#daemon's wife!au!
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The Decision
Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader
Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).
Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.
Now you can read this bonus!
TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)
I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!
If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭
REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖
Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.
You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.
With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.
“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”
Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.
It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.
"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.
You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.
"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.
"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.
"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.
The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.
“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.
"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice
This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.
"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."
If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.
After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.
You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.
“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.
“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.
It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.
This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.
“You know,” you declared sadly.
“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.
“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.
You froze when Harwin walked away from you.
“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.
“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.
“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”
His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.
“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.
You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…
But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.
You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."
And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.
"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.
Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.
"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.
You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.
*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.
"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.
He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing her. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. Her brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.
"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"
Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.
You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”
"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.
"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.
In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.
"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.
Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.
You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.
“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.
“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”
You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.
You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in his eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. "I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."
And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.
“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.
“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.
Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.
Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.
Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.
“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.
He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.
"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.
Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.
Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.
"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.
The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.
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byka perzys | part two
rosy riñītsos | part one | masterlist
Dark!Daemyra Targaryen x Crybaby!Reader
A/N: y’all filthies were hungry for part two so here we go, again do not come at me. This is very taboo with dad Daemon and step mom Rhaenyra. Feel free to skip this if it ain’t your cup of tea; I have other vanilla ones. A little angsty start!! Not proof read. I’m going to bed lol I will do it later :)
tw: naive reader, dubcon-ish,breastfeeding (lactation kink), infantilism, incest!, spanking.
It has been eight moons since Rhaenyra Targaryen claimed the Iron Throne, it had been a bloody affair truly- her own kin beheaded and hanging off the gates of the Red Keep as an example.
Usurp the throne and pay its price.
People that Y/N once called family all hung from the gates, her favourite aunt in chains with her little cousins. Daemon and Rhaenyra did their best to keep their children away from the monstrosity that followed with war, however keeping Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena proved to being harder. They won the throne regardless with every green supporter executed or incarcerated. Only after Rhaenyra secured her position did she send for her eldest daughter to be brought to King’s Landing from Dragonstone.
The battle had turned both Rhaenyra and Daemon bitter, while to the court they had begun celebrating their victory. With enormous galas being thrown for their children’s engagements. Both Jace and Baela being named future heir to the throne, they had begun being more involved in the politicking while Rhaena and Luke began to make journeys with their grandfather Corlys.
You felt alone in it all- Joff, Aegon and Viserys were all little making them the joy of everyone’s eyes and what remained of you? A mere bastard girl at court with nothing to her name. You were happy that the war ended, that your mother sat the throne; your family whole. You had spent all your life hidden, buried in your books or lost in the gardens. You didn’t care much for courtly attention, what you did care for were your kepa and mūna.
You went from nursing yourself to sleep in between them for many moons to the war making them forget of your existence, you waited, you truly did. However as the days passed, the more scared you became. You would cry yourself to sleep with fear of death, and now you felt alone. You stood at court and yet no one saw you. A giant table set for supper and yet there was just you awaiting your family. They never came.
You had found solace elsewhere, making multiple trips with your lady’s maids to the city as everybody made efforts to sew Kings Landing back to its proper glory, many of Daemon’s gold cloaks would accompany you; not wanting to loose their heads to dark sister. You offered baskets of milk, clothing and food out to the people of flea bottom and perhaps in those few hours you spent with the common people. You felt more seen than you had in over six months, your visits became frequent, and while Daemon and Rhaenyra believed you were holed up deep in the libraries in the Red Keep; you read stories to children at the Blackwater beaches.
You learned of tales of your own birth and how you might have been one of these common people had your father not been so considerate of his own blood. It warmed you heart and yet upset you more. He never spoke of your birth mother and you never questioned him on the matter, not until you sent out your lady’s maid to find the tavern you took birth in. It was weeks until they returned with the name of the tavern, which too they relayed to you with hesitation. A princess in a tavern…blasphemy.
You had found your people, while your mother perished while birthing you, an older tavern wench recognized your lilac eyes the second you set foot into her establishment, they cared for you the first eight moons of your existence until gold cloaks came knocking down their door to retrieve you for your kepus, the King. They did not fight, mayhaps their one child of many would be raised in riches. They closed the bar down as they celebrated your return.
Everyone of the barmaids began hounding you with questions.
“Do ya remember us little lady?” one questioned “I bathed you as babey”
“Aye- but I named ya little fires!” a woman named Chataya replied.
“Tell us litte fires, have ya gotten one of those monsters?” the older woman questioned, you happily smiled as you nodded your head.
“Vermithor.” you said smiling ear to ear.
“Vermithor!” they all cheered as they raised their cups of ale, making you flinch but giggle along. You spent a better part of that afternoon basking in happiness, there wasn’t a single room in the Red Keep that spread with this much joy at your presence.
That evening at the square named you the Princess of Flea Bottom.
A fitting title for a very different reason from when Daemon was named the very thing for his whoring habits.
Just as always even tonight, other than Joffrey everybody seemed to have found themselves occupied.
“Sorry sister, there are council matters.” Jacearys apologised on his and Baela’s behalf for their inability to join you for supper. Lucearys and Rhaena had extended their stay at Driftmark. You had spent the better part of supper scraping your peas from one end to the other as Joffrey went on about his new horse gifted to him by some lord- Massey? Baremon? You weren’t sure which.
“A proper princess finishes her food!” the shrill voice of Septa Marlow scolded you yet again.
That night you attempted something you would have never tried before, you frustrations seemed to have frozen your nervousness as you pattered your way over to the royal apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast with a book in one hand and a doll in another. Hoping that tonight Daemon might read to you for the night, you wouldn’t even beg to lay with them; merely spend a few moments in their company. The queensgaurd placed by their doors already had succumbed to slumber as he leaned against the wall. Your meek nature made it far to easy to evade him as you entered the Queen’s apartments.
The door to their bed chambers were slightly parted as you heard chatter from within, a burst of joy spread through you. After much time they had been in their bed chambers at an acceptable hour, perhaps tonight you might sleep all through the dark skies till the sun graced King’s Landing. You smiled to yourself, already the forming the sentence of request in your head so you wouldn’t stammer while speaking. Running the words over your head twice before approaching the door.
You peaked in, immediately freezing as your knock barely reached the door. You eyes fixated on the image within the chambers. Your heart sunk, small twitches of anxiety moved through your fingers as your gaze fell upon a girl stood in between Daemon and Rhaenyra. Daemon’s lips attacking her neck as she suckled at Rhaenyra’s breasts, your feet took you backwards. Knocking over the vase placed on a side table by the door, a loud crash through the corridor.
Daemon’s eyes immediately shot to the door, furious at whoever would dare interrupt the Queen and her consort, and even more who would dare to peak in. He pushed the whore on the bed and unsheathed his dagger, ready to swing it at whomever he would find at their chamber doors. He heard hurried shuffling feet as pushed the door open with all its might, the queensgaurd placed at the door looking disheveled as he appeared to make himself look coherent. He stumbled to no evidence to who the onlooker might have been, other than a book laid on the ground.
He picked up the book, turning it to read it’s cover. A tale of romance that perhaps only one person would have read it in all of the Red Keep. He shook his head, cursing himself at what you might have seen as he returned inside to grab his cloak. He threw the book at his wife, who looked at him questioningly; she frowned at the cover as Daemon apologized to the doe eyed whore that both Daemon and Rhaenyra would have enjoyed tormenting.
“Sorry pet, here’s your gold.” He placed four gold coins on her lap before leaving to find you.
You ran as fast as your feet would allow, hiking your skirts with both hands as your discarded your doll by the servants chambers, everyone of them shouting at you; concerned of your well being. You had managed to climb over boxes just as you did with trees and jumped over the lower walls, ridding yourself of the Red Keep. You hated it here, you wanted to go home. You wanted everyone to just return to the days at Dragonstone. The metal fencing tugged at your skirts, ripping through a good inch or two of your lavender skirts and dug into the skin of thigh, drawing blood that in the moment you hadn’t registered somewhere in the scuffle you had also misplaced a slipper, leaving your one foot bare as you escaped. You just ran, escaping the vile portrait of another girl nursing on your mother.
Pushing through crowds of people as you ran towards the Dragonpit, Vermithor had already felt your inner turmoil, growling and freeing himself of his chains as he stomped his way out of his holding to the courtyard; awaiting your arrival as he still growled at the dragonkeeper trying to settle him down. They already knew the sudden outraged behaviour of the bronze dragon had to do with your arrival, in the darkness however they couldn’t tell a thing.
You ran towards your dragon, looking behind you to see if anyone followed which you were sure they would. Your father might have been as furious as you were at them, if not worse.
“Vhalar Vermithor!” you yelled at him.
“Soves!”
You hurried to pull yourself onto his wing, yanking your body up onto your leathered saddle. “Sovētēs!” you ordered once more before your dragon pushed its wings back to fly towards the dark skies. You hadn’t even bothered to tie yourself to him, you just held on as your heart hammered within your chest.
Daemon arrived to the dragonpit moments later, already finding a torn piece of your dress stained in blood and your doll discarded at the servant grounds, he cursed under his breath as Caraxes was brought out of his holding. He wasted no time in mounting his dragon after he made sure that the dragon keepers would send word to his wife. Caraxes would hunt them down to be sure, he had to.
Vermithor flew for hours to be sure; you had not a clue of where he took you. Your mind toiled of far worse things.
What were you thinking? The court didn’t want you and neither did your kin. The word bastard began to ring in your ears as you cried high above the clouds. The more Vermithor flew the more it became apparent that he was flying north, the air began to grow colder until he finally landed upon a strip of mountains. You sighed, looking around at the hill forests as you shuffled off him. You yelped out loud feeling the throb in your thigh, you began trembling again.
You wanted to go home.
You wanted to go back to Dragonstone.
Vermithor grunted, already irked that you had distrupted his sleep and yet he sympathized with your sorrow, the cold that had began to seep into your bones that your torn summer gown did nothing to shield you from. The bronze fury let out a gust of fire, circling around himself and you to keep him warm as he snuggled himself on the grass. You shuffled closer to his neck as you rested against the warm reptilian skin, crying into your hands. Afraid and alone.
Daemon had flown for hours, Caraxes had lost the scent of your dragon past the burning ruins in the Riverlands. He returned at dawn, failing to find you as he stomped into his chambers. He explained it all to Rhaenyra who looked terrified, hurrying to send out ravens to every lord to seek for a bronze dragon and their princess dressed in lavender. Daemon made trips himself, scouring through Dragonstone and Driftmark first, knowing the Vermithor spent most his time on those lands. To no avail.
He regretted no reaching out to you sooner, most of it was to blame the monstrosity that clouded Rhaenyra and his blood at the aftermath of the war. The enjoyed paying whores to leave those girls bruised by the morning, how were they to do that two their own zaldrititos. They couldn’t bare the thought of touching you while their demons ran wild in the sheets, you were far too pure to taint so early. Many night they’d free themselves of the council at late hours, Daemon himself would return covered in blood after he “interrogated” the green sympathisers. He’d peer into your bed chambers just as Rhaenyra would, watching a small frown that they would pet away from your sleeping body.
You had fallen asleep at some point, the simmering burnt grass lulled your sobbing frame to sleep as you hid under Vermithor’s wing. Come morning you woke within the same burnt circle, the sun glaring in your eyes as Vermithor rested from a few feet from you; nibbling on a roasted sheep. You shuffled up, groaning at the throb on your thigh, some where along the night the cut had stopped bleeding but left a better part of your gown soaked in blood.
You groaned as you stood up, looking around to have an inkling of where you might be, you limped toward Vermithor. Petting his skin.
“Can you take me home? Dragonstone?” you asked him, hoping he’d be done with his meal soon. His yellow eyes merely looked at you from his periphery before thudding his head to the ground to rest. “Please?”
He moved his snout to push the leftover sheep towards you, before closing his eyes to slumber.
You had begun to venture around the edge of the woods, luckily finding a pond to wash your wound. More tears followed as the gash burned anew, the cruel cold water bringing you much discomfort. Hours went past, you had begged your bronze dragon to take you home a dozen times, to no avail. He had begun to drag himself to a mountain cave, holding his fresh kill within his mouth as he huffed every two breaths; awaiting your limping frame to keep up with him.
Perhaps this was your home now, you were hungry, and ate around the cooked flesh of the kills Vermithor would hunt, you were in pain. Both physically and mentally, perhaps they didn’t care, perhaps they threw another gala as they were rid of their bastard daughter.
“What if she never returns Daemon?” Rhaenyra sighed as she held rocked baby Visenya to bed. “She won’t survive out there.”
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Daemon snapped, still beating himself over your disappearance. “She has her dragon with her, he will protect her.”
Various lords around the seven kingdoms sent out watch parties, hoping to spot the princess or atleast her dragon. Four days past and not a word, until finally a white raven arrived from The Vale. A parchment containing the sightings of Vermithor atop their mountains and talks of Hill tribes and Mountain men attacking whatever that dragon was trying to hide. All attempts to make contact were met with dragon fire, killing the Knights of The Vale and Hill tribes alike.
Daemon was enraged as he rushed to mount Caraxes, armed with Dark Sister while he rode with all his might to arrive at the Eyrie before the dusk began to decorate the horizon. They pointed toward the taller peak, warning him of Mountain men all guarding the cave for any sitting of the bronze fury. Daemon flew above with Caraxes, watching as the savages below shoot arrows and boulder like rocks in the cave; above all he heard the furious roars of Y/N’s dragon. He had burned every last one of them in a fit of rage, the glowing carnage could be seen from miles below the mountains as Caraxes landed with a thud just outside the caves. Daemon approached the dark cave with stealth, singing a Valyrian lullaby that his grand sire sung for his dragon, one that he sang with Y/N while he helped her claim the enormous beast.
You hid behind your dragon’s tail, groaning in pain as a rock yet again bruised your skin. The first two days stop the mountain were peaceful. You had found yourself berries that kept your fed just enough to curb the rumbling, the fresh water pond helped both you and Vermithor and the gash on your thigh began dry as your cleaned them with washed leaves. Your dress on the other hand, went from lavender to dirt brown in no time, your feet covered in little cuts at you rid yourself of your only slipper. Your family consisted of Vermithor and little cave bugs, that was until the people Vermithor was stealing sheep and goats from came knocking- charging at your door.
You had fought them for two days, with barely enough sleep as they kept throwing things and shooting at Vermithor. He burned them and yet more came, then came knights who knew your name. Perhaps green sympathizers that wanted your head, you burned them too. You cowered behind Vermithor sobbing until you heard a familiar lullaby, you cried louder in your hands, you feared you had succumbed to madness.
“Y/N! Riñītsos?” you heard Daemon’s voice bellow in the darkness. You were sure somebody had come for you, and it sure wasn’t Daemon. You huffed pulling yourself onto Vermithor, hoping to scare away whoever it was.
“Dracarys.” you said, making Vermithor let out a blow of fire around the cave. You sat atop him with agony and rage in your eyes, you were exhausted and were sure you would die by the end of the fortnight. That was until the warm glow of the fire flashed the white haired figure stood at the entrance of the cave.
“nyke issa riñītsos.” his voiced echoed through the cave.
“k-kepa?” you bottom lip wobbled as you shuffled off of Vermithor, barely able to hold your own weight together.
As much as Daemon wanted to run to grab you, he couldn’t. The bronze fury still held a murderous stance towards him, he had to wait for you. You feet slowly limped forward to him, clearing your eyes in the little light that remained in the burning darkness. You whispered his name once more to which he replied, holding his arms out until he saw your body in the light.
Frail, your dress covered in soot, dirt and blood. The braids on your hair undone and unruly, stained in dirt and blood too. Wounds on your arms and a bleeding cut on your head, Daemon took in a sharp breath once he finally had you in his arm, you collapsed- whimpering as he rushed to cover your body with his cloak.
“Iksā ȳgha, iksan vaoreznuni.” He whispered against your temple as he pushed you hair away. Daemon carried you to Caraxes, helping you mount him first before situating himself behind you. He was perturbed to be sure, that you would be so reckless but in the moment he felt nothing but relief as he flew back to the Red Keep with you in his arms.
Two days, it had been two days as you graced the world of consciousness and then drifted to slumber again. The day Daemon returned to the Red Keep, carrying your cloaked frame in his arms as your lady’s maids rushed to care for you. Both Rhaenyra and him and sat through the ordeal as the cleaned your wounds, he wanted to backhand every one of your maids as your hissed and cried out as the girls tended your wounds. Upon being tucked in bed, Daemon sat with you for hours, humming a lullaby under his breath as he caressed your silver wisps.
When you had awoken for sure, you had jolted awake. Eyes darting over your canopy until they fell upon Rhaenyra and Daemon sat next to your bed. Both looked tired and yet furious, their faces reminded you of what you had seen, soon filling your relieved heart with bitterness.
“What were you thinking?” Rhaenyra questioned darkly, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
“The Queen asked you something.” Daemon said in addition.
You scoffed at the two of them, frowning at their audacity to question you after what they had done. You groaned as you sat up, shuffling yourself off your bed from the other end. The poppy you were sure they made you consume, helped with your aching joints. Daemon’s chair scrapped as he approached you, holding your arms firmly in his hands as he questioned you once more.
“Nothing, my queen.” you said bitterly, fighting to tear yourself away from his grip.
Your tone irked her even more, far more than you using her title to defy her. “We don’t ask you for much, that you remain with us, and obey us.” she lectured “Perhaps we have been to lenient with you.”
You still said nothing as you scowled at the floor, “Do you know what they do to the girls at Old Town? The ones that behave as poorly as you have!” Daemon scolded you this time as he dragged your body back to your bed. You fought harder against his hold only irking them further.
Daemon held your body down as they plopped you on your belly. You felt them shuffle over you before Rhaenyra lifted your sleep shift from your backside, hastily pulling away at your small clothes.
“Let me go!” you screamed “Damn you, damn both of you!”
Daemon held you face down, muffling your screams as you felt the leather resting against your rear. “How many days did we not sleep proper , sweet wife?”
“Seven days.” she replied with venom in her voice.
“Seven hits.” Daemon agreed. “You better count them!” he warned you.
You felt the first hit throb against your rear, you bit your lip to starve them of a reaction. Another slash of the leather burned against your rear. “You better count if you want her to stop.” Daemon tutted.
“Go to hell!” you spat.
They had not a clue of why you acted this way, surely they would have explained what you saw but your defiance angered them way beyond measure. They wanted their meek, shy girl to return, even if they had to spank it back into you.Another harder hit radiated through your bottom, this time you cried out; only to be hit again when you finally screamed out “One!”
“Have you a clue of how afraid we were?” Daemon scolded along with the leather connecting to your arse again.
“The Vale knights you have killed? The damage alone!” Rhaenyra yelled before spanking you again.
“What if something happened to you? Do you see the wounds under a fortnight alone?” Daemon loosened his hold on you as you succumbed to your punishment, now fighting to sob.
“You could have been killed!” Rhaenyra bellowed as she got her last hit in.
You scurried forward into the bed as Daemon let you go, you hugged your knees as you shielded your face away from them. Your muña would have yelled at you once more but Daemon pulled her out of your chambers as she heaved in anger.
They hated you.
They left you to ponder over what you had done, you killed people, you ran away from home. You were horrible and they hated you now. You hadn’t realized when you began to sob but you did, you lady’s maids visited once to stoke the fires by the hearth before leaving. You sobbed into a pillow, letting every last shred of emotions in your body wet through the silk of your pillow.
Rhaenyra resumed court for the day, still fuming at what her daughter had done. Reparations were made of the dead knights to the Vale as Daemon did his best to calm her down. Perhaps they had gone two far in punishing you, however you needed to understand if not fear leaving this castle ever again. She would have chained you to the bed for all she cared, fighting this hard to sheild you from a war. Atleast her sons knew how to fight, her step daughter by Laena were fierce. You were mouse disguised a dragon, spoiled endlessly. She hated that it had resorted to this and would comfort you sooner than later.
Daemon on the other hand had handed her his belt, the simmering rage he had felt as he held your frail body back to the keep, unsure if you were dead or just asleep in his arms. The pained screams he had to hear as they cleaned your wounds, all because you were too stupid to ask them or yell at them instead of running. He hated himself too, he should have known better. Known that she would wither if left alone for far too long.
They approached your room way after supper, trays of untouched food remained outside your chambers as a lady’s maid informed them of your refusal to move. Rhaenyra huffed as she picked the tray of supper as Daemin held the door open for her, it had been a while since she had fed you herself.
You still remained the fetal position in your bed, small whimpers left your body as the pushed through the bed curtains. At first she believed you were crying your sleep, a prank of guilt ran through them as they saw your reddened rear peaking through your sleep shift.
It wasn’t until you whimpered out more words that they realized you were awake, regressed to a mere child afraid of monster as you cried.
“I-I want to go home,” you said through hiccups.
“You are home,” Daemon whispered as he pulled your onto his lap.
“D-dragonstone, home,” you whimpered.
“Oh, zaldrititos. This is our home now,” Rhaenyra cooed at her.
“No, not my home- daor!” you wailed louder, only growing more distressed as you refused to look at them “Ao vēdros nyke! Daor nyke!”
Rhaenyra gasped, “No- we could never hate you.”
“Always want our riñītsos,” Daemon whispered against your temple.
You shook your head as more furious tears fell from your eyes “The girl! I saw her, s-she was feeding on muña. You want her, n-not me.”
You began to shuffle away from her as reached forward to touch your face “We were afraid of hurting you sweet pea, I never get this angry but we have fought so hard to keep all of you safe.”
“Not knowing where you were was death, do you understand? I couldn’t breathe knowing you were out there, alone.” Rhaenyra confessed.
“You have been alone and angry, we are so sorry riñītsos,” Daemon said as he pushed your hair away. “We should have come for you sooner.”
Daemon began to pepper kisses down your face as Rhaenyra approached you again, this time you let her touch you as she caressed over your bandages.
“kepa,” you whimpered as more tears fell from your eyes. “muña,”
“You need to eat,” he whispered in your ear, nudging you to sit up right. You whined, I wanting to untangle this cocoon you had craved for months. “No, just be here.”
Your tummy grumbled and yet your refused to let this warmth wash away for a stupid cut of steak or mutton. You nuzzled your nose in the peaking curve of Rhaenyra’s bosom, hoping she would let you nurse on her; you felt far to dazed to be refused of such tenderness. Rhaenyra being a mother new exactly what you wanted, she shuffled backwards, tugging at the front strings of her dress robes. Her breasts spilling through the loosely tied corset.
You hungrily latched at her pink nipple, all too inviting at your groaned the second the sweet milk hit your tongue. She tapped your nose to make your suckle gently at her sore breasts and yet your happily lapped as your nurses on her. Daemon shuffled away making you whine, he shook his head at your impatience. Which soon turned to joy as he returned with your discarded doll in one hand; dressed in a brand new red and black dress. His other hand held the book you wanted him to read to you. He slotted himself back in yet again as you smiled around Rhaenyra’s breast.
Daemon read through passages like melted butter to the tongue, with every pause he pressed a kiss to you temple or caressed through Rhaenyra’s hair. Before Daemon flipped through the first chapter you had switched to the other breast as you suckled her dry. One thing was to be sure, it would be a while before her miles dried up for good. Not that she cared as she doted over the contentment that washed over your features
You felt content, warm and safe. You were bathed and clean, fed and sated as your were cuddled in between the two people you loved the most. You muña letting your hair as your kepa read you to sleep, the wars had ended, the blood shed seized and perhaps just for a moment. The Red Keep felt like home.
#daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen#got x reader#hotd fanfiction#daemyra smut#daemyra#daemyra x reader#ruie writes#ruiewrites#daemyra you#daenyra#daemon smut#male wife daemon#daemon prince#daemon au#daemon x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra x reader#princess rhaenys targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader#princess rhaenyra#rhaenyra targaryen fanfic#young rhaenyra#rhaenyra targaryen
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Thoughts on the Alysanne is Maegor's daughter AU? I feel like it has some interesting potential, and it vastly recontextualizes different parts of Jaehaehae (I do not like him sjsjsjs) and Alysanne's relationship (such as Jaehaehae's treatment of their daughters) but I wanna hear what you think about it!
I’ve touched on this a bit before but since you actually want to hear my thoughts, allow me to present to you my Jaehaerys Is The Goddamn Worst, And Alysanne Annoys Me Too: An Essay lmao but my answer is basically “yeah all of what you just said.”
I think it makes Alysanne much more palatable (to me) as a character because as she stands, she just fixates on forcing her daughters through these fucked up marriages at too young an age bc it traumatized her to be married and pregnant at 15 too but she’d never admit that being a willing participant in her own kidnapping by her brother-husband was the single worst thing that ever happened to her, and because Alysanne doesn’t want to admit it (and Jaehaerys would never see it as wrong or a mistake) F&B really shies away from delving into the fact that Alysanne is as deranged of a mother as Cersei is. So as she stands, she’s very flat to me because she’s presented very flatly and inconsistently. She’s so in love with Jaehaerys, she’s maritally raped by Jaehaerys, she’s a loving and doting mother, she forces her daughters into marriages when they’re the same too young age she was, she accuses her teenage girls of being scheming whores then gets angry when her husband accuses their teenage girls of being scheming whores, and worst of all we are just told “Maegelle tells them to make up so they do” so we don’t know why Alysanne gets over all of this. What is the point of riding a dragon when you never use that dragon to protect your daughters from unwanted teen marriages? We’re just not given a good enough justification for why her behavior is so weird and frustrating towards her daughters.
Make her Maegor’s daughter though…most of her behavior as an adult makes more sense. Like a worse version of Rhaenyra’s childhood almost - a father desperate for a son, but lowkey obsessed with his daughter, who makes all his hang ups about his parents the problems of every woman around him, except Maegor is out here blood sacrificing and torturing and starting wars and forcing babies on wives he discards quickly and brutally. Then here comes Jaehaerys on a white horse green dragon to save her from the horror her life has become, and he loves her so much he runs away with her even though Alyssa says they shouldn’t marry because people won’t like it. And they have beautiful children, and a beautiful marriage, and build a beautiful kingdom.
Then her pregnancies start getting dangerous. Gaemon, then Valerion, die. Alysanne thinks of the shriveled up mutants she called brothers, if Maegor’s taint has passed to her. Her perfect husband ignores her no, and forces Gael on her. Alysanne remembers that he said nothing to Rogar when Alyssa died, merely wept. Then her daughters start to die. Daella, Alyssa, Viserra, all within a few years. Then Jaehaerys makes Saera watch as he murders her boyfriend, calls her a whore, and says Alysanne cannot follow Saera to Lys. Alysanne thinks of Maegor torturing the Harroways over Alys’ presumed infidelity. Jaehaerys says he’s sorry, and her daughter badgers her into forgiving him, and she remembers how she helped Jaehaerys badger Alyssa into forgiving Rogar. Not two years later, Jaehaerys passes over Rhaenys. Alysanne thinks of how she was never enough for her father, how she felt so superior to Rhaena banished to Dragonstone and resented by Aerea, yet there she is dragging Gael away from court because she can’t stand to be with Jaehaerys. How her father was surrounded by dead women and dead babies and how Jaehaerys is surrounded by his own dead daughters, but surely she did the right thing, surely Maegor was worse, surely the realm is better off? Is he right to pass over Rhaenys? Is she enabling a man just as monstrous as her father? She will never decide, because Maegelle will guilt her about keeping Gael isolated at Dragonstone, and Alysanne will do as she’s told, just like Rhaena, and Alyssa, and Jeyne, Elinor, Ceryse, Alys, and Tyanna, just like every one of her daughters.
I do get why Alysanne is Alyssa & Aenys’ and not Maegor’s. The weird Targ babies, the line not descending from Visenya, Jaehaerys and Alysanne being held up as the perfect Targaryen couple specifically because they are brother and sister and dragon riders. I do even think canon Alysanne is likely traumatized by her time as a hostage on Dragonstone, and the ensuing war, and the trauma bond that caused with Jaehaerys, and it makes her idolize Jaehaerys, and then he isolates her at Dragonstone so he can swiftly and safely marry, groom, and knock her up. It’s not like,,,, a fun time, and it’s enough to make anyone crazy and weird about their daughters, but I think having her father be Maegor makes Alysanne herself much deeper because it gives her, as the most beloved Targaryen queen, a blood tie to the most hated Targaryen king, and a marriage to the most beloved Targaryen king. It fits better with a lot of the themes of the main series (again, imo) - forcing the spotlight on the outsiders to see how the affect the story from behind the scenes. The fall of Aegon’s sons, and The Long Reign, not told from the PoV or to serve the PoV of any of the kings or princes, but of the queen that tied them all together.
#anti jaehaerys i targaryen#f&b critical#fire and blood critical#asks#thesadboy#like he kind of does this with aenys & maegor by focusing on alyssa and rhaena and the wives and visenya.#but the Moment jaehaerys enters the scene he completely dominates it. the same way daemon and aemond do actually.#but this is not. it should not!! be their story. that’s not how the main series is told anyway!!#if f&b isn’t told by a dornish maester than it should have been written by a septa!!!#nuns wrote books!!!!!#rich noblewomen wrote novels and poetry!!!!!!!#GEORGE DO YOU READ WOMEN. I AM NO LONGER ASKING POLITELY.#i went to look for her mother and apparently this was just a mistake elio made and i’m even more depressed. i can’t believe i’m saying this#but elio damn your mind.#i bet he saw that and went ‘wait which one is her fucjing mother’ and george was like what in the goddamn hell are you talking about.#idk who would be her mother in this au. if we want to keep her within 3 ish years of jaehaerys it Has to be alys or ceryse. ceryse hightowe#is the hilarious and obvious choice. but don’t count out alys harroway second wife here either.#then there’s rhaena as her mother which with the canon timeline makes him 12 years older and isn’t THAT horrible let’s stop here actually.
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Pure Love
Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mention of Smut, Murder
When your husband mentioned a meeting with his family, you knew things would go down fast.
When you married him you knew at one point his family will have issues with you.
You weren't a Targaryen, you weren't a God. You were a simple woman who fell in love with a man who happened to be Targaryen.
Daemon and you never allowed his last name to get between you two until now.
He warned you of his family, and of the comments, you might receive. You knew they definitely have something to say.
"Just ignore their comments, they are weak and they try to compensate."
"They are not weak, they are jealous, My Love. You and I got married out of love and not duty, something they do not understand, something they might never experience in their lives." Daemon smiled and nodded, you understood so well.
You could tell by everyone's faces, your arrival was not expected. You being wed to Daemon was not expected. But besides a couple side-eyed glances, nothing was said or done.
Until dinner.
First, it was bickering between the children, but soon the adults joined in.
As everyone got more and more drinks, resulting in many men drunk, that's when it started.
A person, a man, his name you forgot but Daemon repeated before dinner, said to be married to his niece or something, you didn't really pay attention Daemon looked way too beautiful in his formal clothing. The man started insulting you.
First, it was just a couple of words about you not being noble, not being born with 'dragon blood' as he said, this, you could have forgiven him.
"I don't think a whore like her should sit with us." to this comment, your husband's hand clenched the chair, you only hoped he wouldn't do anything too irrational but then again, this man was really challenging you two on your patience.
"I'm not too sure I understand what you mean, Daenegar." the two men looked at each other intensely as everyone just stayed silent.
"This whore you married." he said pointing at you. "She obviously just wanted to get your royal name, what a disgrace."
"Be careful with your words, Cousin." Deamon warned but the man just laughed, obviously very drunk.
"Careful with my words? How about you be careful where you stick it into, she is truly disgusting. And also-" with a swift movement, Daenegar's head was now on the table, blood oozing everywhere as you lift your cup.
"Cheers." you said to the others before taking a drink and continuing with your meal. Everyone looked terrified, not even the men expected this kind of reaction yet here it was. Daenegar dead as Daemon cleaned off his sword. And you just continued to eat as if nothing happened.
"Anyone else has any words towards my wife will meet the same fate." he simply said as he sat down beside you.
Needless to say, dinner wasn't the same after. Not to say that most women went white as the wall upon seeing the head and the decapitated body of Daenegar.
You two were now back at your chambers, his fingers caressing your naked back as he looked at you with pure love.
"Did you really marry me for my name?" he asked. You were still a bit disoriented, Daemon made a point to you about how much he loves you truly, once both of you were back in your chambers. The love-making went on for a long time, it must have been very late now, but you just kept staring into his gorgeous eyes, barely feeling your legs at this point.
"Totally. I married you for your name, indeed. And your dragon."
"I always knew you liked Caraxes."
"Not that dragon." you smirked at it took him a moment to realize what you meant.
"You naughty fox." he laughed a little as he moved onto his elbow, you shifted as well, moving closer to him. "I love you so much."
"I know Daemon. You proved yourself today quite a bit. You defended my honour, and you proved your tongue was made for more than just talking."
"You really are a naughty fox, My Lady." that damn smirk on his face was possibly the sexiest thing you have seen in your entire life.
You lifted your hand to run your fingers down his cheeks and jaw to his lips. As you moved your finger he placed a kiss on it, pouting against it, making you smile.
Just how pure your for this man was, it almost hurt at times.
"Tomorrow will be hectic."
"More so than today?" you asked as you let out a yawn.
"Precisely. Word will spread that I killed Daenegar. People might come fight me."
"I doubt that. Everyone here is afraid of you, I highly doubt they will even dare to look at me the wrong way, let alone fight you."
"If that's true, then my plan worked." you hummed as you closed your eyes, ready to sleep after such an exhausting day. "I love you too."
Daemon placed his head into the crook of your neck, placing a kiss on your skin and he too decided to get some sleep.
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A future fic carcass I'll write when I write (after I finish 9 ungoing fics)
King Viserys dies at the wedding celebration of his daughter, Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.
No one else does.
I am a firm believer Otto and Viserys are the rot on the face of the House of the Dragon and without these two everything would be fine-ish.
Unfortunately, we need Vissy T for his kids to be born, so Viserys dies soon after Aemond is conceived. Sorry, Daeron, not this time.
Joffrey doesn't die because he doesn't manage to provoke Criston before the king dies.
Rhaenyra overrules his father's decision and marries Harwin Strong.
Their son Jacaerys Targaryen is the heir to the throne, Lucerys Targaryen is the heir to Harrenhal.
Daemon marries Laena and lives at Dragonstone (Rhaenyra grants him that), their firstborn is the heir of Driftmark.
Laenor joins the Queensguard and is sent to Dragonstone to protect Prince Daemon (ha) and his future heirs.
Criston Cole becomes the Commander of City Watch while still retaining his white cloak (what? He did it in canon, can do it here).
Rhaenyra removes Tyland Lannister as the master of ships and appoints Corlys Velaryon (back).
When Baela and Rhaena are born, it is decided to betroth Prince Aegon and Lady Baela, making him future lord-consort of Driftmark (and successfully removing him out of succession of the iron throne).
When Jace is born, his and Helaena's betrothal is announced.
Baelon is born without an issue and the royal family meets at the celebration on Dragonstone, where Aemond claims Cannibal and loses an eye in the process.
(Kinslayer, everyone. It fits).
Afterwards Luke is sent as a ward to Harrenhal with his father. A huge ass scene ensures there Luke clings to Aemond and refuses to go.
Aegon makes a greasy comment and gets punched.
Both Aegon and Baela are sent as wards to Driftmark.
Lucerys still leaves.
Harrenhal doesn't burn bc even if Larys kills Harwin and Luke, there's still Lyonel and Joffrey in the equation. Lyonel keeps serving Queen Rhaenyra as her Hand.
Years later the royal family meets at the wedding celebration of Baela and Aegon, where Luke and Aemond behave very much like Rhaenyra and Daemon at Rhaenyra's not happened wedding.
Rhaenyra and Alicent clutch at their pearls, Rhaenyra suggests father died because of seeing something like that.
Daemon asks if she implies they killed Viserys, then asks where is Baelon.
Laena replies Baelon is playing knights with Joffrey.
Rhaenyra and Harwin Strong (no) have three more children, Aegon, Viserys and Visenya, all silver-haired like their mother (her uncle).
Laena is fine with it, they have a poly. Laena doesn't have more children because Baelon's birth was a ghasty one.
Baelon claims the Grey Ghost.
Otto is never called back to the capital because (suprise!) Rhaenyra didn't rush to kill her 3 y.o brother or the other one who was born after Viserys' death. Instead she marries Aegon off so he's no threat.
Aemond eventually joins the Queensguard and is appointed to the future lord of Harenhall.
Lucerys refuses to marry and appoints his brother Viserys as his heir, who marries Visenya. They have a very good life in Harrenhal.
The reason Luke skips over Joffrey is because Joffrey is always at the sea (with Baelon), and Aegon the Younger is bethrothed to Baela and Aegon the Elder' firstborn, Laena.
Everyone lives happily ever after, Otto gets to be the head of the house Hightower after he successfully plots against his own kin, since his blood is secured on the throne, if in unconventional for him way.
He once tried to manipulate Aegon, but was cut off sharply by Rhaenys and Corlys, who kind of adopted the boy as theirs.
Aegon enjoys wandering about Essos very much, he, of course, whores around, but he and Baela have an agreement. One of Baela's children is born from Alyn of Hull, but no one is any wiser, since everyone just thinks the child looks like her.
Jacaerys and Helaena have three kids, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and then Maelor.
Jaehaera is oldest and so is the heir.
Oh, and Rhaena is happily married to Corwyn Cobray. They have a daughter, Rhaenys.
#hotd#hotd au#queen rhaenyra#hotd fanfic#fuck viserys#i will write it one day bc i have such a vivid image of the scenes such as: viserys' death. rhaenyra overruling her father's decision#explaining it and trying to mediate it so Corlys wouldn't start another war#'i thought it was in the tradition for the king or queen to marry their hand's child'#the greens' FACES at that#rhaenyra gathering Laenor and his entire fam and suggesting queensguard#“but then he won't be able to wed a woman. have a family-”#-exactly *Rhaenyra and Laenor lock gases. she nods. he nods.* -i accept#Aemond just fucking WANDERING AWAY TO CLAIM THE SCARIEST ASS DRAGON THAT IS THERE#the total panic then Laenor finds him and brings back with EYE LESS. (he almost got to the castle but fainted mid way)#corlys trying to push for baelon as the heir and laena&rhaenys being: “NO”#the unspoken kinship in the house of whoring around. Harwin being like “i support my wife's wrongs” and loving egg vis and visenya as his#NO ONE KNOWING THEY'RE NOT HIS. LIKE LEGIT THEY COULD BE HIS OR HARWIN'S. EVEN RHARNYRA DOESN'T KNOW#aegon living his best life as a sailor and explorer#Aemond looking at Laenor and being like “i can do that too”#laenor living THE BEST LIFE by his sis and her husband/his friend's side. and Joffrey is ALIVE#criston eventually getting over himself and accepting that Rhaenyra indeed couldn't run away with him#like imagine if they run away and then vissy t died#whoops i guess#also i just realized i accidentally made it so that Harrenhal is eventually ruled not by Strongs but Daemon's kids#lmao i guess#They are Targaryens (tm) your honor#the amount of dragons they're about to have...like harrenhal has 4 just with luke aemond and visx2#Dragonstone has 3 even if all kids scatter about#cobrays have 2 (Rhaena's and her daughters)#driftmark has at least 3 and then Laena is born and its 4
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What if Rhaenys found out that Alyn and Addam are not Laenor’s sons? Corlys would be toast.
At the same time though, Meleys would have a full stomach. Dragon rights > human rights. Change my mind.
Do y'all want Meleys to go hungry? Are y'all hearts made of ice?
(I'm kidding ok? Please put the pitchforks away)
#meleys#the blacks & the greens#the rogue prince#the princess and the queen#fire and blood#dance of the dragons au#tbh I don't know how bad I would feel for him given he just passed his ba_tards as his wife's - who he loved - grandsons#but you know its Daemon who didn't love Rhaenyra#man bet she was happy he didn't love her like Corlys loved Rhaenys ☠️#popcorn answers
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God I wish bfras existed so I could slap aus onto it easier
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In a sort of AU type reality what do you think Nettles and Daemons relationship would look like after the war?
Oh let’s see. In this scenario, Team Black has actually won the war and Aegon II was overthrown so I imagine that Daemon would arrive back at four with Nettles as his unofficial mistress(officially she’s Baela or Rhaena’s lady companion).
I’d like to say he’d take her as his second wife, but that’s pretty much impossible given the fact that polygamous marriages are longer sanctioned and Rhaenyra’s reign would be on shaky ground so testing the Faith is a no-go.
He’s obviously worked out some deal with Rhaenyra where he publically supports as Prince Consort does his duties as protector of the realm, but his private life is his own.
Privately, Nettles is his wife in all but name. Come on, did you guys see how domestic they were at Maidenpool? That domesticity(sleeping in adjoining chambers, taking their meals together, council, the baths, etc.) continues in the capitol 🥰
I think Nettles at this point has gotten rid of most of her apprehensions about being his mistress, but the court can be daunting and extremely judgmental. For respectability’s sake, and to quell some of the gossip, Daemon might try to find a husband for her (if she wishes it).
Lol that marriage would never be consummated and Daemon would in fact have the groom wait outside of Nettles' rooms on their wedding night, that is if the man isn’t a friend of Dorothy😬
The only problem I can see interrupting this blissful pair would come in the form of Nettles falling pregnant(someone forgot to brew the moontea🫢)
Nettles is a little shock and apprehensive to tell Daemon, but shes so relieved to find out he’s happy about the baby.
Rhaenyra completely flips out and snaps (and Mysaria because she’s still around). She’s tolerated Nettles up until then, but the baby(especially after she lost her last one) makes her go full-blown evil queen.
Poison may find its way into Nettles' morning tea, but Daemon takes no precautions with her health and safety, especially when she’s in such a delicate state, so, of course, she has tasters for her. It doesn’t take long for Daemon to get to the bottom of the poisoning and figure out obviously it does not end well for Queenie and her mistress of whisperers🗡️
#nettles officially becomes wife number four within a moon 👰🏾♀️#six months later a beautiful baby girl pops up on the scene who is quite large to be a preemie but these things happen ☺️#and they spend of the rest of their days(well daemon’s remaining days) happily together 📖#🤣🤣🤣#dattles#daemon x nettles ask#hotd ask#dattles au#dattles ask#daemon x nettles#bnask#bnasks#bnheadcanon#bndattles#bnhotdask#bnhotdasks
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I so so desperately want an au where Laena gets to see Baela and Rhaena grow up
#ooc ;#i dont actually think an au where she lives would work with how the Dance plays out#as rhaenyra's children with daemon are pretty important and as much as i personally think she feels for rhaenyra#i DON'T think she'd let daemon take another wife even if it was the queen#and i don't think rhaenys and corlys would be pleased if he did either#OF COURSE. if laena lives then it'd be implied laenor lives#and they could pretend that FINALLY rhaenyra and laenor's children look valyrian enough#this whole long thing of tags is basically just me saying: laena as a ghost au
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There is something absolutely delightful in fictional about ‘I have outsourced my entire moral compass and also my impulse control to my beloved(s). Take this under advisement if you harm them’
#me: this is the house of the dragon Polycule AU Daemon!#(he outsourced it to his husband(s) and wife(s)*#*In this case Harwin/Laena and Laenor#(Rhaenyra and Alicent are also in this Polycule alicent faked her death)#lils fic wishlist
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Fatherhood
Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader
More of Daemon's Wife au
Summary: A glimpse into Daemon's life as a father.
REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥰🥰💖💖
If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox 🤭
Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.
After watching your husband act like a fool for days you finally lost your patience so tonight when Daemon climbed into bed with you and started kissing your neck you pushed him away.
“What did I do?” He asked, knowing that you were upset by the frown on your face.
"You're ignoring Baelon," you accused him without any doubt of your words.
Since the two of you had came back home from the war, Daemon had barely been to the nursery and when the whole family was at the table he never tried to talk to Baelon. You didn't expect him to instantly become familiar with his role as a father., after all, he hadn't been able to meet their son before, but you never thought that your husband would look for any excuse not to be with your son.
"He doesn't like me so I'm not going to bother him" he responded, wanting to appear unconcerned but you know him well so you know that this actually bothered him.
When you and your husband returned from Stepstones, your son had burst into tears the first time Daemon spoke to him. You noticed the pain in your husband's eyes when Baelon hid his face in your neck, refusing to see him. You didn't blame your son for being afraid since it was the first time he saw his father. You knew Daemon had been excited to finally meet Baelon so you understood that the boy's reaction would have disappointed him but you didn't expect him to decide to distance himself because of that.
"He doesn't like you because he doesn't know you yet," you explain now in a softer tone. "Daemon, I don't know what you expected from your first meeting but he acted like any other child would. He doesn't know you so you have to earn his trust. He's not going to love you just because im tell him you're his father. You have to spend time with him," you advised him as you traced random patterns on his chest, hoping he wouldn't take your words the wrong way.
"I will," he promised before kissing you on the lips. He was satisfied to see that this time you didn't push him away so he continued kissing you again and again.
And Daemon really considered your words because after that night he started spending more time at the nursery. At first, Baelon looked uncertainly at Daemon when he spoke to him but you always encouraged him to respond. In addition, it also helped that your son saw that you were always calm and smiling around Daemon, so little by little the boy began to gain more confidence. Every time you were about to tell him a new story, Baelon asked his father if he knew it too and he listened attentively every time Daemon contributed. When he realized that his father also knew High Valyrian, he began to proudly tell him the words he had learned so far and asked him to also teach him new words, now at the table after the servants brought the food Baelon spent his time asking his father what he liked and what he didn't, interested in knowing more about him. Not only that but Baelon also started inviting him to the walks the two of you take together on the beach. Seeing all this, you were proud of the progress between father and son and it made you happy to see the happiness on Daemon's face every time Baelon asked his opinion or asked him something, not to mention when he held his hand for the first time while the three walked together in the beach.
But still, you couldn't help but notice that the two of them were never alone, you were always there as if they wouldn't dare to be alone.
"Where is he going?" Baelon asked, looking with a pout at his father's back as he walked.
"You Kepa is going to go see his dragon" You smiled as you came up with an idea so that they could spend some time alone "Do you want to go with him?"
You weren't surprised when he let go of your hand and started running after Daemon shouting "Kepa! Kepa!" Your husband soon stopped and turned to see the little copy of him running towards him with a big smile. He felt his heart warm at the sight. When Baelon was a few steps away from him, he approached and picked him up without warning, making the boy squeal with happiness.
"I want to go with you," the boy announced before his father could ask him what was happening.
Your husband looked at you waiting for you to say something but you were already raising your hand saying goodbye to them with a smile. Baelon moved his hand back and forth until you became a distant speck on the beach.
"What's the name of your dragon?" the boy asked, still in his dad's arms as he walked.
"Caraxes" the father responded with a smile even though this was not the first time his son had asked him that.
"It's like Wing?"
Daemon would be lying if he said he wasn't fond of hearing how Baelon called your dragon Wing because according to the Nightwing boy he was too long.
"Caraxes is much grander than the dragon on your muña," the prince responded, feeling his smile grow larger as he imagined your indignation if you would listen to him. A part of him hoped that Baelon would later tell you this just to see your reaction.
"He's giant!" Baelon exclaimed impressed when he saw the red beast. "Will my dragon be like that too?" He asked excitedly.
"Probably but in many years" Daemon replied and poked his nose when he saw him pouting "Do you want to pet him?" Instantly the pout was replaced by a smile.
"Yes!" the boy shouted excitedly and before Baelon went to touch the dragon, Daemon took his son's small hand before placing it and his carefully on the dragon's face. He did not believe that Caraxes would do anything to him but he preferred not to risk it, it was known that dragons did not usually react well when someone who was not their rider approached them with too much confidence and the last thing he wanted was for his son to end up hurt so he was for a while talking to his dragon while they both caressed it.
Daemon could remember the proudest moments in his life: when he claimed Caraxes, when his father gave him Dark Sister, when he called you his wife for the first time when you told him you were pregnant and now it added up to see his son bond with his dragon.
They were there for a while. Daemon listened with amusement to Baelon's ramblings about how giant Caraxes was and that he surely had to eat a lot to achieve that size, all while never stopping petting the dragon. Until started to get dark then they headed back to the castle.
"I like Wing more" the boy confessed once the figure of the dragon became a distant speck.
"Tomorrow you will come to fly with me and you will see that Caraxes flies faster," the prince said instantly. He had to change Baelon's mind before he said that again but in front of you. He could already imagine your cocky smile and how you would never let him forget it.
"Let's fly now!" the boy squealed excitedly.
"We can't now, your daughter must be waiting for us for dinner" the father explained, and seeing that Baelon seemed about to complain he added "Would you like her to have dinner alone? I'm sure that would make her sad"
"No, let's go with muña!"
During dinner, Baelon spent his time talking non-stop about Caraxes and how tomorrow he would fly with his Kepa. You listened to everything with a smile and only interrupted your son's ramblings to remind him to eat before the food got cold.
In the middle of Baelon's talks, Daemon took your hand and kissed it. He didn't need to tell you anything, you could see it in his eyes, he was grateful that you encouraged him to stop hiding and that he would make an effort to form a bond with his son.
When it was time for Baelon to go to sleep you and him got up from the table to go to the nursery but first Baelon said goodbye to his Kepa with a kiss on the cheek. You encouraged your son to go ahead with one of the maidens while you stayed with Daemon.
"I'm proud of you," you said as you took your husband's face in your hands and leaned in to kiss him "I can't wait to see you with the next one" you declared between kisses.
Your husband took a while to register your words because he was distracted by the taste of your lips but once he did he stopped kissing you to look at you impressed.
"Are you pregnant?" He asked just to make sure he understood correctly although he could already feel his heart racing.
You nodded with a smile and let out a laugh the moment Daemon pulled you onto his lap. You kissed his neck while his hand rested on your stomach. You still didn't show but he couldn't wait to see how the life inside you grew. He couldn't be by your side when you were pregnant with Baelon but this time it would be different, this time the two of you wouldn't have to discuss the baby's name by letter, this time Daemon would feel the baby's kicks instead of having to imagine it, this time if you wanted him, he would be by your side when you gave birth, this time he wouldn't have to wait years to meet his son. This time he would be there to see him grow.
"This time I won't miss anything," he promised, kissing your forehead.
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hotd masterlist
#daemon's wife!au!#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen x you#daemon x you#daemon x y/n#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen x female reader#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#daemon fluff#daemon fic#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen imagine#dad daemon#dad! daemon#hotd fluff#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#hotd#house of the dragon x you#house of the dragon x reader
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I WANT TO BE SPIT ROASTED!
The “two swords, three holes” is almost done teeeheeee
GOLD CLOAK DADDIES!
#gold cloaks#daemon targaryen x reader#harwin strong x reader#harwin breakbones#daemon au#male wife daemon
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Not All That Glitters is Gold
prompt: during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you.
or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 3.1k+
warnings: cursing, draaaama, mild angst, AU timeline technically, hurt and comfort (reader don't play those games i guess), relationship angst, half edited.
browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
His cloak was a shimmering beacon of golden glimmer even in the dark of night. It promoted an air of confidence and swagger, something independent from his usual cockiness. No, with that gold cloak, he walked as if the very air you all breathed was produced by him; being silent and domineering in his presence. It had been something you were initially attracted to, his alluring mystery and overwhelming stoic self-awareness.
He moved around the Throne Room like wings were gifted to his feet, carrying him with lithe movements to look as if gliding. All eyes were on him, whether out of admiration, jealousy, confusion, or lust - eyes followed him no matter where he went, no matter what he did, who he interacted with. You lifted the heavy gold goblet to your lips, taking a careful mouthful of wine before setting it down, swallowing, and standing from your seat at the banquet table.
You wanted your lover, so, you got up to satisfy your craving.
You approached him as he spoke to a pair of noblemen, slowing your gait to ease your arrival and not cause a surprise. Your dress was something a little more alluring, more revealing than you'd usually wear, and as you approached the men, the eyes not belonging to your new fiancé nearly bulged from their skulls.
Daemon turned his head and saw you, smirking as his arm opened and he welcomed you into his side. "I was beginning to wonder where you got off to," you told him softly, one arm around his hips as the other planted your hand against his chest. "The Aunties have descended and are becoming insufferable, I fear I needed reprieve."
Daemon grinned, sounding amused, "It was a matter of time before they found you. Stick with us, darling, the Aunties will stay away."
"They're about to serve dinner," you told him, "perhaps we should find our seats?"
He nodded, looking at the men he had been speaking to before you showed up. Daemon bid politely, offering no other explanation besides, "Excuse us, gentlemen."
They bowed out of their Prince's way, letting Daemon lead you toward the head banquet table (again) where his brother, King Viserys, was sitting with other prominent members of court. The night had been pleasant, everyone rejoicing in the upcoming nuptials between you and the Rogue Prince. For years, he'd been something chaotic and shunned; and after the passing of his first wife, Rhea Royce, he was like a kite cut from string. Loose and set adrift. Wild and out-of-reach. And then you came back into Daemon's life after not seeing one another since you were ten-and-six, and all of a sudden, the Rogue Prince was something more domesticated.
It was a refreshing change, albeit totally uncharacteristic for Daemon.
Viserys was the most shocked of them all, constantly praising you for whatever you had done to his brother to reel him into a controllable pace. He thought you and Daemon were perfect for one another, likened you two to fit-together puzzle pieces. The King had been more than happy to host the celebrations, starting with tonight, an engagement party! You had to play part of dutiful fiancé and upstanding citizen since you were to inherit a royal title; being poised and collected at all times with either a calm, passive expression or one of bright entertainment.
"Here, love," Daemon whispered, pulling your chair out for you. He waited until you were sat before taking his own seat, sighing when he glanced around the table only to settle his gaze on you.
"What's wrong, my Dragon?" You asked softly, leaning in to place your hand over his on his lap; pressed into his side despite the wooden chair arms between you.
"Just amusing," he mused, "most of these Lords and Ladies had much to say about my first marriage, and now, they break our bread to celebrate us."
"Cannot be the first time someone's tried to suck up to you," you chuckled, moving your conjoined hands in your lap. "The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," you advised smartly, "they only tolerate the sheep because one day, the dragon will need to feast - hmm?"
Daemon smirked, "When did you become so insightful, darling?"
"I've always been, you're just pussy-whipped now that I make a lot more sense."
He laughed, letting a servant pour your wine. In your ear, he mused, "Jest all you want, but you were meant to be a Targaryen. Once we are wed, I will plant my seed, and bind us together for eternity."
"Our marriage wouldn't doing exactly that already?"
"A child is more tangible - it's a bloodline."
You shrugged as a plate of blood-red lobster was set in front of you. Viserys truly went all out - giving a wide variety of foods to taste. "A marriage is for life, though," you countered.
"So is a child."
"Until they are married off."
Conversation continued, flowing easily between the family members and patrons of court. Viserys looked pleased, enjoying the celebration as his ailment often caused him grave pain and he could not attend events. He hardly had reason to smile, but when he watched you feed a bite to Daemon, he let his lips spread without thought. Queen Alicent clocked the King's expression, glancing at you and Daemon, then smiled fondly before reaching for her husband's hand.
Throughout the dinner, Rhaenyra watched you and Daemon with a bitter glare on her face; jaw locked and lips pursed. You ignored her obvious displeasure in favor of your husband, both too enraptured with one another to ever pay attention to the Princess' distain. When the meal was over, the dancing, mingling, drinking, and musical portion of the evening commenced.
And cake. Cake was to be served.
Daemon's golden cloak swept around guests as you both played dutiful host for your party, and mingled with those who arrived tonight to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. You did your best to keep up with the plethora of Lords and Ladies, like Daemon did so effortlessly, but it was a lot. You still held your own, but by Gods, there was a lot of people in attendance tonight and there was noway you could remember any names.
Thankfully, while Daemon was caught in a conversation with Ser Gerold Royce, you eventually made it to a small group of familiar faces: Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin Strong, his brother, Larys, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her twin, Ser Laenor.
You graciously received the compliments, well-wishes, and joyful greetings of them all, but acutely noted the Princess did not offer even so much as a polite greeting. "This dress was made for you, it's just darling," Laena complimented, petting the bodice. "It must've cost a fortune."
"It was a gift from Daemon," you told her with a soft smile. "And the necklace, too! See?" You showed her, "He had it custom made, it's Valyrian Steel with embedded jewels."
"The perfect combination of your Houses, and a gorgeous piece of art to hang on such a gorgeous neck," she praised, but it was Princess Rhaenyra's scoff of annoyance that peaked your interest.
You thanked Laena Velaryon before eyeing Rhaenyra. "Princess?" You questioned. "If I may ask you something, plainly?"
"By all means."
"Have I... Upset you in anyway?"
"You mean beside my uncle spending the Crown's coin to buy you something exquisitely made; being a fleeting, lady interest of the Princes'? No, no, nothing's wrong," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"What is this distain you hold towards me - towards my relationship with Daemon?" You demanded, the alcohol in your system spurring you on despite knowing the looming consequences of offering a member of the Royal family sharpened words.
"Truly? You wish to know why I do not fawn over you as others?"
"They do not fawn, oh - " You stopped yourself, sighing deeply and correcting yourself, "Of course I wish to know what the issue at hand here is, Princess, I do not wish for ill-will between us. I wish to resolve this."
"In truth, I simply do not understand it, this - this sham of a wedding," she snapped. "Daemon might buy you pretty things, but it's only out of guilt."
"What guilt could he possibly - "
"He finds you overwhelming, overbearing, suffocatingly clingy. So, with his distain, he, too, felt fleeting guilt - being why he showers you with gifts, it's for his own conscious. But if you ask me why I host such distain towards this union, it is because I know my uncle is not happy with your overwhelmingly clingy behavior. He's voiced his displeasure many-a-time. Not just to me, but to the King and Queen, as well."
You felt shell-shocked, acutely aware of the lingering eyes of the audience around you. You worried: how many of them had heard this rumor, how many secretly pitied you? Finding your voice, you managed to squeak out, "I beg your pardon?"
Rhaenyra only shrugged, "You asked, I answered."
"I see," you cleared your throat. "And your answer is that my betrothed has, what, started to slander my name behind my back?"
"Indeed. His chief complaint is how you seem to cling to him more and more, and he doesn't have the heart to push you away more than he already has. You're the one daft enough to not take a hint."
"And where do you get your information from?"
"Daemon, himself."
Your mind raced with all the little things: how Daemon would release your person during public events, avoid physical touch, ignore you sometimes, shut down your woes (call that gaslighting), how he stiffened at times you took his arm, how he seemed to shut down and only offer bored 'mmhms' when you spoke to him about your life. Your heart sank to your feet as you realized there were some truths to Rhaenyra's words.
You nodded slowly as Daemon chose that moment to approach your awkward group. His arm slithered around your waist, but you were silent as the grave and stiff as the corpse in said grave. Your mind raced with the idea that Rhaenyra could just be fucking with you, but the also with the idea that all she said was true.
"I'm going to retire for the evening, I've a headache," you told Daemon, finding an easy way out of his grip, "but you stay, enjoy the celebration. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am just tired."
He agreed and gently kissed you - sure to remain modest but still affectionate. "I'll visit you tonight," he muttered in your ear.
"No, I am truly tired," you told him softly but sternly. "We'll see each other tomorrow."
He hummed, "Then I shall walk you out - "
"No, you're needed here to save face. Go, mingle, play nice," you dismissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
You bid whoever you came across a good and safe night; thanking them for their attendance tonight. After thanking the King for hosting the party, you disappeared, taking a few secret passages to avoid the main hustle-and-bustle of the feast. When you arrived in your room, you slammed the door, bolted it, and leaned against it for a good long moment. Your mind was reeling with all kinds of thoughts regarding your intended, his niece, all of it suddenly feeling very overwhelming.
You were exhausted, so, you swiftly stripped, unpinned your hair, refused your maid's help, and soaked in a long, hot bath. After, you settled into bed with a book, and tried not to overwhelm yourself with the anxiety tomorrow would bring.
About an hour later, you heard Daemon knocking at your passage door. You paused, not making a sound, hearing his muffled voice, "Love? My love, are you awake?"
You didn't answer.
"Please, sweet girl, let me in," he begged quietly.
When you wrenched the door open, you seethed, "NO!"
"What - ?"
"I heard plenty tonight from your niece. In your moments of frustration, you know what? Sure, complain about your woes - but to find out you call me clingy when in regard to my affection - that's not something I'm going to be happy hearing, Daemon!"
"I know, but let me explain - "
"What? What will you say? That you just needed someone to talk to? To vent your feelings? I get that - I really do. But you fully offered slander to my name, to our relationship; to who I am as a partner. Your poisoned words of your irritation is soaked into your family, in the courts. And now, I must endure the pity those will offer knowing my husband truly holds distain for me!"
"No, you've got it wrong, I don't - "
"Then why!?" You demanded, voice cracking. "Why say those things? Why not come to me and communicate you're not comfortable with this and that behavior!? I won't know unless you tell me, so, instead of talking your shit to the courts and your family, why not just speak to me!?"
"I should have!" He admitted quickly. "I should have, I know that, and it was my mistake, my love. But I regret it, I regret feeling so, so - I don't know! Sure, let's call it frustrated, irritated, I don't care, I just needed it off my chest!"
"I understand that fully, but being as we're to marry one another, I should be the one listening to you when you need something off your chest. You should talk to me. And if I'm the one you need to speak about, choose more trustworthy confidants that do not need further reason to despise me!"
"What're you...? What? What does that mean?"
"Rhaenyra, Daemon! Your niece, Rhaenyra! Every-fucking-thing you've said to her, she remembers, and holds it against me! You forget, when you speak to family about the woes of your relationship, that's all they remember. You get to make up with me, we get to move on, but because you needed t'vent to them, that's what they can hold against me. Do you even wish to marry me, still!?"
"Of course, I do!"
"Then something needs to change," you deadpanned, exhausted by this. "I refuse to be belittled, spat on, and disrespected by your niece any longer."
"I will speak to her."
"Yes, you will! This is far too out of hand! She has weaponized your frustration to drive a wedge between us, and she chose a public event with an audience to lob it all at me!"
"What truly happened with Rhaenyra? What was so bad?"
"Daemon, she called me out for 'being clingy' in front of an audience! At our engagement celebration! Do you know how humiliating that was!? I'm more embarrassed than angry!"
He nodded, "I'll handle this. I swear, my darling, this will be resolved."
"You know what?" You breathed. "Do whatever you please because I've realized something. Not only did Rhaenyra spew our business to others, but you... You said it in the first place. You said those words..."
"Out of anger - "
"But you still spoke them!"
"I was foolish to do so!"
"You are a fool for many reasons, Daemon, but this is one act I am not willing to forgive so blindly. Wear your jester hat all you'd like, but it will take more than pretty words to make this up to me."
"I'll do what it takes to fix this." He tried to step into the room with you, but you held your ground in the doorway. "My love, please, how can I make it up to you if you do not let me in?"
"You must find any other way to do this because there's no chance in any of the Seven Hells that you share my bed again - married or not." You offered him a look of distain, musing, "You know what, I've decided: I simply don't care what you or your family thinks. I am extremely proud of who I am, and there's not a soul alive that can make me feel lesser than. Your words hurt, they cut deeper hearing it from the Princess, but that's simply your opinion," you eased. "I refuse to modify myself, but it's good to know you don't like my affection - I can always reserve it for whoever I choose to warm my bed. What was it you said?" You quipped venomously, "Marriages are political arrangements?"
"Not ours," he snapped.
"Oh? We're so different, are we?" You laughed.
"Of course we are, there's nothing I'd change. Hear me? Nothing," he sounded angry. "I was a fool to speak out of term, but you're right, I should talk to you about it - I am simply unequipped to having a wife I've chosen."
"Oh, spare me - "
"It's true," he insisted, "what woman in my life has loved me as you do? Has encouraged me to be so - so - loving and safe?"
"Apparently, I've been clingy and not as encouraging as I thought."
"I spoke out of turn," he insisted. "You're right - I can't go and take back what I've said. But I will do all I can to ensure I change their opinions on you, to mop up whatever verbal mess I've made."
You laughed without humor.
"And I will set Rhaenyra straight about all of this, I will ensure she knows that there's no room for such tension, jealousy, hatred."
"You swear to clean up all your messes?" You wondered earnestly.
"I swear."
"Good," you mused, "after that, how do you intend on rebuilding my trust?"
Daemon blinked, "You do not trust me anymore?"
"Of course not," you assured, "not since finding out how you speak of me so hatefully without my knowledge. That's where trust comes in, Daemon, but you proved me wrong, and now, that trust is gone."
Daemon looked confused, mouth opening and closing rapidly, shaking his head, "No, no, no, love, don't do this. We're okay, all right? We're fine, things with us - we're fine. We're okay."
"Saying it doesn't make it true."
"Do not tell me," He snapped. "H-Have I lost you?"
"Mhm. Not saying you can't fix things between us, but as of now, there's nothing about you I can trust."
"And if you cannot trust me, can you love me?"
You paused, considering his words. Honestly, his betrayal was something that hurt worse than anything you've endured before. "I'll have to think about that one," you whispered. With a saddened look, you hugged the door, sighing, and bid, "Goodnight, my Prince."
"My sweet - don't shut me out. Don't do this."
"Find a way to make this all up to me," you demanded, "because I'd hate for either of us to eventually resent this marriage, too."
He tried to argue but you shut the door on him forcefully; loudly locking it from the inside to prevent him from following you. You felt yourself brimming with anger, but nothing was like the betrayal coursing through your heart and veins. There was no sleep that night, there was a lot of tears, a lot of pacing, and a lot of grumbling to yourself.
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❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞
[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]
[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader
| this set in an au inside of in hightower green.
| this is able to be read as a oneshot.
contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.
a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity.
+ comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!
You can't breathe.
You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.
Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.
His bastard fucking sister.
You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."
The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.
And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.
And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.
And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.
His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...
The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.
A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.
Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.
Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.
Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.
He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.
He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.
You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.
When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.
Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.
Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.
Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.
He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.
Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.
Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.
You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.
But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.
It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.
You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.
Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.
It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.
Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.
Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.
It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.
What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?
Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.
It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.
It is an interesting thing.
The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.
Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.
When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.
Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.
Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—
He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.
The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.
And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.
All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.
As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.
He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.
There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.
It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.
All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.
But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —
Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.
And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.
You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.
Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.
It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.
You start with a candelabra.
Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.
None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.
So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.
You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."
Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.
"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."
You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.
"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.
He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."
"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"
He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."
Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."
He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."
"Aegon is no longer—"
"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."
A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.
"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."
"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."
A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.
"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?
Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.
But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.
And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.
There is no satisfaction in such a plan.
There are many others.
The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.
"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.
"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"
"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."
"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"
"I have," he replies, amused.
"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.
But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.
And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.
His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.
"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"
You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.
"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."
"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."
"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?
"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."
And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.
Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.
His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.
"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"
"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"
"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"
When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.
He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"
He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.
"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."
Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.
Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.
A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.
"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.
"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."
Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."
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The Sublet - Roommate!AU
Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, death, mourning, funeral, fluff, smut, daddy kink, breath play, spanking, slapping, fingering, face fucking, degradation, gagging, deep throating, dumbification, edging, creampie, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talking, name calling, rough handling, sadomasochist, sadism, spitting, spitplay, squirt, the correct method of choking, drugs (weed), alcohol, smoking.
Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader
Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?
Notes: Another monstrous chapter sitting at 10+k, because when I said this series was going to only be 15 chapters I meant it hahaha. Goodness, gracious me, here we are. We have come to the end of this series! Thank you so much for all your love and support this whole way through! I hope that you have enjoyed it, and I hope I did the ending some sort of realistic justice. I shall be getting onto my requests now hehehe, anyway, ENJOY! <3
Final Chapter: Stay
Waking that morning, you had not expected to be met with what you were. You had thought that the day would be spent with some awkward, uncertain glances cast Aemond’s way, with the others casting theirs towards you both. Then perhaps you would talk again.
Or fuck.
Or both.
Your little traitorous brain hoped for both.
But no, that's not what you woke up to that morning. You woke up to a nightmare come true. And although all had prepared for it for years, and in fact, the reason why all were back at the Red Keep, it still came as a bombshell that shook the family to its very core.
Viserys was dead.
Gone peacefully in his sleep, found by none other than his doting eldest daughter and wife.
You had woken to the bedroom door shutting, a peak of Criston Cole’s hair in the crack of the door. Helaena stood frozen by it, swaying slightly on her feet before she walked over to the bed and sat down, staring at the far wall.
“Hel?” You sat up, hand coming to touch your best friends shoulder, “What's happened?”
Fear of the unknown settled into your gut.
Her lavender eyes turned to you.
“He’s dead.”
The Keep was in disarray.
Rhaenyra and Daemon were in shambles, having lost a father and brother all in one. It was a most terrible thing to witness. You felt grief yourself for your friends, and for the family as a whole as they moved through the motions of his death, his leaving of their worlds. You felt akin to an invasive species as you sat amongst them, foreign, displaced, unfitting in their neat yet disturbed world.
Lucerys and Jacerys were grieving with their mother and step-father, the twins joining them. As for the other children of Viserys? That was another story.
Amongst the four of them, there was not a single tear shed for their father, bar Aegon in the early light of the morning, stained cheeks hidden in the shadows, red rimmed eyes, and a tiredness that no young man should have at his age, pulling down at his shoulders. But he had swallowed it quickly and quietly as he had for his whole life and went outside to smoke.
You couldn’t however account for Aemond, as he was nowhere to be seen.
Sitting in the gazebo with the three silver haired siblings, you tried to offer condolences, a shoulder to cry on if needed, but all were content to grieve in their own way; Aegon smoking yet another joint, Daeron texting someone animatedly, and Helaena, simply staying quiet and composed beside you.
It wasn’t what you had expected for people to have just lost their father, but you supposed that everyone grieves in their own ways, theirs being much different to your own.
Helaena stood from where she had sat, dressed in all black, something you had not once seen her wear, a stark change to the bright colours that she usually donned. Perhaps this was her way of showing her grief. Her mourning.
Her loss.
“Walk with me.” She said quietly, and you nodded, jumping up as you grasped her hand, letting her lead you down the garden to look at the various plants and trees that were in a part of a gated garden entrance.
Greenery of all sizes, shapes, and colours grew beautifully, small little plaques beneath identifying their scientific name. The Red Keep's garden had some of the rarest of flowers and trees in the whole of the realm. It even had the famed Winter Rose’s from the North in a special greenhouse that kept them in below freezing temperatures.
It was still early in the day, the sun only just rising to its peak as you walked together in silence, your hand in hers as you followed her lead, looking at the shrubs and immense show of wealth. If it weren’t for the reason of your walk, you would have been more animated upon seeing some rare and beautiful orchids, perfectly potted and healthy.
Your steps crunched along the cobblestoned path, twisting around to an extended part of the estate that you hadn’t been to. There, in front of you, was a most beautiful sight to behold.
Ruby red leaves sprouted out of ashen branches, twisting upwards towards the sky.
A Weirwood tree.
And a very old one by the looks of it.
“The Godswood.” Helaena explained to you, taking you closer to it.
You were so entranced by its incredible beauty, thinking of how Cregan's description of his back home didn't do it justice, that you hadn’t even noticed the man that sat amongst its roots, leant back on the trunk.
Aemond Targaryen sat beneath the branches and leaves of a tree that had been a symbol of the Old Gods to his family for hundreds of years. One leg was stretched out in front of him, whilst the other was bent, his long arms crossed over the top of his knee lazily.
He watched you as you came towards him, words caught in your throat.
The light that peaked through the tips of the branches shimmered down on his pale hair, causing it to glimmer with each parting of the leaves from the breeze that rolled through. His face looked flat, emotionless.
Blank.
Helaena’s hand slipped away from yours and you turned to look at her. She gave you a soft smile, before she walked away without a word, leaving you in the small Godswood courtyard with her brother.
You stood for a moment or two, the both of you watching each other before your legs pulled you towards him. You moved to sit beside the long limbed man, pulling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make him feel overcrowded, or as if he was being observed. Instead, you hoped that your presence was, at least, the tiniest bit of comfort if he needed it.
You weren’t sure what to do or say as you sat together, both staring off into the distance as the soft rustling of leaves moved overhead. If not for the death that had occurred in the early hours of the morning, the day would have been beautiful.
It was like that for a while, just the both of you. Basking in each others company silently, and yet you felt the need to do more. To say more. To show him more. To show him that you cared, to try and rebuild that bridge that had been torched between the two of you, in the way he had attempted to last night.
You felt guilt knowing that he would have woken up to not only an empty bed, but the news of the death of his father in a Keep he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by people he so desperately tried to avoid.
Tendons and veins pulled beneath the skin of Aemond pale hand as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger together atop his knee.
It was always his hands. Something you had learned rather quickly about him. His hands always moved when in thought, when irritated, lost, or angry.
Any strong emotion caused the man to fidget.
It was a habit that he shared with Helaena, no doubt inherited by their mother.
With no other way to convey what you were feeling, you lifted your hand and placed it atop his. His hand was warm, and twitched beneath yours. Aemond, without wasting a second, flipped his over and held onto yours tightly, threading his fingers through yours atop his knee.
Silence stretched forever until-
“I don’t mourn him.” Aemond’s voice moved with the breeze, soft and quiet, gently carried away from the courtyard, and you felt a pull of sorrow for him deep within your chest.
“We weren’t ever close. Cole was more a father to me than him.” There was a hollowness to his words which you would argue was grief, until he continued, “I don’t grieve the man he was, I grieve the father he could have been to me. The father he should have been to me. Something that I never had.”
Tears prickled in your eyes for him.
Gods.
Why had life been so cruel to this man?
A soft chuckle floated from his lips, a stark difference to his demeanour before, “I used to try so hard to impress him when I was young. Studied, learnt our traditional tongue before any of my other siblings did, and even then, it wasn’t enough for him. I was never enough for him. He was sick, yes,” Frustration bled from his shoulders, tense and closed in, “But he had more time for them than us.”
There was the anger.
Sorrow.
Spite.
Aemond Targaryen had felt he had been in his nephews shadow his whole life.
And it showed.
“It was worse for Aegon. First son and all. A shiny new toy for Viserys before his expectations became too high for Egg and he rebelled. Then nothing he would do could impress the man.”
You squeezed his hand tightly, shuffling across the hard roots of the tree to get closer to him, leaning your shoulder heavily against his, so he could feel your weight, so he could feel the heat of your body. To comfort him, to be there for him, all while not being smothering.
“I’m sorry, Aemond.”
He shook his head, long strand of silver falling over his shoulder as he looked at you, “Don’t be.”
Silence fell over you again, and you watched as a lone red leaf, pointed sides and all, slowly drifted from above the two of you down onto the grassy ground below. It swooped from side to side, spinning gently before soundlessly falling amongst green blades.
You didn’t want him to be alone.
You didn’t want him to feel isolated.
And in your restless, sleepless night, you had thought about him.
“It’s going to be okay.” You whispered, and watched as he turned his head to look back at you, his lone eye searching your face.
Your thumb soothed over his gently, your words having more than one meaning.
His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth by his teeth, and then his voice came up and out from deep within his chest as he gazed at you intensely, clouded eye unmoving, and the sun shining down onto his scarred side of his face.
“Stay.” He asked you for the very first time.
A stark opposite to all the times you had uttered that word to him.
Asked him to stay with you.
It was first time he spoke that four lettered word to you, beneath the crimson leaves of the ancient Godswood in a home that he had grown in.
You heeded his request.
Together, you sat beneath the branches and looked up through them, side by side in a wordless promise to each other.
Stay.
-
The next few days were a whirlwind. The funeral was held on the grounds of the estate, people from all over flying in to say their goodbyes to the patriarch of House Targaryen.
At first you had asked Helaena if you could go back home, not wanting to intrude on her families grief, but she had insisted, no, begged for you to stay for the funeral.
And so you had.
It was an intense and sad ordeal, but not once did you leave Helaena or Aemond’s side. You stuck by them both, and he always came to you.
Crossing the kitchen to come to you. Crossing the dining table outside to come to you. Crossing the hall to come to Helaena’s room and sit on the bed with the two of you, happy to be just in your presence and not say a thing.
Aegon had silently cried at the funeral. The only child of Alicent to do so. You had watched as fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks, eyes cast at the coffin of his father, as his mother stood stoically beside him.
Alicent Hightower had cried softly when she had read the eulogy, then followed by Rhaenyra and Daemon's. It was the only time that you felt you would ever see the pair look out of their usual controlled demeanour.
After the funeral, there was the service, where all came to Rhaenyra and Alicent to offer their condolences, the two women standing side by side in all black. At one point, you had watched as Alicent’s pinky reached out, searching for Rhaenyra’s hand. It had curled against the other woman’s, and you watched as the other tilted her head slightly in shock, before she made a larger move, and curled her hand directly around the auburn haired woman’s beside her.
It was days after the funeral before all of you were back together again, side by side.
It had been a long day, longer than the last, and the night had bled into the sky in a deep purple before turning to its deeper shade of blue. Aegon had done rounds, going to each and every room to tell all to meet him down at the pool for some well needed drinks.
Aemond had been sat at Helaena’s vanity watching the two of you sit on the bed and softly giggle at a message Sara had sent her, your silver haired friend more intent on moving forward than looking back.
Hand in Helaena’s, you led her and Aemond down to the pool, not bothering to put swimmers on.
It was dark outside, the usual lights strung about the garden having been turned off, the only source of light coming from the moon, the stars, and the smaller lights that edged around the pools perimeter.
The others were already there, you having seemingly been the last pitstop, passing around popped bottles of champagne, wine and beer. There was the sweet, dank smell of Aegon’s weed again in the air, the short haired man leant back on his elbows as he looked up at the sky, bottle of Moët in one hand.
It was awkward at first, what with Jacaerys and Aemond’s outburst the last time you were all together before the funeral, but before long, and with the help of your trusty liquid courage, all seemed to melt into the numb feeling that the alcohol brought them.
You laid back in one of the armchairs, Helaena, between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you brushed the silver strands away from her face as she looked up at the stars. Aemond watched from beside you, having pulled over one of the other poolside chairs.
The twins, and the brown haired boys were sat at the waters edge with Aegon, their legs dangling into the pool as they swung them softly back and forth, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves.
Daeron, having disappeared for a moment, came back with his speaker, softly playing music through it to fill the gentle quiet that surrounded you all.
It was soft, calm, and peaceful enough for such a tumultuous time, and as the night got longer, and bottles of alcohol became drained, blunts were passed, and inhibitions were lowered, smiles and laughter were shared amongst all.
Even Aemond.
But that stillness was disturbed when the tipsy, brown haired Lucerys stood and faced everyone, bottle of red wine in hand. The smiles dissipated, and a serious energy floated amongst everyone again.
“I want to make a toast.” The young man said with drunken confidence, thrusting out the wine bottle towards Aegon, “To Viserys.”
Jacaerys lifted his beer towards his younger brother, the twins following suit with their cans of fruity mixer.
Lucerys’ eyes fell on Aemond, before his lips pulled down solemnly, turning away to roam his gaze on everyone else, “He wasn’t a perfect man-”
Aemond quietly scoffed beside you.
“-But if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.”
Aegon hummed in agreement, sipping deeply from his almost empty bottle of Moët.
Lucerys’s gaze fell to you as he scratched the back of his neck, “Except you, Y/n. You’d still be here. Well, not here here. But you’d still-“
“-Alright, move it on.” Baela joked lovingly at him as he began to ramble.
Straightening his posture, Luc thrust his wine up to the sky, “To Viserys.”
All lifted their drinks up to toast, bar Aemond, hands bringing wine to their lips, beer to their mouths, or champagne to their tongues. You offered Aemond a small, sad smile, and he returned it, sipping at his beer in thought.
It wasn’t a full toast per-say like the others, but he drank in the mans honour regardless.
A large palm opened up towards you, pale fingers lazily spread in offering. You looked at his long digits, signet ring on one.
“Come here.” Aemond hummed, gentle look in his eye.
Helaena pulled herself from your lap and looked at her brother, “I thought you’d never ask!” She chirped playfully, and he rolled his eye at her.
A small giggle fell from your lips as you looked at his hand again. Still outstretched towards you in front of everyone.
In front of everyone.
Your heart raced in your chest as you stood, placing your hand in his, the warmth of his palm spreading up your arm as you moved over to Aemond, who pulled you between his long legs in a similar way you had done with Helaena. His legs were bent on either side of you with your back against his chest. You felt his chin dip to rest at the top of your head, and a warmth spread through your chest like wildfire.
Helaena smiled at your warmly as Aegon craned his neck backwards to look at the two of you.
“How long has this been going on?” He teased, glassy eyes narrowing on the both of you.
Lucerys, who had sat back down beside his brother after his toast, turned around with Jacaerys to observe. And when their heads turned, the others followed.
Heat rose in your cheeks and you felt a sudden shyness at it all. The urge to hide was strong.
But really, what was this?
You didn’t know.
But it was something.
Something more than before.
But still, you didn’t have an answer, so you moved to respond.
“Oh, we’re n-“
“-A while. I was just a dick about it.” Aemond interrupted you, and your heart soared.
Did he -
Did he just-
Did he just confirm your thoughts?
Did he just validate your feelings?
Answer all your burning questions that had kept you awake at night?
A while.
That implied that this was more.
That this had always been more.
That this was solid.
That this was-
“So that’s why you wouldn’t fuck me.” Aegon pouted, smirk pulling at his lips.
Aemond sighed heavily behind you, “That and the fact that you’re utterly repulsive.”
Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, “You wound me! I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who haven’t found me repulsive.”
“Too many, if you ask me.” Helaena snickered.
Aegon flicked his joint at his sister, standing straight as he looked down at everyone.
“Good thing I didn't ask you. I’ll have you know I’m polyglamourous.” Hands on his hips.
“Polyamorous.” Daeron corrected his brother.
Aegon grinned, victory in his cheeks, “I meant what I said.”
Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh soothingly as the night moved on, goosebumps rising on your flesh with each stroke of his long fingers. His chest was warm against your back, and you felt that you could fall asleep from where you were.
Helaena squealed at her phone loudly, breaking you from your fatigued thoughts.
“What is it?” You turned to face her, watching as a large grin pulled at her lips.
“Sara got us tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera!”
“What!”
“Yes!” She shook her phone in her hand whilst she screamed in excitement, “I can’t believe she remembered!”
Aemond chuckled from behind you, chest vibrating against your back, “Of course she'd remember. She’s in love with you.”
Your best friend suddenly became shy, a blush rising on her cheeks rapidly, turning them a bright red that even in the darkness of the night, you could see, “I know that. I just can’t believe it.”
“I’m jealous. Ask her where my ticket is.” You teased, “So I guess this means I’ll be seeing more of Sara again?”
Helaena gave you a knowing smirk, and you gave her one right back.
You were happy for her.
Really happy.
They were perfect for each other. And you always knew that they would get back together again. That and Helaena always told you so, and Helaena was never wrong.
Aegon having come round to where you sat, snatched his sisters bottle of Prosecco, downing the remainder in one gulp, a refreshed and exaggerated gasp filling the air as he ruffled her hair, a growl and swat of a hand coming for his arm which he dodged last second.
Aegon giggled, running around the rim of the pool, shoes kicked in one direction, socks thrown in the other, shirt torn from his back in one yank, and then came his pants. Your eyes widened as Aegon stripped himself nude before jumping into the pool with a yell.
He emerged from the cool water with a flick of his wet hair laughing, sending a hand splashing towards the twins and he smiled, “Come onnnn, live a little! Get in!”
Baela and Rhaena gave each other a shared look before standing, stripping themselves of their clothes before jumping in, hand in hand.
Before you knew it, you were all stripped bare, splashing about in the pool laughing and swimming around.
Even Aemond.
His cheeks were pulled taut by the grin plastered to his face as he swam towards you, tickling your sides as you screamed for backup from Baela and Rhaena, who swam towards you, a flurry of splashes and squeals until his large palms rose above the water and conceded.
Aegon pulled another spliff from the side of the pool and passed it around, and although it was dark, and you couldn’t see the details of anyones bodies, you still felt slightly shy in knowing that not only were you naked, but you were naked with a certain someone pressed up against your back.
At one point, you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch against the cheek of your ass, but you shrugged it off, going to the others as they tossed a ball like piggy in the middle back and forth, little Lucerys in the centre trying to jump up to catch it with all his might.
Eventually the water grew cold, and as you swam to sip at some of Baela’s drink, Aemond slid from behind you, hand wrapping around your waist. Heat spread through you as you felt him press up against you, mouth beside your ear.
“I think it's time for bed, don’t you?” He whispered hoarsely.
You bit your lip turning your head to try and sneak a peak at him, but was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious wolf whistle.
Aegon grinned at you both, “No fucking in mummy’s pool.”
“Ugh, Aegon. What the fuck.” Helaena grimaced.
A laugh exploded from your lips as you turned to look at Aemond, who was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to hide the smirk that was rising on his face.
“Come on.” He urged you, tilting his head to outside of the pool.
You climbed out with his help, getting dressed, all the while Aegon continued to whistle at the two of you and make obscene noises. But it was short lived as Helaena pushed Aegon’s head under water with all her weight, Jacaerys and Luc clapping in laughter.
You saw this as your out and grabbed Aemond’s hand, racing him through the Keep in fits of giggles until you reached his room, anticipation strumming in your gut. You watched as he shut the door behind him, turning to face you. His hair was wet, much like yours, and he advanced on you slowly, energy bouncing around inside of you.
“Come here.” He beckoned you with a finger, soft smirk on his lips.
You shook your head at him cheekily, “Nuh uh.”
His head tilted as he looked at you, “Please.”
Your feet carried you towards him, a magnetic pull dragging your chest to his. He smiled warmly down at you, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other dragged a wet strand of hair away from your face.
“Beautiful.” He praised you, before dipping his head down to kiss you.
Aemond bent slightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands wrapping around your thighs as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed as you didn’t once break the kiss.
It wasn’t hurried like the last time.
It wasn’t frenzied.
This time, you took your time with each other.
Aemond stripped you of your wet clothes and brought you to your peak on his tongue, his name whispered from your mouth like a prayer. He hovered above you as he slid in, watching the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed at the stretch, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the side of your face as he slowly moved through your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against every point within you.
“So fucking beautiful.” He praised you as you fell apart once again on his cock, walls gripping his length tightly as you keened and whined, hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he smiled sweetly at you.
This was a side of Aemond you hadn’t seen before, and a side you hoped to see more.
He came with a quiet moan of your name, head dipping down into the crux of your neck as he planted kiss after kiss there.
You spent the rest of your night together curled in each others embrace, falling asleep with one word echoing in your mind.
Stay.
-
Waking up in a dark green and black room was disorientating at first, probably exacerbated by the steady strumming of a slight hangover in the back of your mind. But the warmth of two strong arms wrapped around you, and the familiar scent of Aemond that filled the space between, reminded you of where you were, and who you were with.
Your eyes opened as you looked up at him. His good eye still shut, chest rising and falling slowly.
Everything had happened so fast.
It was as if a match had been lit and set you both ablaze. The two of you burning together hotly, in more ways than one. Your tempers. Your stubbornness, but more importantly, your desire to be with one another.
It was different with him.
Unlike anyone else before.
Passionate.
Fiery.
All encompassing.
And you relished in it.
Relished in the fact that not only was it real, not only tangible, but Aemond had made it open last night as he had pulled you into his lap in front of everyone, and verbally confirmed what had been happening all along.
You weren’t ‘Helaena’s roommate’.
You were more.
You knew that now.
His confession for his love for you however, was something that the two of you would dissect on a later date. But right now? You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t feel the same pull in your heart towards him when he would smile, or laugh, or just look at you. Or how your body would be set alight with even just a touch of his hand.
Aemond Targaryen had you well and truly under his spell.
And there was no other place you’d rather be.
Aemond shifted beside you, eye blinking open sleepily before he looked down at you.
“Morning.” His voice crackled with sleep, mouth opening in a small yawn before he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.
Your heart raced in your chest.
“Morning.”
Aemond squeezed you to him tighter as he stretched out the fatigue in his limbs, a whiny grunt escaping his lips.
That was noise you hadn’t heard before.
He sounded content.
Comfortable.
Safe.
But there was still one final thing.
You wanted to be sure that last night wasn’t just a drunken little display, or a declaration emboldened by the grief around the others tainted by possessiveness against Jacaerys.
“What happens now?” You asked quietly, watching as he blinked at you again.
“Whatever happens, happens.” His voice was deep, lulling you into a calm, “But I know I want to be with you.”
Here it was.
“Are you sure?” Your eyes searched his face.
This was it.
His last chance to back out.
His last chance to say no.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
You couldn’t contain the grin that creeped on your face, hands pulling him down into a relieved kiss, pouring your adoration and care for him into it as much as you could.
He returned it equally with fever.
Heat ran through you as you pressed yourself closer to him, gasping into his mouth as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. Aemond groaned into the kiss but pulled away.
You looked at him in confusion.
“Come on, we got to have breakfast with the others.”
You whined, plopping back into the pillows with a huff, “I don’t want to.”
Aemond chuckled from beside you, sitting up in the bed as he ripped the sheets away from your body, exposing your naked form. You rolled over onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow as you whined.
Two light smacks landed on the cheek of your ass, and you cried out in surprise, “Come on, grumpy.” He teased, “I’ll give you what you want after. But first, we need to eat.”
At the promise of getting what you wanted, you rolled out of bed, begrudgingly, looking at your semi wet pile of clothes in disgust.
You could do a run down the hall to Helaena’s room, but you could also be spotted running nude through the estate, which to you, didn’t seem appropriate considering the funeral held there only a few days past.
Aemond must have noticed your predicament, “Here.” He came over to you, handing you one of his black shirts and those grey sweats you loved so much.
You threw them on, the top coming down to your mid thigh. The pants however, didn’t stay up, and kept sliding down your legs no matter how much you tightened the strings or rolled them at your hips.
Aemond laughed at you as you stepped out of the pants and threw them at him in a huff.
“I need pants.” You whined, searching his room.
“Would prefer it if you didn’t.” He raised a brow at you.
Your core clenched around nothing as you looked at him, his stance challenging you to obey.
So this is the game he wanted to play.
Smirking, you turned to the door, opening it up, “Come on. We will be late.”
You left without looking back, not getting to see the way Aemond’s tongue poked into his cheek, watching you trot out of his room clad in his shirt.
Only his shirt.
The others were seated at the table outside picking at the spread. They all greeted you both as you moved sit down, except Aegon, who’s head was in his arms atop the table as he groaned dramatically and loudly for all to hear.
“Is he alright?” You asked Helaena, watching as she rolled her eyes at her older brothers antics.
“He’s fine. He’s just a drama Queen.”
“Drama King.” He grumbled back.
You ate together for a while before catching Helaena’s attention, it wasn’t something you wished to do, but it was something you had to nonetheless.
You had to go home, and what was more, you had to go back to work.
“Hel, is Criston around today?” You asked, plopping a sweet piece of watermelon into your mouth.
“I think so. Mum’s home today. Why?” Her head leant against her hand as she twirled one of her dragonfly earrings in between her fingers.
“I have to go back to work. I’ve used far too much of your mothers generosity, and uni starts back up next week.”
Helaena sat up straighter, “Holy shit, that’s next week?”
You nodded, “Yep. Not looking forward to Orwyle’s Citadel History class. Man could bore you to tears. I think I’ve actually cried once or twice.” You joked, rolling around a slice of starfruit on your plate before plopping it into your mouth, enjoying the sweet nectar that coated your tongue.
“Are you going to take Rhaenyra’s offer?” Helaena asked, eyes flitting from you and then to Aemond.
“What offer?” Came the grumbling groan of Aegon, his head lifting momentarily to look at you.
If he wasn’t speaking and breathing in front of you, you would have mistaken the man for being dead. Dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and his pale skin had a sallow dullness to it that made him look almost grey.
“Rhaenyra offered her a job at her firm.” Helaena confirmed.
Aegon grunted, dropping his head back into his arms.
“I didn’t know she offered you a job.” Aemond looked at you from the side, brows pulling slightly.
Why did you feel a slight stab guilt in not telling him?
But how could you have?
It had been a whirlwind since she spoke to you.
The offer.
Aemond returning.
Your spat.
Your make up.
Viserys’ death.
It didn’t seem like the right thing to bring up at that time, and if you were being truly honest, you hadn’t even thought of it since his arrival.
“I didn’t have the chance to tell you with everything that’s happened.”
Aemond hummed, and so you continued, turning to face Helaena, “I think so. I need to give it a proper thought when I get home though.”
Helaena nodded at you, “I’ll speak to Cole after breakfast.” She promised, and resumed her eating.
You thanked her with a smile before doing the same.
“You should take it.”
His words came as a surprise.
You placed your fork back onto the plate as you looked at the man at your side. His face was honest and open, there wasn’t a sneer or grimace, or even the straight line that his lips did when he was upset.
He was being genuine.
You brows twitched as you wordlessly urged him to continue.
“My sister, despite everything, is a hard worker. She’ll look after you and make sure you’re taken care of. Besides, her firm is likely more your style anyway.”
“What do you mean by that?” You probed casually, trying to hide your real intrigue behind another piece of fruit in your mouth.
“More…” Aemond thought for a second, and then it came with a cheeky smirk, “Woman led.”
-
Helaena stayed true to her word and had Cole come to take you home, or at least, back to the private runway where that sleek jet picked you up once again.
You said your goodbyes to all, giving everyone a tight squeeze, especially Alicent Hightower, who you thanked for her endless generosity in having you there at such a tough time.
However, you wouldn’t be going home alone. Aemond was coming with you, citing the need to be with you, and the need to get away from a place he hated.
When you moved to say your goodbyes to your best friend, you asked her when she would be back with you, mind wondering when you would need to part ways with Aemond's presence.
“I’m going to stay here for the next month." She told you, "I’ve already emailed uni.”
“The next month?” You felt sadness in your chest. Another month without your best friend.
You were going to miss her.
“Yeah,” She kicked at the gravel at her feet, “Mum needs me here for the solicitors and the Will and Testimony reading.”
“Oh? Are you going to be okay?”
Helaena pulled you in for a hug and whispered into your ear, “I’m going to be taken away in a straight jacket by the end of this.” Before pulling back to smile again, cheekier this time, “Besides, I’m sure Aemond will keep you company.”
His smooth voice came from beside you, “I have no plans on leaving.”
The flight home was quick with his company, and on more than one occasion, you had to swat his hands away from you as he whispered the chance of joining the mile high club in his mothers jet.
-
It felt good to be home as you stepped through the front door, dropping your keys in the empty bowl, followed by the sound of Aemond dropping his in beside it.
It made you smile, the familiar scent of your apartment, the soft glow of light, it's tidiness perfect for your arrival home. You turned back, grin tugging on your lips to look at the man behind you, only to see him looking at you hungrily.
You continued forward, butterflied erupting in your stomach as you felt the warmth of his gaze behind you. You dropped your bags in the lounge room and stretched your arms up high, the day dress you were wearing sliding up your thighs.
Aemond watched you with a hooded eye, and the heat you had felt that morning came back tenfold.
And then you remembered.
“You didn’t make do on your promise.” You smirked.
Aemond raised a brow at you as he dropped his bags next to yours, hands flexing at his side, urging you to elaborate.
“You said you’d give me what I want after breakfast." You purred, "It’s past lunch.”
The silver haired man’s lip twitched as he looked at you, tongue in cheek, “Look whose gotten all bratty the moment we get home.”
Home.
The word sent heat straight to your core.
“Not my fault you're a liar.” You teased back, feeling confident to push him now that you knew where you stood. Now that you were home, away from his family, away from it all. It was now just the two of you.
You and him.
“A liar?”
“Uh huh.”
“Did I say when I would?”
You brows furrowed, “After breakfast.”
“And is lunch not after breakfast?”
Your eyes narrowed at him.
“Dick.”
Aemond’s demeanour changed entirely, posture straightening which gave him an extra inch of height. He looked down his nose at you as he watched you take a smirking step back, “Come here.”
You had to push down the flurry of excitement that almost unleashed a giggle into the room, “Make me.”
Your chest rose and fell sharply as you watched Aemond take a slow step towards you, and then another.
“Last chance, baby. Come here.”
"No."
Spinning on your heel you ran towards your room, Aemond's boots beating on the floorboards behind you coming closer. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, squeal erupting from your chest as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.
“That was very naughty of you.” His voice whispered hoarsely at your ear from behind, hot breath fanning down your neck.
You stifled a whimper as his fingers dug into your skin before he threw you down onto the bed, face first. Your hands flew outwards, catching yourself as your hips hit the end of the bed. Aemond was on you in an instant, pawing at your dress as he ripped it off of you.
“This what you want, huh? Want me to put you in your place? Little brat.”
Your hands moved behind you to tried to slap his arms as he yanked your panties down your legs in one long swoop. Aemond tutted from behind you as he kicked your legs apart, your lip caught in your teeth as you tried not to whimper.
“Look at you. Already soaked. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”
His hand cast down onto the flesh of your ass and you cried out, back arching as the delicious sting spread through your skin. He pulled your cheeks apart roughly and spat onto your dripping entrance.
“Filthy little fuck hole.” Aemond growled, and you mewled as you felt his spit run between your thighs and drip down onto the floor below.
His fingers smeared his spit into your folds, parting them easily as he looked down at you and cooed, your head craning back to watch him as he chuckled darkly, “What am I going to do with you, hm? You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy, baby?”
Your legs tried to shut so that you could apply pressure with the squeezing of your thighs, but Aemond's legs were in the way, preventing you from getting any release of the tingling that spread through your aching centre.
“Please.” You murmured, pouting at him the best you could in the hopes that it would entice him to take you right then and there.
Another chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let one long finger circle around your entrance, the tip of it just barely pushing inside before it came back out again, teasing you.
“I don’t think you deserve it.” He hummed.
“Please, Aemond.”
“Not my name, sweetheart.”
A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes sliding shut, “Please daddy.”
The warmth from his body disappeared as he stepped back, your eyes opening to find him looking down at you with a stern face. Your heart raced in your chest, his height towering over you, dominance dripping from his every fibre of his being.
“Kneel.”
Gods be good.
Your eyes widened as you stared at him, his hands coming to undo his belt buckle slowly, watching as you didn’t move. He pulled the belt slowly from the loops, to soft flipp loud in the room. The belt dropped to the floor with a thud.
“I said,” Aemond moved quicker than you could react, grabbing a fist full of your hair and dragging you off of the bed onto your knees,
“Kneel.”
The wooden floor bit into the skin on your knees sharply, but it was dull in comparison to the sheer desire to be ravaged by the man in front of you.
Long fingers slowly dragged down the zipper of his pants, opening it with languid movements as he kept his eye completely and utterly upon your face.
“Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”
You watched as he pulled his hard length from his briefs, running his fist from base to top slowly, the tip leaking a drop of precum that he smeared down his shaft.
Aemond hummed, “What? Can’t talk now?”
You shook your head defiantly as he took a step closer, “I’m going to ask you one last time,” His voice grew deeper, darker, and it added to the slick that was settling in the crux of your thighs, “Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”
You shook your head.
No.
Liar.
Aemond clicked his tongue at you in disappointment before sighing loudly, “Thought you’d say that. I’ve got a better use for that mouth of yours.” One hand in your hair, he tugged you forward, “Open.”
You don’t know what it was about this man, or what he did to you to make you the way you were with him. The way he absolutely ruined every inch of your mind and thoughts, the urge to both please him and defy him coursing through you all at once, but you wouldn’t give in. No, you needed him to react, you needed him to take what he wanted from you with force.
So biting the insides of your cheeks to keep you from smiling, you defiantly kept your mouth shut as you looked up at him from your knees.
The corner of his lip twitched as he hummed at you.
The sting across your cheek came quickly and stunned you enough to open your mouth in a gasp, exactly as he had planned when he slapped you. He grabbed your jaw with the entirety of his hand and squeezed at the joint meanly, mouth falling open further in pain.
Aemond slid his cock straight into your open lips, his heady weight sitting upon your tongue as he looked down at you, still holding the base with one hand, your jaw in the other.
“There you go. Far more useful with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out slowly as you curled your tongue upwards, running it along the underside of his shaft, pressing into the long vein that travelled along it.
Aemond began to thrust into the back of your throat, letting go of the base so that the whole length of him would slide into your mouth. His cock was salty on your tongue, hot, swollen, and heavy in your mouth as he forced you to take him as deep as it would go.
You gagged on his length, eyes watering as you shut them tightly.
Two little slaps on your cheek made your eyes open back up, staring at him as he looked down at you, “Eyes on me while I fuck this pretty little mouth of yours.”
You moaned around his length, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension that was building between them. But it was fruitless. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, and what you needed was his fingers, his tongue, or his cock inside of you.
The silver haired man thrusted into your mouth the way he would into your cunt, deep, long and hard, his tip beating against the back of your throat as he used you for his own pleasure.
It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and exactly what you had wanted.
You wanted him to use you like this, to get it all out, to get out all the tension that had been hovering over him the minute he stepped into the Keep.
He needed this just as much as you did.
A thick line of saliva ran down your chin, dripping onto your thighs below as both hands wrapped around the sides and back of your skull, dragging your head up and down his length roughly. His brow was furrowed as he watched, mouth agape as he breathed shallowly and grunted.
“Look at you," He cooed down at you, "Just a hole for me to fuck. Just a little slut begging for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”
You hummed around his length, sucking your cheeks inwards as much as you could. Aemond hissed at the pressure, eye sliding shut momentarily as his hips stuttered.
It was a glorious sight.
You below him, looking up as his head was thrown back, ecstasy breaking out on his features as his pearly hair cascaded around his shoulders.
Your head was pulled away, length slipping from your lips as you gasped for air, a line of spit connecting you to his tip as he cooed at you.
“Open.”
You opened your mouth wider, tongue poking out for him. His cheeks hollowed and then Aemond spat onto your tongue, its warmth spreading from your mouth, all the way through your body.
You moved to shut your mouth to swallow for him like you thought he wanted, but he stopped you with a finger, pressing down on your tongue as he smeared his spit along the wet, pink muscle messily.
With little care, two fingers slid down to the back of your throat as he looked at you, your mouth still open waiting for a command. Aemond slowly fucked your throat with his fingers, grinning at the small gags that he elicited from the action, before pulling his fingers from your mouth, smearing his spit and yours across your face, the wetness sticking to your heated cheeks.
“Such a messy girl. So dirty.” He purred, lining his cock back up to your mouth which you took with ease, except this time, Aemond didn’t fuck your throat.
He slid his length all the way down your throat, cock pressing into your gag reflex and blocking off your air. Your nose met his pelvis as he looked down at you, shaking your head slightly side to side on his length.
“Hold it.” He growled, watching as a tear ran down your cheek as you tried to not cough or splutter on his length, chest heaving as you gagged, no air being able to pass through your nose.
Your head grew dizzy as you looked at him, lungs beginning to burn, but still he didn’t let you pull back. Holding you down onto him by the back of your head.
Your hands flew to his thighs for grip as you tried to pull away, but Aemond kept his cock nestled deeply in your throat.
“You can do it, pretty girl." He told you, "Five more seconds.”
Another tear slid down your cheek, the weight of him in your throat making your core flutter around nothing.
“Five.” He began to count down, watching as you squirmed below him.
“Four.” Your nails dug into his flesh harshly as you tried to keep on him, throat swallowing around him tightly in reflex, causing a shiver to roll through his body.
“Three.”
“Two.” He grunted, pulling you down harder on his length causing more tears to fall from your eyes.
“One.”
Aemond pulled you off his length, your lungs burning as you gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and coughing at his feet.
“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the tears from your cheeks that had left wet tracks down your face.
You coughed softly, throat aching and head spinning, feeling embarrassed and aroused all in one. The head rush from lack of air was almost as intense as the head rush you got from your desire.
“Open.”
You licked your lips and swallowed doing as you were told, feeling Aemond slide his cock slowly into the back of your throat again, but this time, you inhaled a large lungful of air in preparation. He pulled your head down all the way, nose nestled into the hair at his base as he looked down at you.
“Good girl, baby. Look at you.” You moaned around his length, feeling tears in your eyes again as he nudged your gag reflex.
“Hold it.” His voice cracked, watching a tear slide down your cheek as he brushed hair away from your forehead gently, “You're going to hold it for ten this time.”
Ten.
Oh shit.
You didn't know if you could.
But you wanted to please him.
You wanted to be good for him.
“Ten.” Aemond began to count down again, pushing his hips slightly forward, making his cock go even deeper than you thought it could, throat bulging slightly from his length, your eyes widening as you squirmed below.
“Nine.”
“Eight.”
“Seven.” Your core clenched as he counted, watching through blurry eyes as he looked at you on your knees before him.
“S-ix.” He moaned, eye sliding shut as he felt your throat closing around him as your body tried to swallow the blockage that was his cock.
“Five.”
The room spun slightly and you began to shift below him, brain controlling you as it tried to pull you away to get air into your lungs instinctually.
“Four." Heat rose in your cheeks as you squirmed, head trying to move backwards from his grip.
"Stay still." He growled down at you. Despite his command, you still wriggled, slick sliding between your thighs as it began to drip down onto the floor below.
“Almost there, baby. Three.”
Your arms tried to push yourself back, pure instinct taking over, your hands on his thighs, vision in the corner of your eyes going dark.
Was he purposely counting slow?
Oh Gods.
He was.
“Two.”
You were almost there. Your fingers fisted against his thighs, and despite his face being blurred by your tears above, you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic smile that pulled at his sharp lips.
“Two and three quarters.”
Dick.
Your eyes narrowed at him, causing the man to chuckle.
“One.”
You ripped yourself away with a gasp, falling backwards onto your bum as you coughed and spluttered, drool hanging from your lips as you tried to steady your breathing.
Aemond knelt in front of you, swiping up the spit on your chin, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me - You did so well.” You keened at his praise, leaning into his hand.
Aemond helped you to stand, pulling you over onto the bed as he stripped himself bare, watching as you still fought to catch your breath, devouring him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.
“Let's see how wet you are from me using your mouth like that, hm?”
You parted your legs on instinct, giving him view of your glistening folds.
Aemond inhaled sharply, “Look how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over the bed.”
You nodded your head dumbly, brain feeling light as a feather. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of previous airflow, or if it was the way he was treating you, slowly sinking you down into the comfortable little space you loved to float in with him.
“Are you all dumb, baby?” He meanly cooed at you with a sadistic pout, stroking the hair atop your head.
You nodded again as he chuckled at you, running his fingers through your slick folds, the sound of him parting them obscenely wet.
“Just from being daddy’s little fuck hole?”
You moaned, pushing your centre into his hand as he swirled a digit around your swollen clit, sparks of pleasure flying up inside of you. His finger dipped inside of you, immediately crooking upwards into the spot you needed it most.
“Look at this needy little pussy sucking me in. Do you need daddy to help you?”
You moaned at him, thrusting your hips downwards onto his hand as he added another finger, beginning to fuck them inside of you.
“Use your words.”
It took whatever remaining braincell that was left inside your head to string together one measly word, “Please.”
Aemond smirked, “Please what, little dummy.”
You whined, shutting your eyes as heat flooded your cheeks.
“Come on. Use your big girl words or you won’t get anything.”
“Please, daddy. P-please fuck me.”
Aemond smiled victoriously, kissing a tear that was drying against your cheek, “There we go. That must have been real hard when you're all dumb, wasn’t it?
You whined at his teasing, and then again when he removed his fingers.
“Shh.” He hushed you, “Daddy’s going to give you just what you need.”
And he did.
Aemond slid into you immediately, aided by how wet and open you were for him. He sighed into the crook of your neck, your legs immediately wrapping around him as he began to fuck into you, slowly building up the pace.
Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his hips snapping into your own as pleasure bloomed within. You moaned and cried beneath him, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen bud with each deep and rough thrust he gave you.
“You gonna cum already? I can feel you gripping me.” He huffed, watching his length disappear into your folds.
“Please.” You wailed, hands gripping the sheets beside you tightly in your fists as you begged him with your eyes.
Aemond took pity on you and slid a hand down to your pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts, “Come on then. Cum on my cock.”
It took four sharp thrusts before your eyes screwed shut, stars appearing behind them as you came with an earth shattering cry. Aemond fucked you through it, hips and hand not once still until you were a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.
“Fucked the brat right out of you, didn’t I? Pretty little baby.” He moaned, rutting into your centre as the sound of your arousal surrounded you, the hair at the base of his cock soaked with your release, “Just needed me to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”
You couldn’t form any words, mouth hanging open as little whines and pants flittered off of your tongue. It was overwhelming, and the pleasure of your first peak was yet to settle, bliss sizzling and burning within your gut in a way that continued to mount as he kept rubbing your pearl.
It was almost painful.
“Give me another.” Aemond grunted, pressing his fingers against you again harder, watching as you tried to shift your hips and escape his circling digits.
But it was no use, and Aemond ripped yet another peak from you with precision, your head lulling to the side tiredly as your body was thrust up the bed with his hips. You laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck you, lip pulled into your mouth by your teeth as you whimpered.
“Fuck.” He gritted out through his teeth, hand releasing your clit out of mercy as he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, fucking into you harder and faster than before, beating the air from your lungs with each thrust.
“Gonna fill up this little pussy.” He moaned, watching as your brows pulled together, walls fluttering around his length.
“You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want me to fill you up?”
You nodded your head, tear leaking from the corner of your eye as he continued to rut into you rapidly, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides to prevent the blood flow to your head whilst allowing for air, amplifying your pleasure and making you float even further.
“Gonna cum in your cunt.” He moaned, using the grip on your neck to pull your weight down onto his cock, spearing you open with each thrust.
It was too much.
It was-
Oh Gods-
You were-
Your brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it, scrambling any thought that you had. You heard his cry as he came deep within you, his warmth filling you up, but there was a second wetness that you noticed, that soaked the sheets below you.
It took a while to come back down to yourself, held in Aemond’s arms as he brushed gentle hands over you, holding you to him. You felt warm, safe, and completely and utterly exhausted. You shifted to look up at him, watching as his eye opened to look down at you.
“Back on earth?” He asked softly, watching as you weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his bare chest. His chuckle vibrated against your cheek.
“Come on, we got to get you cleaned up.”
You buried your head deeper into his chest, “Don’wanna.”
Lips pressed at the top of your head, “Come on. I need to change the sheets.”
This caught your attention.
Had you gotten your period?
Were you sweatier than you had thought?
You lifted your head to look at him, to which he gave you a smug little smile.
“You made quite the mess.”
You frowned, embarrassment creeping into your chest.
“Nothing bad.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead, “You ever squirted before?”
Squirted?
“As much as I love watching your mind turn and work, I’m lying in your wet patch.” He chuckled, shifting to lift you out of the bed.
Low and behold, there it was.
A large wet patch below Aemond that spread out against your sheets, proof of your pleasure and the peaks that Aemond took you too. And despite having no shame, and being roughly and thoroughly fucked not too long ago, heat still flooded your cheeks at the sight.
After lazing in bed for only an allowed moment more, Aemond helped you to the shower, your legs weak like jelly as he washed you and brushed your hair, taking off your makeup with gentle steady hands that made your heart flutter in your chest.
Ever the gentleman, he popped you on the couch as he changed your sheets, remaking your bed before he put on the load of washing. It was entirely domestic, and watching him as he moved, as he doted. on you, as he fluttered around your space which had irrevocably also became his, it only seemed to make the little part of him that had burrowed into your chest go deeper.
-
You ordered in that evening, getting pizza in a strange reminder of what it had been like when he first moved in. The same pizza order, the same pizza place, the same two spots on the couch as you ate.
The two of you had come a long way since then. A very long way, and in many ways, coming to a place that you would not have thought possible or even to have thought to cross your mind.
You watched his favourite movie in comfortable silence after eating your dinner, before suddenly you remembered something. You jumped up from your spot, hissing slightly at the soreness between your thighs as you ran to retrieve two spoons from the drawer, then opening the freezer door to dig around inside.
Ah.
There it was.
The forgotten tub of ice cream you had carelessly thrown inside when a certain person was in your home.
You held it triumphantly as you walked back to the couch, holding it as you would a prized jewel on show for him. Aemond chuckled at your antics as you pulled the lid clean off, offering him a spoon.
“The first dip, My Lord.” You joked, bowing your head to him.
Aemond huffed a laugh, the pressure of him digging into the tub with his spoon pushed into your wrist.
“Ñuha Riña.”
The accent sent a pulse straight to your core.
Down girl.
You dipped your spoon in after him, lifting it to your lips, “What does that mean?”
“My Lady." Aemond hummed, returning his attention back to the tv.
You savoured the ice cream, the tub becoming half full in no time as you slowly but surely demolished it together. It felt good to be at his side, to know where you both stood. To know what you both wanted, and for it to not be a secret anymore.
But you still couldn't get your mind to stop thinking about the way his tongue had rolled when speaking High Valyrian.
“Aemond?” You turned your head to look at his profile, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at his spoon.
“Hm?”
“Will you teach me?”
His brows furrowed, “Teach you what?”
“High Valyrian.” You asked him shyly, suddenly feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him that at all. Maybe he wouldn't want to teach you that. Maybe it was a family thing only.
Was that weird of you to ask?
Would it be a reminder of the tension back at home?
A reminder of his father?
Your swirling thoughts of doubt were cut short as a soft smile spread across his shape cheeks.
“Hen rhinka.” Of course.
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll have to find out, won’t you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”
My love.
-
That night you slept in each others embrace, fresh and warm sheets on the bed, surrounded by his scent. It was no wonder that you drifted off to sleep so easily after the romp you had had earlier, not to mention how tumultuous the days before had been.
Yet when you woke the next morning, you felt refreshed, ready for a new start.
A new day.
A new beginning.
With him.
Aemond wasn’t in bed with you, but rather than feeling any sort of panic or anxiety about his absence, you crawled out of bed and went to where you knew he would be.
Standing tall, leant against the bench, Aemond sleepily sipped from his coffee in the kitchen as he blew the smoke from his cigarette through the open window. He was clad in only black shorts, his silver hair messy and tangled, and the press of his pillow embedded in his cheek.
Hearing your approach, he turned to you and smiled.
Your stomach did flips.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
The familiar sound of porcelain on the bench scraped in your ear.
There, at the base of his fingers, was your steaming mug of tea.
You took it gratefully from him with a smile before sidling up to his side, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.
“What do you want to do today?” You looked up at him, watching as he smiled down at you.
“Anything you want.”
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Hi! Saw you were looking for hotd requests.
How about arranged marriage au with Daemon x fem!reader. They have 1 or more kids but Daemon doesn't seem to like her. After an attack on her and the kids (she's a trained assassin/warrior), he realizes how much she does for them. Maybe she goes unconscious for a few days and Daemon has to look after the kids.
Ignore this if you don't want to do it! But thanks and have a good day!
Hello! I am so sorry for the late reply!! I did a few changes, I hope you don't mind. I plan to use this prompt for Aemomd and Aegon as well. However I hope you enjoy!!
Fire Like A Targaryen
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader
Warning: blood, assault, mentions of rape and murder, angst
Word Count: 1,907
Masterlist - Part Two
---
You drums you fingers against your swollen belly, feeling little feet meeting the flesh beneath your hands. "Hello, my little love." You hum to the unborn baby that dances in your stomach while the baby's father disappears somewhere, surely his doting niece following closely behind.
You have been married to Daemon long enough to know the feelings he has for his niece, even if he doesn't realize himself. His neglect of husbandry duties always increased as we spent time in King's Landing, nearing the Princess of Dragonstone. However, you didn't blame your husband's inability to love you, on the Princess or even her lover. Sometimes people just don't love each other.
Giving up long ago for his affection, you decided to make the best of your time with simple pleasures: reading in the garden, learning to cook with the maidens, painting with the richest of colors. Quickly, you adapted to the riches of the Targaryen's royalty which dulled the ache you felt for her husband.
The night of the wedding, the pair never consummated the marriage, it left you feeling like a pawn in a game. He stumbled in drunk, tripping over his feet before dragging himself up the bed, practically crawling towards you. Unable to deny your growing love for this mess of a man, you reached your hand out and guided him towards yourself.
Slowly, he looked up at you before clasping your cheeks in his hands, pressing his cold lips against your warm ones. Hungrily, his hands fly to your sides and pull you against his bare chest. Moaning into your kiss, both sets of hands begin exploring each other. For once, you felt at home, like this was how the two of you were supposed to be, together. However, your bliss died when his lips whispered one that was far from your own.
"Oh, Rhaenyra!" He mumbles into the flesh of your neck, leaving little bruises training down your chest as he moves towards your breast. His words crash around in your head as you lay beneath Daemon who finishes and falls asleep beside you, wordlessly.
Despite the pain of that night, you gained motherhood. Daemon was happy to be a father, scared but happy. He never told you, but you could tell when he'd ghost his hand over your bump or give you an extra piece of bread with dinner. He even held your hand during the birth of your daughter, Alysannne. He may not love you, but he loves his child. Although, a small part of you wished this child would make him love you. You were naive to think Daemon would ever love you.
But, years have passed since your daughter was born. Alys is five, running around her father as he brushes Caraxes in the Dragonpit.
"Mommy!" Her tiny voice echoes on the stone walls once she sees you walking towards herself and her father. Looking up, Daemon's eyes meet yours, offering a small smile before turning back to the huffing Caraxes.
"Hello, my little one. What are you doing out here? Look at you, you are all dirty!" You pick at your daughter's ripped gown, covered in soot.
"We were playing with Caraxes! Daddy said he'd let me fly with him!!" The little girl runs between her parents and the Blood Wyrm, kissing the dragon's cheek as she pets him.
"Well, she is her father's daughter." Daemon chuckles, putting his hand on the small of your back as Alys dances around in front of you, twirling her ruined skirt. Affection from him was no longer rare but quick. His thumb caresses the exposed skin of your back, soothing the pain of carrying a child. His unused hand finds itself cupping your belly.
"How has he been treating you, today?" Daemon's smooth voice steals your attention from the girl before you. Looking down at his hands, you rest yours beside his but he moves, so his fingers are right over yours.
"He's been good. Hasn't been kicking me a ridiculous amount which is a new change of pace." Your attempt at a joke brings a smile to your husband's face who kneels down before you and kisses your clothed belly, much to your surprise.
"Be good for your mother. Cherish her, my little Dragon." He whispers, but you were still able to here his words. Standing back up, he cups your face.
"I'm going to take Alys flying before she makes Caraxes eat me. He listens to her more and more these days." With a peck on your cheek, he's running towards his daughter and his dragon.
"Don't forget Alysanne needs to bathe before dinner with your brother. She may be a dragon but she will not smell like one." You call them, laughing at your own words.
"Yes ma'am." Daemon smiles at you before telling Caraxes to fly,just streaks of red melding into the blue sky above.
Waiting for your family, you sit in your chambers, rubbing oils on your stretched belly while the water for Alysanne is being gathered by your maids.
Grabbing a book from Daemon's bedside table, you absently flip through the pages; glimpses of words and stories fly by along with the pages.
A creak of the door alerts you, bring you to your feet as you cover your stomach with the slits of your gown.
"Mommy! We flew so high!" Alysanne pushed the door open enough to slide between the wood, running to her mother's side, a severant boy coming in behind her with two buckets of hot water. Alysanne leans into your side as you take in the dirt covering her face.
"Oh, my little girl, what did they do to you? Did they roast you?" You giggle, tickling at her sides. The servant moved slowly beside you as he filled the white tub.
"No, I roasted them, mwah ha ha." She laughs, stomping and pretending to breathe fire as she runs around you in circles.
"Okay my dragon rider. It's time to bathe. Come on." She taps her daughter's shoulders, moving her towards the steaming bath. Looking towards the lingering servant, Y/N felt bad dismissing him but was cautious why he was staying so long.
"Thank you, sir. Your kindness won't be forgotten." You turn towards your child and still feeling the man in your room, pull the curtain around the tub closed, canceling your still clothed daughter. She was eerie of this man in their room, unsure what to think of him.
Slowly, he straightens to look you in the eye, a cold shiver runs through your body as you see the glint of a dagger in his hand.
"No! Guards! Daemon!" You shout as the man lunges, knife pointed towards your belly. The man kept coming at you, backing you in the furthest corner away from your daughter, who peeked from the curtain. Moving to run around him, his arm grabbed you by the stomach and shoved you down. Flying backward, your head hits the ground, a loud crack echoing through your mind as you look around for a weapon. The man is stalking you while you try to move toward the bed across you. You knew Daemon kept a dagger under the left-hand side of the mattress. If you could just get to it, you could save your children's lives.
The sound of glass breaking stops you and your attacker, both looking toward the direction of the crash. The tub.
A fear like no other took over you as the man started towards your daughter's hiding spot. Reaching for his legs, you try to pull him down, screaming but to no avail as he kicks you. One landing in your swollen belly, making black dots cloud your vision. Wetness trickles down the side of your face, but you keep dragging yourself behind this man, desperate to stop him from hurting your child.
Using the table nearest, you pull yourself up and grab Daemon's letter opener. This man would not leave this room alive; you'd make sure of it even if you died trying. The man throws open the curtain but pauses. Creeping behind him, you see Alysanne isn't behind the curtain anymore.
"Where is she?" The man asked himself. He turns, locking eyes with you before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you to your knees. "I said," Where is she? You dumb bitch!" He goes to smack you but stops as you shove the letter opener into his hand. Letting you go, you drop back down before dragging yourself to your feet.
"You fucking cunt! I was going to let it be quick, but now you will watch me rape your little girl and slit her throat before I do the same to you." He spits, pulling the blade from his hand and coming at you. His words once would've made you cower and hide, but now light you up like a flame. A fire burned in you to keep going and fighting despite the pain radiating over your body.
"You won't lay a finger on her. Over my dead body." You knew this would be a fight you'd lose. You have no weapons, training, or husband to protect you. It was up to you to protect these children, and you would do it even if it killed you. The Man grabs at you again, but you slap, scratch, and claw at his face this time. His hands find their way around your throat while yours dig into his eyes, a gut-wrenching scream comes from the man as he yanks away from you, but you don't stop. Lunging at him, you push his body against the tub, hitting his head before you wail on his chest, tears flowing down your face as the man beneath you go limp.
A scream of frustration leaves your throat raw as the adrenaline leaves your body.
"Alysanne? It's okay to come out now, darling. It's okay." Your thoughts cleared. Where is your daughter? Stumbling off the man, you pull yourself up and turn, trying to find your daughter, when suddenly she slides from under the bed, rushing to your side.
"M-mommy! I thought, I thought he was-"
"Shh, it's okay now. Everything is going to be okay." You hold her to your chest, trying to soothe your nerves. The door swings open to your relief, and Daemon rushes in, sword drawn with the Gold Cloaks rushing in behind him.
"What happened? Are you okay? Alysanne? The baby?" Daemon's questions shoot at you, each before the words can find you. Staring up at him, blood smeared across your face, bruises forming, and tears filling your eyes. Daemon has never seen you like this and never plans to again.
"Mommy killed the bad guy. He tried to hurt us, but she saved us!" Your daughter summarizes to her father, who turns to his wife, shocked, before pulling her and her daughter into his arms, kissing each other on their foreheads. He always thought she lacked the fire a Targaryen has. But at every turn, she has proved him wrong. Not only did she give him a dragon and another coming, but she became one in the process.
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