#daemon targaryen x f!reader
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And Let Me Love You Anyway
[ part two of two ]
prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader
only description given: red hair and Daemon's able to lift you
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 6.3k+
note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!
warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).
part one:
"Tell Me Every Terrible Thing you ever did,
And let me love you anyway,"
- Edgar Allan Poe
"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.
"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."
Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"
"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "
"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"
"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"
"I know he didn't."
"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."
You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."
"This is not about Ser Strong."
"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"
"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."
"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."
"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.
You nodded, "I know, sister."
She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."
"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."
"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."
"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."
"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.
The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.
"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"
"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"
"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"
"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.
"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.
None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.
Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.
You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.
You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."
Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.
When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!
Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."
She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.
"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.
"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"
"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."
You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.
Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...
All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.
And let me love you anyway...
You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.
However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.
You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.
When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."
"I'm not, sweet one."
"Nor so amused," you tacked on.
Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"
You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."
"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."
"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.
He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.
Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.
"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.
"Of my dear wife's passing."
"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.
"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.
"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."
"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."
You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"
His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.
The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."
"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.
"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."
Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"
You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."
"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."
"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."
Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"
"I am making an accusation."
You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."
"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.
"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."
The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."
"And?"
"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."
He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"
"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."
Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."
"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.
"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"
"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "
"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."
"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"
"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."
You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.
You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.
"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"
"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."
"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.
Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"
"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "
"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"
"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.
"Daemon, not now - "
"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"
"What? Why are you asking now?"
"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."
"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.
"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "
"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."
"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "
"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"
He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."
"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."
His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.
"Love - "
"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.
Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."
"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.
He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.
Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!
"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"
"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."
"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "
"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"
"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"
"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.
"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."
"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.
"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.
"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"
"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."
And history would never be the same.
"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"
"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."
"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"
Well, that was mildly offensive...
"Rhaenyra - "
"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"
You were honestly confused to your core.
"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"
"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.
"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "
"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."
"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"
"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.
However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."
Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"
There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"
"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "
"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."
"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"
"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.
Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"
It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.
"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.
"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."
"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."
"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."
"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.
"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"
There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.
Viserys was enraged.
Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father.
Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen".
Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.
His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.
Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"
"Father, please, let me - "
"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."
"Father!"
"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"
It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.
"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"
"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"
"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."
"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.
"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."
You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"
"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"
It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.
Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...
"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"
"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.
“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"
"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.
“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.
"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"
"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."
She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.
"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."
You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.
Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.
Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."
Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.
In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.
Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."
"A moment," Otto prevented.
"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.
"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."
"Thank you," Daemon nodded.
"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.
"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.
"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.
"Bit shocked," you admitted.
"I'd say," he mused.
"It burns," you pouted at him.
"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.
You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."
"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."
You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.
"So... Your blessing, is it?"
"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."
"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."
Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"
"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."
"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."
"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.
"Of course, uh, um, Princess."
"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."
He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."
As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.
"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.
"Don't start with that."
"Mellos just called me Princess."
"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."
"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.
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HOTD masterlist
#daemon targaryen#prince daemon targaryen#daemon#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x f!reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon hotd#hotd daemon#hotd#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#house of the dragon hbo#hbo house of the dragon#house of the dragon daemon targaryen#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd hbo#hbo hotd#daemon targaryen angst#hotd daemon targaryen
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terms of endearment │ Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader
“The marriage between the second daughter of King Viserys I and his own brother, Prince Daemon, raised eyebrows upon its first announcement. Many assumed the match would echo the Rogue Prince’s unfortunate first union with the late Lady Rhea, despite his wish for a Valyrian bride being, finally, fulfilled. It surprised all who took witness to see the intensity of Daemon’s devotion to his second wife, a regard that would persist through a long and happy union between uncle and niece.”
- ‘Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn
The story of Prince Daemon Targaryen and his brother’s second-born daughter, as told through the many terms of endearment he calls her by.
Part I: The Princess and the Rogue Masterlist
Part II: The Mother and the Warrior Masterlist
'terms of endearment' Alternate Universe blurbs
original version of gevivys (beauty)
#terms of endearment │ daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen x smut#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon x reader#daemon x oc#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader#daemon targaryen x f!reader#targaryen!reader#f!reader#em-writes-stuff-sometimes masterlists
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 | 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧
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A/N: I’ll admit I wasn’t initially on the Daemon bandwagon but now I am fully on board, this man could ruin me and I’d thank him asdfghjkl
“So pathetic,” Daemon drawls cockily. “So fucking desperate for me, hmm? So desperate you had to actually beg me to leave the banquet just so that I could fuck you.”
He smirks wickedly as he pins you to the wall, his hand wrapping around your throat, his index finger stretching up to tug on your bottom lip.
You were almost embarrassed by your own desperation. Indeed, you’d barely been at the lavish banquet for an hour before you couldn’t take it anymore. Daemon had been deliberately eye-fucking you all night, knowing how wild it would drive you. It hadn’t been long before you were simply pretending to be dancing with him, but actually using it as an opportunity to get close enough to whisper in his ear and beg him to take you away, to fuck you until you couldn’t walk. He’d only dragged out the teasing for another 20 minutes before you’d finally gotten your wish, being dragged out the great hall by Daemon until you found yourself here, in a quiet hallway that was barely traveled anymore. Barely being the keyword; there was still the risk of being caught at any moment.
Daemon’s other hand starts to ruck up your long dress, the tips of his fingers brushing over the bare skin of your leg underneath; the feeling makes you breath hitch in your throat.
“And I’ll bet...” he hums slowly, “...that you’re already fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?”
Words are lost in your throat as his grip tightens slightly around your neck. But it doesn’t stop a strangled gasp escaping your lips when his fingers suddenly brush between your folds, having pulled your undergarments to the side.
“Hmm, just as I predicted; you’re soaked,” he whispers.
He then leans in close so that his breath tickled the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through your body.
“Pathetic,” he taunts darkly, chuckling at the tiny moan that leaves you. “And now...” he whispers as he starts to undo the fastenings of his trousers. “Now you’re gonna let me fuck you in this hallway, where anyone may come across us, like the fucking whore that you are.”
Your responding moan is cut off when he suddenly grabs your roughly, turning you around and slamming your front to the wall. You barley have time to put your palms out against the wall for support before your dress is being rucked up again. Daemon chuckles darkly just as he pushes himself harshly into you, a simpering mewl sounding from you.
“So pathetic,” he hisses just before he fucks you into oblivion right against the castle wall.
Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist
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Zaldrīzesdōron
Daemon Targaryen x F!Reader
A/N: The next prompt suggested by @a-bang-for-your-bucky was “How can I believe you after all you’ve done?” With Daemon Targaryen. This is the first time I’ve written Daemon, I found him dialogue heavy. He’s a wordy boy, stressing his point because he’s always in the right. Anyway… thank you @adrille88 for doing the job of beta!
Warnings: Explicit 18+, smut. I haven’t written smut in a while 😬 potential kidnap (but not really), mentions of marriage, death and murder, dragons. Reader and Daemon start off a little rough but it’s consensual. Some High Valyrian snuck in there. Also the first time I’ve dipped into the fanfic world of GOT/HOTD so be gentle. Reader belongs to a house but it’s not specified which one, reader wears a dress and has hair but nothing else is specified.
Translations: (I found.)
Zaldrīzesdōron- Dragonstone.
ñuha prūmia - my heart.
issa dãrys - my king.
avy jorrãelan - I love you.
se nyke aõhon - and I am yours.
Word Count: 4.6k
The wind was fierce. It grabbed at your dress and the fear of falling off made you clutch onto the Prince more than you liked. The dragon beat his wings and you swear the pressure of it pressed inside your ear, weighing into you. A scream threatened to bubble up your throat when the beast dived and the ground seemed so far away but too close at the same time. Daemon tightened his grip around your midriff as your heart stopped and you thought this really was the moment you were going to die.
Closing your eyes, you prayed for it to be over soon as nausea clawed at your stomach; maybe you weren’t cut out for a life on dragonback. It was the dream of every small child in Westeros, to have a dragon of their own but now that you were actually here, you hated it.
As soon as Caraxes landed with a shake of his massive head you slid down his side. You hadn’t accounted for how far from the ground he was still and your legs buckled at the force of your dismount. The dragon turned to watch you curiously, his head cocked and a slight whistling sound chittered from his throat.
You were utterly dishevelled. Your hair was a mess, your dress was uncomfortable and it had shifted slightly on your body so the corset dug in. Grabbing your skirts, you loudly cursed the silver haired man who strode toward you with an arrogant swagger.
“Oh stop your griping,” he scolded you. “Most people would kill for what you just experienced.”
“I will not be disrespected like this, Daemon!” Your dress wasn’t appropriate for the wet chill on Dragonstone and your body gave an involuntary shiver.
“No one is disrespecting you, My Lady.”
“Why am I here?” You glared at him but all he did was match your ire with a cocky half smile and a hand to show you the way up to the fortress. Lifting your head you glared at him harder before swanning past and walking steadily up the long and winding causeway.
By the time you reached the tall black stone of the Keep you were visibly freezing, your numb hands doing nothing to keep you warm against the constant wind as it sliced around the island. Your hair was damp, draining any last vestige of warmth you may have had.
Daemon didn’t say anything to you. Leading you into a long hall and scattering the servants with a curt word and pretending not to notice when you headed straight for the roaring fireplace. The sensation of a thick fur being wrapped around your body made you flinch, but you grabbed onto it. Daemon swept your hair to the side, gently draping it over the fur and you allowed him to smooth it down, his hands slowly travelling along your arms until you stepped out of his reach. His pent up sigh finally being let out.
“What do you want, Daemon?”
“The pleasure of your company,” his voice sounded too loud as it echoed around.
“We could have done that within my own halls. My house is one of the few who would have allowed the scorned Prince of Westeros under its roof.” He scoffed, picking at the food that had been laid out on the table.
“It’s not the same.”
“No. My halls are much more comfortable.”
“Did you not enjoy the thrill of the ride?” He asked, lifting his gaze to gauge your reaction but you refused to play his game.
“I shall ask again and I expect a straight answer.” Daemon rolled his eyes and waved a hand to cut you off.
“Don’t be so fucking boring. You’re better than this, you know you are.” Bravely you stood stock still as he approached, his eyes eating up every inch of you as he stopped just inches from you, crossing his hands on the pommel of his sword. “You’re in need of a husband.”
“That’s what this is about?!” You sounded amused but really your entire body had just flushed with a delicious warmth as ideas ran rampant in your mind. “Are you putting yourself forward as a candidate?”
“Well I thought the dragon ride would have sealed the deal.”
“There is no ‘deal.’ If you wish to seek my hand in marriage you must fall in line with the other suitors.” Cocking an eyebrow, you enjoyed the way he grinned at you, fully taking on the challenge you offered him.
“I don’t have to fall in line with anyone. I am a Prince.”
“One that has fallen from favour more times than I can count. What would I want with a black sheep such as you?”
“A sheep,” he sneered. “Good one.” Turning away from him you weren’t expecting him to grab you, pulling you to him so hard your breath hitched. “Tell me I don’t top the best offer you’ve ever had.”
“Let me go,” you gasped but his grip just tightened. His eyes never left your face, tracing your features so marked with annoyance, he liked this look on you. He enjoyed your spirit and the way it singed his fingers, like dragon fire. You were something else entirely and he wasn’t going to let you be dimmed anymore.
“I cannot.” It was all there in his mind, everything he had ever wanted to say to you. Usually he didn’t hesitate to say what was on his mind but you choked him. “My Lady…”
“You know he will never agree to this. Our King.” The second son relinquished his grip at the mention of his older brother, a grimace crossing over his sharp features.
“As much as I love my brother, you know I don’t listen to a word he says. He told me to marry that prissy bronze cunt in the Vale and I got out of that.”
“How did she die again? Hunting accident?” You queried knowing full well that was a lie.
“And your last husband? Choked at the table did he?” The taunt was quick fired and smug but you had your story straight.
“He ate too much duck. A bone got lodged in his throat.” You scowled at him, hating the way he ran the tip of tongue over his bottom lip but then Daemon stepped back.
“It’s all inconsequential anyway,” he announced.
“Is it? I was told under no circumstances, was I to entertain any advances from you.” He raised an eyebrow, nodding at the table as though surprised at your sudden admission but you could tell he already knew you were going to say something like that.
“Your advisors know best. Do you agree with them?”
“After the way you stole me…”
“Oh here we go again, I did not steal you!” He grumbled.
“I am here against my will!” You shrieked. “I was plucked from my House and flown halfway across the world…”
“Don’t exaggerate,” he muttered.
“Flown, away from my home and dumped in this…”
“Amazing fortress.”
“Ugh! You are insufferable!”
“Would you listen to me?” He hissed coming towards you once again but this time you backed out of his reach and his hand dropped, balling into a fist. “I needed to get you away from the dying ideas of those old codgers. They ruin you. Dull you. I want nothing more than to — treat you how you should be treated. I brought you here to become a fucking Princess!”
“How can I believe you after all you’ve done?”
“That!” He pointed at you, jutting out his jaw as he tried to drive his point forward. “That is what they want. To put this poisonous wedge between us and I will not have them succeed. Not this time.”
“So you’re telling me they feed me lies? You haven’t taken whores, disrespected the crown or killed your ex wife? None of these things are true?” You challenged.
“Yes of course they’re true…I’m not lying to you here.”
“And neither are my advisors when they say I should avoid you at all costs.”
“No. They’re just trying to undermine me and ruin any chance of happiness you might want.” Your face twisted with disgust at how accurate his insight was.
“I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.” You wanted to leave and in a desperate attempt you headed for the exit, not caring where it led to but he charged; almost sweeping your balance away as he grabbed your wrist and spun you back to face him with a flurry of your dress.
“We are not finished,” he spat. “I am here telling you all the nitty gritty bits of my character, exposing my flaws so you can pick at them like a rabid raven and still love me.” Your breath quickened as your back was pressed back into the wall. “I’ve never hidden who I am,” he continued.
“Maybe I don’t like what you’re showing me after all, Prince Daemon.” He smirked but it didn’t reach his eyes. They stayed steely, and focused until he released you and stepped back. Gaining control of himself and giving you space again.
“That’s an outright lie,” he said. The firelight caught on his silver hair and you found yourself admiring him now, as much as you did when you first caught sight of him at the tournament. How you had promised yourself to capture the attention of the dragon rider, now your efforts after all this time were suddenly not so fruitless.
“So what if it is.” He stood before you, one leg cocked slightly as he openly admired you. His gaze dragging over your body and you let the fur slip down around your shoulders exposing some skin.
“We are one and the same you and I,” he whispered.
“How did you work that out?”
“Because I have heard tales of your late husbands. Tragically, you don’t seem to be able to stay married a whole year before they’re falling dead at your feet.”
“Unfortunate circumstances,” you shrugged.
“No heirs,” he continued. “So all their fortune goes to you. Their dear, bereft lady wife.” The fur slipped further and his hands worked to free himself of his sword belt. “We could be formidable, you know. Together.” He began to remove his armour, taking the breastplate off and planting it in the chair near you, his eyes never straying far from your own. “You’ve got the soul of a dragon and I admire that. I enjoy its heat.”
“What makes you think you have what it takes to tempt me, my Prince?” He scoffed, allowing the brief annoyed smirk to cross his face.
“Is it the thrill of the chase for you? To have a prince come after you like some love sick fool?” he snapped with barely contained irritation.
“You are not one of those,” you countered.
“Oh but I am. That’s why I stole you, as you so crudely put it, and brought you here, to Dragonstone.”
“To make me yours?” The last item clunked to the floor and he was standing before you in a loose shirt, leather britches and boots. Within a few strides you were in his reach. Feebly you tried to resist but he overpowered your meagre attempts until your back was flush against his chest. His large hands holding your wrists firmly across your own chest. Turning your face away, he buried himself into your neck, breathing warmly on your skin.
“To make you, mine.” Your cry rang out when his teeth sank into the softness of your neck but he didn’t release you. Just spinning you round, and walking you back until the pair of you slammed into the cold stone wall. “Yes, fight me,” he encouraged, taking a slap to the cheek and working his jaw to absorb the pain.
“You like that?” You breathed.
“Mmm, now that would be telling,” he teased; pushing forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He had you trapped, his wide body crowding you from all sides and his foot kicked your legs wide. Once again you tried to push him away but the scuffle just ended with you in an even more vulnerable position. Hands pinned above your head as he ghosted his nose over your face; breathing you in with a drawn out sigh as though he’d been waiting an eternity for such a moment with you. “Extraordinary,” he murmured.
“I won’t give in so easily,” you snarled but there was no conviction in your voice.
“Is that so?” He stole another kiss from you, his tongue teasing you to open up for him. Your body shivering against him, excitement sliding down your spine and a soft moan was sipped from the tip of your tongue.
The rustle of your dress was loud in the quiet, his free hand slipping under the fabric to brush the smoothness of your inner thigh. His calloused touch had your yearning for Daemon reach higher, arching your back in the hope he’d take the hint. His lips and teeth left a trail of marks along your jawline, his body pushing you even harder against the wall.
He let go of your wrists, spreading a hand over your throat in a show of control and possession. Your own hands fell to tangle in his silvery locks, pulling on them harshly so he sucked in a breath between his teeth. His hand connected with your thigh and your eyes closed as the sound snapped between you both.
“Now, now,” he drawled. You had no choice but to release the hold on his hair as he flipped you round so you were facing the fire. The heat enveloped you; mixed with the heat already coursing through your body, you could feel sweat beginning to form under your dress.
He shifted behind you, pushing his britches down until they covered his boots that he was still wearing. Daemon grabbed one of your hands and put himself in the palm. Your eyes fluttered at the silky warmth of him and you squeezed the thick tip letting him thrust slightly in your grip. Fingers curled around the column of your throat, tilting your head back until his lips found the corner of yours once again.
The fabric of your dress was lifted, this time his hand went straight for the slickness of your cunt. He parted your folds, taking his time to listen to the little noises you made when he circled your clit and teased your entrance. In return you felt your way along his stiff length, silently marvelling at the way he filled your grip. Your throat flexed in his hold as you groaned, shamelessly pushing your hips forward to try and get more friction but he chuckled darkly in your ear.
“You have to earn it,” he whispered.
“T-tell me how,” you whined. He didn’t respond, instead he pulled away, leaving you oddly cold in front of the fire.
The flames licked the huge logs, burning them a hot white colour and successfully captivating your gaze as you tried to calm the rising frustration. Looking over your shoulder, you saw him leaning against the table, britches pulled up but still undone, arms crossed over that wide chest as he waited for you to make your move.
“Is this how you treat all your women?” You asked with a biting edge to your tone, allowing him to see how riled up you were.
“No,” he replied with the blunt truth. “Other women bore me so I don’t waste my time on them more than necessary.” You approached him slowly, aware that he was watching every little movement you made. You didn’t want to give him the opportunity to discard you, not after the effort you had both put into getting here.
Reaching out you pulled the ties on his shirt to expose his chest, forcing his arms down and you drank in the sight of his scarred skin. Gently you traced the rough skin, watching him tense under your delicate touch.
“Did these hurt?”
“Possibly.”
“Are they from Caraxes?” You asked, forcing the fabric off his body completely so that he let it pool on the floor at his feet. He had more scars, marking his side and back.
“They are not the result of something that exciting. Just took a few arrows at the battle of the Stepstones.”
“I heard you won that fight pretty much single handedly, my Prince.” Your sultry gaze rose and you looked at him through your lashes. Running your fingernails down the dip between his pecs.
“Are we going to talk about my battle prowess all night or are we going to fuck?”
“Wouldn’t it be a surprise if I walked away after you promised so much and didn’t deliver.” Your words had the desired effect and the sense of anticipation leapt in your chest when he grabbed your face, pulling you close so he could feast on your mouth.
You went further, pushing his hips so he sat on the table. Manipulating your dress, you carefully lifted a leg up to mount him and he helped you by lifting the other so you were kneeling over him. Immediately you ground your hips over the barely covered bulge in his britches, enjoying the way he gasped in your mouth when he felt your unclothed cunt run over the exposed tip of his cock.
He wasted no time in pushing the material back down, taking a moment to feel how wet you were as he still ravished your mouth. His thick fingers nudged into you, stretching you so much you groaned, clutching at his face as you rolled your hips.
The motions between you became greedy, your nails scraped the underside of his chin. Daemon’s teeth seemed to seek out every fleshy spot he could reach but nothing slowed the relentless pressure of his fingers. A thumb passed over your bundle of nerves and your mouth dropped open, face contorting with pleasure you haven’t experienced in so long.
The orgasm rolled over you like the waves of the sea outside. Crushing walls you didn’t even realise you’d put up and baring a part of yourself that had been hidden for years. Daemon watched every little expression that crossed your face, studying you as though it helped him get to know you.
Withdrawing his fingers, he didn’t give you time to recover. Making you stand on shaky legs only to shove you over the table. Dishes of food went flying when he cleared a space for you, the metal singing a song as they clattered on the stone floor only to be punctuated by your shocked gasp when he ripped the fabric of your dress right down the seam.
“You’d look better in black,” he spoke thickly, barely containing his need for you. The material was discarded and your spine was bent until your cheek rested on the smooth wood. He gathered your slip at your hips, passing a hand over your backside and cupping your dripping cunt to gather your wetness. From the corner of your eye you could see him rub his glistening hand over his cock before he rubbed it along your slit. Teasing your entrance and looming over your back, trailing his hair between your shoulder blades.
There was no warning when he entered you, not that it mattered. You’d been waiting impatiently for the punishing stretch and he did not disappoint. You were slick enough to let him push in without any resistance and he took full advantage. The firmness of his thrusts jolting your body, a hand pressing into your back to hold you in place as he watched the way he slid so perfectly in and out of you.
Your body was craving him, your hands fisting because they had nothing to hold onto, your walls fluttering, squeezing him so tightly he had to lean his back and close his eyes to try and think of anything but the way you felt. He didn’t want this to end too soon; he wanted your body until you were bone limp and completely pliant.
The next orgasm ripped through your body and he paused to feel every tremble and to hear every obscene cry that came out of your pretty mouth. Your eyes were half closed when he slipped out of you, helping you up into his arms so he could lay you before the fire. You moaned, barely able to form words but your hands gripped his as he rubbed it up your front. Spreading his fingers widely over your stomach and up between your heaving breasts to trail his thumb over your lips.
You shifted, drawing his attention back to your exposed cunt and he moved. Settling between your legs, your thighs resting easily against his shoulders. You were glistening already but he wanted to add to it. Gathering the spit in his mouth and looking up to see you watching him with pupils blown wide, lips wrapped around his thumb as you sucked gently.
He spat on your clit. Diving down to devour you with his mouth, tongue licking you all the way up and down as he groaned with ecstasy at the taste of you. Legs tensed either side of his head and your shaky hand gripped his hair, urging him on. The cries you had no control over burst from your chest, hips grinding into his face until all he could sense was you and the ache in his spine as his cock twitched in desperation.
Another orgasm stole your senses. Whipping you into a state of higher bliss, a place no man had ever taken you before. Daemon looked over you, stroking some hair out of your face before he began all over again.
His mouth crushed into yours, the taste of you on his lips made you gasp. His skin was slick as it slid over yours, his body covering you, a hand digging into your thigh as he brought your leg up.
He lined himself up, pushing the thick tip into your aching mess of a cunt and you moaned loudly. He went slowly but steadily, allowing you to swallow him up until he had sheathed himself to the hilt inside you. Your walls fluttered at the welcome intrusion, stretching around Daemon’s fullness, making him curse in Valyrian.
You could barely concentrate, so cock-drunk on the feel of him it was struggle just to remember to breathe. His hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he flexed his hips, testing your waning limits.
Fingers fisted in the furs beneath you as he stoked the blazing heat inside you, making your toes curl tightly. Tired cries burst from your chest as he picked up the pace, pumping forcefully into your cunt so the sound of your sex filled the hall. He might have been praising you, degrading you, it didn’t matter. The rumble of his voice was all you could register as euphoria melted over your mind. The coil in your belly wound almost painfully tight and you thought you couldn’t take anymore from him when it snapped.
Your back arched, your legs clamped around him as your cunt squeezed on his cock from the force of your release. Your vision streaked with white, hands grabbing at the man on top of you, snatching at his arms until your nails drew blood. You felt him pulse inside you, right before he came to his own end with an explosive snarl. His mouth fell on yours, the salty taste of his sweat marked the edges of your lips as you both fed off each other’s highs.
He teased as much pleasure as he could out of you, until you were whimpering from the overstimulation and your body was limp and pliable. Finally, he pulled his softening cock free and rolled onto his back with a self-satisfied exhale. He looked over at you. His features were etched by the firelight but he looked softened. This wasn’t the hard faced man that had stolen you earlier today, the man that defied everyone just to please himself…here was a man who was letting his emotions show on his face. All barriers were down and you also felt oddly exposed to him. Not just naked, no this was something else. He turned to his side and began to stroke your slightly damp skin.
“Do you want to know the real reason why I stole you away?” His fingers drifted lightly over your aching stomach, watching the shadow his large hand cast in the twitching light of the fire.
“I think you’re dying to tell me,” you whispered. Your throat was dry and sore from all the noise he’d pulled from you. Daemon smiled, leaning forward to kiss your exposed shoulder.
“I wanted to save you from dreary men.” Your laugh was rich as it echoed in the stone hall and he grinned at the sound. Rolling onto your front under the furs you nudged into his wide chest.
“Yes, they were dreary. It’s why I killed them,” you admitted in a whisper.
“I promise to never bore you, ñuha prūmia.”
“And I promise to keep you on your toes, issa dãrys.” Your expression faltered when he didn’t respond. Did you say it wrong? Did he think you were undermining his brother by calling Daemon your king? You meant he was the king of your heart, he always had been.
“Do you know…everything I have done that my brother has not approved of has been because of you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, choosing instead to concentrate on your body.
“How so?”
“Every time you got remarried. I hated seeing you tied to some simpering idiot who didn’t deserve you. I could see how much it squashed your spirit.” You gently took his chin in your hand, forcing him to look at you.
“I cannot be tamed, Prince Daemon.”
“No.” He leaned into you, pretending to bite at your face as you giggled softly. “I want to free you,” he breathed. Gazing into his darkened eyes you felt your heart stutter in your chest. Your dreams were coming true, the man you’d been wanting since you’d come of age was here, naked at your side baring everything to you. “Avy jorrãelan,” he whispered into the shell of your ear.
“Daemon…” biting your lip, you let him roll you onto your back. His mouth was hot and wet as he skimmed his lips over your throat, fingers travelling down your body, drifting over your pert nipples.
“I know,” he mumbled into the soft flesh of your breast as he tongued and massaged your other nipple. Your fingers dipped into the crown of silver hair, back arching to offer yourself to him as much as possible. “I am yours,” he moaned, closing his eyes as though it tortured him to say such words.
“Se nyke aõhon!” You cried out when his fingers dipped into your aching heat. He groaned at the sensation of you, the thickness of his fingers filling you, bruising you almost. You were still tender from what had transpired before.
“If I could stay inside you forever, I would,” he whispered hurriedly as he rose above you. His hair dripped down like hot Valyrian steel as he leaned into you, sucking the mewling cries you gave him straight from your mouth.
You didn’t want to be anywhere else. You weren’t wanting him for power or status, he was so much more than his titles and bloodline. You wanted him because he made you feel things no other man had ever achieved. And those sensations were addictive.
#daemon targaryen x you#prince daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen fic#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x f!reader
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Two Halves Of The Same Coin PART 1: (Daemon Targaryen x Reader FANFIC)
Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader
Summary: From the start it’s clear you and Daemon are made for each other but things get complicated.
Warnings: swearing, angst, violence, murder, unplanned pregnancy, injury, sadness, time jump
Author’s Note: Hello like many of you I too have become a tad consumed by the thought of Daemon Targaryen so I decided to write something. It is not great but I hope you enjoy none the less. I am by no means an expert of anything HOTD or GOT so please dont come at me if I have gotten things wrong.
Life in the Red Keep was tedious, your father Otto made sure of that. Being a young maiden of sixteen you were expected to display a modicum of class, elegance and innocence you were two of those things certainly classy and elegant but innocent you were not. You had a devious streak a mile wide, a glint of chaos behind those doe-like eyes. You were exceptionally good at putting on a mask, if anyone dared cross you you could certainly put a knife in them for their foolishness. But being a good daughter, you obeyed your father going to ever embroidery lesson and every history lesson. That was until you met the young prince, his long flowing silver hair blowing in the wind that sweeps through the garden blowing the red leaves off the godswood tree. That was the day you met Daemon Targaryen and your entire life changed.
It is now 10 years later and you are both playing that game of cat and mouse never fully giving into each other's desires or feelings.
You wake early the light of the morning sun tearing through the glass of your window burning your heavy sleep ridden eyes. Sighing you sit up in your bed a hand running through your rustled hair, you simply could not bring yourself to put that mask on today. You could not be that portrait perfect young woman your father so expects, not today you needed to let the real you out. Needed to embrace the chaos. Daemon had plagued your dreams late evening; you had not seen in months the desire and frustration at a breaking point within you.
That’s it you decided, today you would go beyond the walls of the Red Keep not far enough to cause concern but just far enough to have a little adventure. Daemon had shown you a few secret passages and hideaway to get in and out of the castle. Leaping out of bed you sail over to your dresser containing your dresses, opting for the simplest of the lot in order to not stand out so much. Wrapping your hair around your hand you secure it with a dagger like pin, turning on your heels you rustle around trying to find your thigh strap for your blade. Strap secured to your upper thigh you slide the blade in the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine and a smirk across your face.
Not long after you are out of the castle, merging in with the bustling crowds of locals carting round barrels of wine and baskets of produce. Wading through the crowd you make your way to a crowded square where there are bushels of people trading and buying, a group of men stand shouting obscenities whilst guzzling tankards of wine. Something they say catches your attention, it’s the name you hear.
“What did you say?” a grimace passes over your face as you come face to face with the group.
“I said Prince Daemon is a cunt. A worthless good for nothing cunt.” He slurs spilling wine on his large beard as the others holler with laughter and shouts of agreement.
It's like a fog comes over you and you see red; the pin is released from your hair and finds a home in one mans skull and the dagger strapped to your thigh is in your hand. When it's all done the bearded man is covered in his own blood scrambling for his tongue as his friend lies on the ground still and bleeding.
Later that day you enter your chamber via the hidden door beside your dresser and see Daemon lounging on your bed fingers playing with one another idly. At the sound of you entering his gaze shifts to you and a look of surprise and amusement appears on his features.
Your plain dress is now littered with the blood of the men from your earlier adventures. He walks towards you resting his hands on your shoulders, his gaze never shifting from you.
“My My (Y/N) haven't you been busy! This is a new look, I rather enjoy it.” He remarks laughing as his hands softly rub their way up and down the tops of your arms.
“He spoke ill of you my love so I done what was just and cut your name from his bastard mouth. His screams were greater than any ballad ever written, now he cannot speak ill of you in fact he cannot speak at all.” you gesture plainly.
“Defending my honour, how gallant of you darling.” he says chuckling.
The both of you spend the rest of the day in each other's arms, sharing words and exploring each other's bodies.
Daemon and you decide to marry not long after that day tired of denying your feelings for one another.
4 MONTHS LATER
Each day you spend with Daemon is a blessing, much to your father's horror. You both are chaotic and devious but also loyal and passionate, he is your other half. You both made a promise on your wedding night that you would never abandon each other.
Things in the keep have been tense these last few days, whispers of a pirate attacking westerosy soldiers are circling the castle. Daemon is missing from your bed chambers when you wake, you dress deciding he must be at a small council meeting with his brother, the King Viserys.
Standing from your bed you begin to get light headed, your vision blurring. Steadying yourself against the frame of your bed a wave of nausea washes over you. Rushing towards the open window in your bedroom you vomit over the edge immediately feeling sorry for anyone below.
Getting some air to clear your head and try to make yourself feel slightly less sick you wander aimlessly around the castle grounds making your way to the gardens to sit beneath the godswood tree.
The day is drawing to a close and the sickness still hasn’t wavered and there is still no sign of Daemon. Calling on a maid you ask if the Grand Maestor is nearby in the castle to which the maid tells you where he is. Knocking on the door you enter greeting the Grand Maestor, you explain your predicament and describe your symptoms hoping he can suggest a remedy for your ailments.
You are left feeling more unwell after your visit with the Grand Maestor as you rush back to your quarters hoping to find your husband has returned. In your hurry you run into the Queen, your sister Alicent who seems quite concerned by your lack of awareness and hurried pace. Asking Alicent where Daemon has gone your sisters face falls and her eyes sadden.
“Did he not tell you sister?” she asks solemnly.
“Tell me what?” you reply.
“He left for the Stepstones this morn my dear” she embraces you as the news begins to sink in. A sob leaving your mouth as she rubs your back in a gesture of comfort.
That evening you sit in your chambers alone with the news that Daemon left for war without so much as a goodbye, what the Grand Maestor told you earlier that day rings in your ears the nausea rising within you once again.
“Lady (Y/N) I think you might be with child, the symptoms you are describing certainly sound like it.”
Your palm rests on your stomach your other half left without a word to fight a war and now you are sat pregnant and alone.
Nine months pass quickly and you are still without your husband, you wrote letters to him almost every day and received no word back. Soon your child comes into the world, you never thought you could love another being more but then this little bundle came into the world. Their tiny feet, silver hair and bright eyes were perfect and reminded you starkly of their father.
The days turn into months, months turn into years as you raise your child in the castle alone. Putting your child to bed after reading them a bedtime story you crawl under the covers sighing thankful for some rest finally as exhausted fills every fibre in your body. You fall asleep quickly, however the longer the night drags on the more restless your sleeping body grows as dreams continually plague your unconscious mind.
It’s the same dream over and over again, Daemon stands in the Stepstones waving a white flag sword surrendered. Before you know it he is raging his way across the battle field cutting down every man in his path, striking down a man with a blow of his sword he falls to one knee. Three arrows make their way towards him piercing his body and as his body falls to the ground bleeding a scream rips from your lungs waking you as a maid comes rushing in and over to your bedside. Tears are streaming down your face burning your skin, they won't stop and your breath is coming out in short heavy puffs. The maid’s hand rests on your shoulder softly lulling you into a calmer state.
“My Lady are you ok should I fetch the Grand Maestor?” your maid asks worriedly.
“No no thank you my dear you can go back to bed I am ok.” you fake sincerity.
Not long after word reaches the keep of Daemon’s victory in the Stepstones, the pirate has been vanquished.
Some days later the sound of dragon wings beating fills the air in Kings Landing as Caraxes roars over the city.
The castle is bustling with the news of the Prince’s arrival back to his home after his victory but all you feel is rage. Your husband has returned home and you want to lay your hands on him for abandoning you in your time of need.
Your day is spent avoiding the majority of the castle in the hopes of avoiding your beloved, the sun is scorching however and the heat in the castle is stifling. Making your way out of your chambers into the dark stone halls the air cooled your exhausted body significantly reaching the garden your anxiety grows as you notice the shrouds of people conversing. Just as you turn to make a quick exit you are seen by your sister who waves you over her eyes pleading, you shake your head ferociously but now you have garnered the King’s attention as well as that of you husband. Breathing deeply, you make your way into the garden putting on your mask for the first time in years.
“Lady (Y/N) how great it is to see you, you look well.” the King embraces you.
“Thank you, your grace you flatter me really!” you curtsy thanking him for his courtesy.
Your sisters eyebrow is raised as she recognises the mask you wear hiding just how angry and hurt you truly are at the fact your beloved is standing next to you for the first time in years.
Daemon rests a hand on your lower back and you stiffen the mask faltering slightly as your eyes fill with fury. As the King and Queen bid you farewell you are left with Daemon alone, you back away from his touch turning your back to him as you go to enter the castle again not a word leaving your mouth. A hand grips the back of your neck forcefully turning you around to face its owner. You snap grabbing the pin from your hair and holding it to his throat a dangerous smile on his lips.
“How I missed you my darling.”
A dry laugh falls from your lips.
“Four years you’ve been away Daemon, four fucking years and not a single correspondence, you swore to me that you would never abandon me and yet you have done exactly that. I understand the war was trying and traumatising but being here without you, without hearing from you...Well you have subjected me to the same torment.”
“And I longed to be home every day but I have a duty to the people, I had to defend the kingdom.” he urges still holding the back of your neck firmly looking into your eyes deeply.
“That’s a load of horseshit Daemon you and I both know it, you done it to spite your brother. You forget who you are talking to husband, I know you. You serve no one but yourself.” you wrestle out of his tight grasp.
“Come on darling you know that’s not true yes it was to spite my brother but my only role is to serve you, you are my other half my soulmate my fucking wife.” he replies growing angry at your dismissal of yourself.
“You won the war and walked away with a title and a crown, I lost the battle for your love it seems and was left with a child whom I birthed and raised alone. You have a daughter who has never known the love of her father has never gotten to know her father. It pains me just how swiftly the years are passing, even more so knowing she is growing and you left me, left us like some worthless whore.
Her name is Alyssa if you were wondering, after your mother.”
A tear rolls down his cheek at your confession, his heart breaks. He is frozen in place as he watches your form retreating into the castle, shaking himself back to reality he rushes after you needing more answers.
Hurriedly you rush to find Alyssa needing to lay eyes on your child to ease your worry, knocking on the door you enter a maid playing with little Alyssa who runs around with a little hay doll that one of them had made for her. Hearing you enter she spins round excitedly her long silver braided hair swishing behind her as she rushes forward arms stretched.
Thinking you had eluded Daemon you do not close the door behind you instead scooping the little blonde gremlin up into your arms hugging her close to your chest as you kiss the top of her head.
Looking at you with her big bright eyes you kiss the tip of her nose as she giggles. “That tickles mummy!” she giggles.
Not setting her down you notice her looking at something over your shoulder, she looks at you with her eyebrow raised. “Mummy who is that man standing in the door?”
“She looks just like me...I can't believe we have a little girl.” he stands in the door way sobbing, feet inching closer to where you are stood protectively grasping your daughter.
“It’s no one baby, just a man.” you hand her over to the maid who begins to carry her over to the door which connects to the other room.
“No please I want to see her, please let me hold her. ALYSSA ALYSSA!” he shouts. “I’m your daddy ALYSSA!”
He rushes into the room frantically heading straight for your daughter, you place your body in front of him as he tries to reach around your body to get to his little girl.
The maid stills stands unsure of what to do as the little one looks between the two of you. “Lady (Y/N) what would you like me to do.”
Sighing heavily you tell her to put the little girl down and ask her to take her leave, however enraged you were with your husband right now you couldn’t deny your daughter the right to her father any longer. Wrapping his arms around the little girl he breathes her scent in deeply as she looks into his eyes a small hand reaches up to hold his face “Daddy!” she says softly.
You are torn between two halves of yourself, on one hand you are angry at Daemon for leaving you without a word but on the other hand you cannot help but still love him as fiercely as you once did.
Try as you might it seems Daemon is the demon your soul clings to, only time and fortune will tell if your relationship will purge or if it will ascend to the greatness it once was.
#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd#house targaryen#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x f!reader#daemon targaryen smut#my fic
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Playing with Dragons (DAEMON/RHAENYRA/JACE/AEMOND/AEGON II x fem READER) modern AU! - Chapter I
A/N: English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors. Also my first fanfic on this platform. I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them.
Summary: Living among the Targaryen's may not be an easy task, even more so when the dragons want a piece of meat in common.
TW (For Now): Incest, mention of drug hangover
Word Count: 1,788 words
You grew up as a friend/member of the Targaryen family, a family with great political and social acquisitive power. You had moved to China during college, not seeing any of your family or friends in person. You were close to Rhaenyra, who in the first two years always called up you but realized that your life in China was hectic and you had to take care of the internship and studying. So, she just texted when she thought you weren't busy.
It's been 5 years since you went to China and now here you were, at London airport waiting for Aemond. You were watching the news when you felt a presence in front of you, looking up and seeing the man your friend had become. His almost white hair like wolf fur was down the middle of his back, his face looked sculpted, blue one eye with a sharp violet background like a cat's, his chin was long and giving an air of maturity even though he already naturally possessed such a feature.
-No fucking way
You say with your mouth open and smile at him who rolls his eyes playfully, both hug each other in a longing hug, he spins you around in the air like a scene from a cliché movie. The last time you saw each other you were 18 and he was 17, now both 22-years-old and 21-year-old
-Is it taller? She was so short for an 18-year-old.
-You are so beautiful with your mouth closed, my darling.
-Always so sweet, Y/n Hightower.
Small detail, you were Alicent's younger cousin and not that you're complaining. Alicent always liked you and treated you well, always made sure you felt part of the family, both Hightower and Targaryen.
-Little boy, watch your tongue.
A fact was that Aemond was always into you, even though it was incest, but who would judge? Until two centuries ago the Targaryens came from incest if they did not marry a Velaryon, the second subdivision of the family.
-I'll keep it inside my mouth in case you ever want or need it.
Both leave the airport teasing each other until you see Aegon in the back seat of the car, slightly (very) stoned, sleeping against the glass. Helaena was beside him reading a biology book with headphones. You and Aemond kept the luggage and when they entered, you greeted Helaena with a kiss on the cheek and gave Aegon a flick on the forehead who woke up quickly.
-Helaena you greet with a kiss on the cheek. Don't I get a kiss either?
"No" you three say at the same time. Aegon crosses his arms like a spoiled child and the trip was peaceful to the house Targaryen where the youngest line lived, the others oldest lived in the Red Keep which was 20 kilometres away. Aegon was sleeping, Helaena was listening to music and Aemond was telling you the news.
-So, you put a sapphire?
” These millionaires” you thought to yourself. Remembering Luke's accident with the shotgun, it bounced back so hard that day of hunting that it hit Aemond, causing him to lose one of his eyes. It was a big fight in the family, but fortunately they were resolved, Aemond wouldn't go without his eyepatch near anyone but you.
-I put it on my 18th birthday.
-Did it hurt?
-Not much, healing was more difficult.
-It suits you, the blue colour suits you well.
For a minute you thought you saw Aemond blushing, then you arrived at the mansion, and you saw Luke and Baela in the entrance hall. When you got out of the car, Luke hugged you and you smiled at the youngest, Baela just nodded at you.
- I missed you, Yn.
- I missed you too, little demon. What have you been up to these last few years?
-This week I set Jace's curtain on fire and I put meat sauce on Aegon's blouse, Vhagar and Caraxes jumped on him and almost left him without clothes.
-And there will be a return. - Aegon says when he gets out of the car and stretches.
He pulled you away from Luke and Baela, before you could talk to Baela, and took you inside the house to the leisure area where the garden, pool and jacuzzi were located. The servants took your bags and were going to take you to your room.
-Since you're going back to live with us, we have a new rite of passage. Designed exclusively for you.
-And what would be?
He just smiled with dilated pupils, with no time to react, he pushed you into the pool. He watched as you climbed out of the pool with amusement, noting that your white shirt and black leather pants were soaked through, clinging to every curve of your body.
-What the fuck, Aegon. My shirt was... white.
You spelled out the last word slowly when you realized your mistake in wearing that shirt and trusting a stoned Aegon. Smiling, you approached him, and it took him a while to understand what you were doing, he took a few steps back when he noticed.
-Yn, without grudge, do not do evil. The sum of two wrongs is not a right.
-You're right, it's not but it's a sweet revenge.
You just flicked him on the forehead, he jerked away in pain and fell into the pool. Luke and Baela appeared to say goodbye to return to the Red Keep, as only those over 17 could live in house Targaryen. She required a certain amount of “maturity” to live in that house, she would have to put up with noise until late, and a certain amount of patience in order not to kill any of her relatives in case it irritated you.
-Hey, Y/n, grandfather Viserys and the elders asked me to tell you to go to the Red Keep tomorrow at half past seven at night. Until, and look above your bed, gift from Alicent.
You waved them both off and Helaena brought you a towel and one for Aegon, the same one who floated in the pool and admired the morning sky that Friday. You threw a pool ball near him, and the water splashed in his face making him look at you.
-Dear Lord Aegon II, don't you have to work today?
-I works at home.
You looked at Helaena who nodded, they both entered the house, but not before she left the towel on top of the rest chair. She says that normally almost all the Targaryen house worked at home, those of the Red Keep had to go at least a few times in the company, but EVERYONE had to go to the meetings of the month.
-But you work at the company? I thought you had graduated in biology.
-And I graduated and I'm finishing graduate school. I work in the chemistry and testing sector so that the composition of the product does not affect the environment or animals.
-And let me guess, are you the head of the sector?
-Yes, my father insisted that I was in charge, knowing that I had no particular interests.
-You don't think about teaching anymore? you like kids so much
You ask entering your room, which was the way you left it, with the eldest, both of you sit on your bed. Helaena sighed and lay down; you repeated the action of the older
-Once in a while I give lectures in elementary schools. It's not how I imagined myself when I was 16, but it's enough. And you? Have you found a job in international relations yet? And how was your graduation?
-Theoretically I didn't graduate, there's a subject that didn't have a teacher who spoke English to teach, I tried the class lectured in Mandarin, but I got lost because he spoke too fast. Alicent asked me to finish here in London as she talked to college director, and he accepted considering my grades and that Otto is my uncle.
-It's a shame, it's very annoying to be late in a matter, but at least your family will attend your graduation.
-I don't know what I would do if none of you went. About 6 months before coming, Rhaenyra sent me an email asking me to send her an internship curriculum so that I could work with her in Marketing and foreign markets. I'll graduate in three months and until then, I'll study at the LSE
-"You're lucky Rhaenyra really likes you... remember Daemon's tantrum when you refused to apply to Harvard?" The whole family went to Harvard or Cambridge or the LSE and you went to China. I thought the old man would have a heart attack when you went around it and would go.
-” What?...YN IS CRAZY, YOU CAN'T AGREE TO THIS ALICENT, VISERYS! MY GIRL DOESN'T LEAVE THIS COUNTRY!”
You enact Daemon's memory of drama as dramatically as possible. You and Helaena laugh. The memory was fun because the next sentence was the pinnacle and so Helaena wanted to act out that part.
-” YOU'RE NOT GOING, IF YOU PUT YOUR FEET OUTSIDE THAT DOOR, I'LL GET A STROKE. DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KILL ME?”
-"This door?" -you got to your feet and went to your bedroom door, put one foot out and then the other- "Goodbye Daemon, farewell my dear."
Helaena rose to her feet and feigned dizziness, just as Daemon had feigned years ago. She threw herself into the armchair like him and pretended to faint.
-” Yn, YOUR STEPFATHER” -Helaena tried to imitate Baela's voice at the time
-“It's not because he takes care of me that he's my stepfather. Everyone feeds the turkey before putting it in the oven.”
Helaena quickly came face to face with you, she slung you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes just like Daemon had done and put you on the bed, imagining that the bed was the sofa.
-"young lady, while you're under my roof--"
-”I don't live here in Red Keep. I've been in House Targaryen for two years, you should know."
Helaena stomped out of the room, like Daemon when he stormed upstairs that day, and then came back smiling, you smiled back at the older one who lay down next to her on the bed.
-Hollywood is losing us.
- Actresses like us are worth gold. By the way, where is Jace? I haven't seen him yet.
-He didn't say where he was going, just that it would take a while and Yn.
-Yes, Helena?
-His clothes are still wet.
-His shoulder too.
You heard something crash down below and looked at each other, sensing it was Aegon's doing.
part 2?
#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#hotd#hotd fic#house of the dragon f#jacaerys strong#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys x you#jacaerys velaryon x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aegon ii x you#aegon ii targaryen#aemond targaryen imagine#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#stepfatherdaemon x reader#helaena x reader#helaena targaryen
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House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes
Masterlist / Masterlist Part 2
Dividers Used: Link
Starring: Daemon Targaryen & Freyja Skjaldmeyjar-Targaryen [Female Reader]
Freyja: Go fuck yourself.
Daemon, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch
Freyja: What’s your body count?
Daemon: Do you mean sex or murder?
Daemon: As top in this relationship, I think we should-
Freyja: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.
Daemon: Freyja, what do you call people you go out with but don’t try to sleep with?
Freyja: …People?
Daemon: Stop doing that.
Freyja: Stop doing what?
Daemon: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.
Freyja: What happened to your nose?
Daemon: I used it to break some guy's fist.
Freyja: I feel like doing something stupid.
Daemon: I’m stupid, do me.
[Incorrect Quotes Modern AU]
Daemon: This date is boring!
Freyja: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.
Daemon: Then why did you invite me?
Freyja: I didn't, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Freyja I'll do whatever I want!
---------------------------------------------
Freyja: Daemon, you're my best friend.
Daemon: Best friend? BEST friend?! Bitch, I'm your only friend.
Daemon: I'M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF TOLERATING YOUR DUMB ASS!
---------------------------------------------
Freyja: How would you like your coffee?
Daemon: As dark and as bitter as my soul.
Freyja, shouting to someone behind the counter: I need one vanilla latte with extra cream and sugar!
-------------------------------------------
Freyja: I like your new pants!
Daemon: Thanks, they were 50 off!
Freyja: I’d like them better if they were 100 off. winks
Daemon: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.
Freyja: That’s… not what I meant.
Daemon: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Freyja.
-------------------------------------------
Daemon: If it’s any consolation, they got me here on a very misleading text message.
Freyja: Technically, you are about to be screwed in the biology room.
Freyja: Do you think sex without love is a sin?
Daemon: If it is, I’ll see you in hell.
Freyja: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.
Daemon, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.
Freyja: Do it coward, you won't.
Freyja: Daemon and I are no longer dating.
Daemon: Freyja, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.
Freyja: banging a pen on the table out of frustration
Daemon: Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table?
Freyja: I—
Freyja: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.
Daemon: Kill him.
Freyja: This is the kind of quality advice I look for.
Freyja: Just say when.
Daemon: When.
Freyja: I-
Freyja: Now or later?
Daemon: Oh.
Freyja: Daemon, I don’t think I can handle any more of your tomfuckery.
Daemon: Oh yeah? Well I can keep going until you’re all tomfuckered out!
Freyja: I’m sorry for being annoying.
Freyja: It will happen again.
Freyja: Daemon taught me to think before I act.
Freyja: …So if I smack the shit out of you, rest assured that I thought about it and am confident in my decision.
Daemon: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.
Freyja: Hi, I’m ‘things’.
Freyja: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?
Daemon: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.
#House of the Dragon#house of the dragon#Daemon Targaryen#daemon targeryan#House of the Dragon Incorrect Quotes#house of the dragon incorrect quotes#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x fem! reader#daemon targaryen x f! reader#female reader#fem reader#fem! reader#Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [female reader]#Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [fem reader]#Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [f! reader]#Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [ oc insert]#oc insert#reader insert
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Send me requests for Aemond Targaryen!
I’ve been obsessed with Hotd for the better part of the week, and I feel ready to write for him.
Right now only Aemond, but I might also do for Daemond at some point.
I don’t write smut, but fluff and angst are totally available!
#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond targaryen#x reader#requests are open#house of the dragon#daemon targeryan#daemon targaryen#x y/n#f!reader
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Ñuha Zaldrīzes
summary: future & facesitting || discussing wishes for your baby with your husband turns into something more
pairing: daemon targaryen x f!reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, pregnant reader, oral sex (f receiving), allusions to piv sex, dirty talk, daemon being soft and loving we love to see it, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 1.8k
a/n: happy day eight of 12 days of smuff!!! surely this counts as future otherwise i'd have them fucking in a spaceship & that just didn't sit right with me
12 days of smuff masterlist!
gif creds to @pedropcl
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!
A soft giggle bursts from your lips as Daemon’s hand skirts over your large belly yet again, his soft touches tickling your skin as his hand ghosts lovingly over your bump, the delicate lacy fabric of your nightgown bunched around his wrist.
“Okay, okay, so,” you say breathily, finally calming down as his touch seems to settle on your hip, “If it’s a little girl, perhaps Vaenera? And for a little boy… Vaenor?” You suggest, your breath warm against the prince’s neck as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, tucked safely into his side atop your silk covered bed.
“I still think we should name her Visenya,” the blond drawls, tracing soothing patterns into your hip as he holds you against him, “With a nice strong name like that, she will grow to greatness.”
You stay silent for a moment, your eyes locked onto the fluid movements of the sheer curtains that lead out onto the balcony, watching as they blow in the breeze carried in by the Narrow Sea. Daemon can’t help but notice you still against him and he smiles softly when he sees that familiar, far off look in your eyes – always his dreamer.
“Where did you go?” He asks gently, all traces of the usual brash, cocky tone with which he speaks gone.
“Nowhere,” you smile, tilting your head up to peer at him through your lashes, “I was merely thinking of what kind of person this little one will grow up to be.” You stroke a hand over your belly as you speak, your smile only growing as you feel a soft, barely there kick against your palm.
“If they’re even half as kind and gentle as their mother, the world will be a much better place with them in it,” your husband whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A pink blush blooms across the apples of your cheeks, as it always does when he speaks so tenderly.
“And if they’re half as hard headed as their father, well… somehow, I will love them all the more,” you whisper, laughing yet again as Daemon trails his fingers over your side, tickling you purposefully this time.
“Me, hard headed?” He teases, laughing along with you, “I’m not the one that nearly sent the kitchens into a tailspin this evening when they demanded duck, now am I?” His violet eyes sparkled in the low light of the candles that flickered around the room, a teasing smirk etched across his face.
“That’s very unfair!” You giggle, leaning up to properly look at him. “You know how I am when I’m with child,” you huff, your blush only deepening when you see his eyes darken just slightly as his gaze flits over you, “Especially once it’s this far along; all I want is roast duck and–”
“And lemon cakes at every meal,” Daemon finishes for you, softly smiling, “Yes, sweetling, the entire castle is most aware.” He chuckles.
“Then the kitchens should know to have duck, that’s all I’m saying…” You grumble, sinking back down into his embrace. The two of you relax into a comfortable silence for many minutes, your husband’s breathing so steady and calm that you assume he’s fallen asleep. When he speaks again, his soft voice almost startles you.
“The kitchens did particularly well with the lemon cakes this evening…”
Your eyebrows furrow together at the statement and you lift your head again, meaning to give him a confused stare. The cakes were exceptionally good this evening, but you can’t help but notice the teasing lilt in his voice.
You open your mouth to speak, but the darkness in Daemon’s eyes gives you pause, a breathy, barely audible whimper escaping your lips before you have a chance to stop it.
“However, I can’t help but be in the mood for a much different type of dessert, little wife.” He says lowly, gently pulling you up until your faces are level, careful to be ever conscious of your growing stomach.
“Daemon –” You start, only to be cut off with a searing kiss as he presses his lips to yours. You whimper against his lips, your head already spinning in his embrace as his tongue toys with yours.
“It’s been so long,” he starts, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nibbling at one spot that always has you seeing stars, “Since you’ve let me have what I want.”
“H-Husband,” you gasp breathlessly, your nails digging helplessly into his chest as you cling to him, “You had me just this, Gods, this morning for breakfast, if you’ll recall.” You managed to say between whimpers and gasps as he practically feasted on the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands softly kneading and caressing your breasts.
He makes a small, displeased hum before he pulls back to look at you, his dark eyes studying you carefully before a small smirk grows on his lips, “You know very well that’s not what I’m after.”
Your eyes widen just slightly as you finally catch his meaning; you shake your head with a small chuckle. “Surely you can’t be serious,” your smile fades as he holds your stare with a small, unchanging smirk, “Daemon, I’ll crush you!”
“And what an honorable death that would be, sweet wife,” he chuckles, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap, your head spins as you feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin linen breeches he has on, “I’ll be fine, it’s not as if this is exactly new territory for us…” He teases, gently skirting his hands over your belly.
“We’ve never done it when I’ve been… like this, though,” you shyly point out, looking down at your bump.
“Do you really not see how insatiable I become every time you’re with child?” Daemon asks, his voice soft and gentle, “I will only ever have you like this a scant few times. Please, sweetling, let me savor it.”
Biting your lip, you gaze down at him, eyes trailing across his bare chest and shoulders and up the strong column of his neck before they finally settle on his face – the look in his eyes nearly making you gasp. His violet eyes are fixed on you, roaming over your body with so much love and adoration that you feel as if you may melt from it.
Before you even register the movement, you’re nodding.
Daemon’s eyes instantly flick up to yours, sparkling with victory. His hands grip your hips again, gently guiding you up his muscular form as he silently thanks the Seven that you wear nothing beneath your Myrish lace nightgowns. A loud groan practically bursts from the prince’s chest once you’re positioned over his face; he loves being surrounded by you — loves the way your soft thighs bracket his head, the way you position your dripping center perfectly over his mouth, and the way the only thing he sees when he looks up is your belly, swollen with his seed, his child.
If it were up to Daemon, he would happily spend the rest of his days here.
Your chest heaves as you grip the headboard of the bed, your heart hammering in your chest from the anticipation of it. You whimper softly as his hands, rough from so many years of sword fighting and dragon riding, grab at your thighs and hips.
He presses soft, sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a slow, steady line up your center; you can feel him smirk triumphantly against you as moans and whimpers spill from your lips.
“Oh, Gods, Daemon!” You gasp, voice already ragged as you white-knuckle the headboard. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself even a fraction of an inch above your husband’s face, something he notices quite quickly. A displeased growl rumbles from his chest, making you pant as it vibrates against your core.
“Fucking sit,” Daemon rasps, tugging you against his mouth, his tongue roughly spearing into you as he grinds your pearl against his nose, hands moving your hips against his face.
Your mind all but whites out as he rocks you against him, nose and tongue working in perfect tandem to send shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeeze shut, frantic moans pouring from your mouth as a fire steadily builds within you.
“H-Husband,” you pant, walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he groans into your heat, “I— Fuck, I’m—!” You can hardly get the words out as Daemon seals his lips around your sensitive bud, suckling it at a maddening pace as his hands move down to cup your ass, kneading it roughly.
Your face flushes at the slick sounds pouring from between your thighs as the prince growls against you, sounding as if he’s gaining as much satisfaction as you are. Your core clenches at the thought, pleasure threatening to consume you.
“Daemon!” You cry urgently, shaking above him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You want so badly to thread your fingers through his hair as you normally would, but you can’t even see his face around your protruding belly.
He groans loudly beneath you once more and fucks his tongue back into you, causing the knot in your belly to pull tightly before finally unraveling. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, your back arching as your whole body tenses and relaxes in time with his movements.
The prince moans appreciatively, messily drinking down your pleasure as you peak on top of him. You jump when one of his hands smacks against your ass, the tingling sting extending your release, the intensity of it nearly making you go mad.
Finally, once your signs of relief have turned into whimpers of overstimulation, Daemon releases you with a pleased hum, helping you shuffle back down his body until you’re straddling his hips once again.
You laugh softly at the sight of him — his cheeks flushed a light pink, hair sticking up at odd angles, and a pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face.
“You look as if you were the one who was ravished, my dragon,” you tease, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you trace over the muscular dips in his chest and stomach.
The prince chuckles lowly, his violet eyes still dark with lust as he takes in your curves. “Ravishing you is a pleasure in and of itself, sweet wife,” he drawls, smirking as you gasp at the feel of his cock against your sensitive core as he rolls his hips against you, “I trust you’ll allow me to feel it again?” He asks, that all too familiar cocky tone back, as if asking is merely a formality.
Sighing happily, you bite your lip as you stare down at him, the knot in your belly beginning to tighten again as you feel his length pressing hotly to you.
“I believe that can be arranged.”
tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux
(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen smut#daemon#daemon x reader#daemon x you#daemon smut#house of the dragon#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon smut#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#hotd#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#smut#my writing#12 days of smuff
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Love Sick ///Aemond X F!Reader
Summary: Alys Rivers had a vision about the prince’s arrivals, using her charm to lure him, she haven’t anticipated you, his new wife. So a little something might help him see who he truly belongs.
Warnings: SMUT
Word Count: 1,8K
Notes: I have read a lot of love potions fics and decided to give it a try. So here we are.
Main Masterlist
Alys Rivers always had visions, the flames would always tell her their secrets, this made it easier for her to survive. Yet, one vision kept appearing for her, a Targaryen Prince, dressed in his battle gears, long silvery hair tied to his back, a scar across his beautiful face.
She anticipated his arrival at Harrenhal way before it was even decided he should go. So when she heard the roar high in the skies, and saw the huge dragon landing in her home, she knew her time had come.
She had tended to him since he stepped his foot in Harrenhal, preparing his bath, serving his food, and occasionally flirting with him, she noticed how he looked at her, she was a pretty woman, long black hair and emerald green eyes, she was sure that it would just take a couple of days and he would fall for her.
Whoever, what Alys Rivers haven’t seen in her visions, was the Baratheon beauty arriving a week later. Lord Borros' third daughter, known for her breathtaking looks and even more impressive brain.
Lady Baratheon strolled through the front door, guards behind her as she walked through Harrenhal. And Alys watched with horror as the woman entered the dining room, giving a little smile to the Prince before slowly making her way towards him.
“Lord Husband.” She greeted, kissing his cheek and squeezing his shoulders, Aemond gave her a small nod and gestured for her to join him.
“How was your journey, my lady?” He inquired as the servers prepared her a plate, she politely thanked the maid before taking a piece of green bean with her fork.
“Quite exhausting, I am happy to finally settle down.” She bites her food. “Your dear mother was right, it feels good to be away from the Keep.” Aemond chuckled.
“Do not remind me of all that chaos.” She smiled at him, Alys kept in the corner watching the exchange in silent anger.
“Queen Helaena sent her greetings to you, my dear.” He held her hand.
“Did she talk to you?” Y/N nodded.
“Just a few words, but she seems better.” Helaena was still grieving the loss of her children in the hands of Daemon’s assassins.
“More wine, my Prince?” Alys intervened, her voice low and sensual, the prince turned his eyes to her, lifting his goblet. She could be his wife, but Alys knew what desire looked like, perhaps the prince just needed a little help.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Prince Aemond was in his study room, book in hands as he took some time off. Alys knocked, hearing his powerful voice commanding her inside.
“I brought some tea, my prince.” She placed the mug with the hot tea on his desk.
A simple love potion, she knew that he had feelings for her, so this would simply amplify them, make them so unbearable that he wouldn’t have any other choice than to go looking for her. He would claim her as his, as it should’ve been.
Alys excused herself, going straight to her room in the servants wing, she needed to get ready for when Aemond Targaryen knocked on her door and took her in his arms.
She had cleaned her room, and then, took a long shower, rubbing a scented soap on her skin, making herself look flawless. She sat on the bed and waited for him.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Y/N brushed her hair, Harrenhal was quite hot, so she asked the maid to run her a bath, she didn’t plan on leaving her chambers, so a silky nightgown covered her body while she took care of her hair.
The door was abruptly opened, making her jump in her seat. Her husband, without his coat and with four buttons of his linen shirt open, looked at her, a smirk on his lips as he entered the room.
“You know, dear wife?” He closed the door, walking towards her. “It was always you, when I went to Storm's End that day, it was you I had in mind.” His tone was slow, like he had been drinking.
He grabbed her hand, removing the brush and placing it on the desk. His other hand brushed her shoulder, pulling the straps down just a little.
“So beautiful, such a smooth skin. I know I had to have you.” He pulled her up, spinning her around until she was facing him, her hands splayed on his chest while he held her close by the waist. “You smell so good.” The prince said, smelling the skin of her neck.
Y/N felt her cheeks flushed at the attention, heating pooling in between her legs, forcing her to close them for some friction, as Aemond started to kiss her neck.
His touch was delicate, his lips cold against her hot skin. Kissing, licking and biting, making her whimper at the sensation spreading across her body.
“A-Aemond.” She half spoke half moaned, making the prince grow impossibly harder, his cock painfully restrained by his pants.
“You sound divine when you moan my name.” He said, getting away from her and walking towards the bed. He sat down, still looking at her, his shirt was messy and fully opened now. “Come here, my dear wife.” She made a move to walk to him but he stopped her. “Take it off.” He ordered.
She shivered as she saw the lust on his gaze, with shaking fingers, she undone the laces holding her nightgown in place, letting it pool at her feet, standing there completely bare to his hungry eye. His pink tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he eyed her up and down.
“You’re a goddess, I cannot wait to see you choke on my cock.” He grabbed her hand as she got close, pulling her straight to his lap. He kissed her, tongue exploring her mouth, hands cupping her ass.
She reached for the eyepatch, throwing across the room, she hated that damned thing, covering his beauty from her.
“You’re so beautiful, my prince.” She breathed, his lips attached to her breasts. Sucking the nipple in his mouth and moving his tongue in circles, making her squirm in his lap, brushing his hard cock.
He squeezed her flash, kissed her like he was going to die in the next second, and she moved her hips against his clothed cock, making it very hard to keep controlled. He never felt that kind of lust before, but he was ready to give in.
Y/N got up, and slowly kneeled in front of him, she had heard the ladies in court talking about the pleasures the mouth could bring to a husband, and despite the lack of experience, she wanted to try.
She reached for his belt, removing it and opening his pants, he lifted his hips just enough for her to slide all the pieces of clothes he was wearing down, freeing his dripping cock from its cage.
She swallowed hard, hesitantly grabbing it in her hands, earning a hiss from him. She moved her hand up and down, slowly, taking encouragement in his groans, the pleasure growing in him as she gently stroked him.
In a more bold move, she lowered her head, giving it a lick in the tip, Aemond shivering as she did so, she looked at him, giving him a small smile that could be the death of him. Then, she took him in her mouth, bobbing her head and masturbating what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Aemond closed his eyes, buckling his hips and enjoying the sounds of her choking on his cock whenever she went too deep.
She hummed, sending vibrations down his cock, making his balls tight and the orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching, sending hot cum down her throat. She removed her mouth, coughing a little.
“You look so beautiful, kneeling in front of me.” He praised, his thumb caressing her cheek, making her blush as he looked at her. “Allow me.” He said, pulling her up and laying her down.
He got in between her legs, his breath fanning over her hot core, he circled the back of her legs, squeezing her skin and pulling her thighs apart. Smirking at her glistening cunt, he sank there, lapping at her folds, collecting all of her juice as she arched her back, moaning his name like a prayer.
He kissed her clit, rubbing circles with his tongue, making her see stars. Freeing one of his hands, he inserted two fingers inside her cunt, pumping them inside and out, in the same ruthless pace as his tongue. She moaned his name loudly enough to echo around the walls, feeling the knot in her belly grow until it was ready to snap. Driving her over the edge, her walls clenching around his fingers and closing her shaking legs around his head.
Aemond smirked against her, feeling her recover from her orgasm, he looked at her, sweat coating her forehead and panting, her chest moving up and down rapidly.
“Do you want more, my goddess?” She looked at him, smirking at her like the devil and she nodded. In a second, Aemond was on top of her, without any clothes and his cock ready for a second round.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Alys tapped in the bed frame, growing restless as the potion should be working in this exact moment but Aemond was nowhere to be seen. She got up, grabbing a robe and sliding it over her shoulders.
She walked towards the Prince chambers, forcing the door open just a little, she gasped as she peeked inside.
Lady Baratheon was facing the door, her eyes closed and mouth slacked open as she moaned loudly for him. “Do not stop!” She begged, her voice hoarse from all the screaming.
She was on all fours, her ass high in the air as Prince Aemond pounded inside her from behind, moving so fast that her breasts bounced back and forth.
Alys wanted to move but she was rooted in place, the potion had clearly worked but with the wrong person.
“Please, Aemond. I am going to cum.” She whined, and the prince pulled her hair behind, forcing her to look at him.
“And i am going to stuff you full with my heirs, make you swell with my seed and birth my children.” His tone so raw that Alys felt her cheeks hot in embarrassment, Lady Baratheon moaned his name, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed down on her again, followed by him spilling inside her.
Alys watched as the prince removed himself from inside her, his hands stuffing his cum back inside her cunt. “I love you.” He breathed, pulling her by the hair again and kissing her with all he had.
“I love you too.” She replied, face flush red as she tried to recover from the amazing sex.
Alys walked backwards, running away from the scene, knowing that no matter what she did, she could never break the bond the two shared.
#prince aemond#aemond x y/n#house of the dragon aemond#aemond#aemond fic#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond x you#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#aemond x reader#aemond x fem!reader#moonlightazriel#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic
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Daddy Takes Care
prompt: ( requested ) in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader
no specified House or race
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 6.4k+
warnings: cursing, daughter named Visenya, angst 'cause pregnancy isn't all sunshine and glow and rainbows, hurt and comfort 'cause happy (but abrupt) ending, author has never been pregnant so please forgive inaccuracies, not edited.
"My Prince! My Prince! Prince Daemon!"
Daemon purposefully ignored the errand-boy, hoisting his daughter higher on his hip. "Easy, little dragon," he spoke in High Valyrian, "Caraxes is not known for his patience."
Visenya giggled, "Caraxes likes me, Daddy."
The dragon rumbled as if in agreement, blinking his eye as Visenya laid her head on his snout; half-way out of Daemon's arms, but still maintaining a vice grip. "My Prince, please," the servant pleaded, "i-it is your wife."
Daemon whipped around, Visenya being rightened in his arms when her father glared at the young man who panted from his sprinting. "What?" Daemon demanded.
"Sh-She is with the Maesters now, my Prince, and your brother, His Grace, and the Queen Alicent, too, The baby started - "
But the lad gasped when Caraxes gave a harrowing growl as Daemon charged forward; Visenya in his arms as his dragon's breath seemingly propelled his stride forward. Visenya whimpered when Caraxes stalked out of the Dragon Pit with Daemon, only stopping when he could go no further; but he thundered his displeasure and suspicion in a grumble that made the little girl wince into Daemon's chest. "It's okay, love," Daemon told her gently in their Mothers Tongue, approaching the Royal wheelhouse they used when traveling with Visenya. He spoke softly, "We're going to see Mummy, Caraxes is just worried."
"What's wrong with Mummy?" Visenya asked in the Common Speech when they boarded.
"Go! Do not stop until we get to the Keep!" Daemon barked at the coachmen before settling his daughter down. He saw the big tears swelling in his daughter's eyes and sighed, telling her softly, "I am sorry, my sweet dragon. Daddy doesn't know what's wrong with Mummy, that scares Daddy sometimes, and when Daddy's scared, he gets a little mean."
"That's okay, Daddy," she nodded at him, looking sheepish. "I get scared, too."
"It's okay to be afraid, fear is natural," Daemon told her softly, "but it's important we do not let it define us."
Her little legs swung, "Like Lord Larys."
Daemon snickered, "Oh, you naughty girl, I told you not to repeat that."
She grinned, looking far too innocent to be Daemon's spawn. "Mummy says we should be nice to Lord Larys."
"She does?"
"Mhm," Visenya nodded, "she said 'cause he knows too much."
His head cocked, "Little Dragon, has Lord Larys ever approached Mummy? Spoken to her?"
"He tries," Visenya nodded, "but Mummy walks away, she doesn't like him." The little girl lowered her voice, telling Daemon a secret, "Mummy said his breath smells like poo."
Daemon smirked, whispering back, "I know."
When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wheelhouse was barely slowed before Daemon was scooping Visenya into his arms and getting ready to disembark. When they stopped, he didn't wait for anyone to open his doors, announce his name; he just surged out, charging for where he knew the Maester's chambers were.
However, Otto Hightower was waiting for him in the foyer, greeting, "Prince Daemon, Princess Visenya."
"Hi," Visenya waved, holding onto her father's neck shyly.
"Where is she? Where's my wife?" Daemon demanded.
"Resting in your chambers, my Prince," Otto answered, not being offended when Daemon turned heel to change direction and left him in the dust.
Nobody intercepted Daemon, but it wasn't like any tried. He didn't look at anyone, they never met his eyes; but most took note of the way he all but galloped to get to his chambers. When the shoulder that wasn't holding his daughter barged through the door, he didn't slow, just demanded, "What is this? What has happened?"
"Daemon," Viserys sighed in reprimand.
"What is the matter?" He charged forward to reach the bed. "Give Daddy a second with Mummy," he told his daughter in Valyrian as he set the little girl down and took the spot beside you instantly. You had a knowing smirk on your lips, hand taken by both of his, not even blinking when he barked, "Well? What has happened!?"
"When you take a breath, we will tell you," You told him softly, squeezing his hand and smiling with closed lips. "The Maester's have only just left, you did not miss much."
He shook his head, "I should've been here none the less."
"And deprive our little dragon rider the opportunity to bond with her favorite mate?" You teased, looking to Visenya and opening your arm (after pulling yours from Daemon's clutches), "C'mere, little one. Come to Mummy."
She was careful and slow in her movements, curling up beside you; shimmying under the covers to cuddle into your side. She pet your belly, "Does it hurt?"
"No, not right now," you answered honestly, never wanting to lie to her. It would do no good in the long run, being truthful and honest were traits you can teach (not always) and you and Daemon took it very seriously.
This was a cruel world, why sugarcoat it?
So your daughter would depend on some man - some man like Larys Strong?
Nope. Not on your watches. She'd be the belle of the ball with the meanest right hook in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Daemon," Viserys spoke with a calm tone, earning the attention of the room, "you must know, these sort of things can happen at anytime."
"Is it The Curse? I-Is it The Curse? Does it prevail?" He asked in desperation, looking distraught.
"No," you assured, taking your only free hand to lay one of his on your swollen belly.
"No...? No?" He repeated, then scoffed, "So, why is it I was - "
"False labor," Alicent cut him off, making his jaw steel as he glared at her. "It can occur, the mind tricks the body into thinking and reacting that it's time to deliver the babe."
"But it's too soon," he pointed out, "she's still, what? Two, maybe three months left?"
"It can happen," Alicent nodded.
He frowned, glancing at his brother, then to you. "I was with the Queen when I got this terrible pain," you explained to Daemon. "There was fluid and some blood under my skirt, we thought it couldn't be right, so, she brought me to the Maesters and sent for you."
Daemon looked vaguely surprised, leaning down to press his lips to your belly. With a sigh, his forehead rested on your bump, lifting to peck another kiss, then righten his spine, asking, "And now?"
"All was clear, I was brought back here, and your brother did not wish to leave me alone - but nothing else was able to be said before you arrived," you chuckled, caressing his cheek.
"Thank you," he told Viserys, sniffling as his eyes lifted to Alicent, "both of you, truly, thank you."
"We are family," Viserys assured, "we would not want to be elsewhere."
"There's a whole Realm to - "
"Sometimes, politics can wait and family cannot," the King spoke wisely. "We are simply relieved the Lady is feeling better and all is well. The babe will stay in her womb until the end, should she remain in bed."
"Oh, Gods, Viserys," you groaned, "we agreed not to tell him that!"
"You agreed, I did not," he shot back at you.
"What do you mean, brother?"
The King answered, "She is to remain in bed until the end of her term - with natural limitations."
"Which means?"
"She may move around the room, but not much farther; she may use the privy, keep her blood circulating, but she is to remain down for most of the time as it will help keep the babe in place."
He nodded rapidly, "Of course."
"We'll let you rest," Alicent told you both softly. "I'm sure you want time with your family."
"Actually," you sighed, "might I ask for one more favor?"
"Anything, name it," Viserys agreed.
"Take Visenya for an hour? Daemon and I need to speak privately."
"Of course," Alicent nodded, stepping up to the bed. She waited as you and Daemon promised Visenya you'd be with her soon, that you needed an adult conversation, and after giving you both a kiss on the cheek, she marched off the bed to take Alicent's hand. Viserys hobbled out after them, and when the doors shut, Daemon deflated.
"Oh, Seven fucking Hells," he muttered in a muffle against your belly. He let your hands rake into his long strands of hair, pulling any knots, just soothing him with the scrape of your nails. "I was so worried," he admitted quietly, "I just - I did not think. I have feared this possibility so much, I think I tricked myself into thinking it was reality."
"What's that, my love?"
"The Curse... The Targaryen Curse."
"Daemon - "
"We were so lucky with Visenya," his tearful eyes lifted to meet yours, "and half of the pregnancy was wasted on our worry that something would go wrong. I might've created this reality."
"You did nothing," you promised. "Neither of us caused this, it's just what happens."
"But you've suffered for months," he whispered, eyes reddening by the second. "You had endless nausea, you threw up daily, my love, you developed night terrors, and you cannot say it was anything but ideal."
"Perhaps not ideal, but so perfectly us," you answered, watching him stand with a frown. "Daemon - where are you - "
"I only mean to change," he promised, already shedding his clothing and boots and weapons belt. When he joined you in bed again, he laid off your legs but beside them, head on your belly to hold and letting your hands rake through his platinum white locks again. It was quiet for minutes longer, just enjoying the other, but he whispered, "I should've been here."
"We did not know."
"Still," he frowned, kissing your bump tenderly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't here, but do not take it out on Mummy. She's so brave," another kiss, "so very brave to take the time and give you the most perfect place to live for now. We can't take it out on her. Not Mummy, anyone else, but not Mummy."
You felt yourself dozing off, humming in contentment when Daemon took note and started a conversation with the babe - just simply detailing his day. He said there was soon to be another clutch of dragon eggs and their sister would choose the most perfect egg for them; being all Visenya's spoken of for weeks. He told the babe how excited they all were to meet them, but when he noticed you were asleep, he hated himself for getting out of bed.
It was only to pull a dressing robe on and locate his daughter; being easy as she was in Alicent's arms two halls over - both admiring the tapestries. "Daddy said this was a big fight," Visenya was heard, pointing at the drape.
"He's right," Alicent nodded, "this depicts Aegon's Conquest."
"Big dragons," she sighed dreamily, looking at the stitching. "That's Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Cousin Laena rides Vhagar now."
"Very good, sweetheart," Alicent praised.
"My Queen," Daemon called, approaching almost stiffly.
"Daddy!"
"C'mere," he grunted, accepting his daughter as she lunged for his embrace. "Thank you," he told Alicent.
"Is everything all right?"
"She's resting," Daemon nodded, trying to hide his fear from his voice but Alicent saw it in his eyes.
"The Maester's know how to help, my Prince," she assured softly. "She might fight against the limitations, but it's for everyone's health. She'll be okay, Daemon," her hand reached out to gently touch his forearm, "her body just needs time to adjust."
With her words thrumming in his mind, Daemon spent the next several weeks at your bedside. He was everything and more: he got you water, tea, anything to eat; always making sure you ate even a little SOMETHING three times a day. He made sure you took your medicine, wiped your flushed skin with cold cloths, braided your hair to keep it off your flesh. He read to you, rubbed your ankles and feet to help any circulation of clots, held your trembling form when you threw up. Daemon remained strong where you felt weak, doing whatever he could to assure you that your predicament wasn't a burden to him.
"You're not listening!"
"All I do is listen!"
"Daemon!" You snapped, "For weeks now, you've been at my every beck and call - catering to my whims. You are not canceling flying with Visenya, she'll be crushed."
"But you're closer to your birthing," He pointed out sharply.
"And I have not moved from this bed in days," you snapped back. "I will endure another day of this if it means you go take Caraxes out, I hear he's been a right menace."
Daemon shook his head, but something in his posture fell from defense. It made you sit up a little and beckon to him, his hand reaching for yours as he dropped to the place beside you; leaning against your mountain of pillows. "I do not know how to do this," he whispered, leaning his head to the crook of your neck in a vulnerable show of emotion. "And I know we are learning together, but I feel pulled apart - that I will disappoint one of you while catering to the other."
"My sweet husband," you whispered against the crown of his head. "You worry for nought."
"I worry for all," he whispered. "Visenya needs me, Viserys needs me, Caraxes needs me, the bloody White Cloaks need me, you need me - "
"Do not stress yourself further about this," you insisted. "Viserys has other advisors. Visenya has her aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone she could play with. Caraxes does need you, yes," you chuckled, "but he's also violently independent so I would not worry about him. And I am under the care of the Maesters, so I'd argue only the White Cloaks need you - you are their Lord Commander, after all."
"No," he refused, "I am a husband and father first, brother second, Prince of the City third, and Lord Commander fourth. I will be where I am needed, I just do not have enough hours in the day to do it all."
"You do not need to do it all," you whispered.
"You all need me."
"Visenya and I, yes," you agreed, "your job is important, too... Fuck the rest. 'S just noise."
He chuckled, you felt the pull of his lips on your neck. He hummed into your flesh, licking gently before pulling back to mutter, "I wish you could come with us."
"I do, too," you smiled softly. "But I'll be right here for you both to come back to - tell me all about it."
Daemon chuckled, "Surely."
Speak of the Devil, and He will appear.
"MUMMY!"
"Vizzy!" You half-scolded, laughing when the door burst open to reveal your daughter in her dragon-riding gear. Not a moment later, your usual handmaid, Carlee, appeared out of breath, sighing with relief when she located Visenya. "I'm so sorry, Carlee, she's just like her father and avoids all authority," you laughed when the little girl climbed onto her father's lap.
"No, I apologize, Lady," Carlee panted, "I-I tried - but she - she's very fast."
"I've got her," Daemon dismissed stiffly, your glare doing nothing to him.
"Thank you, Carlee, we've got it from here," you amended to the kind, portly woman with greying red hair. She bowed out as you reached over to tickle Visenya, "And you, my little monster! Didn't I tell you to stop giving the nice ladies a hard time. Hmm? Yes?"
She laughed happily, squirming in Daemon's arms. He 'saved' her by snuggling his nose in her neck; the squealing continuing as she shouted, "He's tickling me, Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Help me, Mummy!"
"Mummy can't help you," Daemon playfully growl, gnawing into her neck as she flailed in his grip.
"Daddy! Stop it!"
He sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose I could... If a certain princess promises to behave from now on."
"Of course, Daddy, it's riding day!" She exclaimed, settling more in his lap now that he stopped tickling her. Because it wasn't often that Daemon took her riding, she was usually always on her best behavior to ensure her favorite day actually occurred - but that didn't mean it was an exact science.
"Visenya, be good for Daddy, yes?" You directed, puckering your lips for her. She pecked them quickly, promising to be good, and then rushing away when Daemon told her to go get her gloves and boots. When alone again, he looked at you almost sadly.
"One day, we'll fly as a family," he promised, forehead to your own. "Do you need anything, love?"
"I'm good, thank you, though," you whispered. Then, your hands caressed your belly, sighing, "Not long now, huh?"
"It's both the longest and shortest time of my life," he laughed lightly. "But soon, we'll pray for the quiet of your womb again."
You laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. He reciprocated before you pulled back, insisting, "Go, before she burns the Keep down. You know Caraxes would do it, too, that beastie would do anything she says."
"So would we," he winced.
"We might wanna work on that..."
"In time," he teased, kissing you again. "Stay put."
"Yes, sir." He gave you a look, making you amend, "Yes, Daddy."
He chuckled, kissed you a final time, and then rose. Just as he was exiting the door, you heard him yelp your daughters name before a small bang - making you think Visenya had run full sprint at him and knocked him back a step or two.
Another few days dragged by. You were agitated, you were stir crazy, you were on the shortest fuse known to man. Visenya liked reading to you, working on her writing skills with you in bed; she even got to practice her hair braiding skills. When you snapped at servants and maids, Visenya was always chiding, "Mummy, that's mean."
She kept you level-headed.
Daemon was a wreck, however.
He was only one person and the fact that he needed to be several was far too stressful than he was ever willing to admit. "Daemon, my love," you called sternly, "stop your pacing and come here. Lay with me, please."
"I do not get that luxury - "
"It is not a luxury to nurture your seed in my body," you deflected. "Now, come here. Now."
Daemon glared, "Do not think you command me, woman."
"The vows we took certainly think I do. Armor off, boots off, hair down, get the fuck over here - now, Daemon."
He sighed and grumbled, grunting as he did what you told but made it known he wasn't happy about it. When he was dressed in nothing but linen trousers, he laid beside you. "Now what?" He snapped.
"Now hold your wife and child and just fucking breathe," you shot back, readjusting so you cuddled into him. "You reek tonight."
"Your list of demands did not include bathing, excuse me, Princess," he sneered in a condescending tone.
"Daemon, I just want you to take a pause," you bit. "You've been runnin' 'round with your head chopped off since finding out about this... This complication."
"I have much to do."
"I know, and that is why it's important to just slow down and simply breathe. Please, just breathe with me, Daemon, I need us both to be as okay as we can be for when this babe finally comes."
"There's no time - "
"We make our time,' you insisted. "Please, just pause."
He did, Daemon actually paused to just take a deep breath. After one, he took another... Then another, and another until he was doing it with ease and confidence. "I'm sorry," he whispered against your forehead, bringing you in closer. "I do not mean to take it out on you, pet, I am just... Well, you know."
"I know you're worried," you sighed. "Which is why we need this. Tell me of your day, today?"
Daemon didn't want to at first, but then relented and started on a snowball tangent that explained his foul mood. You listened, ear pressed to his pectoral; hands tracing absent patterns on the contours of his abdomen. Daemon usually tried his best to restrain himself with you, but you actively encouraged him and the more he talked, the more words that spewed from his mouth in a messy jumble. One arm remained wrapped around you, keeping you close, and his free one moved about in exaggeration.
"And to top the day off, you know what the bloody Septa told me? The one Alicent insisted was worth utilizing?"
"Septa Amelia?"
"Whatever," he huffed.
"What'd she say to you, my Prince?"
He sighed at the endearing tone you used for his title, knowing it wasn't a reference to his real station but instead, a pet name you had for him. Daemon sighed, "That Visenya might need shipped off to Dorne to attend that grueling, military school."
"She's only just turned five - "
"I am aware," Daemon cut you off. "I cursed at her before taking Visenya."
"Good, then I shall know who to yell at, too," your voice hardened. "Why do they complain about her so? 'S all I bloody hear, how our daughter's wild and untamed - saying we are unfit parents by the looks of her."
"She's fire in her blood because she is the Dragon's Seed, just as this one is, too," His hand laid over your belly. "And yet, I cannot understand why others voice their opinions on our family, which they are not entitled to an opinion on. Visenya grows within the Red Keep, she is not some wild animal, but perhaps, she lacks stimuli."
"How could we remedy that?"
"A tutor... Or a few, perhaps. From across the Narrow Sea," he told you, already sounding like he wasn't as angry as before. "Find us proper tutors who will take her on as a student to guide her where we cannot - and where others give up. What kind of a man would I be to ignore what someone blatantly needs that I can easily provide?"
You offered a small smirk, taking a fond note, "This isn't just 'someone', Daemon, you speak of our daughter. You're so good at this, you know... Taking care of us. Daddy takes care."
He tightened his hold, "I always will, my sweet."
It was quiet again, your stomach churning with discomfort; questioning, "Though I am wondering what she did today to prompt such a comment?"
He scoffed, "So, she set fire to some curtains, who bloody cares - "
You gasped shrilly as you sat bolt upright, "Visenya did what!?"
"No, hey, no," he reached for you, "no stress, no - "
But you were hobbling out of the bed before he could stop you, grumbling the entire time; yet the moment your feet hit the floor, you paused to heave for breath, stood, and felt the trickle of fluids from between your legs. "What?" You gasped, realizing what just happened, begging, "What? No, no, no, no, not now, little one, please, stay in there!"
Daemon vaulted himself over the bed and was at your side in an instant, guiding you to sit once more and promising, "I will get the Maesters. Just ease yourself, no stress, no worries, I'll get help - I'll get the Maester's." He meant to move away.
"No," you insisted, reaching for his tunic's collar to grip, yank, and hold him close, "I need you with me. We all do, please, do not leave me to do this life alone. D-Daemon, please, I'm so scared, do not leave me, I can't do this without you."
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, taking your hand to hold, "but I need to get you help. Please, my love, you need the help."
You whimpered and got back on the bed by yourself as Daemon raced for the chamber door. He only took half a step, then shouted, "YOU! HEY, YOU! GET THE BLOODY MAESTERS! NOW! YOUR PRINCE DEMANDS IT!"
Ignoring whatever else he shouted, you got comfortable as the cramps began to twist in your lower gut - shooting pains down your legs, up your back, even tingling into your fingers. Sweat took hold of you like a bad fever, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew something couldn't be completely right. This sensation was strange, it wasn't at all a feeling you had when pregnant with Visenya.
Hours drug by as if sap dripping from a tree.
Your pain increased; sweating, grunting, moaning, groaning with displeasure. Daemon was stoic and quiet, just watching you writhe in pain as his heart cemented in his chest to sink into his feet and anchor him there. Visenya wasn't anything like this; he'd been present for that birth, too, and remember thinking how easy it appeared since the baby practically fell out of you.
This was much different.
"My Prince," the Maester approached him with a deep frown, "a word?"
"What?" He snapped, watching the Maester step to the side. Daemon sighed and followed, glaring, arms crossing as he demanded, "What is it?"
"My Prince, the babe will not come. I do not wish to beat around this bush, so I will tell you plainly. Sometimes, when the fetus is in a compromising position, a decision must be made: either the babe is cut from the womb and it survives or they both die or only the babe dies - there was a way to remove the baby surgically if that's the case. But you need to choose."
"Why do I have to choose? It's her decision - her body, her life, her choice."
"She is delirious with pain," the Maester deflected, "and if the babe is a boy, wouldn't you rather know and have him?"
"And lose my wife?" Daemon growled. "I think the fuck not. You will not put this decision on me, it is for her to decide."
He pushed past everyone to take the spot beside you and instantly pick up your hand. "Daemon," you sobbed, "for fuck's sake, please, please, just let this be over. Get the babe out."
"You're almost there, sweetheart."
But one of the Septas assisting the Maesters squeaked in mild alarm, and when Daemon looked, there was a significant amount of blood blooming under you. "She's bleeding, could be a hemorrhage," the Maester rushed, lifting your thin gown to judge the birthing canal.
"What's wrong?" You asked in a half-slur.
"Nothing, you're okay," Daemon assured softly, kissing your hand.
Your screams through labor echoed through empty stone halls. Your pain was tangible, your fear paramount. "What's wrong!?" You begged the room, "Why aren't they coming? Why won't our baby come?"
"We're trying, Princess," A Septa spoke softly.
You only cried until your exhaustion outweighed your consciousness; your mind going blank, eyes rolling back, and slipping into the weighted darkness from the blood loss. Daemon frantically shook your shoulder, begging, "My love, please! Wake up! Wake up now! What's going on!?"
"There's too much blood!"
"I told you to choose!" The Maester snapped at Daemon. "Now they will both lose their lives!"
Daemon felt his chest hallow - figuring the words were true enough. He couldn't decide, he refused to, and now you suffered and the possibility of losing your child was larger than before. "My Prince," a Septa approached, "you need to wait outside."
"No - "
"They need to operate, you cannot linger here," she insisted. "You will be called for."
He steeled his jaw, pointing a warning finger at the Maester, "Don't make the cut else your loved ones will only see you on a spike around the Red Keep."
Prince Daemon waited outside for another few hours. He paced, he refused food and drink, he simply wanted to be in there with you but had to begrudgingly put faith into the medical team working on you. He smirked when he saw his daughter, Visenya, round the distant corner and sprint up to him - Carlee chasing her.
"Are you skipping lessons, again, Little Dragon?" Daemon grunted as he caught his daughter - swinging her onto his hip by using the momentum from catching her.
"Where's Mummy and the baby?" She demanded.
Daemon sighed, "The baby doesn't want to come out, yet, love, so we can't see them yet."
"But it's been a day, Daddy!" She whined.
"I know, pet," he sighed with a frown, glancing at the closed door. "It's all right," he told the maid, "she can remain here with us."
"My Prince, she'd miss - "
"Lessons? You dare try to say lessons are more important?" He snapped.
"Daemon," Viserys frowned from his wheelchair. "Your anger is misplaced."
He hummed, readjusting his daughter on his hip as Alicent dismissed Carlee; letting Daemon begin to pace again. When the door opened, he whipped around, but only an in-training Maester slipped out of the room - giving no time to peer inside. "Well?" Daemon demanded.
"We are still working, My Prince, but I am to fetch more material," he answered, nodding once, then dashing away. It did nothing to settle his nerves, in fact, they tripled when the lad returned with a procession of aids - all carrying different material. They reentered the room, and Daemon felt his heart snap.
"Stay with Uncle, Little Dragon," Daemon told his daughter, approaching Viserys, offering him the child to which he accepted. "Stay here, do not move, Daddy has to check on Mummy. Yes?"
"Is she sick?" Visenya frowned.
"I'll check, my love."
"I can go, too, Daddy."
Daemon sighed through his nose, his daughter making him melt into a pile of nothingness - but reminded himself to stay firm. "No, love, you just stay here and Daddy will check," he assured softly as Viserys lifted his hands to keep hold of the young girl and ensuring she did not follow Daemon when he nodded, turned, and shoved through the door into the birthing chamber.
"My Prince!"
But Daemon couldn't move.
There was blood everywhere. Soiled linens, a drenched nightgown, scattered puddles of splattered life source across the floor. You looked delirious, confused; not fully present in your mind, and when he noted the Milk of the Poppy, he understood your pain was trying to be managed. Blood painted up and down your thighs; blood pooling under your cunt, but there was a baby's head visible.
Startled, he rushed for your side and knelt to take your hand. "My love," he breathed, "can you hear me? Are you with me? Please. Please, sweet wife, open your eyes and look at me."
When you did, he could tell you were unfocused and unsure who he was before realization dawned over your facial expression. "Daemon," you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly.
"I'm here, love," he promised. "Right here - I'm with you."
"The baby?"
"Almost," he promised, watching your eyes flutter.
"She needs to push, my Prince," the birthing maester instructed. "C'mon, c'mon, now's the time - push! Push, Princess, push!"
"C'mon, love!" Daemon encouraged, watching sweat glisten over every exposed surface of skin; jaw clenching, bearing down and pushing with might.
The screams echoed through the Keep, only drowned out when a storm rolled in that evening. The thunder masked the profanities shouted, lightning accompanied by each scream of pain as birth split you in half. Daemon did not leave your side, encouraging you through the entire ordeal, his trousers saturating with your blood as more dripped to the floor as you pushed, pushed, pushed, and pushed with all the strength you had.
"You gotta keep goin', love," Daemon would tell you, "gotta keep fightin' for this - don't stop now. I need you with us, our children will need us, this is not something I can do alone. Please," he begged, "do not make me say goodbye. Not until we're fat and old, remember? Huh? My precious love, you're almost done, but you have to keep fighting. It'll be worth it, soon. Just keep going!"
By the following morning, a babe was being pulled from your cunt with a gushing wave of fluid and blood - reminding the Maester very briefly of cattle birth. However, while relief colored your system, the medical attendants felt panic flood theirs - muttering, hushing, consulting the baby to the side as the Maester saw you through the afterbirth. "W-Wait," you slurred, "wh-where are they? Where? Daemon, wh-what is it? Girl or boy?"
He frowned, Septas, Silent Sisters, and other maids all huddled together without your child in sight. "I-I do not know, yet, sweetheart, but remain calm. The worst is over..." But when he looked down at you, he noticed how still you laid and felt his panic skyrocket. He begged your name several times, demanding you wake up, but you remained silent and still - skin even turning clammy as sweat dried. Daemon was actually pulled out of the way, two Maesters attending to your side, and he felt impossibly in the middle.
To his left, his child. To his right, his wife. Both of whom appear in distress, both of whom hold his worry. "She's clots again," he heard from the Maesters. "Not breathing," he heard from the Septas.
So, this is what Hell was like...
A shrill cry pierced the air, adrenaline draining from Daemon's blood as he realized this only meant the babe was okay. When he was approached with the bundle, he worried, "She should be the first to hold them."
"It's all right, my Prince," the Septa spoke softly, "you may hold her now, and later, you can lay her on your wife's chest."
Daemon nodded, taking the baby. He blinked, "Did you say, 'she'?"
"A girl, my Prince, healthy, strong, full-term."
"What's wrong with her?" He demanded. "Why does my wife not wake?"
"The blood loss," a Maester muttered, "'s gotta be the blood loss."
He couldn't move or breathe. His daughter screamed, still, but he was terrified by the sight of the Maesters flocking over your still-body. Daemon protested, but once more, he was asked to leave the chamber and had to be escorted - but he wanted to remain. He wanted to linger, to watch you, to ensure you were taken care of... Yet the bundle in his arms wriggled and sobbed, reminding him that he had a responsibility to his daughter that needed his attention.
"Daemon," Alicent perked up when the door opened, eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen swaddle.
"Brother?" Viserys worried, eyes glistening as he assumed the worst.
"She's... She's not waking up," He spoke without emotion, "the Maesters are still working."
Viserys nodded, holding a sleeping Visenya on his lap still. "You need rest," he recommended.
"No, I think I will stay," Daemon refused.
"You can't function this way," Alicent tacked on. "The Maesters will still be at work, and even after, she will not be awake for hours. Milk of the Poppy is potent, and with her exhaustion, it's sure to be an intense combination."
He nodded slowly, "I want to be here."
So, Daemon remained.
He let Visenya sit with him on the stone bench outside the birthing chamber; his brother remaining to offer moral support alongside his wife until royal obligation can calling. He remained stoic, holding his daughter and only passing her off to the wet nurse when a feeding or cleaning needed attended to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the doors opened, Daemon shot to his feet; leaving his infant daughter in Visenya's lap.
"She's asking for you," the Maester told Daemon, smirking slightly when the Prince charged for the room. He looked around at the disarray and how dwarfed you appeared in the bed; sheets still saturated with blood.
Never before had he felt such relief, dropping to his knees as if in prayer at your bedside; tearfully picking up your hand to kiss the back of it. "You're alive," he whispered in shock, "oh, bless the Seven, you're alive - you're still here with me. With us."
You could only manage a tired, half-smile, "Can't be rid of me that easy."
He snorted his amusement, "Thought I lost you for a moment there..."
"Sorry to scare you," you whispered, "but 's not easy pushing a baby from your cunt, huh?"
"No, definitely not. Especially a Targaryen, born of Fire and Blood," he looked close to tears, "they are known for their harsh entrance into this world."
"I'd endure all of it for our children," you mumbled, taking a long breath. "I'm tired, Daemon."
He looked to a lingering Maester, the one in training, asking, "Can she move back to our chambers?"
"She might not want to walk, yet," the lad advised, "but yes. Perhaps a familiar environment will help the healing process."
Daemon had a Maester carrying his infant daughter and escort Visenya to your living quarters while he brought you. He laid you in bed, ensuring your comfort before taking his daughter back in his arms, dismissing the staff, and telling Visenya to change into her loungewear. They were going to take a nap with Mummy...
"Daemon?" You mumbled.
"I'm here, love," he rushed to your side, "you all right? What do you need?"
"It's hurting," you frowned.
Daemon laid your daughter beside you in bed, furthest into the mattress, so he could prepare your next dose of Milk of the Poppy. Visenya, changed for the lazy day, jumped into bed with you, smiling at her new sister as Daemon changed himself. When he joined you in bed, he kept the baby between the two of you as Visenya deflated on Daemon's chest. She all but instantly fell asleep, both parents allowing for several long minutes to pass; ensuring their slumbering state.
"Did you pick a name?" You asked, tracing your fingertip along your baby's belly in soft, ticklish motions.
"Not yet," he answered. "Thought that should be a decision we agree on."
"I have no preference," you told him softly, "I'm just relieved she's here."
"You and me both," he whispered, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, sweetheart, to endure this Targaryen Curse for our family - such a good job."
You smiled at him, catching his lips in a full kiss as the poppy released into your bloodstream. "I love you," you promised him.
"I love you," he echoed; the serenity surrounding you both in a warm embrace. Unable to help himself, Daemon teased, "So, when do you want our third child?"
You both had to suppress your humor to protect your sleeping daughters from being rudely woken.
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#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x f!reader#daemon targaryen angst#daemon x reader#daemon#prince daemon targaryen#prince daemon x reader#prince daemon#hotd#house of the dragon daemon#house of the dragon#house of the dragon hbo#hbo house of the dragon#hbo hotd#hotd hbo#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfiction#the rogue prince
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Teach Me
Aemond Targaryen x female reader smut (Rhaenyra & Harwin Laenor Velaryon's daughter)
After your family gathers in King's Landing for Maelor's name day celebrations, tensions build between in more ways than expected. A lesson in High Valryian from your uncle Aemond causes a mutual infatuation to bubble over.
w.c: 9,398 (i know)
c.w: SMUT 18+ , targcest (uncle & niece), NO use of Y/N, oral (m & f receiving), afab reader, foreplay, unprotected p in v sex, the slowest of slowburns to ever exist, mild aemond angst, but also kinda soft aemond(?), fluff to finish ofc, small implied age gap, reader is briefly mentioned to have Srong features, pet names (in high valyrian), use of High Valyrian all translations in text as it is spoken (E.G "Rytsa Skorkydoso glaesā?" (Hi how are you?)) (i didn't translate these everytime bc i used them a lot so: mandianna = niece (child of your older sister), iāpa = uncle), pls let me know if i've missed any
a.n: so this came from a post i did the other day, and @sinistersnakey9419 gave me the idea for this fic and it had me giggling and kicking my feet fr. also, this took me like a week to write because i kept adding more plot teehee.
dividers: @saradika ♡
It was a week into your families stay at King’s Landing. The Red Keep was a familiar place, but it was no Dragonstone. Your Grandsire, King Viserys, had made it his wish of his for his family to be together to celebrate Maelor’s name day which was to be a multiple day affair. And he meant all of his family, regardless of the fabricated tensions that divided you. As Rhaenyra’s second eldest and only surviving daughter, you felt an unspoken pressure to help maintain the peace between the brothers of the family. One side couldn’t help but torment whilst the other was quick to defend his family by any means. You missed being back on Dragonstone, but this was an exciting place to be. Days were filled with activities befitting of a young lady, and you enjoyed spending time with your Aunt Helaena – both of you appreciated a sisterly figure from within each other. There was one presence you couldn’t quite understand. Aemond. Your uncle had watched you closely since you first arrived, it had been a time since you had both seen each other. He had grown into a very tall and incredibly handsome man; he was more pleasing to the eye than he should be. His large frame and equanimous demeanour loomed over you, even from the other side of a room. His gaze stuck upon you like a hound tracking game. You couldn’t help but assume, like most other members of his side of the family, he held nothing but judgemental distain for you and your brown-haired brothers.
The mornings were always the same, Viserys had wished for you all to break your fast together daily. That had started to dwindle until the King had heard of it and demanded you eat together regardless of his presence. It was going about as well as it had the past week, Aegon’s head in a cup, Alicent on edge at every second.
“The maesters have been helping us with our Valyrian.” Spouted Lucerys, he was sweet, too sweet and sensed a smog of tension over the room. Rhaenyra smiled, appreciating your brother’s attempt.
“Let us hear it then.” Daemon announced leaning back in his seat.
“Rēbagon se gerpa kostilus.” (Pass the fruit please). Lucerys seemed impressed with his statement, Daemon seems confused for a moment before leaning forward and sliding the dish of grapes over towards Luke. A short scoff was heard from across the table, Aemond sat casually, smirk laden on his lips.
“Something the matter, Uncle?” Jacaerys spoke through slight gritted teeth. Aemond raised a hand in a defensive motion, smile still playing at his lips.
“What my brother wants to say,” Aegon peeled his face up from the tablecloth and took a swig of whatever was in his cup at this hour, “Is that your ‘High Valyrian’ sounded more like Old Ghiscari.” Lucerys smile faded as he looked to your mother for reassurance. You sighed, looking down at you half-finished plate as yet another verbal disagreement erupted between the men in your life. You rose to your feet with more haste than you anticipated causing your chair to wobble and crash onto the stone floor behind you. The room fell silent, and you felt everyone’s eyes burning into your skin.
Your gaze remained vacant, lingering on the table, “May I please be excused.” You were embarrassed: of your outburst, your family’s inability to get along, your uncles’ comments. Mostly due to the fact they were right, Lucerys’ nor Jacaerys High Valyrian was perfect, and it just added to the rumours that spread about your family. Your mother had barely spoke an ‘of course’ before you took your leave, nails digging crescents into your palms.
Leaves rustled beneath your feet as you paced the grass of the Godswood, it was always a small sanctuary of peace for it’s quiet and empty nature. You closed your eyes and let the sun beam down on your face, if you imagined hard enough you could feel the cold breeze from your balcony at Dragonstone. A harsh snapping of a twig pulled you from your thoughts, your head shooting up towards the direction of the disturbance. Aemond stood a few paces away from you, palm raised in a surrendering motion. You released a breath you had been holding onto, bringing your hands together to fiddle with the clasp of your bracelet. “I did not mean to startle you, Mandianna,” He took a stride closer towards you, hands clasped behind his back. “You caused quite a scene. For a princess.” Your eyes stayed fixated on the ground beneath the two of you. This was the first time you had ever been alone with Aemond, and he was being agreeable? It was hard to deny how beautiful he was, even just from the stolen glances towards him. You knew about sex, parts of what it entailed. From a few detailed paintings to the small snippets you overheard from the younger handmaidens. You hadn’t spent an awful lot of time thinking about it apart from when conversations of finding you a match came around. That was until this week, something about being around Aemond meant fighting away thoughts of him a regular occurrence.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you picked up your chin to meet Aemond’s stare. It was softer, and more inquisitive than his usual piercing gaze. Your stomach dropped as thoughts of him bending you over and fucking you right here in the Godswood clouded your mind, how his hands would feel over your body, his tongue across your neck and between your thighs, how it would feel him sliding – “Keli jiōraton aōha ēngos byka genes?” (Cat got your tongue little mouse?). You felt heat rising towards cheeks and across your chest as you tried to mask your raised heart rate. You were pretty sure Aemond couldn’t read your thoughts, but the small smile that played at his lips made you feel otherwise. Something about your close proximity, the way you could make out each detail of his face, and his intoxicating smell had muzzled you. Lips parted to respond but nothing came out. You felt helpless in the best way possible. “A Velaryon princess who can’t hold a High Valyrian conversation, you disappoint me Mandianna.” Aemond turned on his heel, briskly walking towards the wood’s exit.
Maybe it was the need to please, the burning between your thighs, or the fact he was no longer facing you, but the words escaped your lips before you could even process what you had said, “Teach me.” The small wave of confidence dwindled when he turned his head back to face you.
“Teach you?”
“Teach me what you think I should know, Iāpa.” You didn’t know how he would respond, nor did you know how you wished for him to respond. Aemond raised a brow and smiled to himself, your small use of High Valyrian and how your statement could be interpreted in many different made him intrigued to see where this would lead.
“Tomorrow evening, after supper. Meet me in the library’s reading room.” Without needing a response, he once again made his way out of the wood, leaving you flustered and equally excited, yet dread filled.
As supper slowly began to drew to a close, your excitement manifested in a small bobbing of your leg. Actual conversation rang out between small groups on the table, Lucerys and Helaena had included you in there’s but all you could focus on was keeping your thoughts clear. Everything about Aemond drew you further in his lips softly against his cup, the way his index and middle finger tapped along to the quiet music that had been played, but most of all the way he would catch you watching with a satisfied smile. You partially walked back to your chambers, before feigning forgetting a ring behind at the table, and insisting to your mother and Daemon that it couldn’t wait until morning. Part of you wondered if you shouldn’t have lied, there was a simple explanation: getting lessons in High Valyrian from your uncle Aemond. Except this would not go over well with your immediate family. For you could hold a conversation in High Valyrian, it was Aemond you couldn’t speak to specifically. You were actually quite proficient in High Valyrian, not as much as you’d hoped to be but a whole lot better than your brothers. Whether it was common tongue or Valyrian Aemond rendered you speechless, and now you were willingly walking into a situation where he had complete control. You knew for certain how much you longed for him, but other than glances you couldn’t figure out what he truly felt. Part of you wanted to be under him at every moment possible but if he didn’t feel the same, if his glances were all a trick, you’d be ruined.
After stepping through the library, you took one final breath before opening the heavy oak door to the reading room. It pushed open with a small creak to reveal Aemond sat at the desk, tattered book in hand. “I thought you might’ve gotten cold feet,” he closed the book and softly placed it on the table, “Come take a seat.” He arose, pulling the wooden chair beside him out from the table, allowing you to sit down. You nodded your head slightly before taking a seat, smoothing out any creases in your dress. Taking a moment to examine the reading room in the dark, you noticed the two brass cups and a wine jug, along with numerous High Valyrian scriptures and books with plain parchment and a fresh quill. Aemond himself was wearing his usual attire, except his black coat had been unbuckled a few straps, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed, eyeing the wine. Everything seemed real of a sudden. You weren’t used to drinking wine, especially alone at night. Sensing your nervousness, Aemond picked up a cup and placed it in front of you, “Just because it is my drink of choice for the evening,” he poured a small amount into his own cup, “Doesn’t mean I expect you to partake, Mandianna.” You paused for a moment before shaking your head ‘no’ and sliding your cup away. “Very well, read this out for me, I want to hear what you can do already.” He relished in how you squirmed when he was close to you. You looked down at the papers in front of you, ‘Aegon the Conqueror, The High Valyrian Scriptures’. You knew all about Aegon the Dragon, but the words escaped you as Aemond stood behind you, left hand atop your chair, right hand holding up his weight on the table. You felt a few strands of his long hair tickle your shoulder, the closeness of him made you feel as if you could burst. “Go on then, read it.” He said, almost a whisper. His lips were so close yet still too far, you could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke but not the softness of his lips on your skin. This is the type of torture that scribes should mention.
“Aegon I Targaryen iksin se ēlī āeksio hen sīkuda Dārȳti se-“ (Aegon I Targaryen was the first Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and-). You paused as Aemond moved from behind you to stand beside the table.
“I didn’t say stop.” His firm tone excited you more than you wanted it to.
“se dārys va se Dēmalion Āegenko.” (and king on the Iron Throne). You continued, looking up to Aemond for approval. He nodded before gathering up the papers from in front of you and holding them in his hands. Puzzled, you turned to face him “But-“
“Too easy, you know how the story goes, tell it to me in High Valyrian.” Aemond looked pleased with himself as he sat back into his own chair that now faced yours.
You looked down at the floor for a moment, before continuing “Ziry kithsair bȳre hen sīkuda Dārȳti se-ziry se-“ (He conquered six of the seven kingdoms and-he a-nd-). Yet again, your words escaped your lips as Aemond’s gaze wandered over your body, free to visually devour your form now you were not in the company of others.
He inhaled sharply and rose to his feet, “Valyrio Eglie iksis iā kostōba udrir, se ēdruta sagon spoken hae mēre. Aōha udra issi nākostōbā, ao ȳdragon tolī rāpa. Eman daor drīve geptot naejot dohaeragon ao byka genes.” (High Valyrian is a powerful language and must be spoken as one. Your words are weak, you speak too softly. I cannot help you little mouse.) His words came at you fast and rather harshly, you hated the effect he had on you, and you hated how he judged you for it. You searched his face for something more, surely all of this was not over, the yearning looks, the candlelight, the wine, did it not mean something more? As your mind raced you looked towards the floor and wished it would envelop you. Aemond sighed, and placed the scriptures that you had read from under your chin and used them to lift you face up towards his. Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him standing over you. “You don’t understand do you Mandianna,” He chuckled softly, tilting you head to his will. “Nyke would qogralbar ao ēva ao could gaomagon daorun yn ilagon isse ñuha baer mirre tubis byka genes.” (I would fuck you until you could do nothing but lay in my bed all day little mouse.) He dropped the scriptures onto the table, taking his leave with such haste that you felt he air pass by through your hair. Once his footsteps dissipated you felt as your jaw went slack. The wetness grew between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together, attempting to relieve some of the mounding pressure.
Your heart thudded in your chest like a drum, you swiftly shut the door to your chambers and tried to steady your shaky breathing. After shedding yourself of your dress you made your way to the vanity and undid your hairstyle of the day. As your fingers worked between your hair you imagined Aemond’s large hands making their way through it, your fingers delicately glided across the crook of your neck before resting upon the warmth of your chest. If Aemond wanted to play games then you would gladly oblige, except this time you knew he wanted to play.
Your reading was interrupted by the ever-persistent King’s Landing ladies in waiting, you’d usually grumble except it was the first day of Maelor’s name day celebrations and you were taught the importance of good first impressions. Today would be important as Lords and Ladies of every great house would be there and you were yet to find a betrothed who was approved by the heir to the iron throne, your brothers, and Daemon, who once sent a young lord away teary eyed with embarrassment. You smiled to yourself as the ladies working on you bickered between what way to style your hair for the occasion. “What about something mostly up, with a few small braids, and the red gem hairpins? I think that’ll match the dress I picked out for tonight.” They glanced between each other, smiled, and got to work on your dark hair. Part of you was filled with excitement, it had been a while since you had an excuse to dress up, and it was even more thrilling at the thought of catching Aemond’s attention over all the other Ladies present. As the late afternoon rolled around you were finally considered presentable to the guests in the great hall. You eyed your reflection, your hair lifted to expose your neck and clavicle, dark fabric fitted to your shape with delicate blood red beading sewn into the neckline and down the sleeves finished with your gold jewellery pieces. Just as the ladies were about to leave you had an idea, “Wait! Do you have any of the rose perfume oil?” You spoke with a smile. A few knowing glances were shared between the two eldest ladies as a younger one brought over the small crystal bottle before dabbing a small amount on each wrist and on either side of your neck.
The rest of your family waited beside the towering doors of the great hall, “Finally, I thought we’d all starve.” Joffrey spouted with a huff earning a short laugh from Lucerys, a half shove from Jacaerys and a raised brow from Daemon. Your mother waved them off and placed her hands either side of your upper arms, “What a beautiful young woman you have become, my sweet child.” Rhaenyra looked upon you with great admiration as always. You smiled and squeezed her hand as you all stood together as the doors were slowly pulled open. You could feel your heart beating in your ears as the chittering in the room slowly dissipated and all heads turned to face you all. You bore a brave face following after your parent’s movements down the steps and towards the King’s table. After greeting the king, you were all seated, the family had grown rather exponentially since Rhaenyra’s wedding to your father Laenor which you had heard many stories about. You sat towards the outer curve to one side of the table, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Aemond, already watching you. So not to give him the pleasure of your gaze, you made conversations with your family next to you.
A short clearing of a throat pulled you from your conversation with Jacaerys, “I am Jorick Lannister, your graces,” He bowed his head towards you, “I was wondering if I may have the honour to ask the Princess to a dance?” He flashed his best smile at you.
You looked expectantly to your mother and Daemon, “If you wish to, then go dance.” Rhaenyra grinned, she gently touched her own elbow against Daemon’s, and he muttered something about there ‘being worse choices in the room’. You stood up from your seat, perhaps a bit too eagerly and walked around to the side of the table where the Lannister stood. He extended his hand, palm up towards you and lead you down the few steps to the crowd of dancers. You stood a pace apart and looked at the man in front of you, he was certainly handsome, dark blonde hair that waved towards the nape of his neck, gentle grey eyes. As you looked into them something caught your eye behind them. Aemond was alert, not sat in his usual laid-back posture with his cup resting in his hand on the arm of his chair. He was sat forward, stiff as a statue and boring daggers into the back of your dance partner. You swallowed as you saw the grip he had around his cup; it was solid metal but from the look on his face alone it could crumble. The music swelled as Jorick took your hand in his and placed his other upon your waist.
As you both moved across the floor, he leaned in to speak to you “How are you enjoying the capital princess.” Jorick spoke above the music.
“There’s a certain beauty to it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Dragonstone.” You spoke with truth.
Jorick chuckled, “Ah yes, it is the perfect home for a dragon. I do believe you would grow to like Catserly Rock your grace. It’s no island but the coastline is just as harsh, I miss the sound of it when I try to sleep somewhere new.”
You heartily laughed at his statement as he twirled you in a circle. “I have said that ever since we got here! But no one else seems to understand it.” While he laughed and agreed in return.
Meanwhile at the King’s table, Aemond’s jealousy bubbled harshly. Already did he have a hard time resisting taking you into his arms and treating you as you deserved, but watching another man, a Lannister at that, hold you the way he wanted to, enraged him. He counted the guards in the room to simmer his anger, but then imagined fighting them off as he cut down every person between you and him and taking you into an embrace. He was completely and utterly enamoured with you, ever since he watched you climb off of your dragon from a tower of the Red Keep. Gone had the child he knew as a babe himself and was now replaced with a woman who plagued his thoughts. Your darker hair that framed your face, eyes that crinkled when you laughed and held so much emotion, the way you smile brought him an unmanageable amount of joy. He couldn’t hate you, no matter if he tried. At this moment, he wished for it to be simple. That he wasn’t your mother’s brother, that he was just a Lord of some other house, dancing with you and holding you close. A world in which he could have you, touch you, without bearing the reprehensible disappointment of his mother or the feeling of his heart being crushed right in front of him. He had once and for all had enough after the 6th eager meek had hovered around you after each song had finished to ask for your hand. Aemond rose to his feet and made his way to you on the floor with large strides dipping in between the guests. Queen Alicent watched him with worry, he wasn’t known to dance or partake in many festivities like these.
You parted ways with your last dance partner and smiled as you were approached by yet another Lord, “My princess, I am Erich Baratheon and I would love the honour of-“ He started before being cut off by the sudden appearance of Aemond: he’d brushed past the suitor on his was to you, not harsh in any sense but it definitely took you both off guard.
The broad Baratheon was dwarfed by not only the Targaryen’s height, but his mere presence also. “Perhaps is it my turn for a dance, Mandianna.” The request seemed so lewd and intimate coming from him, despite it being what would otherwise be an innocent dance between family.
“I was just asking the Princess for a dance. Perhaps you may dance with her after?” The Baratheon mustered his bravest voice, a touch deeper than it had been a moment ago. Aemond’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head round and down with a rather dramatic tilt to amplify the inches between the pair. From this angle you could fully admire his jawline and neck. You imagined kissing across his sharp jawline, travelling down to his throat. At this moment you were so overcome with lust you imagine grazing your teeth against it and biting gently just to release some tension. After a very short stare off on the Baratheon’s end, “Perhaps not, uh- goodnight, Princess.” He had turned to walk away before even finishing his sentence, leaving you and Aemond face to face on the floor.
“That wasn’t very proper of you, uncle.” You spoke above a whisper, struggling to hold back a small laugh.
“Luckily it’s not so expected of me.” His face bore a small smile. An actual smile instead of a sly all-knowing smirk.
“I didn’t take you for a dancer either.”
“Well, someone had to put a stop to the herd of sheep begging to stomp on your feet all evening.” You couldn’t help but chuckle in agreement. Some of the Lords had been nice, decent dancers, with something to say. Others spent their time ogling your exposed skin or asking about your inheritance. You could not deny as conversations lulled between some of them, you imagined you were in the arms of Aemond instead. As the music began to swell, he offered you his hand which you gladly accepted whilst his other hand tentatively made its way to your upper waist. As he led the dance, he never looked away from you, it felt as if you were slowly melting into him. Able to ignore the few judgemental looks and quiet whispers from the people around you and just focussing on the man in front of you.
Back at the King’s table, your interaction had not gone unnoticed. Alicent’s worry had faded, she knew you had always been a sweet girl. She looked over to Rhaenyra who had already been watching her to gage a reaction and the two exchanged a small smile each. “Mother, are sister and Uncle Aemond going to get married?” Joffrey asked in matter-of-fact way, causing Rhaenyra to cough on the wine that she had sipped whilst Daemon chuckled and ruffled his dark curls.
You’d made a mental note to thank the gods for the current song choice, a slower one. Your hands flush together as the two of you rotated and eyes never leaving each other’s. As the end of the song drew close Aemond’s body moved behind you, left hand upon your waist and right taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers. The latter part was not a usual for this particular dance. Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel the strength of his torso behind you. “You know uncle, I have been wanting more lessons in High Valyrian, I think a few more and we could really make some progress.” It wasn’t 100% a lie, Aemond definitely could teach you some High Valyrian, but it was mostly an excuse to be in private with him again.
“Really? Because you did so well last time?” You could practically feel the smirk on his face from behind you. “I know you can ask a lot nicer than that Mandianna.” You shuddered softly at the sensation of his voice so quiet, whispering into your ear. The music pace picked up as you glided across the floor, heart beating within your ears. As the instruments came to a halt, you felt a sense of weightlessness as Aemond dipped you and held you there, so low to the ground you felt the ends of your hair touch against it. You eyed him, brows raised and chest rising and falling, feeling fully in his hands.
“Kostilus, Aemond.” (Please, Aemond) The words left your lips in a soft way that travelled straight down his spine. You could not identify the emotion that swept his face as he swiftly brought you to your feet and ripped his hands from yours. His eyes shut briefly, his hands flexing into tight fist, you were not sure what had happened. As you reached out for his hand he stepped back and kept his eyes to the ground before making his way to the exit of the great hall. You called out to him softly, but he soon disappeared in between the crowds.
Confused and a little hurt, you made your way back to your seat and looked at the remainder of your meal that had surely gone cold. You felt your mother’s hand rest upon yours, and you looked to her and smiled weakly. “Where did your uncle go sweet girl?” She spoke softly and quietly, as to avoid bringing your brothers into it.
“He mentioned that he had to go for something.” Your lie wouldn’t have fooled a stranger, let alone your own mother, but she did not pry. She gave your hand a small squeeze and gave you the mother’s look of ‘I’m here if you need me’.
Aemond briskly made his way down the corridors of the Red Keep. His hands met the roughened wooden doors to a balcony as he pushed them open and felt the chill of the night air cover him. It was not enough as he felt is blood burn hot, coursing through his veins and the sight of you in his arms. Your hair cascading down past you, exposing your neck, the way your breasts filled out your corset and raised with your breathing. That damned perfume you wore and how it mixed with your scent had been a drug to him this night. Your eyes that stared up at him like a doe and looked at him like he was a god. He couldn’t help but remember your soft plump lips, the way they parted slightly when he looked your way, how you bit your lip whilst saddling your dragon and worst of all: how deliciously his name sounded coming out of them. He had not yet heard you say his name, but it being paired with such a submissive plead made it all the more torturous. He slowly breathed through his nose; head tilted back resting on the bricks. Aemond was too infatuated with you to ever hate your effect on him. His frustrations only grew greater the more he knew you. He was at a grand dinner, filled with every food and treat he could ever imagine, yet all he wished to taste was between your legs. He decided then and there on that balcony that his affections for you must go. ‘It should not be so painful’ He thought to himself, after all, you only had a few short days left in the capital.
The following day started even earlier, with the second day of the celebrations taking place in the gardens. You yawned into the palm of your hand and watched as the front side pieces of your hair were brought back and weaved into a delicate braid. “You mustn’t stay up so late princess!” The handmaiden fretted as she pulled out the dress you had chosen yesterday. You eyed it, before glancing towards the window to see the sun breaking out through the clouds, giving you an idea.
“It looks like it could really warm up in the garden under the sun, I was thinking of wearing this dress instead.” You lifted the dark berry coloured dress up in front of your handmaidens.
“I think you may get cold your grace.” One of the younger handmaidens spoke eyeing the dress, after a harsh glare from the eldest maiden she continued, “But you will look perfect no matter what!” She clarified with a nervous chuckle. You smiled at her in reassurance and allowed the cluster of ladies to dress you. Once they had finished arguing over minor details you stood back to look at your reflection. This was a dress you had never worn before, meant for particularly warm weather. It was an off the shoulder cut, that capped your upper arms with a tie. The dark coloured material was thinner than your regular dresses and the skirt flowed with any movement you made. After trying to sound as nonchalant as possible you once again asked for the rose perfume oil. After a few dots were dabbed on your wrists and neck, you thanked your ladies and placed the delicate bottle on the vanity. Once they had filed out you reapplied a few extra drops to your skin before dropping a small amount onto your fingertips and ran it through the ends of your hair. You looked beautiful, and hoped this would gain Aemond’s affections once more.
The garden party was a success from the get-go. Conversations bubbled, drinks were poured, and the food spread was something to marvel at. You were walking through the flowerbeds, arms linked with Baela, both of your laughs travelling from reminiscing on moments from your shared childhoods. “I heard you and Aemond caused quite the stir last night.” Baela giggled, nudging her elbow into yours.
“Word does travel fast in the capital,” You laughed. “And it was not a shared commotion, he was the one who left in a rush after we danced!” You reasoned with her; slight frustration apparent in your tone.
“And what a dance it appears to have been, they’d be able to smell you from Pentos.” You frowned slightly, wondering if you had overdone it today. She turned to face you, placing her hand over yours. “I jest of course, anyone would be lucky to catch your eye.” Baela’s smile was genuine and reassured your worries. You looked around the crowds of people once more, eyes fleeting from face to face. “He’s still not arrived yet.” Your eyes met hers once again as you both burst into loud laughter.
After much convincing from Alicent and a more silent encouragement from approach from Helaena, Aemond was finally making an appearance at the garden party. He thought to himself ‘What could a child so young possibly want with such celebrations?’ He justified his annoyance for his affections for you by dismissing the whole day, but being Maelor’s uncle he was expected to be there at some point. He was mere seconds into his arrival at the party before he overheard a distinct sound that made his heart sting. The familiar song of your laughter rang out from across the gardens. Every fibre of his being urged him to look for you, just to turn his head and see your face once more. Against all odds he kept his eyes trained on the floor and made his way to a quieter corner of the event in an attempt to go against his instincts and hide from you. He stood with his cup, fingers tracing across the details, a few feet away from the largely untouched array of desserts.
You grew frustrated as you looked around once more for your uncle’s presence. “Drink this, it’ll relax your nerves.” Baela handed you a cup with a dark red liquid in the bottom of it. “I know, wine isn’t for you, but this one is sweet! I think you’ll like it.” You nodded and took a sip, there was a slight burn as you swallowed it, but the fruity taste overtook it, and you nodded in agreement with her. As Baela and Jacaerys began talking intently you decided to have a look the foods on offer. You took another sip of your wine, the sweetness made you crave the sugared fruits the cooks always put out after dinner. After glancing over each table filled with every animal you could think of, cooked in every way. Your eyes made contact with a cake that was almost the size of you. Peering round the corner of the tent your eyes spotted something even more tempting. Aemond stood to himself, brows furrowed and finger lightly tapping against his cup in slight sync with the distant music that played.
“Uncle! I thought you were not going to make an appearance.” You tried to hide your excitement as you stepped into the tent and faced him. He seemed taken aback by the sudden presence of someone. His gaze shot up from the floor and lingered on your body, fleeting from your face to the way your dress fitted your figure. Just as he thought he’d mustered the strength to speak a light breeze rustled through the gardens and cascaded through your hair. ‘That damned floral perfume’ he thought to himself as he tried to hold his composure. After taking in her appearance once more, he noticed something unusual.
“I didn’t think you to be a wine drinker.” He spoke to you, his jaw clenched stiff.
You giggled slightly, “Me neither! But this one is Dornish, it’s a lot sweeter.” You took a step closer to him and held up your cup to him. “Would you like to taste?” You looked up at him through your lashes.
‘Yes’, He thought. “No.” He answered bluntly, “Thank you, no thank you.” His Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he answered, and you tilted your head slightly.
“Well, there’s plenty if you change your mind.” You smiled at him and turned towards the desserts table, various cakes, fruit pies, candied treats, decorated the large table.
You placed your cup and traced your finger across the end of the table eyeing the selection, you spotted your favourite sugared fruits. “I love these!” You exclaimed as you made your way over to the selection: cherries, berries of all kinds, plums, and peaches. You selected one of the peach slices and looked towards Aemond to find him watching intently. You popped the slice in your mouth and closed your eyes and exhaled a small ‘mmm’. You eyed the remaining sugar on your thumb and index finger. You looked into Aemond’s eye and popped the tip of your finger into your mouth and sucked the crystals off and releasing your finger with a pop. He muttered a short ‘gods’ to himself as he watched you round the table, another piece of fruit in hand. You faced him and held out the small piece of fruit. “You should taste it for yourself Aemond.” Something changed on his face, he looked down at you and slapped the fruit out of your hand and grabbed you by your wrist and led you out of the tent into the empty corridor nearby. “Uncle, Uncle!” You protested quietly once you were led far enough away to not be heard by guests.
“Let go,” you demanded, pushing his hand away. You eyed him as he turned away from you, breathing steadily, hands balled into fits. “Why have you dragged me out here?” You exclaimed in a hushed tone.
“Why have I?” He turned to face you, “Why have I?” He roared, stepping a pace towards you. Stepping backwards you felt the stone walls hit your shoulders. “It is you, you who has poisoned my thoughts ever since you got here, you who has made even existing in the same room as you arduous yet being away from you nearly impossible. You danced with every fool this side of The Narrow Sea and even then, you could not keep your eyes on them and not me. Calling me by my name. Now today-“, He furrowed his brows, remembering the sight of you in that tent. “Gods.” He whispered, running a hand over his face. “Do you really wish to torture me so?” He looked up at you, fragments of defeat washing over his face.
You pushed yourself away from the wall, taking a step towards him leaving an impossibly small gap between the two of you. “Nyke pendagon bisa iksin skoros ao jeldan hen nyke, Iāpa.” (I thought this was what you wanted from me, uncle.) His jaw remained tense, as slight confusion washed over him. You rose to the tips of your toes to whisper to him, “Hen aōha byka genes.” (From your little mouse.)
Without hesitation you felt his large hand cup the side of your face, his other snaking around your waist, the force of it pinning you towards the wall. His fingers brushed down your face, resting beneath your chin. His thumb tentatively ran across your bottom lip. Aemond leaned down to the side of your face, “Tell me to stop, tell me to stop and I will walk away.” His breath fanned over you; lips grazing against your neck. It took all of your efforts to not crumble beneath him.
“Ȳdra daor keligon.” (Don’t stop.) Your breath was shaky as Aemond brought his face to yours. You placed a hand against his chest and leaned up to kiss him before a rumble of distant laughter reminded you both of your current location.
He grabbed your hand from upon his chest and led you down the winding corridors of the Red Keep, your slippers tapping twice as fast on the floor to keep up with his long strides. As you both climbed the spiral staircase towards the chambers, voices rang out on the floor in front of you. Aemond brought you both to a halt, keeping his back against the wall and pulled your back towards him to avoid detection. “Why did we st-“ You started before feeling his large hand covering your mouth. He whispered a small shush into your ear. A heat spread across you face feeling a large bulge in his trousers, just above your ass. Once the footsteps had completely disappeared, he climbed the rest of the stairs, hand still firmly gripping yours. His spare hand pushed open the heavy door with such urgency, crashed against the wall beside it. He pulled you into his chambers, almost pulling you off your feet before only breaking eye contact to close and lock the door behind him.
He stepped towards you, unbuckling his jacket from the top. “Tell me to stop.” He once again commanded.
“No.” You spoke so quietly you weren’t even sure it had left your lips, but Aemond had definitely heard it. He pulled you close, keeping your bodies flush and brought a hand to your hair, pulling you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his lips graze yours slightly before delving into a deep kiss. You struggled to keep up with his desperate pace at first, feeling overwhelmed a gasp left your lips in an attempt to catch your breath. Aemond pulled away ever so slightly before planting a small kiss to the side of your mouth and kissing across your jaw.
“Turn around,” He whispered. You did as he instructed and turned your back to him. His hands gathered your hair and looped it over your shoulder. His hands traced down your back to the satin ties of your dress, before undoing the bow. You felt as his pulled your dress down your arms, down your torso and heard it drop to the floor in a light whoosh. You felt exposed, this was your first time in just your undergarments around anyone other than your handmaidens, and a man at that. His hands moved to the lacings of your corset, undoing each loop as his eyes consumed every inch of new flesh he saw. He tossed your corset to the side and pulled the rest of your undergarments off, and your arms instinctively crossed your chest. Grabbing a hold of your hand, he pulled you around to face him once more. A low groan escaped his lips at the sight of you before bringing your face to his in a deep kiss. His body led you to the foot of his bed, your back hitting one of the towering bedposts.
You let out a small gasp as his lips left yours and latched onto your neck. His hand came to your jaw and tilted your head back to look up at him. “Ivestragon nyke skoros jaelā.” (Tell me what you want.) His voice sent a heat that spread across your body.
“I want you to-“ You started before he cut you off, fingers gripping your hair slightly.
“Daor.” (No.) He eyed you, thumb tracing your jawline.
You realised what he was requesting. Your brain sped through thousands of scenarios you could’ve imagined before settling on one. “Obūljagon.” (Kneel.) You spoke with all the confidence you could gather. His typical smirk returned to his lips as he scanned your face. He was not sure what he had expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. A welcomed surprise, he sank to his knees in front of you. You watched as his lips peppered small kisses across your hips, running his hands up your thighs. He parted your legs and lifted your leg up and over his shoulder by the back of your knee. You gripped the footboard of the bed to steady yourself. An almost growl left his lips at the sight of your pussy mere inches away from his face. A sharp gasp left your lips at the feeling of his large fingers spreading your wetness from your core to your clit.
He brought one of his fingers to his lips and sucked the tip of it, watching your face intently. “Mmm, all this for me?” He grumbled rubbing the inside of your thigh at a painfully slow pace.
“Yes- Kessa, syt ao.” (Yes, for you.) You felt your pussy clenching, aching to be touched. His fingers moved to your pussy, teasing your folds before starting to slowly rub circles across your clit. You let out a moan, desperate for more. A smirk painted his lips, watching you in this state. Surrounded by the plush of your thighs, your small moans filling his ears, watching your nails dig into the footboard just to cope with the sensation. His middle and third finger slid down from your clit to the entrance of your pussy.
Your eyes opened and mouth parted to question the lack of contact before you felt his two fingers slide inside of you. You let out a loud moan at the foreign sensation. He worked his fingers in and out of you at slow pace, admiring as he watched them disappear into you, stretching you out and covering them in your slick. He left small kisses on your inner thigh, keeping his eye on your face. “More,” You pleaded in between moans. Aemond considered teasing you further, before giving into your request. His sped up his fingers pumping inside of you, increasing the tightening in your lower stomach. He admired your face screwed up in pleasure for one more moment before latching his lips upon your clit. A loud ‘fuck’ left your lips, and even you were partially surprised by the vulgarity of your language before all you could think about was Aemond’s tongue. He alternated between furiously licking and sucking your clit as his fingers pumped at a rapid pace inside of you. Your other hand moved up the bed post, gripping it for dear life as the man beneath you pleasured you. Your hips involuntarily bucked into his tongue as your moans grew louder and more frequent. A moan that left Aemond’s lips vibrated across your clit pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name and felt your pussy clench around his quick fingers. He continued to thrust them inside of you and delivered a few final licks to your clit, only stopping when your legs began to quiver. He slowly removed his fingers from your pussy and planted a final kiss on your clit, earning a shiver from you. He wiped the wetness from his chin with his cotton shirt before moving your leg off from his shoulder and rose to his feet and held his hand upon your waist sensing your wobbliness. He raised his fingers towards you admiring the wetness that coated them. He brought them up to your lips and you opened your mouth, feeling them run over your tongue towards the back of your throat. You sucked them clean, watching his expression from beneath your eyelashes.
Despite how hungrily he had attended to you, he looked at you like he was starved. “Better than any of the sugared fruits down there.” He gestured towards the window, and you blushed at his remark. Never had you been filled with such desire; you had just reached your peak on Aemond’s tongue, yet you needed more. His hand collected yours, as he led you over to his bed. His lips once again found yours as he pushed you towards the edge of the bed. The backs of your knees hit the bed and you plopped down. His lips left yours and you looked up at him expectantly. His fingers gripped the ends of his shirt before lifting it off of his head and tossing it with the rest of the discarded clothes. You eyed the definition of his chest, down his stomach and his arms that landed either side of your head, pushing you down onto the bed until your head hit the pillows. His lips latched onto your neck and eagerly kissed down your chest between the valley of your breasts.
“You do not know how much I have dreamt of this,” His large hand travelled up your side to cup your breast, his hand playing with the plumpness of it before his thumb ran over your nipple. “Moaning my name, naked in my bed, all needy for me.” His tongue traced the perimeter of your nipple before taking it into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue and earning another moan from you. Those moans that could sustain him for the rest of his life he was pretty sure.
“I also dreamt of you.” You spoke meekly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear. He raised his head from your breast, brow raised.
“And what did you think about little mouse.” His smirk radiated off of him. You dreamt of him. The tightness in his trousers had become almost unbearable, but he needed to hear your sweet voice talking about him.
“I was touching you, a-and you were enjoying it.” You spoke, interrupted by a moan or two from his touch stimulating your nipples. He hummed a small ‘mmm’ in response before he moving off you and laying beside you, back propped up against the headboard. You turned to your side and looked and him inquisitively, his hand rubbed slowly over the bulge in his trousers and your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape. He patted the bed next to his hips and you knelt facing him, unsure of what to expect. His hands reached for the tie of his trousers before you reached out and placed a hand over his. “Wait!” He looked at you with a hint of concern before you continued, “Can I try? And you tell me what you like along the way?” His jaw stiffened for a moment before he moved his hand to tangle in your hair and bring your lips to his.
You pulled your lips away from kiss and moved to kiss his neck. You started tenderly, mirroring how he had kissed yours as your hand slid down his chest towards his trousers. His breathing became more uneven as your hands touched him. Your hand fumbled with the tie of his trousers, struggling to undo it before you removed your lips from his collarbone to concentrate on the tie. He watched as your brows furrowed together, he felt as if he could finish at the sight of you. Beautiful and naked, trying so desperately to get into his pants. You finally undid the tie and looked up to Aemond with a sheepish smile, “I am not used to trousers it seems.” You giggled, and it seemed by reflex he planted a kiss on your lips.
“Dōna.” (Sweet) Your cheeks burned with his affection.
Your fingers looped over the hem of his trousers, and you pulled them down along with his undergarments as he lifted his hips slightly. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him, his cock was large and red at the tip. You froze for a second – the paintings and stories had not prepared you as well as you’d thought. You watched as his hand came to his cock and pumped it slowly a few times. His free hand reached for yours and replaced it with his own, “Just like this.” You followed the movements he had previously made, concentrating on trying to make him feel good. A small hiss brought your gaze back to his face to see his eye squeezed shut and hands gripping the sheets beneath him. You slowly increased your movements, enjoying the feeling of his cock in your hands, as you noticed a bead of precum spill his tip. Working on instinct you leant your head down and licked your tongue in a broad stroke across the tip of his cock, tasting him in your mouth. His eye immediately snapped open, “Don’t-“ He groaned.
“Sorry I-, I thought it would feel good like it did for me when you…” You trailed off searching his face. He panted, bringing your face to his. He placed his hand over yours and continued pumping his cock indicating for you to continue. He rested your forehead against his and inhaled deeply.
“It does feel good, great even, much too good.” You watched him confused, if it felt so good, why couldn’t you do it? “The difference between you and I, men and women, you may finish as many times as you please.” His voice travelled over you like honey, his free hand sliding down your stomach and rubbed his two middle fingers over your clit. “I may only once, for now, and I intend to do it in your sweet pussy.” His fingers ran small circles over your clit causing a flurry of moans to leave your lips. Your hand continued to run up and down the length of his cock, but it was hard to think straight when Aemond touched you.
“Can I feel your cock inside of me too?” Your question was genuine, if not laden with lust. It was all Aemond needed to hear before his hand reached your hip pushing you onto your back. He kissed you, hungrier than ever, barely giving you chance to keep up.
“Mirros syt ao.” (Anything for you.) He said in between kisses. He spread your legs apart, eyeing your soaking cunt, and stroked himself a couple of times before leaning over you, elbow resting beside your head. You felt as he ran his cock up and down from your clit to your core, a low groan leaving his lips. “Remember to breathe deeply, Dōna.” (Sweet). You nodded, unsure of what to expect. Aemond’s weight shifted, and you gasped as his cock slowly slid into you. Your brows furrowed as the slight discomfort slid away and was replaced with a new pleasure. His cock bottomed out, and you reached your hand to his cheek, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. He slowly started thrusting, the pace was painfully slow, but he was determined to make you feel good. As his pace picked up, his cock continuously hit a spot in your pussy that his fingers did not, causing a rather loud moan to escape your lips. “Mazemā ziry sīr sȳrī.” (You take it so well.) His praise caused a familiar tightening to start to form in your stomach.
“I love the way you feel.” Your moans filled his ears, fuelling him to go faster. His hand free hand snaked between your bodies and found your clit once more. His thrusts pounded into you, as his fingers diligently worked at your sensitive clit. The headboard begun to crack against the wall with each movement, not that either of you noticed. The quiet but delicious moans that left Aemond’s mouth were enough to ride towards your peak, the coil in your stomach tightening as you gripped your nails into his back. “Fuck! Aemond!” You exclaimed. His large cock filling you up and his fingers playing with your clit caused your orgasm to wash over you, feeling yourself tighten around his cock. His thrusts became quick and erratic as you rode out your high and his groans growing louder and more animalistic as he finished inside of you.
He panted, dropping to his elbow, and planting a small kiss upon your cheek, before pulling out of you slowly. You groaned at the loss of the fullness, missing the feeling of him already. Aemond lay beside you, pulling you by your hips to have your back against his chest. As both of your breathing slowly returned to normal you felt a small shiver run across your body, now aware of the breeze through the window. Aemond’s hand came up and ran up and down the length of your arm and pulled you close. “Is it possible to remain here all day.” You sighed, cuddling the blankets in front of you.
Aemond chuckled, “It is not our name day.” He planted a small kiss upon your shoulder. “But I do think people may notice both of our absences.” He spoke softly, with a small amount of his serious tone peeking through. You groaned, liking the feeling of being in Aemond’s arm, in his bed.
“Aemond?” You questioned, turning slightly to face him. He hummed a ‘hmm?’ in response, opening his eye. “Kessa gaomā bona run lēda aōha ēngos arlī gō īlon return naejot se rūklun?” (Will you do that thing with your tongue again before we return to the party?). A playful smirk returned to his face as he shifted above you on the bed.
“Va moriot” (Always).
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Unbidden
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader x Aemond Targaryen
Warnings: Cuckolding, voyeurism, smut.
Word count: ~3k
Summary: Noticing his nephew's wife appears dissatisfied in her marriage, Daemon sets out to show them both that there is pleasure to be found within the marital bed...
Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
She has scarcely been able to take her eyes off of Daemon since he first arrived at the Red Keep. He possesses the classically handsome features bestowed upon those of Valyrian blood, carries himself with self assured confidence, and embodies an air of dangerous unpredictability which both frightens and excites her in equal measure. Though it is none of these qualities that keep her gaze fixated upon him.
Her interest is piqued by how utterly devoted he is to his wife. When she stood beside her husband, Aemond, in the Great Hall, as Vaemond Velaryon challenged the succession of Driftmark, her attention was focused solely on Daemon and Rhaenyra. He had been glued to her side, his gaze always seeking hers, and when Vaemond had dared to call her a whore and her children “bastards”, he had not hesitated in unsheathing his sword and slicing the man’s head in half. She wonders if her own husband would defend her so staunchly.
She is not blind to their starkly different situations; Daemon and Rhaenyra’s union is one of love, it is plain for all to see. Her and Aemond’s is one of political necessity. Although they have grown fond of each other over the last six months of their marriage, and he has never been unkind to her, she cannot help the jealousy that swirls, ugly and acrid, within her chest at the ease of which her husband’s half sister and his uncle interact with one another.
The two children they have together already, and the one that currently grows within the swell of Rhaenyra’s belly are proof enough of their passion for one another. However, the looks they exchange at the dinner table this evening are smoldering and filled with intent. Their fingers brush against each other as they pass dishes of food between them, and Daemon’s hand seems to find its way to her stomach, caressing her lovingly, unaware he is even doing it.
Her and Aemond’s intimacy is not so effortless, though it is not from a lack of trying on her part. He beds her frequently, and she greets his advances with enthusiasm, yet his stoicism renders him incapable of ever fully losing control. He is receptive to her pleas of “harder”, “faster”, but she is always left with the dissatisfaction of feeling he is holding something back, and outside of their shared bedchamber it is rare that he ever touches her. She has attempted to broach the subject with him before, framing it as a means for them to find greater satisfaction within their marital bed, but he always waves her away dismissively, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.
She can sense something dark and urgent bubbling beneath the surface of him, and longs to draw it out, to experience the full force of the fire of the dragon that runs through his veins, but she does not know how to entice it.
It had appeared prominent in his seeing eye as Dark Sister had cleaved the Velaryon man’s skull in twain, a potent mixture of bloodlust and desire, as his pupil had dilated ever so slightly. It had sent a shiver up her spine, heat pooling between her thighs, causing her to squeeze them together to fend off the dull, throbbing ache.
She longs for that look to be cast upon her, for her to be the recipient of whatever wrath that follows, and now she is sure that it is Daemon that holds the key to coaxing the darker side of her husband out to play.
The dinner is a tense affair. Aemond sits beside her, so tightly wound she is sure the lightest of touches would cause him to shatter like glass. When he finally loses his cool, throwing barbed words towards his nephews, resulting in an exchange of blows, the evening draws to an abrupt close, with each of them being dismissed to their respective quarters. As they depart the dining hall, her husband and his uncle lock eyes, a smirk of amusement flashing briefly across Daemon’s features as Aemond’s nostrils flare in irritation.
She can feel the heat of his anger radiating from him as he strides through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, scurrying alongside him in an attempt to match his pace. That look has returned and with it her desperate feeling of lust. If she doesn’t seize the opportunity now, then she is unsure of when it will present itself again.
Reaching out for her husband, she grasps his elbow, her fingers taut against the leather sleeve of his tunic. His steps falter and he turns to look at her quizzically, chest heaving with the laboured breaths of his barely concealed rage.
“What is it?” He snaps.
Instinctively, she shrinks back, second guessing her decision as she sees the way he glares down at her, lip curled into a snarl. Despite her fear, she reminds herself that this is the side of Aemond she had been seeking, and leans into him, placing her hands upon his chest.
“I want you,” she whispers, gazing up at him pleadingly.
“Not here,” he sighs, his expression softening, as he gently grasps her hands in his, moving them back to her sides.
Though she remains outwardly calm, in spite of her disappointment, internally she feels so frustrated she could scream. The look she craves is gone, he has rebuffed her advances and she knows that once more she is destined to an evening where he will treat her as though she is made of bone china.
“I believe you were told to return to your quarters.”
The intrusion of Daemon’s voice causes Aemond to take a quick step backwards, away from her, as she turns to look. He stands before them in the corridor, posture rigid and chin raised up ever so slightly, giving the impression that he is looking down his nose at them both.
“We are on our way,” Aemond responds icily, drawing himself to his full height and staring down his uncle.
The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Daemon’s mouth, clearly unphased by his nephew’s hostile demeanour. “I shall escort you both, to ensure there is no further delay.”
Before either one of them has the opportunity to protest, he steps forward, one hand reaching for Aemond’s shoulder, while he places the other at the small of her back. Aemond wrenches away, huffing irritably as he continues walking. She makes no such effort to struggle away from Daemon’s touch, his fingers feeling like a brand against her flesh through the fabric of her dress.
The three of them walk in uncomfortable silence, the only sound is the echo of their footsteps against the flagstone floor. Her eyes widen in surprise when they reach her and Aemond’s shared chambers and, instead of bidding them goodnight, Daemon follows them inside, closing the doors behind them.
Aemond stares at him quizzically, eye narrowed. “What are you doing, Uncle? If you are here to reprimand me for what was said at dinner then–”
“I am here for your wife, actually,” he interrupts, turning his head towards her as his eyes move from her head to her feet and back up again.
She feels her skin grow hot under the intensity of his gaze, swallowing thickly as he regards her as a cat would a mouse.
“What do you want with my wife?” Aemond asks, his voice lowering in quiet threat.
It is the first time she has ever heard her husband speak of her so possessively and it makes her pulse race. She wants more of this, there is an intense thrill to having the attention of two Targaryen men placed solely upon her.
“Do not think I have not noticed,” Daemon says to her, ignoring Aemond as he continues to stare at her. “You have been ogling me all day. Why?”
Embarrassment prickles at her, and she lowers her gaze. Her voice is small and pitiful sounding to her ears as she answers. “Forgive me, My Prince. I did not mean to stare.”
“Look at me when you speak to me,” he commands, “and answer the question.”
She exhales shakily, lifting her eyes to meet his. His stare is piercing, his eyes darkened and predatory in the low lighting of her and Aemond’s apartments.
“I found myself…rather taken by how you engage with Princess Rhaenyra. You are quite affectionate with one another.”
Daemon’s brow furrows slightly as he cocks his head in curiosity. “Does your own husband not show you affection?”
A wave of sadness washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag at the reminder of the lack of intimacy between her and Aemond. She spares him a glance, noticing he has not moved from where he stands. His expression could be mistaken for neutral were it not for the fury that rages tempestuously within his seeing eye as he glares at his uncle.
Drawing in a deep breath, she looks back to Daemon, answering simply, honestly: “no.” Shame shrouds her, suffocating and dense, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, her head dipping as she focuses on the spot where the hem of her skirts meets the stone floor. She cannot bear to look at either man, knowing she has spoken out of turn about her husband, not just in front of him, but to his uncle as well.
She gasps as Daemon steps forward, crowding her space, his finger crooking beneath her chin to lift her face up towards his. The touch of him makes her knees buckle slightly and she leans back against the table behind her for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright. “What a brave little thing you are,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that twists her stomach into knots.
“I–I am sorry,” she stammers, eyes flitting nervously between her husband and his uncle. “I should not have–”
“There is nothing wrong with expressing your wants, your desires,” Daemon reassures her. “Perhaps my nephew just needs a little help in learning how best to please his wife?”
She squeals in surprise as he grasps the backs of her thighs, lifting her until she is seated upon the edge of the table she had been leaning against. Lips parted and eyes wide, she turns her head towards Aemond, and though his fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing accelerated in silent fury, he makes no move to stop what is happening. That look from earlier has returned, ravenous and half crazed, she interprets it as silent consent, wanting to do all she can to keep it fixed upon her.
“What of your wife? Will she not mind you…helping us?” She asks timidly, as Daemon’s hands make quick work of rucking her skirts up around her hips.
He chuckles drily in response, dragging her smallclothes down her legs, allowing them to dangle from a single ankle. “You and Aemond have much to learn, sweet girl. Fucking is a pleasure, and Rhaenyra does not mind how or with whom we seek it, as long as our loyalties do not falter.”
The very idea seems scandalous to her, yet wetness gathers between her legs all the same. Aemond has now taken up the seat beside the fireplace, watching them both intently, his stare unblinking and fiery.
Daemon’s fingers travel up her legs, until they reach the insides of her thighs. His fingers are thicker than Aemond’s, his touch is calloused and rough, where Aemond’s is deft, yet hesitant. His fingertips dig into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise as he pries her legs apart, a hum of approval rumbling in his throat at the arousal he finds glistening there.
“Does your husband make you this wet?” He asks with gentle curiosity.
She nods enthusiastically, looking over at Aemond and seeing a small, prideful smile ghost quickly across his lips before disappearing.
“Good,” Daemon tells her. “No problems there then.”
His fingertips swipe through her sodden folds, his middle finger quick to locate her pearl and circle it with precision. The movement makes her tense, a jolt of pleasure causing her hips to buck as she mewls helplessly.
“Does he touch you like this?”
“N–no…” she whimpers in response.
“Hmm,” Daemon glances over his shoulder, before looking back at her. “Well, ensure he does in future. I am sure he will; he is paying close attention.”
Looking back over at Aemond, she feels herself clench around nothing, her desire building with a steady, rhythmic ache as she sees the lacings of his trousers strain against his hardness. He is enjoying watching this, lips slightly parted and eye hooded. The sight of it rids her of the last of her inhibitions as Daemon moves his focus away from her bud and dares to push his two forefingers inside of her. She tilts her head back, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she feels her muscles stretch to accommodate him.
“You must be prepared, thoroughly, before you are fucked,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.
Her mind is foggy, struggling to comprehend Daemon’s words as he presses the pads of his fingers upwards, dragging them against a spot inside of her that causes her toes to curl and moisture to trickle down onto the tabletop. Does he really mean to fuck her? Surely that would be a step too far? Yet she finds it difficult to care when he is pushing her towards the precipice of pleasure itself with simply his fingers. Her mind reels with the possibility of what it would feel like to be stretched out around his cock.
As his fingers pump faster, she moves her hips in tandem, chasing the urgently building pressure that is growing inside of her. He pulls them from her suddenly, causing her to whine in frustration at being robbed of her peak.
Daemon grins wolfishly as his hands move to unfasten his breeches. “I think we have learned enough in that regard, and are ready to move on.”
She averts her gaze as he frees himself, her eyes finding Aemond’s, another silent check in for consent. His throat bobs as he swallows, his knuckles almost white with the force of the grip he has on the armrests of where he sits, but he makes no move to stop what is happening.
Her hands grasp at Daemon’s shoulders as he sheathes himself inside of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Aemond and his uncle are similar in many respects, but this is a matter in which the pair of them could not be more different.
It is odd to her that, despite being between her thighs, he has not tried to kiss her. Whether it is a mark of respect for hers and Aemond’s marriage, or simply because he does not want to, she is unsure, but she is grateful for his abstinence. A kiss seems too intimate a gesture, there is nothing sweet about this.
Daemon sets a brutal pace, once she has had a moment to adjust, rocking into her with a force that causes the table legs to scrape loudly against the hard floor. He is so much more self assured than her husband, utterly unafraid to violate her, and it is freeing to be handled so roughly.
She moans wantonly as he moves a hand to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure at the sides. “Do not be afraid to be a little unrestrained,” Daemon grits out, a statement clearly not meant for her, even though his eyes bore into hers. “I have yet to bed a woman who does not enjoy it.”
He has the right of it. The hand around her throat, coupled with the almost violent manner in which he thrusts inside of her is dizzying and, as he slips a hand between them to stroke at her pearl once more, she knows she will not last long. It has never been this intense with Aemond before; a lack of experience, coupled with a fear of hurting her means he is always gentle, hesitant where he need not be.
The grip on her throat tightens, the ministrations against her bud grow more insistent as she feels Daemon pulsate inside of her, his jaw clenching at the telltale sign that he is close. With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, she cries out in ecstasy as the warmth of his seed spills inside of her, triggering her own release as she tightens around him in rapid, successive pulses.
“Good girl,” he mutters quietly.
He is quick to pull out of her, as she leans back against her palms, pliant and breathless from the experience. She barely registers Daemon tucking himself away and slipping out of the chamber doors, as Aemond moves into view, standing before her.
Under ordinary circumstances, the wrathful insanity she sees reflected in his blue eye would frighten her, but tonight it has butterflies fluttering ceaselessly in her lower belly. His hand moves to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly by the roots, tugging her head forcefully backwards. Her yelp of pain is stifled by him pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue licking against her own in a kiss that is more a desperate display of possession than a loving embrace.
“You are mine,” he breathes, letting go of her momentarily to tug at the lacings of his trousers.
“Yours,” she whispers back, satisfied excitement causing her pulse to thrum at the knowledge she has unleashed the side of Aemond she has always longed for.
Daemon’s spend has begun to dribble out of her, and as she watches the head of her husband’s cock push it forcefully back inside of her, she knows he will remind her every night from now on exactly which Targaryen Prince it is that she belongs to.
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"𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚" (Aemond x Reader)
A/N: I want to first say. I STRUGGLE with writing dialogue in different periods. So if I make this into a fic it is going to take me so long because I will have to read other people's stories and rewatch the show so the dialogue can be somewhat realistic. Hopefully, I do well...If not. Don't tell me shit. I don't wanna hear it. // Divider by @firefly-graphics
Summary: You return with your family to King's Landing to defend Lucerys against your uncle Vaemond but he is not the uncle you worry about. Your mind is filled with the man you were once betrothed to what he will say when he sees you, and how he will act. You worry about how your Uncle Aemond will treat you after all this time.
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Tw: Oral Sex (f receiving)
Word Count: 5.4k (an absolute fucking monstrosity written in a couple hours)
"Would say it's nice to be home but I scarcely recognize it." Daemon hums slightly before walking around looking at every bit of the wall in disgust. Rhaenyra turns to you and your brothers. "I trust you three will stay out of trouble while we go visit your grandsire?"
Your brothers nod their heads as you all take your turn to look over what was once your home. It feels...darker than it did when you lived here, almost abandoned. If it was not for the servants walking around you would think it was.
Rhaenyra and Daemon walk away leaving you and your brothers.
"Come on. I want to see if that hole is still in the wall in the training yard." Luke rolls his eyes at the stupid memory which makes you smile. You follow after them as they try to recall the way there.
You don't listen to their conversation as Jace points out the hole that still remains. You can barely pay attention to anything anyone is saying. Your brain has been in panic mode since the moment you were told you would be returning here.
Scared to face your previous betrothed. You feel someone's hands wrap around yours and snap you out of your thoughts.
"Are you alright?" Luke says softly and looks at you worriedly. You nod and ruffle his hair with a smile.
"Im fine. Just...feels weird being back." He doesn't let go of your hand. You notice as he looks around at all the people staring at him and Jace. It had always been like this, people often compared you to your brothers in how different you looked. How you carried Targaryen features while they resembled Harwin Strong.
Unknown to you or your brothers at the time Rhaenyra and Laenor did truly try to conceive at least one trueborn child. But in the end, it was all too uncomfortable for them. It was only on their second try did they attempt it in another way. Laenor at first stayed in the room alone getting himself just before his peak so that when Rhaenyra came in all he had to do was empty himself inside of her. That one time resulted in you. The only child related to Laenor in both blood and name.
Jace comes and pulls Luke away to watch a fight you couldn't care less about. You walked around the yard looking at the various weapons laid out. You knew that you could fight far better than most of the men here, having been trained by Daemon himself.
Bored by the dusty swords and daggers you turn to watch the fight from the other side. Your heart dropped into your ass as you see the man before you.
He was tall...you always thought he would be. His hair sadly no longer carried those curls that once coiled around your fingers as he read to you. An eyepatch sat over his eye breaking your heart as you recalled the night.
"Get off of him!" "Stop it, Jace!" "Don't hurt him!"
You clamped your eyes closed wanting to fight off the painful memory. You were weak then, unable to help. You couldn't protect him in any way that mattered.
The claps of everyone around you had you opening your eyes once more. You watched as Aemond bested Criston in a duel.
"Well done, my prince, You'll be winning tourneys in no time."
"I don't give a shit about tourneys. Nephews...have you come to train?" You see the look on Luke's face and you feel bad for him. He and Jace had spent most of their time trying to learn High Valyrian and barely picked up a sword unless forced to. Aemond had clearly spent all his time training since the accident.
"Open the gates!" Everyone turns to watch as the guards open the gates and men carrying the banners of Velaryon walk in. You walk over to your brothers and hold onto Luke's hands as Vaemond passes by staring Luke down. Vamond's expression only softens as he looks at you and he offers you a warm smile.
The same smile he had given you at Laena's funeral as he took the opportunity to call your brother's bastards in such a sad time. You hear Luke audibly gulp and you try to soothe him by running your fingers over his knuckles.
"Let's go inside." You place a hand on Jace's back to calm him down as you notice the look of anger on his face at the sight of Vaemond.
As you turn to enter the Red Keep your eyes automatically land on Aemond who now wears an expression you can't quite place. His eyes are only on you and for a moment it feels like there's only you two but Jace is quick to step in front of your view and to give Aemond a look you can't see. Whatever it is has him turning around in anger and returning to sparring with Criston.
You walk with Rhaenyra and Rhaena towards Rhaenys.
"Grandmother" Rhaena calls out and basically runs over to her. You follow behind her.
"Rhaena..." Rhaena stands before her as Rhaenys holds her hand. You step beside her and Rhaenys looks over to you. She steps forward and places a hand on your cheek. "You two have grown beautifully." She kisses both of your cheeks.
"Baela said you might be here." Your mother comes closer, each step wary. "She's done well as your ward. You've um... raised her admirably." Rhaenys doesn't look over and keeps her eyes trained on both you and Rhaena.
"You honour me, Princess." Rhaenys smiles softly at Rhaenyra.
"Might I speak to the Princess alone, girls?" Rhaena looks to your grandmother almost for permission. She nods and lets go of both of you.
"Princess." Rhaena begins to walk away. You give your grandmother another kiss on the cheek before leaving.
Rhaenyra smiles at you as you walk away to join Rhaena.
"What do you think they're talking about?" You both look back once more before heading inside.
"I have no idea." You look at your mother who steps closer to your grandmother. Rhaene takes your arm and you turn to her. "Come. Let us go find the boys."
That night it rained and the sound of thunder filled your old chambers. His face filled your memories. His voice echoed in your ears.
"Can I kiss you Aemond?" Your fingertips ran over the dip of his lips as you imagined what they would feel like on yours."You never have to ask Princess."
You touch your lips at the memory of your first kiss. The only kiss you ever got to share with him. How soft his kiss was, how gentle he was. Your lips yearned for another kiss. Your body begs for his warmth and your heart breaks. It breaks at the memory of when your betrothal was cancelled when you knew the future you both talked about would never happen.
"How many children will we have?" Your head lay in his lap as he read a book, his fingers twirling your hair as you pick the petals of a flower. "As many as you are willing to bear me, Princess." You blush brightly which only brings a smile to his face. But your brain always knows how to ruin the moment as a new thought plagues your mind."Would you be angry at me if I had a girl first?" Aemond closes his book and looks down at you. "I could never be angry at you."
You sat up in your bed to the sound of a knock at the door. Your hands roughly smooth over your head pushing your hair back as if it wipes away the memories and dreams.
How can one live like this? How can one continue on in life like this? He is in every breath you take, every time you close your eyes his face decorates the darkness that you simply wish would consume you. You are reminded of him in every waking moment of your life.
Another knock comes to your chamber doors and you know you have no choice but to start your day. You sweat at the thought of seeing him again.
Will he keep to his words? Will he not be angry with you for being gone for so long? For not sending any letters? You did not want to find out. In truth you just want to stay in your chambers all day and sleep, but for the sake of Luke you would attend the hearing.
"The crown will now hear the petitions." Otto sits on the throne as his voice echoes throughout the hall. "Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."
Vaemond steps forward as everyone looks towards him. Everyone but Aemond. You can see him in the corner of your eye his gaze is focused on you. Never looking away, never taking a break.
You stand next to Daemon looking forward. Knowing that if you even willed your eyes to move it would land on him. And you couldn't bear to look at him.
"My Queen. My Lord Hand." Vaemond then goes on to talk about the history and the days of Old Valyria. You can't hear him, you can't hear anything once more over the beating of your heart.
"Iksis bisa iā qogror iā elekor?" [Is this a class or a hearing?] Daemon whispers to you. He notices your rigid stance and how you're taking in shallow breaths. He places a hand on your elbow and you look over to him. He gives you a look of "Are you ok?" to which you nod.
He returns back to staring Vaemond down hoping he will eventually burn holes into the side of his head and will fall dead where he stands but not everyone is that lucky. It is only then that he notices a one-eye fucker staring in his direction. He shifts his gaze and notices Aemond staring at you. Aemond can feel someone looking at him and looking towards Daemon before pressing his lips in a thin line and giving Vaemond his attention.
"As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." You are snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your mother's voice. You look over to her. "If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful hair." Vaemond holds a look of anger towards her. "No, you only speak for yourself. and for your own ambition."
"You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenyra." You look towards Alicent. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Next to her, you see the smirks of both Aegon and Aemond. You know they enjoy this, seeing Luke be openly called a bastard.
Why are your brothers blamed and dragged through the mud for what your mother has done? Are they not innocent in their own conceivement?
Vaemond gives Alicent a slight nod before turning towards your family.
"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" He speaks to your mother in a condescending tone. "I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it."
Your heart twinges for your mother. You feel conflicted all the time. On one hand, your brothers are indeed not blood-related to your father. But he had accepted them as his sons publicly no doubt. What could he have done for people to recognize them as his children? On the other hand, Vaemond proves a point in matters of blood. But is it not the last names people remember?
They both ride dragons, and they learn the tongue of the dragon. They are everything Targaryen but in matters of looks and blood. But that is more than enough for people to shun them. You want to side with them with your full heart, but how can you when you understand the opposition's points?
"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
You look up in awe as you watch your grandsire slowly walk into the room. The only sound was the tapping of his cane against the floor. You had not seen him in so long, he looked so old and different. Hunched over and in pain.
You watch as he makes his way up to the throne and Daemon aids him. Otto moves over to stand next to Alicent and you can see the confusion and anger on his face. His plans are ruined and whatever chance he had at getting the Velaryons on their side is squandered.
"I must...admit...my confusion." Your grandsire breathes quickly as he tries to regain his strength. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." You listen as he calls for your grandmother to speak.
You feel hot. This room feels hot. You pull repeatedly at the band on your wrist. A coping mechanism you developed when you felt so far away from everything. You snap the band against your wrist as you listen to your grandmother who only further pushes for Corly's wishes for Lucerys to be the next Lord of the Tides. You miss her announcing the marriage between your brothers and cousins.
You can't focus. He is still staring at you. You make the mistake of closing your eyes cause when you open them they are on him. You take in a sharp breath and stare back at him. Your heart feels as though someone is squeezing it, your chest heavy as if a dragon sits atop it. You want nothing more than to go over there but you keep your feet planted.
"That is no true Velaryon." You jump slightly looking towards your uncle as he angrily points at Luke. "and certainly no nephew of mine." Your mother tells your brothers to head to their chambers before attempting to silence Vaemond.
"You can not all be blind surely? To look upon both my grandniece and her sons and think they share the same father?" Everyone looks at you and for a moment you wish you could shrink into the walls, fade into the people behind you. "She even skips her daughter so that her son could inherit Driftmark when it belongs to my niece. She wishes to cover her tracks and erase my niece's future." You've never felt that way. You were never upset at your mother's decisions. Maybe you always assumed you'd end up with Aemond. "Gods be damned...I will not see it ended on the account of this-" Your eyes widen as you realize what he wishes to say.
You feel a heat radiate beside you and notice the body language of Daemon has changed. A hand rests on his sword as his head is cocked to the side.
"Say it." He whispers softly. Vaemond gives Daemon a smug look.
"Her sons...are BASTARDS! And she...is...a whore." Everyone gasps and you notice the heat beside you is missing. You watch as King Viserys unsheaths his dagger and calls for your uncle's tongue.
You then hear a thud and turn and see Vaemond's body hit the floor. His head was cut off at the mouth, his tongue still attached. Much happens in those moments but your eyes stay on Vaemond's body. It is only when your mother places a hand on your cheek you look away.
"Go with your grandmother. She might need comfort."
You stand next to Rhaenys, holding her hand as the silent sisters work on your uncle.
"Did you ever feel that way, little ocean?" You look over to her as her eyes are trained upon his seperated head. "As if your mother was trying to erase you?"
"No, grandmother. To be honest. I had always imagined myself living here, in the Red Keep." You looked around the room watching the sisters move slowly and carefully.
"Married to Aemond." Your quick to look back towards her she offers you a faint smile before turning to you. "Come back with me, to Driftmark. Your grandsire would love to see you and I have missed your presence." You nod, not caring to say that you should ask the permission of your mother and father.
The Grand Maester walks over and speaks. You stare at the body of your uncle once more. Is this justice? He called your mother a whore and your brother bastards...but was he wrong?
"The Stranger has visited me more times than I can count, Grand Maester." You feel her squeeze your hand. "I assure you, he cares little whether my eyes are open or closed." You watch as he leaves. "You should go, little ocean. Your grandsire wishes for you to eat with your family."
"Will you not dine with us?" You brush your fingers against her hand.
"I fear I have lost my appetite." She kisses your head. "We will take our leave on the morrow." You nod before leaving the room with a final look towards your uncle.
As you enter the dining hall your family is already there. The table already has its sides. On the right sit your mother and your family and on the left sit the Queen and hers. The separation hurts you and you wish you could do something about it. Mend it in whatever way possible. You would give your own life if it meant uniting your family.
Jacerys offers his seat so you can sit next to Baela and he moves to her other side. The switch puts you next to Aegon but you do not mind. He has never been one to bother you before, and only ever makes small jokes, which you would never admit to his face, can be funny.
"Mother?" Rhaenyra turns in her chair towards you.
"Yes, my heart?" She places a hand on your arm you smile at the name. Each one of you had one, Jace was often referred to as her love, Luke as her sweet boy, and you her heart.
"Grandmother has requested I return with her to Driftmark... I'd like to. To see grandsire, if that is all right with you." She smiles softly and brings your hand to her lips as she kisses it.
"Of course." You hear the doors open and see your grandsire being carried in. "We will talk more later. Go sit." You walk over to your chair and stand until he is placed in his spot.
As you walk over you look up and see his eyes on you once more. He stands at the head of the table watching you. You sit only when you notice everyone else does and clasp your hands together when Alicent calls for prayer. You've read about the Seven and know only as much as books taught you. You hear Alicent's prayer but you pray your own. You ask The Warrior and The Smith to give you strength, you beg for forgiveness from The Maiden for your thoughts and acknowledge The Stranger, for you both feel like outcasts in this world.
"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena." It is only then that you feel the weight of his gaze lift, as he looks at your brother on the other end of the table. Your grandsire calls for a toast to your brothers. He calls for another toast for Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides.
"I also want to say. How beautifully my granddaughter has grown." You feel the eyes of everyone turn to you, and your mother smiles. Even Alicent gives you a genuine gentle smile. "Im sure by your next nameday we will have found a suitable match for your hand. Let us toast in hopes you will find someone deserving of you." Everyone raises their glass.
But it is only Aemond who does not. You watch as Aegon leans over you towards Baela.
"He does know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"
"Let it be cousin," Baela responds clearly annoyed. Jace responds but you don't hear it whatever he says has Aegon sitting back down fully in his seat.
You stare forward as King Viserys makes a speech. You return to snapping the band against your wrist as you again feel the heat of his stare. Words are shared between the Queen and your mother before Aegon gets up and sets himself in between Baela and Jace.
"I, um I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask-" Jace bangs his hands on the table before standing up which leads to Aemond standing up as well ready to protect his brother if need be.
Aegon sits down quickly next to you. More speeches go on, too many speeches. You wish everyone would just shut up so we can all be done with this dinner. Either that or let us remove our masks and speak the truth. You have grown tired of this tension and fake genuineness.
You remain next to Aegon as food is brought out and Jace takes Helaena to dance. You can see the look on his face. He looks over your family with a sort of longing. Everything he has ever wanted on display in front of him.
"Would you care to dance uncle?" He looks over to you with a surprised look on his face. He puts down his cup and is about to put out his hand when someone clears their throat. You look over to the noise and see Aemond staring at the two of you.
"Not if I wish to lose my head." He picks his cup back up and returns to watching everyone. You look over to Aemond who only stares at you with no emotion.
You watch as guards walk over to your grandsire and take him away. You make a plan in your head to go visit him tonight to speak to him.
The mood is only spoiled as a pig is placed in front of Aemond. You hear the light chuckles of Luke and curse him in your head. You flinch as Aemond's hand bangs the table and he stands up picking up his cup.
"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke...and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise..." And in that pause alone you feel that separation between families grow. "...strong. Come...let us drain our cups to these three strong boys."
"I dare you say that again." You tense as Jace speaks already being able to tell where this is going.
"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond lowers his cups and walks over to Jace. "Do you not think yourself strong?" Jace punches Aemond...or...attempts to. Aemond still stands unwavering and not a drop spilt from his cup.
Aegon grabs Luke who tries to walk over to help Jace and slams his head on the table. You stand up and walk over to Aegon and pull his hair, yanking his head back. He releases Luke and only smiles up at you. You put him in the same position he had your brother in, slamming his head against the table and holding him down until guards come and step in between you two.
You remain standing at the chairs as the sides are made once more. You stand somewhat in the middle. Jace attempts to run back over to Aemond but Daemon steps in front of him.
"Go to your quarters. All of you go now." Your siblings and cousins leave but you remain still standing in your spot. You watch as Aemond and Daemon stare at each other silently. Aemond then turns to you and so does everyone else, he looks at you and then hums to himself as he walks out of the room.
"Come little rogue." Daemon puts his arm out for you. You take his arm, your mother pats your cheek and you follow him out of the room.
You sit in your mother and Daemon's chambers caring for young Aegon and Viserys along with a couple of maids.
Your mother walks in and takes a seat next to Daemon.
"I will see the boys home. Then I will return on dragonback." She holds Daemon's hand.
"Just the boys?" He asks looking over at you.
"Grandmother has asked me to return with her and Baela to Driftmark." He nods.
"Head to bed rogue." You nod and stand up walking over to your parents. You kiss your mother's cheek and place a hand on her stomach before walking past Daemon and pulling on the small ponytail in his hair softly and leaving the room.
Daemon watches as you leave with a smirk on his face and waits until the door is closed to speak.
"Did you see the way he looked at her?" Rhaenyra is taken aback by Daemon's tone. He stands up and paces.
"Who, my love?" She rubs her belly as she watches her children play.
"Aemond." He scowls. "He's been looking at her since we arrived as if he wants to take her where she stands. Which is impressive since the fucker only has one eye." he sits back down.
"They were once betrothed Daemon. Before that, they were closer than any of the kids. They spent all their free time together." She smirks at her husbands's protectiveness. It didn't take long for him to see you as one of his own daughters.
"We should discuss her future marriage. Maybe it's time we start looking for a husband for her." Rhaenyra nods.
"We will speak to her about it when she returns from Driftmark. Vaemond was right about one thing...she is being erased...I had not realized I was doing that." Daemon took her hand and placed the other on her bump.
"That fucker didn't know what he was talking about. You are a great mother to her, and she has had no complaints about her inheritance." She knows he's right.
"Nonetheless. If there is one thing I can give her is a choice. She will decide who she marries. I would feel better knowing it's a man of her own choosing."
Your handmaids leave the room once you're finished being dressed for bed. You sit in front of your vanity staring at yourself.
When had you become someone you didn't recognize? When did you begin just walking the earth instead of living on it? When had you become so...lonely.
You walk over to the balcony and step outside. Pulling your robe tighter to your body against the cold air. You close your eyes and though you aren't sure who it is you are speaking to you beg them to help you. To bring you happiness and peace.
"Mandianna" You hear him from behind you. You turn around slowly and see him standing inside your room. You slowly walk in and close the balcony doors behind you, locking them.
"...Aemond..." You move to take another step to him but he raises a hand.
"For as long as I can remember you...Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you." You take a deep breath as he speaks. "And now that you're here...I'm in agony." He takes a step towards you. "The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you...I can't breathe." He stops in front of you a hand on your cheek. "I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar." He lowers his head so he hovers just above your lips. "You are in my very soul, tormenting me...what can I do? I will do anything you ask."
You stare up into his eyes and feel drawn into them. You drown in them putting up no fight. Wanting to feel that darkness that has followed you all these years surround you.
"Kiss me." And he does and it is everything you've imagined. You give him full reign and kisses you with the same intensity that a drowning man comes up for air.
When he finally pulls away he admires your bruised lips and brushes the tears from your eyes.
"Aemond...I have grieved for what we could have been...so much time has passed. And our families have only grown farther apart." He kisses the side of your cheek.
"But what is grief if not love persevering?" He wraps his arms around your waist pulling you right against him as his eyes meet yours. "I have yet to meet another soul who is fluent in my language..but you? You are fluent in me." You place your hands on his chest. "Marry me. In the tradition of our ancestors. Let my blood become yours, and yours mine." You see the hope in his eyes.
"And what of our families?" They would never accept this." You try to pull away but he holds you tight against him.
"I refuse to sacrifice the one person who sees me for who I am for a family who barely sees me for the mask I wear." He leads you towards your bed and sits you down at the edge of it before sitting before you on his knees. "You are mine. You were always meant to be mine."
His hands trail up your legs as a smirk spreads over his face.
"Aemond. We can't." He pushes up your nightgown while kissing his way up your legs.
"I will not spoil you. I will only wish for a preview of what will be mine." He pushes your dress up all the way and pulls down your small clothes. He pulls your legs over his shoulder as he lowers himself in between your thighs.
He wastes no time drinking you up. His tongue tastes whatever he can, his nose brushing against your bud softly. His tongue stiffens inside of you as he finds that place his brother had told him about. It has you lying down covering your mouth.
"Ae-Aemond..." He moans against your cunt in pleasure at your moans of his name. "Please..." you're unsure of what it is you are begging for but whatever it is you know you need it.
He brings a finger to better rub your bud as he fucks you with his tongue. He can feel you clenching and watches as you're soon arching off of the bed holding on to his hair.
The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced. A large opposite from how dark you have been feeling. You feel lighter as if pent-up energy has been released.
He gives your bud one last kiss before walking away and returning with a wet cloth. He wipes his face first before gently cleaning you. When he's done you sit up and he sits next to you pulling you into his lap.
You feel how hard he is below you and move so your legs are wrapped around his torso. You grind down on him and he looks up at you holding on to your hips. The friction against your bud only builds back up that feeling in your stomach. You kiss Aemond as he continues to guide you so you're grinding down on him. He picks up speed his mouth agape.
Without saying anything you reach and pull the eye patch off of him. Aemond stops and looks away hiding his face. You place a hand on his cheek and turn him back to you.
"Gevie." You kiss his scar gently and admire the sapphire that replaces his eye. He returns to grinding you down on him lewd thoughts fuelling his actions. His breaths become louder and you even hear a gentle moan from him.
"Fuck~" you feel him stiffen beneath you. He presses his forehead against your chest pulling you flush against him.
"I will speak to my mother and even my father. If they say no. I will come for you and only then will I fuck you and mark my name into your wet cunt so that they will have no choice but to marry us."
He kisses you again. You taste yourself on his tongue.
"You say that as if the breaking of Princess' maidenheads has not been hidden before. They could easily give me to someone who would not care."
"To that...mandianna. I tell you that idiots are highly flammable...and we ride dragons..." He kisses your exposed chest.
"I say...let them burn."
A/N: This was for the girls who dream of marrying a prince and end up falling for the misunderstood villain.
I have thought of doing another part or turning this into a mini-series at least. But for now, this is just a one-shot.
Shoutout to the Star Wars Anakin monologue that fueled me to write this anyway.
Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics @dixie-elocin
#ewan mitchell verse#ewan nation#ewanverse#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#aemond targaryen smut#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#aemond fanfiction#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader
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PLAYING WITH DRAGONS (DAEMON/RHAENYRA/JACE/AEMOND/AEGON II X FEM READER) MODERN AU! - CHAPTER III
Summary: Living among the Targaryen’s may not be an easy task, even more so when the dragons want a piece of meat in common
TW (For Now): Incest, mention of toxic relationship, bigotry with the English (nothing with the working class, only with the elite), mention of snake.
Word Count: 2,148 words
Tag List: @darksat6rns , @arielj (comment for you to be added)
A/N: next chapter will be for Nyra fans and will have age difference (pedophilia is a strong word because yn will have consented and Daemon is aware)
English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors.I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them.
Saturday morning - 13 hours before family dinner
Location: Targaryen manor - house
-You know the problem with the Englishman... they are imbeciles in our land, land conquered by Targaryens who came from Valyria to the European continent.
You went downstairs that Saturday morning already listening to Aegon's arrogance, you rolled your eyes and entered the kitchen. Already dressed casually in place of your pyjamas, you sat down at the table that held Aemond, Helaena, and Aegon. Aemond at the end of the table, sitting in his chair, you on the other side of the table and the two oldest were on each side of the table.
You helped yourself while listening to Aegon, bragging about Valyrian and despising the English, like a racist aristocrat, that is, if it were possible to be racist when so much of London is white people. Aegon really is part of the elite, but it is not a reason to despise someone, even if this is directed at the English elite who only live in parties, pubs and live on their parents' money.
Anyone from the elite of Westeros, go to college and work in the family business or set up one, they are not lazy as the world thinks. Ambition is precious and honoured in Westeros.
-Westeros is governed by us together with the council of the seven kingdoms. Why did we have to give up London?
-Because London belongs to the English royal family, and don't get me wrong, but London is better off without you in the government. Aegon I, traded lands for free pass to anyone born in Westeros and lands to every house in Westeros, that's enough.
-You say that about our government just because it's not Targaryen.
- You're right, but I'm Hightower above all and I'm very proud. Don't forget that you are half Hightower too.
Helaena started rambling something that neither you, Aemond, nor you since Aegon despised such “visions,” she understood. Soon Aegon started wanting to reason with you that you just blinked slowly at him and argued back.
-Aegon, Westeros is an independent and isolated continent from the world that does not need other countries or continents to survive. We were born there but raised here, the council can manage without the ruler there, so be thankful London is our current home.
-And why did we set up the company here? Westeros would be better.
-Because it already exists in Westeros and all seven lords trade with our company.
It was Aemond's turn to argue, you just exchanged glances with him and he took a sip of his drink. Only you, Aem, Jace and the elders knew why you came to London and didn't want to worry the others.
-I just don't understand why we live in London yet.
-A dazzling capital, comfortable and the climate gives peace, even if depressing.
Helaena rambled on as she turned her attention to the book in front of her. You smirked at Aegon.
-Helaena is right, but I think that if I have children, they were born in Westeros where I was born.
-And why not, Yn?
Helaena asked interested, you just turned your attention to her and then looked at the picture in the kitchen. A painting of the original red fortress before it burned down 5 years after you were born
-I was born there and I certainly intend to die there. I'm proud of where I come from, proud of my home. By the way, where are Drogon and Rhaegar?
Aegon felt a chill at the mention of that creature's name. Everyone had common animals, but you had a Pseudoboa Nigra and an orange cat. Drogon, your snake, was a gift from Daemon when you turned 14, and Rhaegar, your orange cat, was a gift from Nyra on your 16th birthday.
-They are with Daemon, Aegon refused to sleep in the same house as a snake - Helaena said as she continued to read.
-It is 30cm long and not poisonous.
-HE WAS 30cm, now she is almost 70cm. That pest scared me, I would go into her room and she would appear at my feet.
-And what the hell were you doing in my room?
-Theoretically it was abandoned and there was almost no sun, it was good to sleep during the hangover.
You shook your head, got up and walked past Helaena patting the older one on the head. You just nodded to Aemond before you left and went upstairs to Jace's room.
You opened the curtain, which made Jace cover his head with the pillow, you sat on the edge of the bed and nudged him
-Wake up Sleeping Beauty, the monsters are gone.
-Give me another 5 minutes.
-No.
You went to pull the blanket off him, but he held it before you did.
-I'm not dressed properly
-And how does it affect me? Seeing you naked won't be new.
Jace widened his eyes and looked at you, he definitely thought you'd seen him naked at some point.
-What?
-Get ready, I want you downstairs in half an hour.
You left and closed the door, going to your bathroom to brush your teeth and fix your hair. You were going to see the university campus to adapt in the middle of the semester, the dean asked you to go on shift
in the morning to avoid the tumult of changing classes and that most of them studied after ten o'clock.
You went downstairs and sat on the couch in the foyer, you checked your Instagram and Tumblr while you waited for Jace. Aegon and Aemond were going to the company as they had to organize the meeting for the week ahead, so they walked past you and said goodbye, but not before Aegon asked:
-Are you going somewhere?
-I'm going out with Jace.
-A date? Is this not incest?
-We don't have a blood tie and no, it's not a date yet.
Jace came downstairs in black dress pants and a long-sleeved shirt, his perfume was strong and reached your nose before he got to you. Jace smiled at you and you got up, you put your arm through his like this intertwining
-Well, let's go. See you later, Chip 'n Dale
Aemond paid too much attention to your lacerated arms, he felt a lump in his throat and even if he didn't admit it to himself, he was very melancholy. Aegon just watched his younger brother. The Targaryen brothers would go in separate cars because Aemond would have to go somewhere else and Aegon would advance his part to get rid of it soon. The journey to the city would take half an hour because the two Targaryen mansions were far from civilization.
-Because you need me?
-Because I don't have a car, Jace.
-And where are we going?
-First at my university and then I have to see some ... things at the mall.
-What mall?
-Westfield London.
He waved and you chatted the whole way, he asked about your life abroad. He was really interested in your life out there and worried that you might have fallen in love and gotten hurt. Jace was very sentimental and humanitarian, so much so that in the family he was nicknamed the "little sentimental boy".
- I met a lot of people. I made amazing friends and met the parents of most of them, they will be good investors and partners in the near future.
-And did you go out with someone? I mean, I don't know if you're straight, lesbian, bi, pan.
-Relax, boy. I don't have a taste, I'm just attracted and that's it. I prefer not to label myself.
- But you went out with someone?
-Leaves
-And liked?
-No, he was conservative, toxic and wanted a trophy wife. “That outfit is too short and low-cut”, “A woman can't dress like that”, “don't think she's overweight”. It didn't even last a week, well, you know how Targaryen and Hightower women think.
-80% of our company is made up of women, all of whom support gender equality.
- Exactly, but for him feminism meant “let's make men slaves, puppies on a leash” and not gender equality. He believed that dressing my way would be body capitalism since I didn't sell my image like that or prostitute myself.
-He must be an ass, lack of education when you have such a shitty opinion... I'm sorry for having met someone like that.
-Not me, I managed to humiliate him in public and even broke his arm when he tried to slap me.
-This one has real Hightower blood and she's definitely Daemon's daughter.
At the mention of your guardian, you went quiet. He remembered that if he had listened to his oldest, he wouldn't have gotten so screwed up in China and would have been fully formed. You missed Daemon, it would be a lie to say you didn't.
He raised you and when Laena had the car accident with Leanor, he also took custody of the Velaryon girls since according to the council and court, Rhaenys was too old to care for children and Daemon was still in his 29s.
But they never lived in the Re keep, they only stayed there from time to time and they grew up with Rhaenys in Driftmark, in Westeros, even though it was theoretically illegal, and the girls' real father had abandoned Laena and the girls before Baela was 6 years old.
It was always you and him, but you never treated each other like father and daughter, just like you were two roommates, but you got along well. He created you as a less impulsive version of him, and you unconsciously influenced Aemond to have a little bit of you. You also didn't live much on the Red keep, you lived in Targaryen house, which was originally your house with Daemon, but you stayed every day from 8 am until 9 pm on the Red keep, sometimes you slept there as a sleepover between you and the others, but they always went to school together.
As the children of the Red Keep grew up, Daemon decided to create this tradition of teenagers living in Targaryen mansion as a college sorority.
-You haven't spoken to Daemon during this time.
-You know, Daemon deprives himself of feeling by feeling too much. For the first two years he would say "happy new year" and send me money for birthdays and Christmas, but we didn't talk much beyond that.
-You and he deprive yourself of expressing feelings and it turns into outbursts of anger.
-Yeah, our fault.
-Like father, like daughter.
Saturday morning - 13 hours before family dinner.
Location: Red Keep
-I want flowers red ones here, use the crystal goblets, and make one of her favourite desserts.
The housekeeper nodded and Daemon dismissed her. He was organizing the Red keep and Alicent watched this with amusement, after all, Daemon was a perfectionist and if he saw a vase of flower placed two inches to the right the wrong way, he would freak out.
-What's all this for? You know Yn doesn't care.
-Doesn't mind, but appreciates the little things. I know you very well, Ali.
-Daemon, relax.
-I was not present all these years in her life. I want to make it up to her.
-She just wants her family present in her life.
-I never regretted becoming her guardian. Never. She always made us proud, always honoured our homes and surnames.
-And she became one of the best and most promising heiresses in Westeros.
Daemon's jaw clenched, and Alicent watched him stomp up the stairs as if he were going to tear a hole in the floor. She sighed and looked at the family board, the same board she had in Targaryen mansion with all of her family.
Rhaenyra came down the stairs with several papers and a black suit. She grabbed her car keys from the entryway table, but Alicent called out to her before she left. Rhaenyra was in a hurry as she would have to go elsewhere before the company
-I need you to ask them to organize a room for Yn at the company.
-My room is big enough for the two of us.
-She likes privacy
-Look what a coincidence, me too. We are intimate enough for that.
Rhaenyra left in a hurry and Alicent squinted at the younger one, wondering what kind of intimacy they had. It was no secret that Yn and Nyra were close, but it became a hot topic in Westeros whenever they visited Rhaenys together.
Rhaenyra always held Yn's hand or her waist, always alone in hidden corners. They stayed up late in each other's rooms, there were always rumours that they went out at dawn with light steps.
Whatever they had, both of them didn't care about other people's conclusions.
#Daemon Targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x reader#daemon x you#aemond targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond x you#rhaenyra x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#Aegon II Targaryen#aegon ii x you#helaena targaryen#house of the dragon#house of the dragon f#hotd fic#hotd x reader#hotd#jace targaryen#jace velaryon#jace velaryon x reader#jacaerys strong#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys x reader#jacaerys imagine#jacaerys x you#r
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Arranged Marriage - House of the Dragons
Chapter One: First Meeting
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar-Targaryen [Female Reader]
Trigger Warnings: n/a
Suitable for the general audience.
Masterlist / Masterlist Part 2
Dividers Used: Link
Next Chapter
Chapter Summary: Daemon and Freyja are meant to be wed three weeks ago. However it often gets delayed due to Freyja's business endeavors in the north. Which leads to a heated debate with her step mother Alyssa Mormont.
[Daemon's point of View]
The room was large, open and spacious stretching out in a circular tower. Each floor of the tower had its walls lined with bookshelves filled with books of ancient tomes to fictional tales lined against them. The ornate stairs twisting in the center to traverse between each floor of the tower.
Plush soft armchairs were scattered placed back to back around the room to provide comfort while they read books in the library. The library also had stained glass windows in varied colours and tones. Thick dark purple rugs on the floor underneath the dark wooden tables.
The ceiling between each floor had a light blue sky with clouds painted onto each one, ranging to dawn to sunset sky painted onto each one. Light blues morphed into ethereal golds, and the soft blush of dawn dissolved into the fiery reds of sunset.
We sat in the armchairs on the second floor of the library, as we spoke about the arranged marriage between Freyja and myself. However, things didn't exactly line up as I would have liked it to be. I paced around the library, she wasn't here and in her place, Alyssa was there instead.
"She won't be here until she comes back from her business venture." Alyssa stated, "So you have plenty of time before she returns."
"Business venture? Is that what she calls wandering off for a week to get chunks of ice?" I replied.
"She says there is a name for them, but I never remember what the technical name for it." Alyssa replied. "She also says its incredibly rare and hard to find more than three chunks from each ore vein."
The Glacium Shardium, its iridescent blue colours and hues. A light white misty fog breathe from the vein in coffins left bare and cracked open to the elements of the harsh snow. A piece sat in a dark wood and glass display case against the end of a bookshelf near the staircase.
I wasn't sure about this, she was always a wild child growing up. And even worse, she was a woman who was known for her independent and adventurous spirit. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it would be to tame her. I knew her to be incredibly passionate about everything, from her studies to her fighting skills to her love of dragons.
"I'm not sure I'm the right man for her," I said. "She's so different from me. I'm more of a traditional kind of guy. I like to stay in one place and build a life. She's always on the go, exploring new things. I don't know if I can keep up with her."
"I know what you mean, she can be pretty full on for anyone who doesn't expect it," Alyssa agreed, "She can also be seen as rather wild due to her extensive amount of energy and high endurance."
I still remember what she was like growing up, climbing trees, running through the forest, swimming in the river and getting into all sorts of trouble.
"She got into more trouble than anyone I knew, Aegon II pales in comparison when it comes to troublemaking," Daemon said. "I still remember the time she snuck out of the castle to go swimming in the middle of the night. She got caught by the guards and was grounded for a month."
"That's nothing," Alyssa said. "The time she stole a dragon egg from the dragonpit and tried to hatch it in her room? That was something else."
Daemon laughed. "I remember that. She was so disappointed when it didn't hatch."
"She was heartbroken," Alyssa said. "She really wanted a dragon of her own. Poor thing cried for months, until one day she found Reshiram."
"Reshiram?" Daemon asked. "The white dragon?"
"Yes," Alyssa said. "She was out exploring the mountains when she came across a cave. Inside the cave, she found Reshiram, injured and alone. She took the dragon back to her room and nursed it back to health. They've been inseparable ever since."
"Yeah, ever since started "The Dragon's Den?" Daemon asked. "What's that?"
"It's a marketplace for rare items," Alyssa explained. "Freyja started it a few years ago to provide a safe and legitimate place for people to buy and sell magical artifacts. It's been very successful, and she's made a lot of friends through it."
"That's impressive," Daemon said. "I didn't know she was so business-minded."
"She can't sit still, she never could," Alyssa said. "She's always got to be doing something. That's why she started "The Dragon's Den" in the first place. She needed a way to channel her energy and creativity. And it's worked out really well for her."
"I'm starting to think I don't know her at all," Daemon said. "She's not the same wild child I remember from childhood."
"She's still the same adventurous and passionate person she's always been, but she's also grown up and become more responsible. She's still a wild child at heart, but she's also a savvy businesswoman and a loyal friend. I think you'll be surprised by how much she's grown."
#House of the Dragon#house of the dragon#The House of the Dragon#the house of the dragon#House of the Dragon Fanfiction#House of the Dragon Fanfic#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#Daemon Targaryen#daemon targeryan#hotd#Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader#Reader Insert#oc insert#Daemon Targaryen x Fem Reader#Daemon Targaryen x F! Reader#Fem Reader#F! Reader#Female Reader#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar-Targaryen [Female Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar-Targaryen [Fem Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar-Targaryen [F! Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [Female Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [Fem Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Skjaldmeyjar [F! Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Targaryen [F! Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Targaryen [Fem Reader]#Daemon Targaryen x Freyja Targaryen [Female Reader]
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