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arabellasleopardcoat · 20 days

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You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

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the-djarin-clan · 2 years

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*Alicent starts talking*

Daemon represents me:

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sunnyhvnny · 1 year

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Daemon / Maegor / Aemond

The wife start to love them after the birth of their first child. She stop to try run away and actually start to look at them with warm

Enjoy! ❤️

Tw: none!

Maegor Targaryen

Like most of Maegor’s wives, she was no different in the fact that she had no choice in marrying him. She remembers vividly, as does everyone else in the Keep probably, the night before she was to wed the King. When she climbed out of her window and made it halfway down the stone wall before she was caught.

Everyone knew of Maegor’s cruel and fearsome reputation. She hadn’t known what to expect but it wasn’t anything good. He ignored her most of the time until she began to swell with his child. After that, she couldn’t get rid of him.

The time he spent with her wasn’t just about the babe growing inside of her but about them. He’d take her on strolls throughout the gardens and show her what he did as the King when he wasn’t on his dragon. She, heavy with child, had even sat in on a few small council meetings.

At some point, sharing their time turned into sharing their fears and past and that was when she learned about his fear that this child that she held within her might come out monstrous and she wouldn’t survive the birth. She, in turn, told him that she feared the same. She had heard through the grapevine of what had happened to his previous wives and feared that she would meet her end in the same way. Whether in the birthing bed or by his sword if she birthed a babe that was something of nightmares.

He had stopped then and told her he wouldn’t be the reason for her demise. He would have everyone who knew anything about babes and childbirth be there when it was her time. He held true to his word, as her labors started later that night and she was quickly surrounded by experts or women who held her as she screamed. The one thing she didn’t expect, was her husband insisting on being there.

At first, she thought it was to make sure the babe wasn’t swapped but he held her hand the entire time and whispered encouraging words to her. As the time went by and the babe came closer and closer to arriving, she started to wonder if she felt genuine affection towards him. Her mother had always told her that a woman couldn’t trust their emotions while with child so she pushed those thoughts away and only thought about bringing her child into the world.

It was the hour of the owl when things had finally calmed. The babe had come and was pink, covered in blood, and healthy. It took some time for everyone to usher themselves out and for her to be cleaned up but finally, she and her husband had their child. A little girl that Maegor insisted on calling through Daenys. He showed no signs of disappointment at the child being a girl and only held the small bundle in his arms as he gently swayed her. Occasionally, he brushed a thumb through the tufts of white hair on her head but for the most part, he watched her in wonder.

She wasn’t surprised when she felt affection while looking at her husband and newborn. She was surprised when her husband smiled at her and she felt love.

Daemon Targaryen

She hated King’s Landing and she hated her husband. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t hate her husband but she hated the fact that she had no say in marrying him. That her father told her one day that she was to marry the prince. Her husband isn’t a hard man to read. She knows he wants no part in this marriage as well. She doesn’t know if there is someone else or if he also resents the fact that he had no choice but it doesn’t stop him from doing his duties as a husband.

Since they were wed, it was clear that Daemon found her attractive despite not wanting to be her husband. Perhaps, if she were a whore he’d buy a night with her, or if he found her on her own he would have talked her into sharing a night with him but instead, they were joined together by the seven and he didn’t have to have only one night with her.

Night were all it was in the beginning. He’d come in and fill himself with the pleasures she could offer and leave after he was done. It was a tiring and boring marriage and so she decided that she would leave. She paid a servant for their clothes and made her way out of the Keep, which was easier than she expected, and proceeded to run. She had no plan on where she was running to but soon she was out of the city and on one of the hills. She had forgotten which one, perhaps Visenya’s hill?

She hadn’t slowed down in time, though, and instead of skidding to a halt she tripped over her own feet and went hurtling over the cliff. The hill was high up and she had no idea if she would survive the fall but she was saved from the thought of death when she was grabbed midair and moved into a saddle. When she opened her eyes she saw Daemon and his dragon, the blood wyrm. She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up and out of her. Perhaps it was almost dying or the fact that her husband, who always seemed indifferent to her, was her savior.

Since she was small, she knew that the fates liked playing games and so she wasn’t surprised when only two weeks after her escape and rescue, she found out she was with child. It did surprise her when Daemon started to pay more attention to her. He didn’t seem like a man who was insistent on an heir but perhaps he thought she would take off again, this time with her child.

He had all of her things moved to his chambers and every second he could he spent time with her. It probably would have made her go insane had she made any friends in King’s Landing but she hadn’t so she chose to relish in his company. He was soft with her as her belly grew and she learned that not only was he deadly but he was caring and funny, too, in a dry sort of way.

What really surprised her was that when he was gone she found that she missed him and waited for him to return to her. She realized a while ago that the feelings she held for him were more than that of companionship but she would not dare to think or voice her actual feelings.

That was until she had given birth. It was painful and her screams, she was certain, could be heard in the city below, but it was quick and both she and the babe were healthy. When Daemon finally strode in, she smiled at him and then down at their son. She had gone through several different books of Valyrian and Targaryen history to find just to right name but looking down at her little boy who looked so much like his father, she felt her heart swell. She loved her boys and wanted to give Daemon something more than a babe.

“I believe we should name him Daemion.”

Aemond Targaryen

As far as she was concerned, she believed this marriage to be a farce. Before they wed, she had nothing against her new husband and perhaps if he had simply asked for her hand she would feel less animosity towards him every time she saw him.

Aemond had tricked everyone, though, which was the only reason she was now married to the prince. Everything had happened so fast. She remembered talking with princess Helaena about the upcoming tourney, how she favored a specific knight from the Vale, and that night she had been cornered by Aemond. She remembered her heart beating so hard that she thought it would fly out of her chest but he had simply covered her mouth with his hand and placed himself between her legs.

“Will you please stop squirming? I do not plan on doing anything to you.”

His words had confused her but nearly seconds after he had situated them in a compromising position, her father had stumbled upon them. Aemond had stumbled away from her like he had been in the middle of something and she could only look at him in surprise as her father dragged her to her chambers. It was only the next day that she realized the full scope of what had happened.

Aemond had not taken her virtue but he had made it look like he had and now her father was demanding the two be married. Within a week they were wed, “just in the chance that something comes out of your youthful dalliance,” the hand had said and she could only grit her teeth. Nothing would come of it but no one would believe her.

After they were wed, Aemond acted like the husband of stories and songs. He was affectionate, kind, and someone everyone would kill to be married to. Except, whenever he asked her about her day or walked with her through the gardens she felt like hitting him.

She had started to feel trapped. He had moved his things into her chambers and he ate his meals with her, every time he wasn’t training he was by her side. Sometimes she wondered if he acted this way because he wanted all of her time to himself or if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to have any part of her.

She had tried to escape from the Red Keep, her gullible parents, and her husband. She had thought it smart to take servant's clothes and sneak through the corridors only they used. She had made it all the way out to the yard, not yet to the gates, when her husband had found her. He looked cold and upset at the same time as he escorted her back to their shared chambers. No words were spoken and she couldn’t help but think the worst.

After her husband had a servant draw her a warm bath and let her soak in it for a while, he finally spoke. “I was with the maesters when you were making your getaway attempt. They have informed me that you have not bled in more than a moons turn.”

He didn’t need to say the words. She knew what he meant. She had been so diligent about drinking moon tea every morning, as her husband had a rather large appetite when it came to her. She sighed and closed her eyes when she remembered the day of the tourney. She and Aemond had been in bed all day and had missed the tourney completely. For the short few moments that he left and ordered the servants to bring food or drinks, she had been too tired to ask for the moon tea and the next day it had completely slipped her mind.

Her husband’s hand slid below the water and caressed her still flat abdomen. “I will have guards posted at the doors and only the servants that I approve of will be coming in here from now on. If you want to leave our chambers just ask me and I will accompany you. I don’t want anything to happen to you or the babe.”

He sounded so sincere when he said it that she wondered if he knew that he was taking away her freedoms. He stuck true to his words, though. The next morning she was awoken by a servant she had never seen before bringing her and her husband’s morning meal. When she tried to leave the rooms to go to the library, the guards outside stopped her. It was only hours later when her husband returned that he accompanied her to the library.

This routine had kept up longer than she thought it would. Her husband had stuck true to his words. She thought she would grow to resent him as time passed but with him being her only form of company she began to rely heavily on him. As her belly swelled, they talked and laughed and when the life inside her caused her to have mood swings, Aemond only held her until she calmed.

It was as they were waiting for her labors to begin that she realized that she had to put away the rocky start to their marriage. He had made it look like her virtue was compromised and that she would let a prince have his way with her in any corridor but when she thought back to it, she no longer felt angry. She felt nothing towards it truly. She only thought about the loving moments they shared together in this room after they had learned about the babe quickening inside of her.

The labors and the birth were quicker than anyone had expected or planned for. The baby was in the arms of the midwife just after one of the servants ran to tell Aemond.

By the time he walked into their chambers, still sticky with sweat but not a hair out of place, from training, she was laying on their bed with a fussing bundle in her arms. The joy that she felt when her husband walked in probably would have surprised her many moons ago but now she only smiled at him and waved him over to look at their child.

It was a little girl with tufts of silver hair and mismatched eyes. One violet and one a deep blue, both of which were staring up at Aemond curiously as he gently grabbed her and held her in his arms. As she looked on at her husband and daughter she felt love spread throughout her. Love for her baby and love for her husband.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #daemon targeryan #Maegor Targaryen #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targayen x reader

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mhysa-daenerystargaryen · 2 years

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Daemon Targaryen really said “I THINK THE FUCK NOT” as his step-sons were called bastards and his wife a whore. We stan this crazy man.

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemyra #rhaenyra targayen #hotd

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the-desilittle-bird · 1 year

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Author's Note- Took a little break from studies and wrote this down. Hope you like it. Also, requests are always well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

Never Yours

Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader;

Husband!Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

Part 2

Summary- The Lady of Winterfell returns to her home to find a jealous loved ones and a broken lover

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenx, @instabul, @shine101, @hyacinthus007, @mcam623, @eudximoniakr, @carissa_griffin7777, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon666, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @savagemickey03, @sunmoon-01

Warnings- Drunk & Angry!Daemon, Curse Words, Verbal Abuse (Sorry!), Westrosi Things...

GIF Credits to @thequeenwechoose

(Y/N) sat in the carriage, her daughter's hand in hers as she watched Aemma cooing to her youngest brother, Bran, only two summers old. (Y/N) had always wished for children, many; but she had never imagined to actually have them.

Cregan was a man of passion, as she had came to know in the years of their marriage. He was kind and honorable, but it was never him for the dragon princess. As much as she had came to love and respect the wolf lord, her heart belonged to another.

"We will be able to meet our cousins, right mother?" Viserys asked, excited to meet the cousins he had heard of. The worst part, the only bad part about living in the North was to tell her children about her family but never actually letting them meet.

But that changed when they received a raven from the king, asking them to march to the capital for some reasons kept unknown.

"Yes, you will, my love," (Y/N) smiled, watching out of the window of the carriage as it came to a halt in the huge courtyard of the keep. The door to the carriage opened and the Princess and Lady of North was the first one to step out of it, followed by her children.

A smile graced her face as she greeted her sister, standing beside her husband, her former lover uncle. "It's been quite some time since I saw you," Rhaenyra said with a smile, studying her sister who had grown up significantly.

"I didn't get time to visit between the responsibilities of North and motherhood," the second child of Viserys and Aemma said with a shrug before looking down shyly. "I have heard you have given birth to six children."

(Y/N) flushed at her sister's comment, whispering a small 'yes'. She heard her elder sister laugh, before she glided over to her children, all of whom stood in a perfect line as per their age.

Most of her children had took after their father while her eldest two sons were perfect replicas of herself. Silver hair and violet eyes with other worldly looks. They were her dearest of all.

Daemon and Viserys.

Rhaenyra smiled widely while on her inner side, she felt a sense of jealousy as she looked at (Y/N)'s children. Though most of them looked like the Stark Lord, only those with sharpest eyes could make out the small Valyrian features in them. May it be the lighter shade of browns as their hair, or the barely visible specks of lavender in their eyes.

Her children and (Y/N)'s both had a father not belonging to Valyrain descent and yet, (Y/N)'s children looked more like the dragons than her owns.

Her eyes studied her sister from far, observing the clear contrast they had started to have, unlike their youth. While Rhaenyra's waist had thickened after bearing her children, (Y/N)'s seem to be intact.

The few differences in (Y/N)'s looks were the length of her silver hair, which had grown significantly from the time she last saw her. Her skin seemed to glow in the sunshine brighter than it did before. And the size of her bosom; they had grown due to motherhood.

Rhaenyra was aware about her husband's relation with her sister, something she never felt envious about until the very moment she saw him eying her with longing in his eyes.

Daemon stood quietly in the side, watching as his once dear lover smiled at her children. Children he had not fathered.

He hated Viserys for sending her off to the North, to marry a Lord who couldn't treat her as she deserved to be and yet, here he stood, looking at her with an ache in his heart as she looked happy.

He could see the way Rhaenyra's gaze stop at (Y/N)'s figure. While motherhood blessed the younger sister with beauty of heaven; something she already possessed when she was married off, Rhaenyra's had neither increased nor decreased.

He could sense the envy of Rhaenyra as she looked at him. But he couldn't help himself, he couldn't stop gazing at her and regretted shouting at her that fateful night when everything changed.

(Y/N) sat in her chambers, braiding her silver hair as she prepared to sleep. A low humming echoed around the room as (Y/N) sang to herself a tune she heard from a feast.

Just then, did the silence ended when the doors to her chambers opened and a drunk Daemon stumbled in, speaking to himself about something she couldn't hear.

"Kepus, you are drunk," she stated, as she stood up, helping him to her bed, closing the door quickly. "No, I am angry," Daemon hissed, his eyes bloodshot as he looked in the eyes of his niece.

(Y/N) frowned, placing a hand on his cheek to make him look at her. "Is everything alright?" She asked with concern in her voice to which Daemon laughed bitterly. "Iksan se drēje dārilaros naejot se dēmalion! iksan, daor aōha mandia!" (I am the rightful heir to the throne! I am, not your sister!" Daemon exclaimed, making the princess flinch.

He grabbed her hair, forcing her to sit on her knees in front of his as he hissed on her face, "Istin sagon va se dēmalion daor mirri dārōñe dārilaros qilōni kostagon daor gaomagon mirros." (I must be on the throne not some royal princess who can't do anything.)

"Where were you, Daemon?" (Y/N) asked with tears in her eyes as she watched Daemon stood up and make his way to the window. "Lēda aōha līve mandia, ñuha jorrāelagon," (With your whore sister, my love) Daemon stated calmly, as if it was no big deal.

"I wonder what will my brother do when he comes to know that zȳhon riñi issi līve," (his girls are whores) Daemon chuckled darkly as he turned around with a mocking smile. "One is willing to bed me, while the other-" he walked towards (Y/N), gripping her jaw in his hand.

"Warms my bed every other day."

The sky was of hues of purple, yellow and red; a beautiful combination as the setting sun peaked out of the horizon. The sea water a mirror of the sky, with glittering diamonds above the waves which came and went.

(Y/N) stood on a cliff, her silver hair was out of her braids, freed and blowing with the breeze. Her black and red dress damced around her feet. Her eyes closed as she felt the air caressing her.

"Zaldrītsos," (Little dragon) came a voice which took away all the peace she felt, leaving her with only a broken heart. "Skoros gaomagon jaelā?" (What do you want?) She hissed, turning around.

When no answer came, she continued in a bitter tone, "Iā līve naejot bāne ao? īlen ivestretan ēdā iā ābrazȳrys syt bona." (A whore to warm you? I was told you had a wife for that.)

"I apologize for my words, (Y/N)" Daemon said, his eyes filling with tears as he let his head hang low in shame. It was the dragon princess' turn to laugh, though tears stinged in her eyes. "Apologize? What for now, uncle?"

"Īlen iā mittys naejot pendagon bona ao jorrāelatan nyke, yn daor, ao mērī jorrāelatan nyke syt ñuha jaelagon naejot gaomagon gaomilaksir hen iā ābrazȳrys." (I was a fool to think that you loved me, but no, you only loved me for my wish to do duty of a wife.)

At last, a tear escaped the Rogue Prince's eyes as he let the truth in her words sank in. He walked to her, kneeling down as he cried silently. "You are right," he only whispered, surprising the dragon princess who stood speechless.

"I was only a selfish man who wanted the throne and nothing else. I was a fool not to see who loved me or not," he admitted as (Y/N) knelt next to him, letting him cry on her shoulder.

"It is too late now to regret, Daemon," she whispered as she let her lips hover over his cheek. "We have families to look for, duties to uphold," she continued, as her own tears escaped.

Daemon's grip on her waist tightened as he heard her words. "Let's run away," he whispered into the crook of her neck, catching (Y/N) off guard. "We can't just leave, Daemon," she said sadly.

"What of our children?" She asked, gripping his bicep as she looked at him, expecting no answer. Daemon could only sigh, his eyes heavy as he placed his head on her shoulder as slowly, tears gathered in all the years without her came out.

Both (Y/N) and Daemon knew none of their wishes could come true, as what was done is done and the future is set already...

#house targaryen #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targeryan #daemon au #cregan x targayen #daemon targeryen x reader

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