an image of you dancing with Aemond among the other couples. He took a step closer to you flexing his hand, he itched to punch his one-eyed nephew more than ever at that moment.
Seeing the movement of his fingers you unconsciously took a step back. Daemon's eyes flashed with hurt for a second until he noticed the tremble of your hands and the tears building up in your eyes. He knew then that there was something he did not know about you that caused you to react this way.
"Please do not hurt me" You whimpered. The more steps you took back the more Daemon grew furious with whoever did this to you. The back of your knee met the soft bed forcing you to go down and sit limply on it. You thought 'at least I will be beaten on the bed and not the hard floor'.
"Hurt you? I would never hurt you, what made you think so?" Daemon asked softly. The jealousy was long gone from his system and instead furry, pure rage coursed in his blood.
"My f-father always hurts me when I am bad" You whispered, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear. Daemon took conscious steps closer to the bed before kneeling down by your legs. He placed both his hands on your knees, gentle enough that you barely felt his touch, he was being very gentle with you.
"Listen to me well, I would never hurt you, I never have and never will. You are my wife and I am your husband, I am supposed to protect you not hurt you, do you understand?" Daemon's hand moved up to cup your chin so you would look him in the eyes. A tear trickled down your eye and he was quick to swipe it away. You nodded your head still unsure if you should trust him with his words.
"Let me hear you, sweet girl" Daemon insisted.
"I understand, my prince" You whispered. Daemon chuckled lightly, trying to show you his gentler side but on the inside, he was already plotting ways to kill your father.
"How about you take a bath to calm your nerves" Daemon suggested. You nodded your head in agreement, needing the bath more than anything at the moment. Daemon stood up from the floor and moved towards the door.
"Where are you going?" You asked confused. Daemon turned around to look at you with a soft smile on his usually scowling face, maybe this was the first time you ever saw him smiling like this.
"I have some unfinished business, I will be right back" Unbeknownst to you Daemon had gone to see your father.
Your maid was quick to assist you with your bath, filling the tub with oils and salts that helped you cal down more than you thought possible. She rubbed your shoulders and neck getting the knots that formed there from the stress.
At the same time, Daemone was holding your father up against the wall with a dagger to his throat threatening his life if he ever shows his face in Kingslanding ever again. Daemon was not going to tolerate his presence ever again in the same area as you until the day he dies.
When Daemon returned to your chambers you were braiding your wet hair back so it would not disturb you or him during your sleep. Your nightgown was of white color and your wet skin made it stick to your body, some parts were transparent thanks to the wetness. Daemon felt his cock stir in his pants at the sight. Once you were done with your braid you secured it at the bottom before turning to face him.
"Oh- husband you are back" You squeaked, oh so sweetly. Your cute little lips that were pinkish almost red in color formed an O shape. Daemon had to use every ounce of self-control not to pounce on you and take you right then and there, he had to remind himself that this night was all about you.
"Yes, sweet girl" Daemon began to stride over to you. Your eyes widened oh so comically the closer he got to you. His hands moved to your upper arms as gently as he can.
"You look breathtaking lady wife. you should wear this gown more often" Daemon complimented. Your cheeks turned into a beautiful red color.
"Come" Daemone guided you to the sitting area you had. He sat down on one of the chairs before pulling you up onto his lap. Your arms locked around his neck as you sat sideways in his lap, you were still super light, and he needs to make sure you were being fed properly. He will not have a starved wife.
"My beautiful girl" One of his arms wrapped around your waist to secure you on his lap and the other one moved to touch the apple of your cheek. You gulped watching him like a hawk, still afraid of him and he understood why, he did not give you a reason not to fear him.
"Thank you husband" You whispered, your eyes downcast now at the compliment. Daemon's finger pushed your head back up until your eyes met.
"Sweet girl I am merely telling the truth" Daemon's hand traveled down to your neck feeling the goosebumps grow under his touch. You shivered at the feeling of his skin on yours. He hooked a finger around the loose neckline of the sleeping gown and pushed it down to show your soft shoulder.
"So soft" Daemon whispered. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Your breath hitched in your throat.
He raised his head and captured your lips with his unable to control the urge anymore. You moaned as the taste of the wine he consumed during the feast filled your mouth. His hand sneaked down to pull your gown up your leg slowly. His fingers touched your calf gently. You sighed, muscles relaxing in his arms.
The moment did not last longer as your whole body tensed when his fingers reached your inner thigh. Daemon pulled back confused with the sudden tension that seemed to fill your body.
"Shall I lay on my belly again husband?" You asked, your voice oh so sweet but your words drove a knife into Daemon's heart when he realized that he never once cared for your pleasure, you must have not even known that you can be pleasured during the act.
"No, stay where you are angel, and enjoy the love I am about to show you" Daemon whispered against your lips. You gave him a look of confusion that made you look innocent, so innocent that Dameon would have mistaken you for a child.
His finger moved up to touch your small cloth, slightly damp but nowhere near ready to take a cock. His finger moved up and down feeling your slit through the fabric. Your breath hitched in your throat and you fisted the shoulder of his tunic. Daemon watched your facial expressions searching for any signs of discomfort to pain.
"Tell me if I am hurting you, sweet girl, alright? Say the word Ōdres when you want me to stop" Pain. Daemon watched as your eyes widened in shock.
"I shall not. A wife never stops her husband from getting his pleasure, my father said so" You whimpered, shaking your head. The fear in your eyes made Daemon want to return to your father and kill him in his spot. You were terrified of your father.
"You no longer belong to your father, you belong to me and you do as I say, if I hurt you- you say Ōdres, understood?" Daemon insisted. His grip on your thigh tightened. You nodded gulping.
"Let me hear you say it" Daemon begged, almost. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your confidence was in shambles but his words made a silver of it return into your system.
"Ōdres" You whispered against his lips. Daemon smirked in victory.
"Good girl" He leaped up to kiss your lips. His fingers slowly moved your small cloth out of the way. His finger gently prodded at your hole earning a wine from your lips. You wiggled in his lap as your wetness began to increase Daemon lathered his finger with it before slowly and gently pushing his finger inside of you.
You gasped his name against his lips and he was quick to swallow the sound. It was like wine, he grew light-headed at the taste of your lips. Your fingers grabbed his hair in a desperate attempt at sanity.
His thumb found the button to all your nerves. You moaned loudly at the touch of his hand. The arm around your waist tightened when you wiggled in his lap.
"So good" You cried when a second finger joined his lone one inside of you. Daemon's eyes widened, he watched you hungrily eating up every reaction you gave him. He wished to stay in that moment forever.
"You like that?" Daemon curled his fingers inside of you in search of the rough spot inside that usually made the other women he was with cry in ecstasy.
"Yes!" your head fell back. Daemon leaned down to suck on your neck. Your behind rubbing on his fully erect member made it harder for him to focus but he forced himself to, this was about you and not him.
"Good girl, make the whole Keep hear how much your husband loves you" Daemon whispered in your ear before taking your earlobe in between his teeth. He curled his fingers against that spot again making your whole body shiver with pleasure.
"Something - ah- happening" You cried. You buried your face in his neck as your orgasm crashed into you. Daemon held you close trying to guide you through it. Not wanting to overwhelm you he pulled his fingers out of you and instead chose to push them into his own mouth, a involuntary moan broke through him at the taste, you tasted very sweet- sweeter than a fruit- sweeter than any desert he had ever consumed in his life in any land he has ever visited in his life.
"That is it, sweet girl, feel the pleasure" Daemon whispered in your ear, popping his fingers out of his mouth. He stood up from the chair with you in his arms and moved to the bed to place you on it, you deserved to be ravished on a bed.
"Let me undress you" Daemon begged. You look at him with hazy eyes but nodded nonetheless. Daemon untied the gown from behind and slid it down your body until you were left in your small cloth but that followed the sleeping gown soon after on the floor.
"Beautiful" Daemon's eyes racked all over your body, drinking you in as if he was seeing you for the first time, well technically he was, he has never paid much attention to your body during your time as newlyweds. His hands had a mind of their own as they felt you up from your thighs up to your stomach and chest pausing at your breasts, kneading the flesh needily.
"Daemon" Your back arched off the bed. Daemon's hands slid back down to your thighs and knees pushing them apart wanting to see your cunt. Your cunny glistened under the candlelight. You tried to close your legs again but he held your legs in place.
"The prettiest cunt I have ever seen in years, sweet girl" Daemon complimented. Your body was hit with a wave of heat, your skin turning red all over. Daemon could not control himself anymore and latched onto your cunt like a starved man.
You were the most beautiful woman in all the seven kingdoms and he wanted to make sure you knew that. He wanted to show you that not all men were monsters. He was going to take care of you.
He held you close as he made you cum on his tongue, once- twice and more than three times. He held you as he pushed his cock inside of you for the first time where your eyes locked with one another, no more fucking with you on your belly, no more pain, there will be only love and warmth. He touched you like you were made out of glass and he was afraid of breaking you.
He swallowed your moans and cries of ecstasy, the safe word long forgotten from your head as he brought you only pleasure and no pain. The beatings were long forgotten as his hands caressed you like you were the most precious thing to him in the world and not a mistake they regretted.
Daemon could not keep his eyes off of you every time you moaned, squeaked, or even breathed. With every thrust earned a reaction from you, hell even every move or touch earned a reaction from you, he hated himself for not doing this much earlier, for not appreciating you much earlier.
Daemon’s taglist: @luanasrta, @papichulo120627, @seulbeomie, @melaena-the-reborn, @k4marina, @fullmoonworshipper, @axelsagewrites, @mayrapaulina28, @vantestark
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#game of thrones#aemond targaryen#daemon#daemon fic#daemon prince#daemon fluff#daemon fanfic#daemon imagine#daemon smut#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targeryan#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon x reader#daemon x y/n#daemon x you#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd smut#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon smut#request
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good riddance | daemon targaryen
Description: Daemon Targaryen meets a lowborn woman. He is forced to choose between duty and love.
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/lowborn!reader
ANGST
"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end."
- Sylvia Plath.
Winter came in a typical fashion - all the heat purged itself and was replaced with uncomfortable coldness. A small chuckle escapes your mouth understanding the bitter irony of the situation. It was a cold winter, the type of cold that would make you shiver and unease - the same could be said with your current detriment.
Your father, ever the gracious host decided to house rebels. Of course, not just any rebels but ones where the Rogue Prince wanted to settle a score with. "How long does he plan to keep them here?" your brother paced back in forth, his fear growing with every second.
"There are already whispers that Prince Daemon plans to visit every town - the guards have doubled since last week. Seven hells, what if someone sees us with those rebels? They'll wring our necks." he cursed underneath his breath. A small sigh escapes your mouth and you continued sewing the dress that you were working on.
As if your brother jinxed himself, the Rogue Prince came knocking. You could see him from the window, long blonde locks and those peculiar purple eyes. "We're going to die." Kirdan mumbled, carefully watching his father open the door with a smile on his face.
The both of you exchange a knowing glance, slowly marching down the stairs to eavesdrop on the conversation. "Good morrow, Ser." the Prince met your eyes. He welcomed himself inside your home. "Good morrow, my prince. To what may I owe your presence?" your father did not falter nor stutter.
Daemon smiles at him, a charming smile - you almost expected him to be kind. If it weren't for the rumors that surrounded him. "Me and my men are here to ask you about your visitors, the insurgence is what they call themselves." Daemon's posture shifted quickly.
His shoulders were straight now - an aura of command permeating around him. "My visitors? I suppose that you are my only visitors." your father smiled, and your brother's grip on your shoulder tightens. "We're looking for the rebel brothers. There were rumors that they resided in your estate." Daemon argued.
You were sure that there was no use in lying now. Your father might as well kneel on the floor and begin begging the Prince for forgiveness. "The rebel brothers?" your father repeated the name. "Frode and Harald Stone." Daemon named them.
The moment those names exited the Rogue Prince's mouth a sudden commotion happened outside. A man began running away from the estate, barefoot and wearing nothing other than his sleepwear. "Catch him, now!" Daemon commanded and the rest of the goldcloaks began chasing after Frode.
"My prince," your father now began. He is momentarily speechless by that glare in Daemon's eyes. "- what will you do to him?" your father inquired. Daemon's grip on the Dark Sister tightens.
The men began dragging Frode back into the foyer, blood dripping down the rebel's mouth. Prince Daemon's attention now twirled towards you. His gaze softens, and the facade begins. "I apologize for the commotion, and I shall make amends when I return." he breaths.
He grabs the rebel by his collar, and begins dragging him outside.
He will return?
"We should be thankful that he did not sought to punish us." Kirdan breathes a sigh of relief, leading the both of you down to the base floor. "What did he say, papa?" your eyes narrowed.
Ser Groleo evades your gaze.
"He will return - for supper. I suppose." the man groans.
"We should prepare a feast. In gratitude of not arresting you." Kirdan immediately retorted. "I'll leave the both of you to arrange that." your father smiled bitterly. You and your brother exchange a stare again.
The table was arranged in a neat fashion. All of your best cutleries and porcelain ware were all in view. The best meats and exotic fruits were there too - it was a feast for a king, and the Prince didn't even look impressed.
"I apologize once more for the commotion that me and my men have caused. It was protocol to ensure peace in our realm." he apologized, staring at your face. Presumably soaking in your features. "Frode and Harald are honorable men - they fight for a good cause." your father laid out, in a tone that wasn't at all offending.
"Though their knowledge may be great - and their heart in the right place, what they do is treason. As the Commander of the Goldcloaks, it is my duty to rat out the poison that seeks to usurp my brother." Daemon responded, taking a sip of his dornish red.
Your father swirls the wine in his mouth.
"The government that they propose is akin to the Free Cities, whose wealth has expanded since they last welcomed freedom." your father discussed, and to your surprise, the Prince seemed to listen.
"Volantis can vote for its triarchs, only if the citizens are free but slavery is still rampant. If I may speak for myself, I'd rather be ruled by someone who was taught how to rule since their birth rather than vote for a man who wants to see himself as King." Prince Daemon decided to leave the conversation at that.
Kirdan smiles, nodding his head.
"I agree with the Prince, father." he voiced out. Unamused by the audacity that his father encompassed. Daemon turns his attention towards you - his eyes trailing back and forth between your eyes and your body. "You should apologize to my daughter for the commotion that happened earlier on." your father smiled.
"There is no need, my prince. The women of this household are not like mimosa pudicas, we do not rattle easily." you interrupted his sentence. Daemon is piqued in interest. "I have no doubt that you are fearless, brave and not easily rattled, which is why I must apolo-" he opens his mouth but you interrupt him the last moment.
"Then there is no need to apologize. If I am all that." you smiled falsely, seemingly teasing his limits or seeing if he'd rage at you. "Alright then, my lady." his responded in an equally teasing manner.
He could not stop thinking about you - ever since that dinner in your father's estate; your features have consumed his entire soul greedily. When he sleeps, all that he sees is you - when he opens his eyes all he longs to see is you. He couldn't believe that he was feeling this way - over a woman whose features are not all different from his Bronze Bitch.
He sits beside you, in one of the soirees that your town hosted. He couldn't stop staring at you, eyes glistening from the light of the fireplace. "Not even the Prince has a chance with Ser Groleo's demure daughter." he could hear the whispers from behind him.
The blood of the dragons flow down his veins, and you were his newest conquest. If you were hard to have - then he'd work well to have and hold you. "Do you rarely dance in these events?" the prince leaned on your body, whispering on your ear.
A smile finds itself on your face.
"I dance - all the time, my prince. But somehow, I do not feel like dancing tonight." you responded, implying that he may have something to do with that feeling. "Is it my fault?" he raised an eyebrow and you turn your head to look at him.
He was more beautiful up close.
His chiseled jaw - his unnatural beauty. It was new for you.
"I would not risk offending you, my prince." you looked away. "There is nothing that you can do to offend me." he enunciated, and the townsfolk began buzzing behind you. "- dance with me." he commanded, standing up and offering his hand.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. "I see these men looking at you and I wish to compete for your attention." he explained. You exchange a knowing stare with your brother, Kirdan nods - encouraging you to dance with the prince.
The lively music begins, and he claps in beat of the song. "I've heard rumors about your lifestyle, about the women around you." you opened the conversation plainly. His eyes did soften, but it returned to its normal posture before you could realize any difference.
"Don't believe the rumors that you hear, they are naught but spittles encouraged by those who want to weaken my family." he gritted his teeth - you could not figure out if it was a sign of his lying. "I-I've heard nothing, but I see it in your eyes. Lust - you lust for everything that moves." you accuse him. He shakes his head.
The both of you continue dancing. "Do you see that or are you still basing from the rumors?" he raised an eyebrow, and a defeated sigh escapes your mouth. "My father told me long ago, that you can change a man's face but not his nature." you say.
"That may be the case for men with skinny arms, but not for us warriors. We can always be changed - we live hundreds of lives. You believe me to be wanton and lustful, but give me a chance and I shall prove otherwise." he promised, and the both of you stop dancing.
"I wish to wed you."
You have avoided him for three months now. Pretending to sleep when he'd visit your father's estate. Passing your chores to your brother, who was now forced to go to the market every Sunday. You prayed to the Seven Gods that he'd forget about you.
That he'd be piqued by another young lady from your town, but he never did. He never seemed to forget about you.
One time, he managed to see you.
"I'm leaving, my lady - but I will return in week's time." he promised. You forced yourself to smile. Your decision suddenly becoming clearer. He was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, and his brother would never approve of him marrying a lowborn woman.
The love you shared was still in its early stages but it could not be. He was a hero, a prince, a dragon and you were mere sheep. "I am still adamant in having your hand in marriage. Your father has already approved and if you feel the same way - send me a letter." he pressed a kiss on the back of your hand.
A kindness that he has never shown any woman before.
My Prince,
You are reading this now in Kingslanding. Possibly sitting on one of the thousands of chairs that you own, or lounging on your bed. One thing is for certain, however, the love I bare for you is stronger than the ocean waves, warmer than any dragonfire. Our love is true, exciting and forbidden. That is the reason I will decline your marriage proposal.
At a young age, I was taught the importance of duty and sacrifice. A lady of my stature must marry above my ranks, not a prince, but still above my ranks. A prince like you must marry someone the same level as him. Someone like Lady Rhea Royce.
You are a prince, a hero, a warrior - a father of the goldcloaks. You have your duty and I have mine, mayhaps in another life. One where we're living in the Free Cities, selling oranges and cinnamon. Mayhaps in that life we'd build a home.
Yours,
Lady (Your Name) Groleo.
Prince Daemon wasn't sure on how to react.
A few days ago, he got a letter from you - rejecting his proposal of marriage and now he's received a letter from your father - stating your death from an unknown fever from Naath.
He could not think straight. He could not breathe.
He hasn't cried since his mother died, and he didn't expect himself to cry harder than he did with her. The Seven Gods were cruel and he spurned them will all his heart. "Kepus, think before you do anything else." Rhaenyra warned him, fearing that he'd hurt himself.
His cloudy eyes gazed up at her.
You looked like Rhaenyra in some lights.
#daemon targaryen x reader#prince daemon x reader#daemon x reader#prince daemon x you#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x you#daemon x y/n#daemon x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen fic#prince daemon targaryen#daemon fanfic#daemon fluff#daemon fic#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd daemon#hotd fanfic#asoiaf fanfic#asoif/got
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𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓
a potential daemon targaryen love story
full version
𝘸𝘤: 209
・❥・
𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince of Westeros was far from pure. He was ruthless, stubborn, arrogant, and most of all, powerful. His blood was equivalent to a dragon, forged from the fiery pits of the seven hells. He was the deliverer of chaos and destruction, and no one was able to tame his savage inferno.
All until one; her.
She was the epitome of ethereal, a beauty so delicate, so pure in a way that she was too perfect for this world— too perfect for him. She was an angel forged of the purest light with hair as bright as the moon, skin as white as snow, and her eyes—
her eyes held magic.
Full of light, full of innocence, full of stars.
Starry eyes that had him hypnotized.
Starry eyes that had him vow to do anything in his power to keep their light kindle endlessly.
Starry eyes that made him stumble, but it was her smile that made him fall.
She was a blessing from the gods. A wish upon a shooting star. If he could, he would tear the whole world apart just to rebuild it brick by brick to a standard he deemed worthy of her existence. Worthy of her light— worthy of his light.
(𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅...?)
a/n: posting this because my aemond story is taking longer than expected ._. this is not my best work (because i dont have any) but i do love me some daemon, and surpriiiiiseee, this is another hotd x lotr crossover because i am obsess and unhinged. i do not know if i will be continuing this story (reason: this is a pretty old wip that i've been kind of avoiding for a while now and the writing is kinda yucky too) but we'll seeeeeee :)
update: guess who's posting the final version...(not me) jkjk, I will be in a few days haha, just gotta do some rewriting here and there and boom; signed, sealed, and delivered it's yours (to read ofc...pls dont steal my work, that is a big no no)
update: full version is posted!
#daemon targeryan#daemon#the rogue prince#daemon x oc#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon fanfic#daemon fic#daemon fluff#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fluff#daemon x reader#daemon targeryen x reader#hotd daemon#house targaryen#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd#hotd x oc#team black#team green#hotd fluff#lord of the rings#lotr#lord of the rings fanfic#lotr fanfic#hotd x lotr#the hobbit#the hobbit fanfiction
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I was a bit iffy that she named her son Aegon, but after some further research I found out Daemon and Viserys had a brother named Aegon who died,So to honor him and the conqueror, they named the babe Aegon and the other Viserys, it was daemons way of honoring his brothers.
#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon season 2#house targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd oc#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd fanart#rhaenyra targeryan#rhae#daemon x rhaenyra#queen rhaenyra#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenya targaryen#targaryen#daemon angst#daemon crackfic#daemon angst#daemon fluff#daemon targaryen#aegon iii targaryen#viserys ii targaryen#viserys iii#daemyra#hotd art#house of targaryen#house of the dragon fic
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My dear author, I just read "Daemon Targaryen*In Charge" and omg it's amazing! That said, if you're taking requests could I get a part 2, extremely fluffy focused on their married life (how they support each other and are completely devoted to each other, stuff) please?
Daemon Targaryen*My Moon and Stars
Pairing: Daemon x essos!reader
Summary: The reader experiences a peaceful day of married life since moving to Westeros for love
Word count: 1419
This is a fluffy sequel to In Charge. Can be read by itself
Warnings: just pure fluff
Masterlist Here
Translations:
Kirimvose - thank you
Ñuha qēlos - my star
Ñuho glaeso hūrus - moon of my life
It was easy to miss Essos, the smell of its spices, the music that rang in the streets like church bells, and the hot summer sun. Moving from the depths of the East to the capital of the West had been a big adjustment, to say the least. The lords spoke differently here, the streets were busy but somehow not as loud, and the air was cold even when others said it was warm. A foreign land with strange people yet for some reason you kept choosing to stay.
Daemon was the reason why. He was the reason you didn’t pick a ship and sail back. He was the reason you smiled, the reason you laughed, the reason your body felt warm even during the winter season. He was also currently laying behind you, arm lazily draped over your waist. His fingers drew light circles over your hip bone.
“We must wake dear husband,” you said, stifling the yawn that threatened to spill. You had gone to bed later than usual last night and the reason why lay behind you.
Daemon brushed the hair off your shoulder, placing a kiss on the nape of your neck, “Not yet ñuha qēlos,” my star he called you. The star from the east to guide him home he would call you.
“ñuho glaeso hūrus,” you said back slowly, the pronunciation feeling tight on your tongue. “Did I say it right?” You asked, turning your head at first but soon moving to lay on your back to gaze up at his face.
“Yes qēlos,” he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. While you were the star, he was the moon. Moon of my life. He’d taught you the phrase after he taught you qēlos. “Your Valerian is almost as good as mine,” his lilac eyes gazed into yours and sometimes at night you wondered if the moon would be prettier in purple.
Later that day once you had finally managed to pry Daemon from his marriage bed you decided to walk the grounds while Daemon trained in the courtyard. The red keep had been quiet recently, perhaps too quiet, but nonetheless, you decided to enjoy the rarity to its full extent. As you walked you noticed all the other wives gathered in clusters with their sewing or their embroidery or occasionally a book.
While the wives may have smiled at you and asked polite questions it had yet to go further. Lady Beesbury smiled at you from her embroidery group, even lifting her hand for a small wave. “They’ll love you once they know you. Like I have, “Daemon's words rang in your heads as you took your first step over. “Ladies,” you greeted the three as you approached.
“Princess,” all greeted, bowing their eyes down before looking back up. You found the curtseying and bowing and titles of Westeros all so painful, but you did not want to correct them yet. “Have you come to join us princess?” Lady Harte asked, glancing around the group.
“If you would like me to my lady,” you said, daemon having spent many a night with you teaching you how to speak to people at court.
Lady Beesbury grinned as she shuffled over on the bench she sat on, “It would be an honour princess,”
“Thank you,” you said, sitting down next to her, glancing at her embroidery, “But please we are in our own company, call me by my name,”
“Very well,” Lady Beesbury said, a smile eating up her face, “Well (Y/N) I’m Alice and these are my friends,” as Alice began to introduce you to your new group you didn’t notice the watchful lilac eyes from the windows above.
Daemon stood silently, leaning on the balcony watching how you smiled as you spoke, how your hands moved with each word, with a relaxed grin on his face. He wasn’t sure how long he had been watching you until he saw Lady Beesbury finger-pointing him out to you. When your eyes met, he noticed your smile widening. Daemon didn’t want to ruin your fun however so left it at a simple wave.
As he walked through the corridors, he noticed a face that he knew would soon become familiar, “Lord Beesbury,” Daemon greeted, suddenly approaching the slightly bumbling man that had been roaming court for the past month. “Do you and your wife have planned this evening?”
“N-not my prince,” the man stuttered out, his cheeks pinking at the edges, “Can we be of service to you in anyway?”
Daemon chuckled lightly at this, “You can help us polish off the plates if you’d like. Would you both like to join us at dinner?” Daemon even managed to have him track down the other wives and their husbands and you were shocked to find out about the sudden dinner party you were hosting.
“Not that I’m complaining,” you told daemon in your chambers as you finished getting ready. Your hands sneaked around his waist, pulling him into you, “But what’s with the sudden want for company darling?”
“It was nice to see you making friends,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face, “and see you smile of course,” he added when he saw the grin spreading across your cheeks.
The dinner had been a success and Daemon even managed to enjoy himself somehow, but he was thankful that it was over. “I forget how much I hate to share,” he mumbled into your neck.
You laughed as you pushed him off of you. “You were right by my side the whole night my moon,” you said as you stroked his cheek, “Besides I cannot have my bath with you clinging to my hip like a wanting child,”
Daemon grinned, his eyebrow-raising, “A bath you say?” He said as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
“My bath,” you said pointedly, your hand pushing against his strong chest, “For I smell horrible,”
“You’ve never smelt horrible,” Daemon said but finally he relinquished his grip. As you turned to finish the touches on your bath, Daemon moved to sit on a chair close by. You worked silently, filling the bath with milks, honey, salts, and flowers as daemon watched each move. When you moved here impromptu you had left much of Essos behind, but Daemon was soon to send for all the salts and dried flowers you needed for these baths.
The water had turned a milky lilac once you’d finished and the steam from the water smelt like a sweet flower in spring. As you reached for the laces of your dresses Daemon stood silently. Without words he moved to stand behind you, pulling on each lace gently until he slipped the dress over your shoulders to pool on the floor.
You stepped out of the dress, moving over to step in the bath when you looked up to see Daemon carefully folding the fine silk dress away into the correct chest. You let yourself enjoy the sight, your husband oblivious to your gaze, before allowing yourself to enter the hot water, sighing as the warmth enveloped your body.
You let your eyes flutter shut as you rested your head on the edge of the bath. When heard footsteps pad across the floor, the sound of a chair scraping stone, then felt soft fingertips trail along your scalp. Your eyes fluttered open and when they looked up you saw Daemon looking down. “Relax ñuha qēlos,” he said gently, his voice not far above a whisper.
Allowing your eyes to shut again you let Daemon continue his movements. His fingers slipping into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp at first making you groan in pleasure. He continued his work silently, grabbing a hair oil from your chest of smells and pastes. His fingers stroked through your hair, using the oil the way he had watched you do many times. You let yourself enjoy the silence, enjoy his touch.
After he had finished with your hair daemon had you sit further forward to massage your back, working out any tension Westeros had caused. “Thank you,” you whispered into the near-silent room as Daemon worked out a knot in your shoulder.
Daemon paused for a moment, holding your shoulders in his hands. He leant forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek without caring that he got his shirt wet. None of that mattered to him right now, “Anything for you ñuha qēlos,”
“kirimvose ñuho glaeso hūrus,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila
#daenerys targaryen imagine#daemon targeryan#hotd daemon#daemon headcanon#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon targaryen fluff#daemon fluff#hotd#hotd imagine#hotd x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd fluff#house of the dragon headcannons#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fluff#house of the dragon x reader#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones fluff
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