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reireichu · 7 months

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If your OC was canon, how would the fandom treat it? - For Sophie

So, I basically had to wait to finish writing Part VI before I could actually answer this question.

Welcome to the giant essay on the Honourable Miss Sophia Catherine Devereaux that absolutely no one wants.

Up until Part V, I would say that fandom's opinion and treatment of Sophia wouldn't be great. Sophie is exactly who she appears to be; beautiful, rich, inaccessible, perfect. She keeps it that way, she likes it that way, she puts on the mask and keeps it on for as long as she can. The little slivers of Sophie, who she is, it starts slipping out all the way through Part I to V. But most of fandom for Part I to V would find her incessantly frustrating, good, and empty and unapproachable--which is, you know, a very deliberate writing choice.

There might be a good amount of Sophie apologists, especially as parts of her get revealed. The hints of her eating disorder, the ambiguous reference to something that happened in her childhood, the slow revelation that she either has been pushed into being exactly like her mother or the opposite of her mother. I think there's a good amount of fandom who would be on the Sophia Devereaux Deserves Better train, because Sophie is very much, deep down, a broken, traumatised girl who has spent her life being repressed and manipulated by every single person around her.

Aegon and Sophie's relationship is probably polarising, because it's a slow burn that isn't very exciting, and the moment they fuck, she pushes him right away. She incites his jealousy by flirting with Rhaenyra. She basically activates Daemon's Creepy Batman mode. Why does she need all this when she has Aegon? This would probably be one of the most frustrating things for fandom, either the people who WANT her with Aegon, or the ones who want 'better' for Aegon. Honestly, it's easy to paint Sophie as a bit of a bisexual bicycle slut, considering that it's hinted that she and Cassandra Baratheon had also been a thing.

Sophie's beauty is something that would also have this great discourse in fandom--is Sophie more than her physical asset, which is her beauty, or is she just this shallow vessel that people project their desires onto? Who the fuck is Sophie fucking Devereaux and why does everyone want to fuck this girl who doesn't give anything away except a witty remark and a dry laugh. She's a projection of ideal feminine beauty, with modern career drive. She's nice and compassionate, she can be a judgement upper class bitch--she's been raised that way, she's a sheltered and manipulated trauma victim--she would inflame a lot of hatred and love. I also think that for some people, she's boring or she's annoying. And then for others, they might identify in her traits about themselves that is a reaction to trauma in their own lives, or a projection of how they react to society--some of this might or might not be writer projection, la la la.........

Fandom's favourite thing for Sophie would basically with a generational comparison to Alicent. Deliberately set up, Alicent and Sophia--two white, wealthy, well bred girls who are being hunted by Targs left and right. Alicent and Rhaenyra in their girlhood versus Sophia and Cassie in theirs. Rhaenyra and Alicent versus Rhaenyra and Sophie. Alicent's distance to Aegon versus Alicent's distance to Sophie. Their physical appearance--although, Alicent has distinctly auburn hair, she and Sophie both have very big big eyes that emote their every thought. It's revealed that Dalton's nickname for Sophia is 'puppy' and her eyes are the reason for that. Those big big eyes, which actually was one thing that Aegon subconsciously draws comparison to his own mother about. The parallels are all there, setting up Sophia to be preyed upon and targetted and ruined by a Targaryen man (or woman), and then...

HELLO THE GHOST OF HAMLET'S FATHER IS HERE TO SUE ME FOR CREATIVE LICENCE.

Enter, Cathy fucking Devereaux.

The ghost of Cathy Devereaux running around like a demented version of Hamlet's dead dad is the best thing about this fic, and I won't hear otherwise because Cathy brings me too much joy as she has singlehandedly devastated every man I put in her fucking path.

The parallels of Sophie and Cathy take over slowly, the shift around Part IV. There's a lot of Cathy in Sophie's memory, even though Sophie stated in Part I that Cathy died when she was ten years old from a sailing accident. It's a throwaway line, drawing this comparison of her and Aegon's relationships with their mothers that then does this face turn, and that's when I think fandom gets really either frustrated as fuck with Sophie or actually want to just put her into therapy. Cathy is this phantom looming over Sophie's shoulder. The beautiful dead girl, the one and only late Catherine Devereaux who Sophie bears a strong resemblance to--I would live for the fucking gif comparison for these two. But to basically be a projection of her mother's memory, I think that's where there's this concern for Sophie. It's taken a toll on her mentally for her whole life--she's described herself as having 'battled nature in my own heart', which is a key thing: is she battling being like Cathy or being the opposite of Cathy? Which is it? How confusing would that be? Who the fuck wants to spend their entire life being compared to the one who came before? I think that's where the fandom view of Sophie slowly slips a bit, they'd honestly either love or hate the amount of influence Cathy has over Sophie even though she's been absent for most of Sophie's life.

Part V, aka the Daemon interlude because how the FUCK did Daemon get his own fucking chapter (I cannot even, I still cannot even--you know what, fandom can either be outraged or happy, I don't fucking know. Daemon's fucking interlude exists bc Hamlet's father deemed it worthy); you start seeing hints of Sophie from a lens that isn't Aegon's or her own. Albeit a Cathy fogged lens, but you still Sophie and Daemon talking, you see how she pushes and pulls a person away with such nonchalance, but you also see that Sophie deliberately plays with fire.

There's going to be one small part of fandom that would gif the fuck out of 'Sophie's staring at someone' to discern whether she's thinking of ruining their whole career. I would again live for these gifs. I will also live for the comparison of them to Alicent and Cathy.

Fandom would also have a blast discussing the Sophie - Alicent - Rhaenyra - Cathy - Laena soft power versus hard power. I wish I could touch more on Laena's divorce, but that's not happening due to the narrative (or for now, because let's face it, I want to see her obliterate Daemon and call him out for being a crappy dad). It adds into the viewpoint of how women either have to push or manipulate and the way they do it. IDK, to me, I would be fascinated over that sort of thing.

Okay, so all of this builds until Part VI where for one gloriously horrid scene that had so much fucking dialogue I wanted to punch every single man in the room (hey Larry!), Sophie's attractiveness, her charm, her appeal, her standoffishness ruins her in the eyes of the viewers and in the eyes of Aegon. A man killed himself over her! She fucked her teacher! She broke up a marriage! She's had an abortion! She's done this to so many people, she's fucking Rhaenyra, she saw you and put you in her crosshairs.

Sophie is a wicked bitch.

She's her mother's daughter.

Beautiful, selfish, wicked.

She's slept around on them, she'll sleep around on you, Aegon. She's the cold perfect bitch you knew she was, and you fell into that trap anyways. Fuck her.

Why is it that Aegon can't have nice things. Did he do this, does he just keep choosing shitty people? He did coke off his brother's fiance's D cups, he drives his lambo into hospitals. Aegon isn't a saint, he's down in hell, but she fucking knew he was damaged and she still decided to toy with him.

And then well.

It makes you wonder, how many people forget the thing that made Rhaenyra worthy of protection, how many people forget that just like her, Sophie was just a girl as well. Alicent was just a girl. They were just young girls in a world where the wolves feast on girls lost in the forest of old country estates.

Fandom, I think, would have no idea what to fucking do about Sophie at this point, because dear readers, no one ever really knew Cathy. She was a beautiful ghost.

Her daughter is exactly the same.

Okay fine, I was being dramatic as fuck.

I think by the end of Part VI, fandom will erupt into two camps where you will either love her or hate her. You can believe what was said at the intervention, or you can question it. How much of it was true? How much of it was real? What part of her 'relationship' with Aegon so far has been real? And then, and be united in the question of "what the fuck happened and what truth are they hiding?" and also united in the camp of "alicent's marriage makes me want to commit violence" and many other things. I'm firmly in the "raise your hand if you've been personally victimised by Cathy Devereaux" camp because I'm writing the whole fucking thing.

Some of the things they said about Sophie at the intervention was true. I won't tell you what was true, you can work it out yourself.

Yes, Sophie has been seeing Rhaenyra since the benefit, one and off.

Aegon, the inflamed little hypocrite, has been fucking Cassandra. I like to think that this is equal opportunity sluttiness for them both.

But, there is something that I think fandom can appreciate about Sophie in a way. I think that Aegon's compassion towards Alicent, how he says to her what Sophie said to him, seeing him lost and broken, the first compassion he's shown to his mother in a long time, I think that some of fandom will appreciate the fact that this was something Sophie has influenced. She's never tried to fix Aegon, but there is an influence there. She's not going to tell him to stop being a trainwreck--she's a bit busy, being haunted by ghosts, being a doctor, telling Jace and Hannah off for being so cute together--but she has gotten through to him without forcing it onto him. It's a rare thing, but it's one of the parts of the story that I've been trying to build towards.

Also, in other breaking news, I now have to write the rest of this fucking melodrama, so excuse me as I go fling myself into the lake with the exiled Russian prince's drowned wife.

Stay tuned for another episode of meta and insight no one asked for, next week featuring the rom-com known as Jace Velaryon and Hannah Kim and how Jace mispronounced bulgogi!

#asks re we’ll forever have the scars #the noble and most ancient house of devereaux #sophia catherine devereaux #aegon x oc fic #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen #character meta #wip re we’ll forever have the scars #the ghost of hamlet's father i mean cathy devereaux made me write this #alicent hightower deserves better #get you a wingman who drives your love life from the grave #spoiler alert yes the russian prince did drown his wife #viserys was so punchable in all of part vi #daemon targaryen is his own warning #rei fic #we'll forever have the scars #devereaux cinematic universe

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recluseraven · 2 years

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That new HOTD episode got me like:

#house of the dragon spoilers #house of the dragon #daemyra #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x daemon #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #THEY"RE BOTH SO HOT LIKE AHHHH #PUSH ME UP AGAINST A WALL TOO DADDY DAEMON

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ceciliatllis · 2 years

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watching people make these basic, lame ass analyses of every single character in this show when it’s not simplistic at all 🤡

#does nuance just not exist anymore like #house of the dragon #criston x rhaenyra #ser criston cole #rhaenyra targaryen #did GRRM teach y’all nothing about people not being black or white #gonna have to write a post about this episode later #re: house of the dragon #re: shows #re: thoughts #also stans who root for daemon fuckboy targaryen who has done terrible things in his own right critiquing other characters as somehow #being worse is laughable

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 28 days

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A Song of heart and blood - part five | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: After an horrible prophetical dream, you find yourself traveling through time to try and save your sister, Daenerys, from her fatal ascension to the Iron Throne. During your mission, your heart derives you from your duty and you fall in love with your ancestor

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: After a long wait, the fifth part is finally there! I hope you didn't forget about this story... In case you did, please give it a re-read. The last two parts will follow soon (for real)

masterpost

—

Was there a day when Daemon Targaryen wasn’t plotting and scheming? When he wasn’t trying to secure his succession to the Iron Throne, he was coming up with war strategies or helping his great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter change the future of an entire dynasty.

He didn’t understand the magical side of your story, how exactly you had traversed through the stones, but he believed you.

As the sky gradually darkened, you shared with him the future you knew — the dance. The demise of King Viserys, the crowning of the usurper, the Velaryons’ betrayal to Rhaenyra, plunge culminating in Daemon's final breath, Rhaenyra’s barbarous death, and more.

Daemon wished he had brought a strong alcohol of some sort. Your tales were very difficult to hear at times.

‘’We have to stop this war from happening, Daemon.’’

The prince nodded, his gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the stone fireplace before you. ‘’How do you suggest we do so? You suppressed the wrongly-crowned king before he could be born, but no moon tea will stop Alicent from birthing another babe. My brother is determined to have a son, and he'll persist until one is born to his young bride.’’

Being wedded to a king so young and with such a considerable age difference must not be pleasant for her. She wears a crown and owns beautiful dresses, but she was forced into a role she never desired all because her father aimed to have his blood on the Iron Throne. You almost felt bad for Alicent, but you couldn’t erase the horrible things she did — the things she will do.

A reflection struck you. ‘’The king declared Rhaenyra his heir, but if you were to marry and have a babe of pure Targaryen blood, would the king be willing to reconsider your succession to the throne? His and Alicent’s children will never be pure Targaryen blood, yours could.’’

Daemon turned his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. ‘’Are you suggesting we marry?’’

Air got caught in your throat, causing you to choke. ‘’No! No, I…I was thinking of the princess. She is young, but—’’

‘’Marrying my niece has been on my mind in the past, but I’ve grown out of that idea. But you, you are of pure blood. Born from another time, but you carry the blood of the dragon.’’

Shaking your head, you stood. ‘’I cannot marry you, Daemon.’’

‘’You said you were in great danger from the hands of Otto Hightower. Marriage would ensure your safety.’’

You shook your head again, laughing at the insane words that left the prince’s mouth. ‘’You’ve lost your mind.’’

Dameon suddenly looked serious, any ounce of humor wholly erased from his earlier easygoing features. ‘’You are my blood, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.’’ He combed a hand through your hair, pulling your face away and forcing you to look at him. ‘’You’re safe with me. I swear it.’’

Every bone of your body believed him. If you hadn’t felt safe in his presence, you would never have revealed him your secret. You would never have come to him for help.

You closed your eyes, drinking in the feeling of his touch. ‘’But I can’t stay forever,’’ you said, reopening your eyes. ‘’I’ve played enough with the future; a marriage would have significant repercussions.’’

Daemon’s finger ghosted across your cheekbone, sliding downwards until it settled on the corner of your mouth, gently caressing your pout with the rough pad of his finger. His eyes were contemplative, thoughtful. Gradually, his touch gently lowered, your decollete now the point of his focus. His index finger ran a smooth ring around the chain at your neck, a ghost of a perplexed frown forming on his face.

‘’I don’t care.’’

‘’Birthing an heir myself will change the whole lineage, Daemon. By doing this, my sister and I may not exist in the future.’’

‘’You said yourself that you were from my lineage—’’

‘’Your and Rhaenyra’s lineage,’’ you corrected. Was he not listening to what you were saying? ‘’If you don’t marry her, your children won’t be born and therefore I cannot exist.’’

Your eyebrows furrowed as a question echoed in your head. If you disrupt too much of time, will you vanish? Unfortunately, there was no way of finding the answer to your question. Not many had dangled with time-traveling, let alone written about it.

‘’How long do we have?’’ Daemon asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

‘’I don’t know,’’ you said truthfully, lowering your eyes to the stone floor.

Daemon lifted your chin, tipping your head up to look at him. ‘’Let’s not waste time, then.’’ He closed the space between you, his lips molding perfectly with yours.

You angled your head to deepen the kiss, not realizing how much you missed the taste of him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, nimble fingers burying in his silver hair as he pulled you against him, his clothed body flush against yours.

Then, you were suddenly reminded of Rhea Royce. ‘’Don't you already have a wife?’’

⁂

All Daemon had said before leaving on Caraxes was that he had a business to take care of. Assuming it had to do with his wife being in the way of your marriage, you didn’t ask questions. You wouldn’t like the answers.

He could have it dissolved by the king. His marriage with Rhea Royce had never been consummated, which would leave her honor intact. But Daemon had mentioned Runestone. Hopefully he’ll spare the woman’s life, you didn’t want to indirectly have blood on your hands.

To put your thoughts to rest, you busied yourself exploring the castle. The corridors echoed with the history of your house, each step revealing a new layer of the past.

Eventually, you stumbled upon one of the bedchambers, situated atop of the castle. Pushing open the heavy door, you stepped into the large chamber. Like the rest of the castle, the walls adorned large dragons crafted into stone. You ran your hand over the stone, smiling.

Dany would love this.

Curtains were draped above the large windows, a bright red shade — Targaryen red. It made the room more elegant and matched with the couch cushions. How nice must it be to sit there and look at the sunset.

Lastly, your eyes found the bed. It was smaller than the bed you shared with Daemon and the velvet bedding was slightly dusty from not having been used in a while. You laid on it regardless, tired from all your travels.

⁂

The hour was late when Daemon returned to Dragonstone, the moon casting a silver glow over the island. He should have gone to bed — with you —, but the weight of his responsibilities pressed upon him. There was no rest for the prince tonight.

In the dim light of the candlelit room, he sat at a desk and wrote a message to a Septon he trusted would keep his tongue, arranging for the discreet ceremony that would bind you and him in the morrow. It had to be done rapidly and in the most secrecy.

When the devastating news of Rhea Royce’s passing would inevitably travel across the realm, he knew that as her husband, the first suspect would be him. Their marriage was purely political. His dislike for the Lady of Vale wasn’t a secret. But if whispers of Daemon’s wedding to you were to reach the people’s ears, it would strengthen their suspicion that Daemon had something to do with it.

⁂

You had never seen a traditional Valerian marriage before. You had only read about it in books. The entire ritual involved blood to keep with the Targaryen legacy of being wed by blood and fire.

A breeze coming from the bay blew over the hill, causing your silver waves to dance in the foggy air. You had removed most of your braids for the ceremony, letting your hair cascade down your back. Atop your head sat a traditional piece of Valerian headgear, given to you by Daemon. You assumed it was old, so you treated it with the utmost care.

The Septon stood between you and Daemon, your vibrant marital robes contrasting with his dark clothes. ‘’We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. In the sight of the Seven, I, hereby, seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words: Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.’’

Although this marriage won’t last forever, you wished Dany was present for the ceremony. When you were little, you and her would fantasize about getting married and the beautiful dress you’d be wearing on your big day — and the lucky man who you would wed to.

‘’Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,’’ Daemon repeated, his violet eyes looking into yours. He was so beautiful.

The Septon turned to you, silently telling you it was your turn.

‘’I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,’’ Daemon continued.

You repeated the words, then, using a dragonglass blade, Daemon cut the middle of your bottom lip. He took blood that was drawn from the blade and smeared it on your forehead. You mirrored his action, smearing his blood on his forehead. The ritual felt witchcraft-y, but whispers had it that your Valyrian ancestors used magic to build this very castle.

You handed back the dagger and, in turn, Daemon cut a line in his palm. You followed suit, hissing as you drew a matching cut on your own skin. Blood trickled from the fresh cut before clasping your hands together, letting your and Daemon’s blood mix together.

‘’Blood of two, joined as one,’’ the Septon said, placing a ribbon with a traditional pattern and tying it over your joined hands as blood dripped from your injuries and to the ground. ‘’Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.”

A chalice brimming with wine was passed to you, and you sipped from it before passing it to your soon-to-be husband. Even standing there, you almost couldn’t believe you were marrying this beautiful man.

Daemon leaned down, pressing his cold lips against your own. You could taste blood through the kiss, unpleasing and metallic, but you ignored it and kissed him harder.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen imagine #a song of heart and blood #hotd

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sinsirellaxx · 23 days

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Slytherin boys …

What the Slytherin boys would do to win you over

How they manipulate you into forgiving them after f*cking up

What they do when you neglect them

What would they do to get you back if you left them for someone else

What makes them toxic?

How would they react to you getting jealous?

What they are like when they’re jealous

What they’d be like if you broke up with them

Things you do that turn them on

What they’ re like if you put them in their place

What they’d be like if you show up at their dorm crying

They only have a soft spot for you

Ass, Boobs or Thighs?

What they’d do if you wore a short skirt

NSFW Headcanons

When they actually fall in love with you

You find out you are a bet/They find out they were a bet

you (respectfully) criticize them in bed

You put them in your place and now they want you back

Most to least toxic

How would they react to reader with long hair

You are hit by an unforgivable and they have to watch you suffer

Theodore Nott x Reader

How could he not(t)?

In the Middle of the Night

The grass on the other side …

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

“I fcked up.”

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Ball Dates and Jealousy

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Forgotten hero, friend and love

Jealousy

Hot headed

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

The Sallow-Cupid

Thomas Shelby x Reader

The force that is Thomas Shelby

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Unwanted Bride (coming soon)

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1-800fandomqueen · 6 months

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Primae Noctis

King Viserys x fem!AFAB!reader (OC)

WC : 3.6K

SW : Reader is given a name to make my life easier, however there is no usage of "Y/N," and physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and up to interpretation. PWP, Jason Lannister is an inadvertent cuck, oral, both m! and f! receiving, unprotected PiV, creampie, breeding kink, - you can't tell me that vizzy t doesn't have one -

If there's any more warnings to be added let me know!

This is the first installation out of a few others, I'll be doing Aemond, Aegon, Daemon, and possibly other hotd characters.

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

“Droit Du Seigneur,” which translates to “right of the lord,” is a mediaeval practice that’s also known as Primae Noctis, and it refers to the assumed legal right of feudal lords and kings to deflower and bed subordinate women on their wedding night, instead of new their husbands.

“Presenting Lady Braella of House Kneight, to King Viserys of House Targaryen, 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.” The boisterous voice of the Kingsguard calls out, opening the door for you into King Viserys’ chambers. You’re still in your wedding dress, a beautiful garment of a light cream colour with gold embellishments, it looks surprisingly opulent and fit for a member of royalty considering that your family is poor, and had little money to get it made.

You stand with your hands clasped in front of you, gaze lingering on your shoes as Viserys quietly dismisses the guard, “Thank you, Sir Erryk,” a slight chuckle in his voice, “That will be all.” The heavy door closes with a resounding thud, leaving you alone with the King of the Kingdoms. “Good evening, Lady Braella, would you like to take a seat?” An arm covered in black fabric that’s trimmed with red lifts up and gestures towards two seats that are directly in front of an ornate fireplace that burns softly, on the left side of the room. On the right, lies the sculpture of Old Valyria that the King seems to have worked endlessly on.

You give a polite nod, finally lifting your head up to take in your surroundings. There’s a desk next to the chair, endless amounts of books stacked up on the surface and the area around it, various half-melted candles littered throughout the room, basking the room into a very light golden glow, but still leaving it rather dark. In the next area of the high-arched chambers is a bench seat in front of the window, a chaise lounge, another softly glowing fireplace, and finally the Kings’ bed, a plush looking thing with a dark oak four-poster frame, and soft looking red and gold sheets.

‘It’s a good thing that the bed appears soft,’ you think, ‘considering I’ll be laid across it later.’

The thought causes you to blush, and you can feel the heat rushing to your face. Gently sweeping your dress underneath yourself as you take a seat, hands coming back up to clasp in your lap. The king looks at you with a soft smile on his face, and a knowing look in his eye. “Could I offer you a cup, Lady Kneight? Possibly for the nerves?” already reaching for the pitcher of wine and one of the goblets next to it, “Yes thank you, my King, and unfortunately it is no longer to be Lady Kneight, but Lady Lannister, my Lord.” Reaching out to accept the cup offered to you, nearly downing half of it in one gulp. “But you are not yet married, and until you perform your nuptials and Jason Lannister beds you, you are still Lady Kneight.”

Remaining silent, you continue to take generous sips of wine, feeling down at the reminder that you are to marry a man that does not love you. You come from a small farming isle, your father is the most wealthy and successful farmer on the Island, and all the other citizens declared him Lord and representative because of this, but in terms of King’s Landing, in the eyes of the King himself, you were to be considered very poor and impoverished. The only reason Lord Lannister asked, or more so demanded, for your hand was to try and obtain the Isle for himself. Your father was very old, you were the last attempt out of a long line of failure and loss, and unfortunately the years of strain had already caused irreversible damage, and your mother died shortly after you were born. Lord Lannister believed that once your father died he could then possess the largest farming plot, and then after that, the whole town. You can feel the overwhelming sadness, the future ahead of you is dim; a long life of being the broodmare for some proud lion who will show you no love, no kindness, and will expect you to sit by quietly while he continues to indulge in women, cups, and chase after power.

You feel a warm calloused hand place itself softly upon your own that are still clasped in your lap. You tear your eyes away from the random spot that they had focused on upon the wall, turning to face the King you find that he has this melancholy look upon his face. “As you know, I lost my wife, Aemma, and my son Baelon, not long ago. The council has been demanding of me to remarry, to take a new bride for the prosperity of the kingdom and the propagation of the Targaryen line.” His eyes have begun to drift away from yours, the death of his wife and child weigh heavily upon his mind still. You’re suddenly filled with doubt, you shouldn’t be here, not so close to the death of his wife, it’s rather selfish of you, you think, even though it’s the law that you be here.

“Even though I am one for tradition,” He carries on, thumb absentmindedly rubbing across your knuckles. “I must say, the notion of arranged marriages is not one of my favourites. At least luck was in my favour with my marriage, I had known Aemma almost all my life, I was familiar with her, which made everything much easier. However I offer you my commiserations, to be forced to marry someone of whom you hold no knowledge or familiarity with. And if you’ll allow me to speak freely my Lady, I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck with such an excuse of a man as the Bastard of Casterly Rock.”

You feel your eyes widen as you choke on the sip of wine you had just taken. The King was allowed to speak freely of course, he is the King after all, but you didn’t expect such crass and crude honesty from him, especially towards someone who consistently supported and pledged fealty to the King, whether out of cowardice or not. He makes a shocked face as you begin to cough, sliding to the edge of his chair to reach out his left hand and place it on your back in a comforting manner. He doesn’t remove his hand from your own or your back even after you’ve regained control of your breathing and ceased coughing.

The room is silent for the next few moments as the two of you look at one another. The King has a soft smile on his face as the two of you resume your conversation, you find that speaking to him is actually rather easy, considering the fact that he’s the King. You speak on everything from your parents to the model of Old Valyria that he’s constructing, a large and eager smile overtaking his face when you ask him about the subject. Eventually after a few more cups of wine on both your parts, the mood of the air shifts, more tension arising between the two of you.

The King slides off his seat, placing his cup back on the small table before reaching a hand out for your own. “Thank you my King,” placing it in his hand, “There’s no need for formalities, my Lady, you may call me Viserys.” now reaching his hand out for your own to help you from your seat. “Of course, Viserys, and you may call me Braella, if it suits you.” The two of you stand facing each other, just a hair's-breadth away from being chest to chest, The room is feeling very hot, but as much as you’d like to blame it on the two fires that circulate the air, you know it’s because of your close proximity to Viserys and the knowledge of what comes next.

He brings a hand up to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. The heat that emanates from his skin floods your senses, his skin rough yet soft at the same time, providing a certain comfort. Parting your lips as your eyes flutter, the air moves around you and grows warmer before a pair of lips slot against your own. Letting out a soft sound as you press your lips more intently against his own, hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, your nails no doubt digging through his shirt to his skin. Viserys’ other hand comes up to cradle your face as well, pressing a little harder into your skin as the two of you fervently kiss.

When you break the kiss, he begins to guide you towards his bed, still slightly panting for breath. He guides you until you stand at the edge of the bed, “May I?” hand gently caressing your back. Nodding your head gently, Viserys begins to undo the laces of your dress while still maintaining eye contact with you. His fingers are quick yet nimble as they loosen the strings, and soon your dress is sliding down your shoulders, leaving you in nothing, as you had removed your smallclothes earlier. He raises a brow at this, “Ready are we?” gently teasing you, offering you a hand so you can step out of your dress. You giggle, more heat coming to the surface of your face. You ignore his comment and instead begin to undo the fastenings of his shirt, going through the clasps as quickly as you can.

He shrugs off the shirt as you glide your hands featherlight down his chest. As you drag your hands down you also begin to slowly sit down on the edge of the bed, as your hands reach his breeches you gently palm the bulge that sits there. Viserys throws his head back with an audible moan that echoes lightly across the empty stone walls, eyelids slipping closed, his hands slightly clenching at his sides. You untie the laces and reach a hand in to grab his cock, one of his hands immediately comes up to loosely rest on the back of your neck, you lower his breeches just enough to pull his cock out, watching as it gently bounces up. Viserys is well endowed, it’s a good length and your fingers just barely wrap all the way around, the tip is pink and glistening in precum.

Glancing up at him to find that he’s already looking at you, mouth parted and pupils blown. You realise that he’s waiting for you to do something, but you’re not exactly sure how to do it. You suddenly grow very nervous, eyes darting away from his own, he seems to notice this, bringing up the one hand that isn’t on the back of your neck to encircle your own, he tightens his grip and subsequently your own, before moving your hand up and down his length. He groans and speeds it up a little more, moving your hand to stroke over the head, collecting the precum on your palm to spread it and make the glide of your hand easier. “Oh, keep going.” words breathed out, continuously letting out groans as he lets go of your own hand to let you take over completely.

You keep going for a while, slowly tightening your grip and speeding up which gives you a steady stream of moans from Viserys, until you remember something some of the married women told you about; how men found a woman using her mouth pleasurable. You toss a quick glance upwards towards Viserys before leaning forward and licking the tip of his dick. He gasps loudly, the hand resting upon the back of your neck moves to card through your hair, gripping it tightly. You do it once more in hopes of getting the same reaction from him, doing it again and again, then you take the tip into your mouth, gently sucking. Viserys thrusts his hips forward a little, “Keep going Braella,” his breathing picking up, “Keep going.” He keeps giving little thrusts as you take him further and further into your mouth.

Eventually he gets closer and closer to the edge, quietly murmuring the words “Stop, stop,” as he pulls out of your mouth, his cock throbbing. He gestures a hand towards the pillows, “Get on the bed.” before he works to pull his breeches all the way off. You lay on the bed, slightly propped up by the pillows, watching as he climbs onto the bed, laying slightly on his stomach before grabbing both of your legs and throwing them over his shoulders, gripping your hips and pulling you towards his mouth, immediately beginning his ravishing. You let out a loud cry, hands going down to his head, grabbing his hair. Viserys licks and sucks on your clit, with various licks downwards to collect more slick, moaning out between ravenous slurps, the vibrations causing you to moan out and grind your hips against his face. He moves his mouth down to your opening, tongue prodding around to stretch you out as his nose now rests against the bundle of nerves. Pushing his tongue in and out as he periodically shakes his head from side to side, providing stimulation to both areas that makes you squirm around on the bed.

The pressure builds up in your lower abdomen, warmth building deep in your bones. Viserys moves his mouth back up to suck on your clit at the same time he pushes two fingers into your hole, quirking them up straight into a spot that makes your head spin and sends you immediately into your peak. You let out moan after moan, not caring how loud you’re being and who could hear you. Your hands are still clenching in his hair, pulling on it and you’re bucking your hips up and down without abandon only for Viserys’ arm to come up and hold you down, his other hand still working you to completion. You squirm around as pleasure turns into overstimulation, moans turning into whines and gasps.

“Oh- Viserys please! Viserys please, it’s-it’s too much!” He looks up at you, mouth still attached to your centre. His eyes crinkle at the corners as you feel his lips quirk around the edges before he doubles down, still working you through it, as the first peak melds into a second one. It’s a blinding pleasure, and you lose feeling of your limbs for a moment, slightly twitching and convulsing, riding your high.

The second you come down you feel Viserys remove his mouth and fingers before he immediately slides his way up the bed, moving your legs from his shoulders to around his waist. There’s not even a moment for you to catch your breath before he’s pushing the fat head of his cock into you, the both of you letting out moans as Viserys slides in slowly, pausing as he reaches your maidenhead. He leans down towards you, lips slotting over your own, spreading the taste of you. One hand goes to cradle the side of your head while the other works its way under your back, pulling you flush against him. You worm your arms up, placing one around his neck and the other into his hair. Pulling his mouth away from your own he gives you a reassuring smile, the hand cradling your face thumbing against your lips. “I’ll be gentle, Braella, as gentle as possible. Are you ready?” offering him an enthusiastic nod at his question, lifting your head up to press your lips back to his own as he begins to move. He thrusts forward gently, continuing to push as he meets the resistance of your maidenhead, soothing your painful whimpers with a stroke of his thumb on your cheek and deepening the kiss. Viserys pushes until the painful pressure suddenly snaps, the pain dissolving into gentle pulses as he finally pushes all the way in.

Viserys stills for a few moments, allowing you a little time to recover, then he pulls almost all the way out, the head of his cock still pressed snuggly inside, before thrusting back in. He immediately begins a steady pace, letting out a groan everytime he pushes in. He breaks the deep kiss that the two of you were in before trailing his kisses down your neck, sucking spots into the tender flesh. He works his way down to your chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting gently before blowing cold air on it, causing you to cry out. Switching to the other side to continue the ministrations.

He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, lips slick and shiny with spit as he looks at you with dazed eyes, speeding up his thrusts. “I offer my apologies, Lady Braella, there’s no way that the Proud Lion would ever be able to make you feel this way. He’ll make for a pathetic excuse of a husband, and an even more pathetic lover.” You’re barely paying attention to the words he’s saying, the faster his thrusting grows, and the harder his pelvis hits against your own, the more lost you find yourself becoming. “Maybe I’ll spare you from such a fate, hmm? Keep you in my bed, keeping it warm, giving me heirs-” you let out a small whimper, clenching around him tightly. “Oh do you like that idea? The idea of me making you mine, of keeping you full of my seed? Warm and swollen with my child-” His words stuttering off with a groan.

The hand that rests against your face goes down to hold onto your hip, using it to pull you down on his thrusts. The change in angle causes him to hit something that makes white sparks shoot behind your eyes, letting out a loud moan. You begin moving your hips with each of his thrusts, letting the tip of his dick pummel against the spongy spot inside you. “Viserys please, please, I wanna, I have to-” Feeling the pressure build up quicker and quicker, you move your arms down to his back, nails digging half-crescents into his skin. “Go ahead, let go for me.”

It builds, and builds, and then it snaps. You scream out, loud enough for half of the Red Keep to hear you, maybe even loud enough for your soon-to-be-husband and the rest of the wedding party who are waiting in the chapel for you to finish so that way you can begin the ceremony and thusly be locked away in Casterly Rock for the rest of your life.

You can feel yourself clenching and pulsing around Viserys, he lets out moans that rival the audibility of your own, his hips stuttering, pace becoming uncoordinated. He pushes his hips flush to your own, dick twitching as he fills you with rope after rope of cum, it goes deep, and the heat from it makes you moan out. He does a last few little thrusts before pulling out, Viserys presses his hands to the insides of your thighs, holding them apart slightly so he can watch his spend slowly drip out of you, before scooping it up with a finger and pushing it back inside of you. You squirm to the side, too overstimulated for anymore, but too tired to really move away from him. The both of you pant for breath as Viserys removes your legs from where they hang over his hips still, allowing you to stretch them out, he then pulls you onto your side before laying down as well, facing you.

You lay in silence for a moment, looking at the content smile upon Viserys’ face. Reaching a hand up, you push wisps of his recognizably Targaryen white hair out of his eyes and away from his face. He pulls you closer, letting out a contented hum as he presses a gentle kiss on your lips. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck you close your eyes, the both of you basking in the afterglow and taking the time to collect your breath, you feel yourself slowly slipping asleep, finding the utmost comfort in the bed of the King.

After a few moments Viserys sits up, gently laying you back on the pillow and pulling the downturned covers over your body as the fires in the room had gone out sometime during your bedding, and now a chill was bouncing off the stone walls of the chambers. Before you can sleepily mutter out your confusion Viserys offers you a gentle shush, murmuring out a quiet “give me a moment.” as he stands to put on a pair of loose linen breeches and a billowy shirt, throwing a long red robe overtop of them.

He leans down to bestow you with a small kiss, giving you a cheeky smile as he stands back up to his full height.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Lady Braella, I must inform Jason Lannister that he will no longer be getting married.”

Originally posted June 4th, 2023.

#king viserys #King Viserys I #Viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd x reader

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oosleepyfaeoo · 1 year

Text

Royalty Fucked

Baelon Targaryen x Maid!Reader x Alyssa Targaryen

Summary: You catch the eye of a certain couple.

Warning: 18+| SMUT, Reader is a female, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f/receiving), fingering, creampie

Words: 2k

A/N: English is not my first language.

You were one of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa's servants. You start working in the Red Keep after your parent's death, leaving you with your two little brothers to raise.

Since you had skills in caring for babes and children, you quickly became a nursemaid for the royal couple's children. Taking care of sweet Prince Viserys and the little demon prince Daemon was quite an easy and peaceful task, not to mention that their majesties let your little brothers play with their children. Make it easy for you to keep a close eye on your sweet brothers while working.

The first day you laid your (e/c) eyes on the royal couple, you were completely in awe of their love for each other and how kind and humorous they were. Always riding the skies together on the back of their dragons or sparring in the training yard, laughing freely and throwing silly jokes at each other.

Some people look at them with judgment, thinking how inappropriate the royal couple's actions were. Some look at them with eyes full of jealousy, wishing to have the same love and freedom that they have.

But you look at them with admiration in your eyes, delighted to see your Lord and Lady happy.

////

“Some day, you will fly with me on Meleys’s back.” Alyssa’s words made you stop, looking at her with wide eyes as she entered the bathtub.

Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon were already tucked in their beds, so you were helping your lady bathe.

“I-I... That would be unfitting of me, my Lady.” You say quietly as you begin combing her hair, untangling the knots that form when she rides Meleys. “People would talk.”

She let out a flashy laugh, her mismatching eyes looking at you with mischief. “Do I look like I give a shit about what people would say?” She says with a smirk. “Let them talk.”

As you were about to answer, Prince Baelon walks in. You quickly stood up and bow gently to him.

“My Prince.” You court him softly.

He nods and kneels beside the tub, giving Alyssa a quick kiss. “How’s my lady wife and my best maid doing?”

You blush faintly at his words as you resume your work on Alyssa’s hair.

“Good.” She says while playing gently with one of his long silver locks that escaped his braid. “I’m trying to convince Y/n to fly with me.”

“Oh! That’s an excellent idea, my sweet wife.” Baelon smirks, eyeing you as you comb his wife's hair. “I assume you would let me join you both, right?”

Alyssa chuckles. The two shared a look between them which made you frown in confusion. “Of course, Husband.” The smirk on her lips widens as she pulls him into a passionate kiss. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t let you join us.”

Baelon hums, letting his wife thrust her tongue into his mouth. He moves his hand to cup her neck gently which made her purr in delight.

You try to ignore the show before you, focusing on your work but you found it hard when you notice Baelon’s hand slowly going down Alyssa’s body. Observing how his large hand kneaded her breast gently, gradually moving down to cup her core.

Alyssa lets out a pornographic moan as his fingers thrust inside her.

You made the mistake of looking at Baelon, gasping in shock when you lock eyes with him. His lilac eyes burned with lust and desire. His gaze goes down, locking on your parted lips, and then meets your eyes again. Sending you a sensual wink as he grabs Alyssa’s hair, his fingers lingering around yours.

Quickly standing up, you put the brush down and bow. “M-My work here is done... I will leave you be, my Lord and my Lady.” You whisper, your cheeks burning from embarrassment and desire.

The evidence of your lust running down your thighs and your hard nipples peeking through your simple dress.

Not wanting to give them time to reply, you ran off.

///

Since that night, you can barely meet Baelon and Alyssa's eyes. Feeling ashamed for your acts when you finally got your room. Lying down on your small bed, legs spread apart with your hand between them. Trying to imagine that Alyssa and Baelon are touching you, whispering praises in your ear while they make you fall apart.

“Y/n! Y/n! Look what I did during my class with maester!” Viserys runs to you as you walk into the room, coming to collect him and his brother Daemon.

You smile and kneel down to see the small wooden dragon figure in his little hand. “It’s beautiful, my prince! You’re talent.” You say while kissing his head.

“Thank you! It’s Balerion!” He gives you a cheeky smile, a tooth missing in the front. “One day, I will be his rider!”

Taking his hand in yours, you pick up Daemon and walk toward the room. “I’m sure you will, my sweet prince.”

In the room, you give them a bath and dress them in their sleeping clothes.

As you were helping them eat their dinner, Alyssa and her husband walk in, hand in hand.

“My sweet children! How was your day?” Alyssa goes and picks up Daemon, filling his face with kisses, and making the boy giggle.

Viserys jumps from his chair and runs toward his parents with his dragon figure in his hands. Both Baelon and Alyssa bend down to look in awe at their son's work, praising him vastly.

You stood there awkwardly, eyes fixed on your fingers as the family laughed in joy at in being each other company.

Grabbing the empty trays, you walk to the door but a large hand stops you. Looking back, you were met by the same lilac eyes from the other night.

“Astrid, can you put the children to bed? I need Y/n's help to bathe.” Alyssa says while she hugs her husband from behind, her mismatching eyes shining with excitement while her husband gives you a smirk that almost made your knees give out.

“Of course, my Lady.” Astrid grabs the children and took them to their chambers.

The three of you stood there in silence, you afraid to meet their predatorial gaze while Alyssa walks towards the fireplace and Baelon stood behind you, studying carefully your curvy form.

“S-Should I start the bath, my Lady?” Your voice trembles a little, making Alyssa’s gaze soften.

She walks to you and cups your cheeks gently, making you look at her. “There’s no need to fear us, little flame.” Her thumbs move softly against your skin, forcing a shiver to run down your spine. “We only wish to please you.”

Your face twisted in confusion, not knowing what in seven hells it was happening. “P-Pleasure?”

You feel Baelon pull you into his front, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. “Yes, sweet little maid.” He mutters against your ear and coerces a whimper from your lips. “It seems our little show might have fright you a little but be reassured that we won’t force you into anything you don’t want.”

Are they asking you what you think they are?! They want you to join them in they festivities?!

Alyssa push forward and gently press her lips against yours, kissing you like you were made of glass. “Please say yes.” She murmurs against your lips.

You look into her eyes, seeing them burning with extreme lust. You knew this was inappropriate. That someone like you, a low-born, shouldn’t indulge in royal affairs. If the King or the Queen found out, you would probably get fired and forced to go back to the streets. Doing works that would only bring you shame.

But your body betrayed you, not listening to your morals as you crash your lips against Alyssa. Whimpering as she bites your lower lip, her firm hands grabbing gently your breast. Your body felt like it was on fire, your core already dripping from arousal.

Baelon’s lips found your neck, kissing and nipping on your sensitive skin. His hands begin to undo your dress, letting the cheap material fall down, pooling around your feet.

Alyssa pulls back, her eyes ranking down your naked body. “A true beauty.” She looks at her husband and nodded towards their shared chambers. “Let’s continue this in our bed, shall we?”

With that, Baelon picks you up and strolls to their chambers. Alyssa is hot in his heels. He throws you into the bed, making you yelp in surprise. Alyssa starts to undo Baelon’s clothes, kissing every spot of his body.

Your eyes widen when he finally gets fully naked, your mouth watering at the sight of his perfectly muscular body. Alyssa stood beside him, gently stroking his massive erection.

“It seems someone likes you, Husband.” She says with a smirk, giving a small squeeze at the base of his cock.

Baelon chuckles and moves toward you, his lilac gaze focus on your flushed naked body. “It seems so... and I intend to show her how much I also like her.” He growls.

You suck a deep breath when he pulls you to the end of the bed, spreading your legs apart. Shivering in anticipation, your pussy spasms around nothing. Wanting nothing more than be filled by his massive cock.

Baelon spits down to your core, makes you jump in surprise, and brought his fingers down to your needy clit. Rubbing gently on it while his other fingers play with your entrance.

“So wet already.” He groans, slipping his long fingers in and out of you. Loving your lewd moans. “Who owns this pussy?”

You gasp in shock as he slaps your cunt when you don’t reply. “You, your Grace!” You whimper pathetically.

He bends downs, capturing your lips with his. The kiss was completely the opposite of what you shared with Alyssa. His kiss was full of passion, teeth and tongue clashing against each other.

He rubs the tip of his large member against your entrance, coating it with your own arousal.

“Ready?” He asks.

Biting your lower lip, you nod. Eyes widened as he thrust fully into you, the sting of his rough intrusion creating tears in the corner of your eyes.

“Relax, sweetie” Alyssa appears on your side, fully naked. She puts her hand on one of your breasts, slowly pitching your nipple between her slim fingers. “I know he’s big but you will get used to it.” She gives Baelon a wink.

Baelon groans lowly as he gave a first thrust, his beautiful face twisting in pleasure from how tight you felt around him. “Shit! You’re so tight.”

Alyssa takes your nipple into her hot mouth, sucking it harshly, while her hand moves down on your body. Her finger rubbed lazily on your clit.

Your back arched in ecstasy, mewl as Baelon’s cock brushed against a spot that made you see stars.

“Gods!” you cry “I-It feels so good!”

Alyssa hums, the vibrations making you moan loudly. You move your hand down her body, your fingers finding her needy pearl. She pulls away from your nipple and captures your lips with hers, drinking all your moans.

Baelon smirked and gave a rather rough thrust, making you both jump. “What a lovely view.” He growls.

Grabbing your hips, he pulls you up, making you straddle him while he lies down on the bed. He kisses Alyssa as he starts driving furiously into you.

“Sit on my face, my love.” He snarls at his wife, making her giggle.

“Who am I to say no to that?” She straddles his face, her front facing your way, and sat on his face. Sighing in delight when he begins licking and sucking her cunt.

Grabbing your neck, she pulls you into another passionate kiss.

The familiar feeling of pure bliss begins to form on your lower parts, whimpering and mewling into Alyssa’s lips. Your walls squeeze tightly around Baelon’s cock, yearning you a rough slap on your ass.

“Close already?” He chuckles beneath Alyssa. “You want to come on my cock? Want to soak my cock with your lovely nectar, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly. “Y-yes! Oh God... Please! I want to come!” You cry.

Baelon’s grip on your hips tightened as he set a brutal pass, forcing a loud wail from your bruised lips.

“Come for me, little maid.” He growls, making Alyssa moan as he eats her cunt like a starving man.

Your eyes roll back as you finally come on his cock, your body tensing as waves of ecstasy roll through you. Tears run down freely from your eyes.

Baelon nipped Alyssa’s clit, triggering her own orgasm as he comes inside you. Painting your walls with his seed.

You rest your head on Alyssa’s chest, nuzzling your face into her breast. Baelon pets your hips gently while he kisses Alyssa’s inner thighs.

She grabs your chin and gives you a gentle kiss. “Congratulations, little flame. You finally rode a dragon.”

Giggling, you both fell on the bed beside Baelon, who pulls you two into his arms. Your eyes begin to fall shut, feeling suddenly tired after all the adrenaline and ecstasy start fading away.

But you quickly woke up as Alyssa pitched your nipples, giving you a wicked smirk.

“Do you think it’s over, little flame?” she mused. “The night is still young. Let us enjoy it until both of us are carrying little dragons inside us.”

Main Tag List: @cryptid-l0ver @saelwen @saelwen-shy-elf @papichulo120627

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lokisprettygirl · 1 month

Text

My Love is mine, All mine (18+) (CEO! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon -Modern AU)

Read Chapter 1 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: You wrestle with your thoughts and insecurities regarding Daemon's new assistant.

Warning: 18+, smut, insecurities, mention of abuse, smoking, extreme insecurities and trust issues, mention of infertility

“I can read your future” you mumbled as you turned towards him, he was sitting on your couch at the moment. Daemon Targaryen, the man you had been crushing on for a year now, the man who wouldn't take a hint that you wanted him to take you right on this very couch as you had fantasized the same a million times before.

“How so?” He smirked as he sipped on the coffee you had offered him. After that day in the college you kept bumping into him in the most random of places, one would think one of you were stalking the another, that's what you thought at first, you really thought he was able to watch your location at all times since he had invented that thing but he wasn't a creep like that.

Far from that, he had been a complete gentleman with you, at times he treated you like a child because you were younger than him, which you despised greatly. You were twenty two now, he was twenty nine, the age gap wasn't as horrendous as he made it out to be.

“My mom taught me” you grabbed his unoccupied hand and his breath hitched slightly as you scooted closer to him on the couch, for a moment you just stared at his palm so he let out a chuckle,

“What?” He asked you so you cleared your throat ..

“Nothing it's just..you have such..big big hands..strong hands” you mumbled as you bit on your lower lip subconsciously but all of a sudden his mind was filled with filthy images of him using these same hands on you and his pants were straining him.

“So I have been told” he mumbled softly to get rid of the sexual tension so you gave him a smile..

“So this is your heart line here” you traced your fingers slowly from the base of his thumb and moved upwards, the touch sent shivers down his spine, at times he felt as if you were really into him but then he controlled his thoughts.

Too young ..you were too young for him.

“Something happened to you.. something that has changed you as a person” you mumbled softly so he hummed in response. You didn't know yet about the tragedy that had occurred in his family a few years ago so that surprised him.

“Tell me more” he mumbled as he scooted even closer and now it was your turn to grow nervous. He was too close and he smelled divine, all you wanted to do was climb on top of him and please him until he was a sweaty mess.

“This is your head line..the brain if you will and as you can see it's so dark and defined..no surprise there mister” you mumbled so he gave you a smile. He wasn't the smartest guy in the world but he definitely was the smartest man in the most places he went to..

“More darling” his husky voice made you feel bashful, you were clutching onto his long slender fingers, thoughts of lifting them up and sucking them into your mouth kept messing with your head.

“Ummm this is your life line.. straight and uninterrupted..you're going to live a very long life Mr Targaryen”

“Really?” He scrunched his nose as if he was disappointed by the knowledge so you nodded in response.

“And this is your fate line..you're destined for greatness and you'll be a very successful man someday” He shook his head as you said that, there was a constant smile on his face but then he grabbed your index finger and traced it along the line which began from the base of his index finger to the thumb. You had to count in your head so you won't do anything stupid, the proximity was killing you.

“What is this one sweetheart?” He asked you and your face flushed in response, the way he was holding you, the sound of his voice, everything was your demise that day.

“That's umm your marriage line.. it's uhh dark and straight with no cuts, which shows that you're very loyal in your relationships and ummm you're going to have a long healthy marriage someday”

“Mhhhm? You think so?” you gave him a mischievous smile as he asked you and that's when he knew you were messing with him.

“I wouldn't know..i wasn't really paying attention when my mother taught me these things”

However everything you said that day had some truth in it, even though you had made it up.

You knew you had to stop staring at her but you couldn't, not because you were charmed by her 5 '10 height or long shiny hair, but because Daemon was talking to her on the other side of the room and there was plenty of smiling, and she was laughing at his jokes. He was a funny guy, you couldn't deny that. He was quick witted and oh so charming.

You knew you were overthinking, of course you knew, he'd never hurt you like that.. right? Then why didn't he tell you he had a new shiny assistant, and a supermodel one at that.

In the past years you had seen first hand how devoted Daemon was to you but everytime another woman had eyes on him, you just knew, you always knew when women looked at him a certain way, you knew when they were dying for him to fuck them. And he always was oblivious to the attention he got, that's how he was with you in the beginning, you were into his face, throwing signs that you wanted him to take you somewhere aside and fuck you into oblivion but he was oblivious. He didn't make a move until he was completely sure.

He was rich, successful, famous and gorgeous inside out, you didn't blame women for flocking around him but you blamed yourself for getting so caught up into your insecurities. This wasn't the first time you felt wary of a woman's intentions that he was working with.

There had been discussions and arguments about this before, mostly from your part, he always tried his best to get rid of your doubts with gentleness but when you were PMSing and drowning in your insecurities, his soft calm nature only infuriated you further. As your insecurities intensified, so too did your mistrust, and you couldn't help but worry that you were pushing him away with your constant need for reassurance.

Your jealousy made it impossible for you to understand that he was allowed to be friendly with his employees and have platonic relationships with other women.

For the next fifteen minutes you watched him make his way around the party and speak to his employees. He was a good boss and definitely not a bossy boss, that's why people who worked for him adored him so much.

When he finally walked towards you he grabbed your hand and dragged you to the dance floor so you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck,

“Why do I feel as if you're bored?” He asked you as your bodies moved to the rhythm slowly, he leaned down to peck your lips before he twirled you around and made you dip in a dramatic fashion which made you giggle in response.

“I'm not bored i promise..i was just missing you” you mumbled softly so he stared at you intently as if he was trying to figure out your thoughts.

Don't say it, don't say it please.

“Ummm so what happened to Marcus?”

Okay you had said it.

Marcus was his previous assistant before he had hired the new girl, not that he discussed every decision he made for his company with you but you just needed an excuse to talk about the new girl.

“He found a better opportunity”

“Mmm okay..you didn't tell me that he left and there's a new one” you let out a laugh to keep your tone casual but you couldn't mask your curiosity to save your life.

“He left just two weeks ago darling..i have been busy with the work trip so it slipped my mind” he mumbled softly so you nodded and didn't stretch the subject as it would have raised questions.

A few minutes later you saw her walk towards him while he was catching up with other employees and you couldn't tell from the distance whether she was crying or not, if only you weren't so nearsighted, but you clearly watched him put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner as he leaned down to speak to her.

He then pulled his phone out and then she was gone with one other woman, every woman that worked for him was taken care of when it came to their personal safety. If you didn't have means to travel or weren't comfortable traveling on your own he provided a safe transport service free of cost, every employee that worked for him got free home security as well.

He was a good person, a good man accompanied with that tall hot large frame, striking personality, genius mind and all that ethereal beauty and you knew he could have found someone so much better than what he got in you and that was the reason why you felt so inferior at times, it wasn't his fault, he never made you feel that way, it was all you because you knew what a gem you had won in life and you feared losing his interest in you sexually and most of all his love for you.

You feared that someday he'd look back into his life and would regret not marrying a woman that would be better suited for him in every possible way, the one who'd give him not just love and support but would also help him with the business and the legacy he wanted to leave behind.

Someone who could give him that thing you knew you won't be able to give, it was only getting worse with time, he never said anything but deep down you knew he wanted it, he wanted children.

On the drive back home he noticed that you were quiet so he raised his arm up and placed it on your shoulder, his fingers then glided over your bare skin in a comforting manner but his touch was personal and intimate, definitely not how he comforted his assistant. Why were you comparing? He was your husband for god's sake.

“Are you tired baby?” He asked you so you turned your head to look at him.

“No i just..is everything okay with your new assistant? I saw her crying”

He was focusing on the steering wheel so he was quiet for a moment, it must have been three seconds at most, but since you were on the edge it felt like an hour.

“Sheena? Yeah..poor girl, she's dealing with a lot” he mumbled under his breath so you hummed in response.

“What's wrong?”

“You know..abusive parents as a kid and now she's dating some reckless arse”

Is that why he gave her the job? Because he felt bad for her? Or was she actually qualified? Were you assuming she wasn't smart enough to handle his busy schedule at work just by her loooks? Definitely.

“She told you that?”

“I asked her.. she always seemed so lost”

“Well i hope she's fine” you mumbled and didn't ask more questions, when you both reached home you excused yourself and decided to take a shower to clear your cluttered thoughts.

You were overthinking as usual, he wasn't going to leave his wife to rescue some damsel in distress. Yeah that was it, just your stupid brain was braining again.

But she was young and hot, so goddamn beautiful, and broken, and perhaps capable of giving him things you really couldn't.

When you came out he was already under the covers, half naked, he had his reading glasses on, you remembered how he used to look at you everytime you came out of the showers covered in barely a towel, now he didn't even look up at times. It's been six years since you were together in the romantic sense, the honeymoon phase was well over, but you wished once in a while he would look at you the same way he used to.

As you sat down on the dressing chair, you grabbed the bottle of the lotion and grabbed your night dress over your thighs to moisturize, as Daemon noticed what you were doing his eyes followed your every moment.

The way you rubbed the lotion on your skin tantalized him still, and how your skin glimmered in the dim light as you worn such sensuous nightwear, he could watch you be this way forever. He did have his eyes on you but you never had your eyes on him in those moments, you were always busy with the task on hand so you failed to notice that he was looking at you so adoringly, eyes filled to the brim with bouts of love and lust both.

As you got into the bed after drying your hair he placed the book down, took his glasses off and propped himself on his elbow to look at you.

You trailed your fingers on his sternum to caress the small trail of hair between his chest so he leaned down and kissed you, next thing you knew he was on top of you and your hands were inside his briefs as you cupped his plump ass cheeks between your palms.

He was making up for the days he wasn't here and also for the days he knew he wouldn't be here.

The next morning when you woke up he had left already, you didn't want to go to work today, you wanted to make lunch for him and go see him in the office, because you had the urge to be around him and the new assistant. This wasn't healthy, you didn't need a third person to spell this out to you but you couldn't help yourself at times, you knew she desired him, you just knew and you knew she was his secretary so she was around him all the time.

So you spent two hours to make a hearty lunch, you'd do it everyday, not to keep an eye on him but just to feed him freshly home cooked meals but he didn't allow you to do this everyday, you had a line of staff at home to do these things for you two, not that you weren't grateful for the lavish life he was providing you but sometimes you missed those old days when it was just you and him in that small one room apartment, you had made the most cherished memories of your life in that tiny apartment. Now you had a big house but it wasn't filled with laughter and giggles, he was away for his work more than he was here with you.

Daemon had also hired you a chauffeur, his name was Otto, he took you to work and basically wherever you needed to go so you didn't have to travel on your own because it wasn't safe.

You looked down at the safety ring on your third finger and sighed as a memory from the past pricked your heart.

Once you had left the house without it, it was storming out there and he wasn't able to get a hold of you, when you finally came home that day he cried in your arms like a baby because he feared he had lost you, you had promised him that day you'd never go anywhere where he couldn't reach you.

As you stepped inside the office building, every employee you saw greeted you, some you knew from years as they have been working for him since the company started to take off but some were fairly new.

“Hello mam, please sit down, he's in a meeting and will join you shortly” The receptionist Cole said to you as he assisted you to his cabin so you gave him a polite smile and wished him a good day.

A few minutes later when he entered his eyes lit up as he looked at you but then you saw Sheena tailing behind him with his laptop and his coffee mug hanging on her perfectly manicured hand. She looked somehow better in business casuals, you watched him conversing with her about the meeting for a moment before she turned to leave. She didn't forget to greet you on the way out. You were the boss's wife, of course everyone wanted to be nice to you even if they didn't really know you that well as you didn't really get involved in his business.

“She seems..nice” you gave him the most obvious fake smile as he leaned himself against the desk in front of you..

“She's a smart kid..graduated from MIT..lots of potential”

Okay you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that she was a beauty with so much brain packing in there as well.

Daemon was a MIT alumni as well so perhaps he saw potential in her..

“What are you doing here sweet girl..i thought you had work today” he asked you as he caressed your cheek with his thumb so you shrugged.

“Surprise?”

“I love your surprises”

“Mmmhm?” You asked him so smirked and grabbed the phone from his desk.

“ Cole, make sure I'm not seeing anyone for the next hour, inform Sheena to take her lunch break now as we have that online conference session with the CEO of Stark Industries”

As he put the phone down, he went around the desk and started tinkering with something on his laptop..

“Um are you busy..I can wait”

You mumbled softly so he looked at you intently.

“Shhhhhhh”

You gulped as he shushed you up and that's when you knew what he was doing. He was turning off the security cameras in his personal cabin for the time you were there, then he walked towards you and picked you up from the chair as if you weighed nothing and took you to the couch which made you yelp and giggle in his arms.

“Lunch will get cold”

“Considering how easily you make me lose in this game..I don't think so”

“You're so…excited these days” you mumbled as you took his jacket off to set it aside so it won't get creased.

“Don't blame me for that beautiful”

“Yeah right” you bit on your lips as he entered you slowly, you had put on this sexy dress under your coat for a reason.

“Stressed aren't you?” You asked him as your fingers traced over his scalp.. he was trying so hard to not moan loudly.

“Don't do that I'd crumble like a stack of cards and will definitely fall asleep which I can't afford” he mumbled between his labored breaths as his hips maintained a slowed rhythm.

“Poor baby ..you need rest” you whispered against his mouth so he kissed you passionately.

“You're my rest–”

“Mmhmm..”

“So beautiful…i love you so much my darling”

“I love you baby”

He placed his forearms on the arm of the couch as he thrusted in and out of you with an increased pace, once in a while he leaned down to kiss you softly, you fingers clenched around his waist, legs curled around his thighs, you loved this position the most, you could see every little expression on his face and he was so fucking scintillating when he was on top of you like this.. everytime he moved the scent of his cologne filled your senses and you felt intoxicated. But then you smelled something else on his shirt but decided to keep your mouth shut for the moment.

“I should come here more often to take away your stress”

“Mmmm you know i don't have to fuck you for that right? You do that by merely existing and by being mine”

Your eyes moistened as he said that, you have been in your head since yesterday so his words made you feel a tad better..just a tad though.

“Are you mine?”.

“Always wifey..I'm all yours.. always”

As he came and took you along with him..he collapsed next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist to hold onto you, he wished he could have stayed there like this for hours but it wasn't possible, especially not today.

Once you both got cleaned up you fixed his tie and helped him with his jacket so he wasn't looking all fucked out. Then you took out the lunch box and made him eat every bite, half of the reason why he was so fit even though he was in his late thirties now was due to his poor eating habits.

“You're smoking again” you asked him and he stopped chewing for a moment to look at you.

“Just one i promise.. when I'm feeling all blehhh” he didn't finish his words but just shook his head and rolled his eyes animatedly which made you smile.

“It's okay…I just..you can tell me these things you know..”

“I know..i just started it I promise” you nodded as he said that. He was addicted to those things so you were glad he wasn't jumping straight into that addiction again. You believed him when he said he was taking just one, he wouldn't lie about these things, that you knew.

But then why was it so hard to believe that he won't stray away from you and this marriage?

After you both were done eating you sat down on his lap and cuddled him for whatever time you had left with him, he was at work, you had to remember that. His fingers traced over the safety ring, in the past years he had developed and upgraded that ring to make it as safe and as equipped as possible but he wasn't done with it just yet even though his hands were full.

TargSecure started with this ring but moved on to produce a variety of other safety gears, he had two more branches in other parts of the country, the London one was being managed by Aemond because Daemon wanted to stay here.

As you stepped out of his office you passed by Sheena’s cabin.. unlike Daemon she had a glass door so as soon as she saw you she stood up and walked towards you.

Please don't be nice to me, your inner thoughts screamed at you and you felt pathetic.

“Hello Mrs. Targaryen..are you leaving?” She asked you so you nodded.

“Just call me y/n.. Sheena right?” You asked her as if you didn't know her name at all. She gave you a nod in agreement but then her phone began to ring so she looked at you apologetically.

“It's Daemon sir.. I have to go.. have a good day Mrs. Targaryen...uhh sorry y/n” she giggled as she finished her sentence.

“Have a good day” you mumbled as she walked past you and as soon as she was out of sight..you let out a deep sigh.

Why were you like this? Your husband was right inside you just now telling you how much he loved you then why couldn't you just stop your brain from running into overdrive when he wasn't around you?

The trust issues were not built in you because of him but they definitely were ruining things for you.

When he came back home that day he informed you that he was leaving for NYC for a few days, well that wasn't a surprise but then he told you that he would be taking Sheena along with him, she was his personal secretary afterall.

Every nerve in your body was on fire after that. As you helped him pack for the trip you felt nauseous and you didn't know how to calm down so you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind when you turned around to speak to him..

“i want to come..I want to join the trip”

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙂🙂🙂🙃

Taglist

@anukulee @erebus-et-eigengrau @daenny-t @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @dixie-elocin @

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #daemon targaryen x reader angst #modern day au #non canon au #modern daemon targaryen

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aemondsbabe · 7 months

Text

about me: hi! i'm sarah! i'm 28 years old, pronouns are she/her, and i am very bi!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED! i will write for pretty much any of ewan mitchell's characters (aemond targaryen, tom bennett, michael gavey, osferth, billy washington), other house of the dragon characters like aegon, daemon, harwin, helaena, alicent, & rhaenyra! i'm also open to writing for stranger things (eddie, steve, & billy), saltburn (felix catton & oliver quick), and dune (feyd-rautha only)

🌟 add yourself to my tag list!

🦋 find me on ao3 as well!

all dividers are from @firefly-graphics & @saradika!

icon by the lovely & talented @zaldritzosrose

MINORS DNI! 18+ only!

‼️ do NOT re-upload my fics or use them to train AIs!

𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫

gevie | aegon x reader

little love | aegon x reader x aemond

claimant | aemond x sister!reader

the gods and everyone | aemond x reader

hour of the owl | harwin x reader x daemon

come what may | aemond x baratheon!reader

what is owed | harwin x lyseni!reader x daemon

𝔤𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰

a kindness | ramsay bolton x reader

𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫

taunt | michael x reader

praise | taunt part 2; michael x reader

stick it out to the end | michael x bimbo!reader

𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

give me an o! | billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔠

12 days of smuff | multi character/fandom

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asumofwords · 8 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Court, death, mentions of violence.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! We are getting closer and closer to the end! Only 3 more chapters to go, I can't wait to finish this with you. I know I sound like a broken record, but jesus! I've had this bad boy ageing in my computer waiting to be posted haha. Anyone, Enjoy! <3

Chapter 107: And So The Tide Rushes to Shore

The news of the seizing of Kings Landing by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen spread across the realm like wild fire. There was no corner that had not heard the news, nor person that had not swallowed in apprehension.

But the promise of war was over.

There would be no war.

No torching of the realm and its innocents, no destruction of Keeps and homes and livestock. No call for men to join armies and fight for the throne in a bloody and violent death. Nor women and children who would be left alone without their fathers, or husbands.

However, now was a time where the fragility of her rule would hang upon a delicate thread, and although Rhaenyra had her supporters, there were still those who had supported Aegon’s rule, and then subsequently Aemond’s.

The Small Council of the Greens had been rounded into cells by guards and knights. Gold cloaks flooding the Keep at the order of Daemon, a man who they had kept their allegiance to for all his time spent away.

And as Rhaenyra had personally escorted you, alongside Daemon, towards your original chambers, the ones that you grew up in, and not the one that now housed the corpse of your late husband, you walked quietly, dagger still in your hand, Daemon’s fingers unable to pry it from you just yet.

The corridors were a mess of Lords and Ladies, maids and servants who rushed and fled, were captured, and otherwise scattering like ants as they were unsure of what to do, or what was to come.

Above you, four large dragons, circled the Keep, crying out into the air. A vision of red, and green, and pale pearl flying about as they surveyed the Red Keep below. One outsized them all.

The bronze scales of Vermithor shimmered brightly in the sun.

A sob of relief fell from your lips as you watched him, looking up at a dragon you had been separated for months from, not being able to see him or know he was okay. There was agitation in his body as he flew, but otherwise he was safe.

He was safe.

And he knew you were too.

When you had gotten to your chambers, Amala and Joanna were already there, waiting, wringing their hands together in anticipation. And upon seeing you, Amala had gasped, and ran towards you, hands checking your face for wounds, no doubt shocked by the blood.

Daemon turned to the girls, “Fetch her some water for a bath.”

And with that, their fussing and stress stopped, and they sprung into action, running from the chambers. Both girls eyes dragging over your body and the crown atop your head as they exited.

It was weird to be back in them.

The chambers that felt alien to you now.

You stood in the room you had once called your own and breathed, slowly walking over to your old table to place the dagger atop it, finally feeling safe. Finally feeling as though you didn't need the blade any longer. That the last piece of safety Aemond had given to you had served its purpose. And it was then that you breathed, truly breathed. Breathed for the first time since coming to the Red Keep.

It was over.

You stood as you were and watched the maids return, another younger girl in tow, blonde and thin, who bowed and introduced herself quietly to you, ‘Ceryse, Your Grace’, eyes widening at the blood on your skin and hair before she averted her eyes, face having turned ashen.

Daemon and Rhaenyra waited with you as they filled the bath, and as the chamber doors opened once again, you had expected one of the girls to be bringing more water to rinse you with, but instead, you were met with a pair of deep brown eyes.

Jacaerys.

You sucked in a sob as he raced across the chambers, crashing his body into yours as he gripped you tightly. You almost fell backwards from the clashing of your bodies, arms curled under his and up his back, squeezing the leather riding tunic he wore to you tightly.

He smelt of dragon, of musk, and the subtle sulfur of dragon flame. But most of all, he smelt of home.

You half sobbed and half laughed, overjoyed and grieving all at once in his arms. Hands shaking around him as he squeezed you tightly. His chest shaking as he sobbed himself, holding you outwards in his arms as his eyes roamed your body, looking you over.

He was taller, so much taller than he had been, and broader too. His hair was long against his shoulders and curled, pulled behind his ears by braids.

"You're here." He breathed, as though he was even unsure of it. As if seeing you had confirmed that his greatest fear had not come true.

You nodded, hand coming to touch his jaw gently. He grabbed the wrist that held his face tightly, emotion pouring through his eyes as he shook. And in a turn of familiarity that you only knew from Daemon, he rested his forehead against yours and breathed, eyes shut, brown lashes clumped together and wet as he fought the tears that escaped them.

"I'm here." You breathed, "I'm here."

The rest was a blur.

A blur of reunion, a blur of being bathed, the milky water below turning a soft pink, to an earthy copper as the blood was washed from your hair and face. The maids scrubbing your body with a sponge to pull the dried blood from your skin, Rhaenyra not once leaving your side.

One of the maids had to bring her a chair and tell her to sit down as she anxiously stood between you and the door, eyes darting back and forth, the fear of having you taken from her again ripe.

But nothing had happened. No knights entered to take away, no Greens supporters came to call, no Alicent, or Jasper, or anyone. Just you and your mother, who insisted on brushing and braiding your hair, and you had let her, tears cascading down your cheeks as she hummed to you.

A familiar tune.

Something the maids had sang to you a long time ago, but this time, it was the song of the Goddess Meleys, and you had cried even harder.

She had been there all along.

That evening you dined with your family, exhaustion burrowed deep within your bones.

And it was still all a blur, it felt like a dream still. Sat with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jacaerys, Rhaenys and Baela around the table in the intimate dining hall.

It was almost like it had been before.

Before the war.

As though this was as it was supposed to be.

Almost.

And whilst they celebrated the victory quietly and solemnly, toasting a cup towards you which you lifted your own in response, there was no denying the grief that lingered in the foreground. No denying the grief of the loss of Lucerys and your sister. Their palpable absence. The grief of the war and time lost, of your own child, of Aemond.

Tears escaped your eyes, and you were thankful to be with them, but for the most part, sitting with your family, it felt as though you were watching them all through somebody else’s eyes, as though you were watching from somewhere else, or that you were a puppet from Flea Bottom and somebody, high above in the clouds, was pulling your strings, stretching your cheeks into a smile, nodding your head in agreement, ears listening to tales and comments of relief without truly listening.

It was not a loud and joyous celebration. In fact, it felt more like a funeral, like the one for Laena, like the one for Laenor.

There was no music, there was no dancing, but it was enough.

It was enough to just be with them, to just be in their presence, hear their voices, be able to reach out and touch them if you wanted to. The subtle scents of their own, curling around you in a soft blanket.

You had reached for your goblet at one point during the night, mouth having gone dry at the mention of Aegon, and you had to hold in a scream, eyes finding your hands covered in blood once more. Your eyes had widened in shock, a small inhale ripped into your lungs, and Daemons careful eye from across the room had spotted you.

And though the maids had washed and scrubbed you vigorously, cleaning under your nails with careful hands, even though you knew in your heart that you were clean, it didn't stop your mind from seeing them soaked red with your lovers blood. Covered as they had been that morning.

And he was there.

Watching.

By the corner of the room.

Eye never leaving you.

But you kept a brave face, if only for a while longer, not daring to look where you hands would reach, grasping blinding in front of you, resulting in wine spilt and worried eyes. You had blamed your tired and shaky hands. For how were you to explain that when you looked down upon them you saw the proof of your misdeeds. The proof of your sin. The proof of your betrayal.

Then all too soon, exhaustion creeped over you, and your mother, noticing the shift, escorted you back to your chambers, and readily tucked you into bed, sitting on the side as she looked at you with nothing but love. She brushed your hair from your face, and without a word, climbed into bed beside you. She pulled you to her tightly, and you curled up against her, nestling your head into the crook of her neck to breathe deeply.

And as your eyes were closed, you let yourself pretend that it was him.

Sleep dragged you under, and no dreams haunted you this time, though you felt his presence behind you. And when you woke, still in her arms, her hand was holding your head against her as she breathed, fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair in thought. You shifted, looking up into her lilac eyes which seemed to be shadowed, dark rings on the skin beneath.

She had not slept.

“Did you rest?” You asked, eyes darting across her face as you shifted to sit up in bed.

“I have not slept since the day you left. And now that I have you in my arms again, I am frightened that my eyes shall close, and when they open and you will be gone.”

You swallowed thickly, “I would never leave you.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small smile, though edges pulled down into a frown.

“If it is your wish, I would not keep you here in the Keep. If the memories are-“ She paused, unsure of how to move on, “If it is too much to bear, I would not hold you here. I would not force you to stay.” She whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You frowned at her, “I am your Hand. I am bound by duty to be at your side.”

Rhaenyra let out the breath she had been holding before she nodded, “Duty be damned, I think you have performed yours and then some, more than I ever would have asked you to." She breathed deeply, "The rest of the council and my men shall arrive today. There will be a trial, to convict those who have plotted against me. Those who aided Aegon in the usurpation of the throne. And those who kept you here.”

You shifted in the sheets as you looked at your mother.

Her soft brows pulled slightly together, the frown lines that seemed to now permanently mar her skin, were present with the movements of her lips, which she pressed together into a thin line, moving to open again.

But you beat her to it, “Then we must be ready.”

And so, you were dressed in a black leather bustier, with large winged shoulders, the neck of the leather coming just below your chin. It was a shorter gown, coming just mid calf, and beneath, you wore black trousers and leather boots that tucked them inside, just below the knee. Across your chest was chains, hooped and long against your bust, each end being the opened mouth of a dragon on either side.

The girls braided your hair back, gentle and soft in their movements, both working together as they used small pins with red jewels at their tip to hold your hair up and off of your neck. And all the while, your eyes did not leave the Conquerors Crown that was placed atop the table, smears of blood on the steel and ruby.

Rhaenyra had already left, to be dressed and readied for court in her old chambers, joined by her husband. But you were rooted on the spot, unable to move as you looked at it, watching as the light from the sun caused the ruby to glimmer.

A blood red.

Blood.

Like the blood that had covered you. Like the blood you had tried to stop at Aemond’s neck. The blood that spilled through your hands and his and soaked the sheets and pillows below. The blood that had soaked you.

You would not dare look at your hands, for you knew what you would see.

You blinked and moved towards it.

But it was your crown.

Yours by right.

And so you lifted it, placing it atop your head, revelling in the weight that it pressed down your neck. The weight that then settled in your chest and gut.

With determined steps, you left the chambers, blade tucked into a holder at your side, dried blood still smeared across its blade and hilt as you walked swiftly down to the throne room to meet your Queen, and meet with the rest of the council and Lords of the realm.

All ready to see and watch the true heir to the Iron Throne be seated where she should have always sat, from the moment Viserys had passed, and for her to cast down her judgement on those who went against her.

Traitors and turncloaks alike.

When you entered the throne room, it was bursting with life, and the floor where Larys had laid was stained with his dried blood, a large smear across the stones from where his body had been dragged and removed.

All eyes were on you, each step echoing in the chambers as the people quietened, and your mother lifted her head.

Your father stood at the foot of the throne, Jacaerys beside him, as you came to stand before her.

Ser Erryk Cargyll announced you to the chambers, presenting your titles to the room, “Hand of the Queen.”

With a bow of your head, foot sliding beneath you, you pressed your knee upon the floor and reached a hand up, grasping the crown from your head as you held it towards her, “Your Grace, I give my crown lands and titles to you, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the true heir to the Iron Throne.” When you stood again, you looked up at your mother who smiled gently at you.

“Princess Y/n, my daughter and first born, you have earnt that crown valiantly, through months of tireless work.” Her voice rose in the chambers, all still as they listened, “You may hold it in your possession, as a reminder of your deeds.” You could feel the eyes of all in the chambers flickering on the back of your head and then to the Queen who sat atop the throne.

“Your acts of bravery have not gone unnoticed, nor has your role in winning this war, and returning the throne and all the realms to me rightfully.” Jacaerys shifted at your fathers side, a small smile pulling at the side of his lips, “And at this time, the succession for the Iron Throne has changed.”

What?

Your breath stopped in your chest, eyes darting to Jacaerys who gave you the slightest tip of his head.

“Let all who stand here bear witness to the naming of my true successor. A successor who had been promised the throne once before.” Her eyes met yours, “Let it be known, that in the eyes of the Realm and before the Old Gods and the New, that my daughter, Princess Y/n Velaryon, is my heir and successor to the Iron Throne. Duty of the Hand of the Queen shall be placed upon Ser Corlys Velaryon.”

Heir.

Successor.

You blinked.

You were her heir.

You were the heir to the Iron Throne.

"But now," the Queen continued, "Is not the time for talks of succession and my rule. Now is the time to bring forth traitors and turncloak's who broke their oath to my father, King Viserys, and to me, the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms."

The sound of men around you shifted as they bowed their head towards you, your face in pure shock as you looked at them.

“Now,” The Queen boomed over the rising whispers in the chambers, “Bring forth the accused.”

You stepped on unsteady feet, unsure and uncertain as you came to stand beneath the throne on the opposite side of your brother and father, both who beamed at you with pride. The Conquerors Crown still in your hands, the cool Valyrian steel pressing into your palm.

But as the doors to the chambers were opened once more by guards, you had snuck a glance at your father, who was already watching you, and gave you a promissory nod. And so with certain hands, you lifted the crown once more, and settled it against your scalp.

Wild auburn hair appeared first, and then a gown of deep green as Alicent Hightower was dragged before the Iron Throne by Gold Cloaks. Each one stood behind her as her hands were locked in chains at her front, eyes flickering from you, to Rhaenyra, and then back to you.

And then you began.

“Lady Alicent Hightower. Dowager Queen of King Viserys. You stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You are bought here to be charged with crimes against the Crown. You are accused of treason.” Your voice carried through the chambers, the chains on Alicent’s wrists knocking against each other as she picked at her hands, fingers raw and bloody.

“You are charged with conspiring against the Crown to usurp the throne with Prince Aegon Targaryen and Ser Otto Hightower. You are charged with the conspiracy to cause harm to a Princess of the realm, and her wrongful imprisonment.”

“Rhaenyra, see reason. I beg you. Your father-“ Alicent began to plead.

“-My father,” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed, “Is dead. And you kept that hidden from the people for days, and rushed to crown Aegon as King in the Sept before the realm. You usurped the throne from its rightful heir and King Viserys’ successor, whom your House swore fealty to. Do you deny your charges?”

“I beg mercy! I only did as I believed was right. Viserys told me before he passed that he wished Aegon to sit the thr-”

“-You will have chance to make your own petition, Lady Alicent. Do Queen Rhaenyra the curtesy of letting the charges to be heard.” You held your head high, mimicking the same words she had said to your mother, a long time ago, “If the Lady Alicent Hightower speaks out of turn once more, cut out her tongue.” You watched as her face ashened, and her brows pulled together in desperation.

“You supplanted the Iron Throne’s rightful heir.” Rhaenyra growled, “You sent Aemond to slay my son, Prince Lucerys, the heir to Driftmark, who was an envoy in Storms End. And you have kept the Princess, my heir to the Iron Throne prisoner in this Keep under the hands of your rabid sons.”

“Please, Rhaenyra.” Alicent begged, “Am I to pay for the crimes of the wants of a father on his daughter? For the crimes of my sons? We were close, you and I. Friends!”

Daemon snickered beside the throne as he watched the Hightower woman beg.

Rhaenyra straightened, “What good is a friend who plots and grooms her sons into usurping the throne from its rightful heir? Their half-sister? From her supposed friend? These crimes are treason. And there are witnesses. A Maester who was slain here. Maids who had watched. Gold Cloaks, and servants, and Lords alike witnessed your crimes, Lady Alicent. Do you deny these charges?”

A tear fell from Alicent’s eyes as she sucked in a shuttering breath.

She stayed silent.

Rhaenyra looked at the woman from down her nose before speaking once more, delivering her conviction.

“For your crimes against the Crown, against my blood, and against the people of the realm, you are found guilty. I, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to death by dragon fire.”

Alicent’s face morphed into horror, “No! Rhaenyra, please! I beg mercy! We are but women who had our hands forced by the men around us!” She cried into the chambers as she was dragged out by the Gold Cloaks, “What choice did I have?! Imprison me, Rhaenyra, I beg this of you!”

Alicent Hightower’s voice faded down the halls and walls she was dragged down, pleading for mercy, begging to the Seven for help. But the Seven did not hear to her prayers, for the Stranger was already on their way to take her.

Maester Orwyle was next, and the man stood silently as his charges were given to him. He did not speak, nor did he rebuke them, or plead for mercy. Instead, his dark brown eyes stared into your mothers with nothing more than disgust and pure hatred, until he was pulled away, the same way he came, back to the holding cells of the Dungeons you had once spent your days in, with his verdict.

Guilty.

It was this way until the whole of the Green Council and turncloaks was laid before your mother, each one individually brought before the Queen, had their accusations of treason laid. Some were given the option to bend the knee to Rhaenyra and serve her in exchange for their lives, others were not.

None, bar Lord Jasper Wylde, bent the knee.

And all, bar the Master of Laws, was sentenced to death.

The chamber of the Iron Throne was ripe with energy. Nervous, excited energy from Rhaenyra’s supporters as they watched on as they delivered the sentences to those who had betrayed or turned cloak against her.

And then, the court was dismissed, and the Lords and her supporters were led outside of the Keep, to the mouth of Blackwater Rush, where a flat grassy knoll lay before the cliffs, and a worn path for traders was trodden upon.

It was there where Lady Alicent Hightower was led, beside her Maester Orwyle, Ser Tyland Lannister, and the turncloaks, Lord Bourney, Butterwell, Mootey and Rosby stood in a line.

The oceans breeze ruffled the cloaks and hair of all those in attendance, and Rhaenyra was the last one present. The final person to arrive.

Above you, the large and excitable screech of a dragon who would finally be reunited with its rider.

Alicent looked up the skies in fear, her hands clutched tightly together in prayer as she shut her eyes, mumbling to the Seven, begging for mercy, and guidance, and promises of good servitude if they grant her her life.

But dragons did not answer to the Gods.

Nor were they inclined to show mercy.

And so you watched, in delight and anticipation, as the large bronze dragon landed against the grass beside you, purring into the air with his large scarred snout, mouth full of jagged teeth opening, and eyes dancing over you.

All watched as you reached out to touch him, the dragon rumbling deep in his chest as he leant into your hand. The bond sent sparks through your fingers and arms as you leant a forehead against him, breathing in his dragon smell, sulfur and smoke, and the distinct almost reptilian stench that they all carried.

But your true reunion would have to wait, for the Queen and realm were waiting on you.

It was only right that you delivered the blow of justice.

As heir.

As now stand in Hand before Corlys.

In fact, your mother and father had been most insistent upon it, if only you wanted to.

And the Gods knew that you did.

The crowd of people shuffled backwards as Vermithor’s long tail beat against the ground forcefully, vibrating the earth beneath.

Alicent Hightower jumped in her spot, knuckles white as she stared at you in fear.

“You are guilty and have been charged of treason-”

“-I am innocent. I beg mercy, please. Rhaenyra, see reason!” Alicent cried out into the soft ocean breeze, her words lost to the crashing swell. Rhaenyra blinked impassively at the woman.

“Reason?” You parroted, “Mercy?”

“Please, it was the ambitions of a father onto his child. I had no play-“

“No play? None?” You sneered.

There was that rage again.

“I beg mercy. I will work in-“

“-Where was your mercy for the Queen when you usurped her throne?” You stiffened, Vermithor behind you growling, sensing your anger through the bond.

“Where was your mercy for her sons? For Lucerys?”

“I was not at-“

The Bronze Fury shifted behind you, head coming to loom forward in the space beside, teeth bared as he growled at the woman who dropped to her knees in fear, legs giving out beneath her.

"Where was your mercy when you locked me in a cell? Where was your mercy when you let him rape me? Defile me.” You took a step forward towards her, “Hurt me.”

Another step, and ice spread through your chest, “Where was your mercy when the King broke into my chambers?” You spoke dully this time, but inside you was the fire that you had hidden. Trampled by your own hands and feet in order to keep on, to keep moving.

To survive.

Vermithor lifted his head into the sky and cried out shrilly, all around him flinching from the sudden movement. His large jaws opened, and a plume of fire shot into the air, the heat falling down around you hotly.

You looked down at the woman who started it all.

Her children.

The usurp of your mother.

The war.

Lucerys.

Syndor.

Visenya.

All of it.

“You are found guilty of treason, for the usurpation of the Iron Throne from its rightful heir. You are guilty of crimes to the Princess; Daughter and heir of the Queen. You are guilty of hiding the death of King Viserys from the people and Lords to conspire with turncloaks and oathbreakers. And you have been sentenced to death.”

You stared into the eyes of the woman before you, tears cascading down her cheeks as she looked up at you and pleaded, begged for her life, begged for mercy.

Prayed.

Her hair was messed, her robes were crinkled and green, and as you looked at the woman you felt a surge of rage.

“Dracarys.”

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

Perzys se Rūkla (Fire and Flowers) - Chapter Six

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x original female character (Melessa Tyrell) Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, angst, strong language, mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, smut. Word count: ~3k

Chapter summary: Daemon makes two life changing discoveries. Series summary here.

Endless thanks and all the love to my absolute ride or die @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for cheerleading, beta'ing and just generally being the bestest fandom boo a gal could have.

Author's note: No tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Header by the insanely talented @em-writes-stuff-sometimes

Maester Orwyle drops heavily to his feet once Daemon’s grip on the front of his robes loosens. He scurries away fearfully, scarcely even sparing a glance behind him.

Daemon’s temper still burns hot within his veins. How dare she hide this from me?

The force with which he throws open the doors would be enough to wake Melessa up ordinarily; but under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t be under the influence of milk of the poppy. Thus, she remains asleep.

He softens upon taking in her appearance, his anger leaving him as he watches her laying there. She’d look peaceful were it not for the tear tracks upon her cheeks—tears he has caused her. His wife.

The mother of his child.

She does not deserve his anger any more than he deserves her forgiveness, as much as he yearns for it. He sits carefully on the bed next to her, longing to reach out and brush his fingers against the peachy softness of her face. He refrains. She has expressed a wish for him not to touch her. He owes it to her to respect that, even in sleep.

Whether she is prepared to allow him to make amends now or not, he knows he cannot permit her to return to Highgarden. Not now that she carries his child. She has given him a reason to do better, to be better.

He wants to watch her grow round and full with his offspring, to see the effects that he has had on her body as it adapts to the life nestled within. He feels his cock stir at the thought and swallows thickly, attempting to push the urge away. Perhaps her shape had begun to change already and he hadn’t noticed. He finds himself thinking back to the last few times they’d been intimate. He had been so rough, so hurried, so desperate for fulfillment that he had barely registered her beneath him. If he had the opportunity to go back he would take his time with her, run his hands over her curves and appreciate them, notice the subtle swell to her breasts and the added plushness to her hips.

There is an ache in his chest as he continues to look upon her. He has to make this right. A child of his own is something Daemon has never thought about; never wanted, until now. And now, he does not think he has ever desired anything more desperately.

He has no idea how long he continues to sit there for. Soon, the sky is breaking into vibrant hues of yellow, orange and red upon the horizon, indicating dawn’s approach. He hadn’t seen Melessa eat since Rhaenyra’s coronation feast the previous afternoon. She will awaken soon and surely feel ravenous with hunger. Daemon cannot abide that, not when their child relies upon her nourishment.

Reluctantly, he rises from the bed and makes his way to the kitchens. There is plentiful food left over from the day before; he orders the few staff that are awake and working already to put together a platter. Salted meats, pies, bread, hard cheese and tarts are piled high upon the tray, enough to feed both him and Melessa for today and the day after that. He knows it is too much, but this is as much to prove a point as it is to give his wife breakfast. Even in the wrong, Daemon cannot resist the urge to maintain the element of surprise.

Melessa is stirring, sleepily rubbing her eyes as he re-enters her bedchamber, setting the heaped tray upon the foot of the bed. She sits up, her brow furrowing as she looks upon the food that’s been placed before her.

“What’s all this?” she asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Breakfast,” Daemon tells her with a smirk, leaning against the bedpost and folding his arms as he watches her.

“There is so much of it…” Her blue eyes glance up towards him before dropping back to the spread of food.

“Yes—I suppose there is,” he says. “It was tricky for me to know how much to have brought up to you… considering you are eating for two now.”

Her hand that had been reaching towards the food pulls suddenly back into her lap. She stares at him, brows raised in shock. “You know.”

It isn’t so much a question as it is a statement. Daemon simply nods, attempting to mask the satisfied smile that spreads across his face. He may have caught her out, but ultimately he is still in the wrong.

“How?” she asks, pressing her lips into a tight line.

“I caught Maester Orwyle sneaking out of your chambers in the middle of the night,” he tells her matter-of-factly.

“Oh gods. Daemon—what did you do to him?”

His wife knows him too well. He is unable to help the upward tug at the corners of his mouth. “Nothing he won’t recover from. Eat.”

Melessa sighs and reaches for a piece of bread, tearing it apart with her hands as Daemon resumes his earlier position beside her.

“How long have you known?” he asks after a few moments pass between them in silence.

“Since we arrived back in King’s Landing,” she replies between bites.

“And how long since you last bled?”

He can see her considering his question as she chews, trying to recall. “About three moons.”

Daemon can feel his mood darkening and draws in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. His voice is tight when he asks his next question. “And not once did it occur to you to tell me?”

“I was going to,” she begins softly. “There was so much going on already, with your brother passing away. I had planned to tell you after Rhaenyra’s coronation, but then…”

She trails off, her bottom lip trembling slightly and Daemon feels his heart squeeze at the sight.

“Then I fucked it all up,” he says sadly.

“Hm.” Melessa places her half eaten bread back on the tray, leaning back against the headboard. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you? Not now that you know.”

Daemon feels like he’d be serving another blow to her, to admit this aloud, true as it is. He wants nothing more than to comfort her, to pull her against his chest and breathe in the sweet scent of her golden hair.

“I need you to know that nothing happened…with that girl,” he tells her. “I won’t deny that I tried, and I cannot begin to explain why I did, but I couldn’t…because she wasn’t you, petal.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?” she asks bitterly.

“No, but it is proof of the fact that I care for you.”

“And yet you have never told me you love me.”

“I’ve never told anyone that before, not even my own brother. Perhaps that is my mistake.”

“But do you love me?”

He is determined not to leave the pause that he did yesterday, to not make her doubt his feelings for her any further than he already has. He takes a breath, steeling himself against his impending vulnerability. “Our time on Dragonstone together was the happiest I ever remember being. I hated having to give that up to return here. Everything in this wretched place serves as a reminder that I am not good enough for you, not good enough to be Hand of the King.”

“And yet, you are my husband and Hand of the Queen,” Melessa reminds him.

“I stole you from my nephew. My niece made me Hand because my brother would not.”

“Perhaps you ought to spend more time appreciating what you have, rather than resenting the reason you have it.”

He huffs through his nose. She is right and he despises it, but it is one of the things he has grown to love about her. Yes. Love.

“I think about you all the time,” he tells her. “I find myself wishing for your presence when you are not by my side. Your scent is imprinted upon me in such a way that nothing else satisfies; I yearn for you more than I ever have for anyone. If that is love, then—yes. I love you… as much as I am able to love another person.”

She stares straight ahead as he speaks, her expression unreadable. The quiet hangs heavy between them when he finishes. Daemon’s heart races, worried she’ll reject him despite him having opened up to her.

Melessa shifts slightly in the bed. “Can you take the food away?” she asks. “The smell is making me feel unwell. I will not return to Highgarden, but I would appreciate some time to myself. I need to rest.”

Daemon nods, standing and removing the food from the end of the bed. He hovers by the door as Melessa settles back down to sleep, debating whether to try to kiss her or not. Deciding against it—he sees her eyes flutter closed—he pushes the tray into the hands of a chambermaid and makes his way out of the Red Keep.

He expects that Rhaenyra will summon him at some point today. It is her first official day as Queen; she will no doubt want a meeting of the Small Council. It is still early, however, and with yesterday’s festivities, he doesn’t anticipate her being ready to call everyone forth until the afternoon. He decides a ride on dragonback will help clear his mind. He has much to think about, though he is glad at having convinced Melessa to remain in King’s Landing without the need for force.

As Daemon approaches the Dragonpit, he notices excited commotion amongst the Keepers. The head of them gives him a beaming smile when he spots him and hurries over, staff in hand, to clap Daemon on the shoulder. He scowls at the overfamiliarity. Before he can enquire as to what the meaning of all of this is, he hears what the Keeper has to say.

“Syrax has laid a clutch! Her first in two decades!”

Daemon raises his eyebrows, the perceived slight immediately forgotten. “Dragon eggs?”

“Yes, Your Grace. We hadn’t known she was gravid. It appears the return of Caraxes has been fruitful for her.”

“Show me,” Daemon commands, excitement fluttering within him.

The head Dragon Keeper guides him through the gloom and humidity of the Pit until they reach a mucus-coated membrane upon the earthen floor.

Daemon crouches, breaking apart the protective layer that coats the top of them. Beneath lay four dragon eggs. His eye is immediately drawn to one that is iridescent shades of orange and red, fading into a vibrant green towards the bottom.

Carefully, he lifts it, turning it over in his hands, feeling the warmth of its hardened scales against his fingertips. “Perzys se rūkla,” he whispers.

Two Keepers approach, a steaming pot meant to incubate the eggs carried between them.

Daemon rights himself, keeping a hold of the egg he’s taken. “You may take those three.” He nods towards the ground. “And inform the Queen of Syrax’s clutch. I am taking this one.”

Melessa is still dozing when he returns. This time, he has no hesitation in waking her. He grins down at her as she grouses to herself, blinking her eyes slowly open.

“For the babe,” he tells her, holding the egg out.

She gasps, reaching out to place her hands over it, her fingers overlapping with his.

Daemon releases a steady exhale at the contact, the first physical touch they’ve shared in what feels like an age. He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers as they hold the egg together, the aroma of almond oil and rosewater flooding his senses. Finally, it feels as though everything may work out exactly as he wants.

This time, he does not fear it.

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Daemon paces the room. Each of Melessa’s pained screams cause him to wince as they echo off of the vaulted ceilings. A gaggle of attendants rally around her, mopping away sweat and blood as she produces each fluid anew.

Should there be so much blood? Is she going to be alright?

His throat constricts at the possibility he might lose her. He has ignored the pleas for him to leave the room, does not trust that she will not meet the fate of his brother’s first wife, Aemma, should she fall into difficulties.

He will not have her carved open like some roasted hog, just for the sake of some squawking brat. He will end this child’s life long before he ever considers taking hers.

He longs to brush her dampened hair from her temples, to hold her hand and encourage her through her labours, but he has not been allowed beside the bed. The birthing bed is no place for a husband, he is told. Daemon thinks that is utter shit.

He stills when he hears the first wails, too high-pitched to possibly be his wife’s. He turns to see Melessa exhausted but still very much alive, panting against the pillows as a bloodied, squirming mass is lifted from between her legs.

“A boy,” announces a voice from somewhere. He barely registers it, everything seeming far away as the child is separated from his mother, swaddled, and placed into Daemon’s arms.

He has never held anything so fragile before in his life. His arms wrap instinctively around the tiny bundle, a lump forming in his throat as he gazes down at the scrunched up, reddened face that looks up at him with apparent displeasure.

“Ñuhus trēsȳs,” he whispers. “You have a face I’m sure your mother will love.” My son.

He walks around to the side of the bed, and places the child in Melessa’s waiting arms. “Well done, petal,” he murmurs, kissing her temple. “You have given me a son.”

Daemon’s heart swells at the adoration with which she looks down at the babe with, her fingers tracing over his tiny cheek.

“What shall we name him?” she asks, voice hoarse from her labour pains.

“I was thinking Viserys, after my brother,” Daemon says, perching on the edge of the bed and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“A fine name, indeed.” She smiles. “Little Viserys.”

“Avy jorrāelagon,” he whispers, pressing his nose to her hair. It is a sentiment he ensures his wife and child will never go without hearing from him ever again. I love you.

**SIX WEEKS LATER**

Daemon’s hands wander over Melessa’s nightgown, pawing and squeezing at her flesh as she lays beside him. Under instruction from the Maesters, he and Melessa have not laid together for six weeks in order to allow her body to heal from having given birth. The wait has felt agonising to him; the last time he had been inside of her had been during the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Towards the end, Viserys had sat too low in her womb for them to be intimate without it causing her discomfort.

The wait has been maddening for Daemon. His fist will never satisfy him the way that the warmth of her cunt can.

She squirms uneasily against his touch. “Daemon— please,” she whimpers. “My body has changed since I became a mother.”

“And what is your point, petal?” he murmurs, his hand cupping her breast through the flimsy cotton that covers it.

“I do not look as I was before. I worry that you will not want me anymore, that you will seek out the comfort of another again…”

Daemon takes a gentle grip of her chin, tilting her face towards him. “There is no one that I desire more than you, sweet wife.”

He grasps her hand, guiding it towards his hardened length. “See what you do to me? Even in that oversized sack you insist upon wearing to bed.”

She giggles, and he captures her lips in a searing kiss, pulling at the lacings that keep her shift fastened as he does.

When she is bared beneath him, his eyes travel over the fullness of her breasts, the tautness of their hardened peaks slightly ruddier than they used to be. Her stomach bears the markings of having carried life, her hips more rounded, plusher than they used to be.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his throat. She is irrevocably marked as his and has never looked more beautiful to him.

He inhales a sharp breath upon finding her wet and wanting when he snakes a hand between her thighs. He wants to spend more time preparing her, but the way his cock aches painfully does not allow for such endeavours this evening. He needs her too badly.

When the tight heat of her walls envelope him, he groans in relief. It is like returning home after a lengthy absence. She sobs with pleasure at his every thrust, his hands vice-like against her waist as she eventually shudders and comes apart around him. He follows her over the edge soon after, white hot pleasure licking at his lower spine as he spills himself deep inside of her.

She is almost asleep against his chest when the piercing wails of Viserys startle them both into wakefulness. Melessa sighs, moving to leave the bed when Daemon places a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Allow me, petal,” he says, brushing his lips against her temple and rising from the bed.

Viserys cries in his cradle, little handles clenched into fists. The moonlight that streams through the gap in the curtains shines upon what has disturbed his slumber.

The dragon egg that lays beside him—vibrant hues of red and orange that fade into a brilliant shade of green towards the bottom—has begun to crack apart.

Daemon’s lips part as he watches it. A little dragon for his very own little dragon.

Perzys se rūkla.

FIN.

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year

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Twisted fate

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (eventually)

Summary: After the death of her sister, the twin of Daenerys meddles with magic, trying to change the past and ends up in the era of the Dance as Rhaenyra's daughter...

Warnings: this is like a note for the idea of a series (so basically a teaser) 🤷🏻‍♀️, canon-typical stuff, Reader is on a mission, fix it fic?, it's probably a mess as I am... writing at 1-2am with no idea where I wanna go with this

You were born after the storm... for the first time. While your twin was called Stormborn, you were given the not-so-catchy name of the Flame of Dawn after the red skies that could be seen at the time you had drawn your first breath.

Life was difficult for your sister, it seemed she had to bear all the burdens but you were always eager to learn. Dragons and Valyria being your favourite subjects but as soon as you were free to do so, you started to learn other things too. Your knowledge came useful when the dragons were born but flying them was seemingly not meant for you. You found solace in fighting and learning to use the magic in your blood.

After the war you asked Bran to teach you to see. First, it was just curiosity, as you wanted.. no, needed to see history with your own eyes. However, you soon found out that you can connect and perhaps shape the past through your visions. Bran warned you against it but you didn't listen.

You became obsessed with fixing the events that lead to the demise of your house and family. You have spent a lot of time observing, especially the Dance of the Dragons. Those events were the true end for the House of the Dragon, however, you wanted even more than they had and ventured back to Aegon then tried to see what you were most curious about. Valyria.

As you went further back, you found that some members of your family had stronger magic and could sense your presence. Although none like the dragonlord you came across in your first glimpse of your ancient home.

He lectured you and punished you by trapping you in the past.

You were born during the storm... for the second time.

Your memories of your old life surfaced as you re-learned things. It was a struggle until your adult years, keeping them. The memories and your old self came and went like waves of the ocean your not-blood-related father loved so much.

It didn't take long to realise you were not your father's daughter and that your mother's uncle, who mostly stayed at Driftmark but spent a lot of time with you whenever he could, was the one who fathered you.

When you could surface from the waters of oblivion, you were even prouder than otherwise. As a child, in both lifetimes, you idolized Daemon.

You were still a small child when your memories surfaced for a while, and you started to make plans to somehow avoid the Dance and make your new parents king and queen. In the gardens, you discovered a poisonous flower and decided to eliminate one major key for the war to come. Killing off all your villains was tempting, however, there were several problems with that idea.

You knew that would be too suspicious, even f no one would suspect a child. But for one cleverly timed murder, the innocent look of your current form would be a perfect disguise.

It was also the time your realised Rhaenyra having your Strong brothers was putting everything at risk and you had no good solution for that mess either.

The plan was to destroy the Greens but as you grow the memories of your past life become more like dreams than your reality and slowly, and ironically when they finally seem to settle for good, they don't feel like yours anymore. Of course, it's useful to know all that but you have a different life and you've become a different person too, loving people in this life and fearing losing them.

And that's the problem with the plan. You can't lose them. You can't lose him. Aemond, the only person in your childhood who understood you, besides your father of course. And even after the loss of his eye, and becoming distant, your uncle remained your best friend, who you couldn't give up on, hurt or even betray.

His sister was certainly not to blame for anything and you were fond of her too. After getting to know the Green Queen, you couldn't even blame her at times.

So, you put yourself in an even more difficult position, abandoning the plan and trying to make peace between these idiots of yours.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #my stuff #my fics

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 11 months

Text

House of the Dragon Masterlist

my requests for HotD are currently OPEN! i especially love writing for harwin and ser criston (controversial ik!) but i'm open to pretty much any character :)

hmu to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

Aemond 'One-Eye' Targaryen

Of Traitors and Oathbreakers / Ending 1 / Ending 2 - relationship: aemond x reader | summary: A Black in Greens territory is never a good thing, especially if that means falling into the hands of Prince Aemond | tags: angst, smut

Aemond Targaryen NSFW Alphabet - relationship: aemond x reader | tags: smut

Aegon ii Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen NSFW Alphabet - relationship: aegon x reader | tags: smut

Ser Criston Cole

Fashioned for love / Pt. 2: Our Great Glory - relationship: Ser Criston Cole x reader | summary: It’s never clear what he’s thinking – and you’re not sure if you want to know. | tags: angst, fluff, smut

Patience is the Virtue of a Lady - relationship: Ser Criston Cole x reader | summary: As Daemon's wife, you are left humiliated by your errant husband. As the product of an annulled marriage, you are seen as barren and tainted, left to befriend Queen Alicent, gaining the reputation of an unsalvageable woman over the years. But, the heart wants what it wants, and you have had your eyes on unattainable Ser Criston for years. | tags: angst, smut

Waters - relationship: Ser Criston Cole x reader | summary: Your existence is an insult to the woman you serve, Alicent Hightower. As Viserys Targaryen's bastard, you should not be serving his lawfully wedded wife - and Ser Criston knows this. Still, he can't seem to stay away... | tags: angst, smut

Criston Cole NSFW Alphabet - relationship: criston x reader | tags: smut

Corlys 'the Seasnake' Velaryon

Corlys Velaryon NSFW Alphabet - relationship: corlys x reader | tags: smut

Daemon 'the Rogue Prince' Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen NSFW Alphabet - relationship: daemon x reader | tags: smut

Harwin 'Breakbones' Strong

I am his, and he is mine / Mine to take / A child of our own / Everything and More- relationship: harwin x reader | summary: You’re married off to Ser Harwin Strong by your lord father’s designs, and the prospect of a marriage consummation terrifies you. All of these can be read as standalones! | tags: fluff, smut

Harwin Strong NSFW Alphabet - relationship: harwin x reader | tags: smut

OC: Alethia 'the Immortal' Stahl

Hand turns Loom - relationships: harwin x oc, aemond x oc, rhaenyra x alicent | summary: Hand turns loom. Destiny fucks Alethia over once more. She’d changed the course of history, changed it for the better even. She’d helped defeat the Dead, and then she’d made a vow to never fight again.

Instead, she gets sent back in time, right to the prelude of the Dance of the Dragons. Haunted by memories, and having to deal with the sudden loss of Sansa and her son, she has to navigate a game far more dangerous than the Night’s Watch. | tags: fluff, smut, angst, timetravel

a/n: this fic is extremely important to me! i've created several ocs in the course of the 44 chapters i have written, and plan on completely re-writing the Dance. If modern person in ... interests you, check this out!

gifset by @levithestripper

the fashion of 'Hand turns Loom': women - relationships: none | tags: inspo

more fashion by the amazing, wonderful @15-lizards

oc masterpost - tags: inspo, contains spoilers

#alethia stahl #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #criston cole #criston cole x reader #corlys velaryon #corlys velaryon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #harwin strong #harwin x reader #harwin strong x reader

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marthawrites · 11 months

Note

I just finished reading "The Gift That Keeps Giving" and omg the way you wrote Daemon is just 🥵😘🤌🏽!!! That said, if your requests are open, I can get you an imagine/oneshot rough nsfw Mean Dom!Daemon x wife poc! fem reader, where they have a great relationship, but reader is the bold and sassy type. And one day she ends up doing something (on purpose) that makes him really , like really really angry (the kind of latent anger that almost makes him take Caraxes and burn everything) but instead he takes it out on the person in charge (reader in this case). With a lot of degradation, spanking, choking, hair pulling and all the kinks you want (be as nasty and bold as possible please🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 I have a very big thirst for this man and I can't help myself, sorry🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️) With aftercare and a fluffy at the end please? (feel free to ignore and sorry for my english)

Hello sweet anon! I love that you enjoyed "The Gift That Keeps Giving". I appreciate your patience and I hope this lil smutty story tickles your fancy!

Punishment

Daemon Targaryen x POC wife reader

Word count: 1.9k+

About: Just because you're in the honeymoon phase with the Rogue Prince doesn't mean you can escape a proper punishment for disrespect.

Includes: Explicit sexual content featuring everything listed in the request, as well as breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is porn with very little plot. I urge you to re-read the request to make sure rough themes are something you'll get a tickle from reading. As always, please enjoy! ♥

"You're both dismissed. Leave us. Lest you wish to hear me punish my wife," Daemon said curtly to the guards outside your marriage chamber. He held you firmly by the back of your neck, and the tension of his jaw had both guardsmen bowing before scurrying off.

If you could go back in time – even a mere fifteen minutes – you would. You'd seen your husband angry before, but never quite like this.

Before the guards made it to the corridor's bending curve, the heavy door to your shared quarter opened and slammed closed. Silence followed.

Once inside the room, Daemon's grip around you tightened. "I suppose you think you're terribly funny," he sneered at you, purple eyes burning like the center of a flame. Free hand loosened his belt as he maintained a steady gaze with your umber eyes.

You hissed beneath your breath at the tightness of his grip. The pads of his fingers dug into the smooth flesh of your neck, the slim muscles and tendons straining against his unwavering hold. "You're hurting me. Let go," you said lowly, eyes blazing in a mirror of his own. Both hands lifted to his forearm in an attempt to push it away. It was in vain, however, for he was much stronger than you and he barely budged against your touch. "I said–,"

" –I heard what you said." He released the back of your neck in order to grip the back of your head; your hair a single thick rope of carefully braided tresses. Yanking, he forced your attention up to him. "I've been too easy on you, wife, to think you can run your cunty little mouth like that."

A furious blush rushed to your cheeks. "You Targaryens and your fragile egos," you snapped, daring and bold, glaring at him straight on. A dull ache prickled your scalp and you did your best to ignore it. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing his aggression pained you.

"Fragile egos," he scoffed and finally released your screaming hair. "Maybe today will be when I fuck a dragon inside you. Grace you with the gift of carrying a silver haired babe. Perhaps then you'll understand the fury of a Targaryen."

Your marriage to the Rogue Prince, thus far, has been fruitless. On any other normal day you two were still under the honeymoon spell; wed for no more than six months. As if fated by the Gods, after the death of his first wife a series of events began and within the span of a few short months, Daemon’s courting led to a proper wedding. You were of a lesser House than his own, and your dowry perhaps modest in comparison to what else his name and title could bring. Yet it seemed to matter little to him. The Targaryen prince was more than charmed by you. He gifted you with silks, jewels, and perfumes, carefully choosing colors and gems to accentuate the lovely hue of your skin. Dark, and rich, and shimmering with its softness, he reveled in the stark contrast of your bodies. Often, when you were alone, he requested you wear only the finest of sheer wispy silks so he could see, and appreciate, all of you.

King’s Landing was your home now. Daemon was your home.

“You underestimate the fury of my blood, husband,” you retorted, secondhand anger swelling in your chest. What you said in conversation with King Viserys during the midday meal wasn’t even that bad. Daemon was just moody. Cranky. Crotchety about God's knew what. You had seen the way the two brothers glanced at each other with lingering tension, and you didn’t understand why it was taken so personally. In spite of that you never imagined it would lead to what was happening now.

So distracted by your own fury you hadn’t realized Daemon had you over his lap upon your marriage bed. The thick bulk of his thighs were spread to better distribute your weight across his lap. He pulled the hems of your gown up over the swell of your backside, fingers of one hand curling beneath the waist of your smallclothes. Without even bothering to untie the ribbons around your hips he wrenched them down your legs. In a single skillful motion he fisted the material. He shoved the balled up fabric in your mouth. “You don’t get to talk.”

The makeshift gag muffled your sound of protest. Something even more dangerous than fury simmered beneath your surface. Arousal. You hated, absolutely hated, how soaked the prince’s roughness made you.

He laid a smack against the swell of your ass.

It rendered you speechless, motionless: pulse hammered beneath your chest, behind your ears, and in the tips of your fingers. With the sting and echo of a second smack, your thighs clenched together. And with a third, your fists balled atop the bedclothes as your eyes squeezed shut.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew to never pull these shenanigans again. Yet… a tiny part, a drop of rain amidst the ocean, wondered if it would take the same shenanigans, or something more, for him to reach this level of anger with you again.

A fourth, and fifth, landed on you. It stung. Your flesh throbbed and the sight of redness blossoming beneath your skin had your husband grinning all to himself. A sixth.

You whimpered incoherently behind the gag. It hurt – not only your body but your ego, too – and the slick space between your thighs quivered with desperation.

Calloused fingers dipped to test your reaction to his punishment. They were met with warmth, wetness, and a muffled whimper he was very familiar with. A mocking laugh sounded from above you. “Oh, you like this?” Daemon cooed sarcastically. “My bold, feisty little wife… a soaking, whimpering, gagged mess. You lecherous harlot.” Two fingers pushed into you with little restraint, your reddened ass propping up to coax him deeper.

Pleasure immediately blazed through your senses. The delicious stretch of his fingers had your back arching and fists easing in the sheets. If your mouth wasn’t stuffed full it would have hung open from the sensation. Pain's edge seemed to increase the intensity of your pleasure and he only just started. Between the spanking and degradation a blush burned your cheeks, and now it burned even brighter as the wet sounds of your cunt began to fill the room. You were soaked. He knew just how to work you – where to push, or stroke, or curl – and he did just that. Relentlessly.

Just as the coil of bliss threatened to snap, he withdrew his digits. “Don’t think you get to finish yet. I’m debating if I should even let you find release today.”

A dagger rested sheathed on his belt, and he wasted no time in grabbing its hilt and slicing up through the fabric of your dress; its whispered rip nearly lost between your muffled pants. Once it dawned on you, yet another wave of fury rose to your chest. This was one of your favorites! A gift from your husband. Oranges, reds, and blacks, with intricate stitchery and patterns of gold thread. Finally, that's what made you spit out the ball of your slobbery smallclothes. "What the hells!" You glared up at him from over your shoulder, aghast.

Daemon laughed. "It was mine to give and mine to take." He moved you off him and stood. Even though he'd just sliced your dress in half, he removed it from you gently. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought perhaps there might still be a chance to save it.

You were too stunned to speak, and merely finished disrobing as you watched your husband do the same. God's he was so lovely. Handsome and strong, his body wholly a warrior's with its scars and subtly padded muscles. Once he was nude the state of his own arousal had your mouth watering. His cock, fully hardened and glistening at the tip, was reddened with need. With the angle, you barely had time to admire the sight of his stones, too, before he was on top of you. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist.

"My sweet wife…," he said, eyes dark as he tilted his head and regarded your submissive position. "If only you knew when to shut the fuck up."

You had truly, undoubtedly, pissed him off. His eyes were black and palms rough as he pressed up your belly to your breasts. You squeaked as he pinched your dark nipples, the weight of your titflesh filling his palms. "I'm sorry," you said, eyes sincere. "I didn't mean it like that, husband, you know that."

Glaring down at you, he sniggered. "Disrespect and lying in the same hour?" He slapped your tits, cock twitching at the gasp you made at the impact. One hand pressed into the bed by your head for support while the other wrapped around your slim neck. He knew how to do it without causing any real harm. He squeezed. Choking. "The only thing you're good for is warming my cock."

In a single harsh drive if his hips, his girthy length split you open. Your legs wrapped around him tighter due the deadly combination of: looming above you, choking you, fucking you. A restrained whine and moan tore from your throat; your eyes half lidded and locked on him.

"Maybe I'll tie you up. Keep you locked in here so I can use you as, and whenever, I wish," he said, purple eyes glinting with darkness and delight. He snapped into you firmer, slower, making sure every inch of him dragged along every inch of your saturated walls.

Even with his hand around your throat you rolled and moved your hips with him, meeting him halfway on each thrust. This carnal side of Daemon, in all of his shameless glory, always had you needy for more. The edges of your vision began to blur with the restriction of your oxygen. Yet, still, you fucked him as he drove into you, eager and whining and dripping, more akin to a lady of the street of silk than a lady of a respectable House.

"You'd probably like that a little too much though, huh? Yeah… fuck. Look at your greedy cunt sucking me in. You filthy bitch." He finally let go of your throat to instead grip your hips. His fingers sunk into the soft flesh as he railed along your sweet spot, basking in the wanton cries of your pleasure.

"Just like that…!" you panted, breathless. "Please, Daemon.. 'm so close." And you were.

He didn't stop.

Your legs squeezed around him tighter, as tight as you could, and the obscene noises of your wet slapping skin sent you over the edge. Waves of orgasm washed over you and for a moment you thought you might have left your body. Scratches from your clean fingernails raked down the corded muscles of his forearms.

An inward hiss flared his nostrils and with one final push he spilled against the deepest part of your body. Your panting and his quiet moans melded into one as he relished the deep satisfaction of seeding his wife. He ran a hand over your belly. "Don't move, ābrazȳrys, keep all that right there where it belongs," wife he said as he slowly pulled free from you.

Sweat sheened over both of you and the midday sun sparkled atop your bodies. In the summer heat you laid and relaxed next to each other, content to catch your breath, your emotions, and let the sweat cool upon your skin.

"During dinner you will apologize to my brother," Daemon said after a few long moments.

With a quirk of your brow, you asked, "or what?"

"Or I will make this look like gentle lovemaking."

You knew he meant it.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥

masterlist

Taglist: if you wish to be added or removed, please let me know!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @targaryenbrainrot @ruby-dragon @silverwinged @chompchompluke

Daemon taglist: @sahvlren @abbyandizzysmum

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon imagine #daemon fic #request

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