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Targaryen

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Lymeria Targaryen (Daemon & Viserys sister, Twin to Ageon, Daughter of Alyssa and Baelon) Rating - Flirty Word Count - 2103

I smiled as I stood at the top of the balcony in the throne room of the red keep. I watched over the throne room as lords gathered, word had come that today my brother returned to the city. Caraxes had been spotted across the sky and now had returned to the dragon pit. And now it was merely a matter of time before he returned. I watched my eldest brother Viserys in his best clothes, he took his crown to wear as well as his sword to hold at his side as he sat on the throne. I did my best not to shake my head at his desire for dramatics.

But I'm sure they were purely in an attempt to keep up with my other brother's dramatics.

His footsteps echoed across the great halls long before he came into view, silence crept through the halls as he approached.

Finally, my brother Daemon came around the corner, walking his way down the centre of the opened doors, dark sister on his hip, valerian steel armour over him a crown of bones in his silver hair, he walked with the confidence of a king his armour clinking as he walked.

When he reached the base of the throne the kingsguard drew their swords and He stopped when the tip of the lord commander touched his armour.

He pulled out the weapon from the stepstones the trophy of his war offering it to Viserys,

"Add it to the chair." He said before he dropped it letting it clank and clatter on the stone floor,

I chuckled unable to hold back my amusement. Silence rang out as the commander picked up the weapon,

"You wear a crown." Viserys glared down at him, "You also call yourself king?"

"After we smashed the triarcy, they named me king of the narrow sea," Daemon smirked back to him

I felt a desire to go down there and knock their heads together, Even after all these years, they are still my brothers and they still act like children.

"But I know there is only one true king, your grace." Daemon bent the knee and removed his crown, "My crown, and the stepstones are yours."

"Where is Lord Corlyas?"

"Sailed home to Driftmark,"

"Who holds the stepstones?"

"The tides. The crabs. And two thousand dead triarcy corsairs. staked to the sand to warn those who might follow,"

Viseys stepped down from the throne letting the tip of his sword hit the stone floor, he took the crown that Daemon offered him in hand before passing it to his king's guard, "Rise."

Daemon rose to his feet once more and the two shared an embrace, it made me smile to see such a sight as the lords applauded.

"The realm owes you a great debt brother."

Daemon nodded in agreement, the lords wished him well and headed out to continue their business for the day, I headed down and adjusted my red dress embroidered in dragon scales, as I approached Daemon was talking with Rhaenyra wishing her well since he had seen her. Before he turned and smiled at me.

"Dear Sister," He cooed,

"Dear brother, it is a sweet song to hear of your return." I smiled,

He chuckled and offered his arms so I happily wrapped my own around him and we shared a tight embrace, "I have missed you Lymeria,"

"I missed you too daemon," I cooed, we pulled back and I chuckled at him, "Must you always be so dramatic?"

"You'd be bored if I wasn't." he chuckled,

"I suppose," I laughed, "I am glad you are home dear brother."

"I am glad to be home," he smiled giving my cheek a soft kiss and running his hand through my hair before he softly kissed my shoulder,

I blushed but I moved away he looked confused as to why I had moved away but I glanced at Visery's who glared at us, "Shall we walk?"

"I would enjoy a walk," He nodded and offered his arm,

I happily took it, and we headed out to the gardens to talk in private. "You must tell me of the war. Viserys refused to tell me of the proceedings even if I often asked."

He chuckled, "Oh, well, where can I start? There were many fights, and I won most of them. The men and I had quite the adventure on the Stepstones!"

"I'm sure you did, as soon as I heard the tale of the crab feeders' awful methods I admit I worried for you. Nothing could make me weep more of an evening than to think of you pinned to the beach and devoured,"

Daemon shook his head, his lips curling into a smirk "That would be a disgrace to our house to be devoured. Though not one you need to worry yourself with. I will let Nothing would ever harm me, dear sister. I always find my way out of trouble."

"you always have done. You'd think we'd be old enough now I would know never to worry you always find your way out of things," I laughed, "I'm sure Caraxes enjoyed the bloodshed?"

"Oh sure, Caraxes seemed to have an absolute blast burning, pillaging and slaughtering countless people. I think I may have had a little bit of fun myself, too,"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, still we can hope now for some time of peace thanks to your efforts. We wouldn't want to run off again anytime soon," I smiled and squeezed his arm,

"There is always something to worry about. I am glad that the Stepstones are under our control, but something else will just turn up sooner or later."

"I'm sure your right..." I sighed "still, I hope atleast you get some time to rest once more. Time to enjoy some peace and quiet before flying off to another war"

"Rest? My dear sister, when have you ever known me to have time to rest? One thing after another just comes my way, and there hardly ever seems to be any time for me to properly rest. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

"I suppose so, still I am thrilled you are home and I know Viserys is too even if he doesn't say it"

Daemon's frown softened, "I'm sure Viserys is more relieved than anything that we didn't lose a Targaryen while I was away. Not to mention, we need all the Targaryen's we can get, especially with the state of this kingdom,"

I chuckled a little,

"I'm glad you find the state of our family amusing, or whatever is so funny. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would rather we weren't all so close to extinction,"

"I have never. In my life. Heard you sound so much like our father. you boys. Both of you are becoming more and more like father with every passing year, the obsession with the Targaryen legacy grows with age I think. Viserys has his models, you have your fears of our extinction. One of these days I'm going to be hearing about the power of valerian blood and steel"

"Well, is it a bad thing? Should we not be concerned with our legacy? With trying to uphold our status as the most powerful and greatest house in Westeros? The way I see it, father's priorities became my priorities. And what exactly is wrong with that?"

"nothing wrong with it I merely find it amusing," I nodded, "I know I... have only hindered this..."

"Lymeria." he sighed, "You cannot blame yourself for that,"

"But I do,"

"But you shouldn't." He said, "What happened to our mother and our brother was no fault of yours." He said stroking my cheek, "We are very lucky we have you,"

"Often it doesn't seem that way,"

"Well... Will you be adding to the Targaryen legacy?"

"ohh, dear brother. I have known for a very long time that I shall only undermine our legacy. Perhaps it is why I have not become like father as you and Viserys have. I am a woman Daemon, so like it or not I will be sold away name replaced, my children half Targaryen who will not carry the name. I hold no part in our legacy"

"It seems a shame to toss away legacy due to your lack of a cock."

"it can be, it's why so may women in our family go two routes... Either rebel against the system and cast out on their own making sure the are something for the legacy like our mother, or nymeria, or Serina Targaryen all powerful women who never married and made sure the legacy was upheld. Or... They marry within our family so the Targaryen name and valerian blood remain,"

"And of those two options, which do you intend to do?"

"I have not thought of it in all honesty"

"Well, I hope that you never have to face such a decision. The idea that you may have to makes me uncomfortable."

"as does it make me. But it is the decision that makes me. You boys go to war, do politics and such this decision is all that decides me. I know which I would choose if... It were possible"

"And that would be?"

"if possible, I would uphold the tradition of our family, and maintain the legacy. I would marry with the house another Targaryen and strengthen the valerian blood... But... As you said our family is declining and we are close to extinction. Mother and father are gone, as are all our aunts and uncles, we have only one living cousin but she has already married and her children velaryons. Viserys grieves his first wife and lusts his second. His children are young and foolish... Leaving... Only you and I." I avoided his eyes as I spoke,

but his smirk grew, "And so, you would marry me if you could?"

"I would" I blushed, "but you know Viserys would never allow it. As much as he dreams of old Valyira he often is sickened by its practices he wouldn't allow us'

"You're probably right, though, who said it would have to be a public affair?"

"What?"

"It's quite simple, really. all we have to do is keep it secret, so that no one knows."

"and what of our children? Do you expect for them to live in secret ashamed of their own heritage? Viserys would disinherit us and any children we had and at that point whatever was the point in strengthing Targaryen's blood if our children the future of the legacy are treated no better than them dragon seed bastards?"

"You're right," he admitted. "it wouldn't do any good to strengthen our house's blood and not do anything about our children. But I have a solution for that too."

"oh? Enlightened me?"

"I would keep our children, and I would declare them as legitimate. And no one could tell me otherwise, especially not Viserys. Would he disown me? Maybe. But they would be legitimate, and our house would be even better off for it."

"That's true. I wonder though if Viserys would feel threatened. After all... If we were to have children they would be Targaryen blood on both sides, his children are Targaryen and aeryn and Targaryen and high-tower arguments could be made about our children would be more Targaryen than his"

"Then that's all the better for us and our children. We'll just have to make sure that Viserys understands that our children are the future of the Targaryen legacy, I will not allow them branded as bastards. We just need to tell our brother the right words, I suppose."

"I'm sure we could, if.. it is something we each desire," I asked carefully glancing at him sheepishly,

"It is something we both desire. We've already established that having Targaryen children is beneficial, and I want nothing more than a strong line of Targaryen. I've thought about this quite a bit actually."

"Have you now? During these long nights in her stepstones? Or perhaps even before that?' I teased,

"Even before then. It's the logical thing for two Targaryens to do, right?"

"it is, I admit such a thought has been on my mind... Since even before father died"

"I see that we have not only thought of the same things but for as long as each other. I suppose that means we should make it a reality, right?"

"I would like that" I squeezed his arm and rested my head on his shoulder

"Then that's how it will be. We will show the world that our union is one to be celebrated, regardless of what people may think of it."

"We only have one person to convince. Our stubborn big brother"

"He will not deny us this, I will make sure of it. It is what is best for our family, and for our joy. Come we shall go now Lymeria see if he can still be sweetened."

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vbempress · 5 days

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Entertain

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Niece, Viserys Second daughter with Aemma) Rating - Flirty Word Count - 1056

Y/n giggled excitedly looking at everything like an excited child she had never been out of the castle onto the king landing streets like this and she clearly was loving the sights and sounds Daemon smiled as he watched her. “So cute” he called her in his mind. "You're loving it. I can think of many other things that would please you here." He teased, as he pulled her even closer to him, his voice husky and low. "Shall we go to a private place?"

"ohh where?" she giggled with a sweet innocence,

He whispered in your ear and grinned "There's a fine inn just around the corner. We can spend the night there. No one needs to know." His hand was on her neck now, his fingers dancing with each other, playing with her necklace. "The people love their Princess but you deserve a little more privacy, just for you."

she nodded excited for whatever or wherever he was going to take her on this little adventure, so Daemon led her to a nice looking Inn by the docks. He paid the innkeeper a bag filled with gold dragons. The innkeeper looked at her excitedly,

Daemon took her by the hand, led her to the room, closed the door behind him...

the room was impressive with grand stone and a view out across the city, a large fire burning, a grand bed and even a pool steaming with warm water, Y/n looked around excitedly slipping off her cloak to reveal her more in her beautiful gown clearly by her innocence smile she didn't know the sort of establishment this was

"Do you know where you are, princess?" he asked her, his voice husky.

She shook her head,

"The street is notorious for its, err... entertainment facilities." he growled, "And you're here with me, I wonder what they are going to think..."

"entertainment?" She asked, "Do they play music here? Theatre perhaps?" she asked excitedly,

He couldn't believe how innocent she was. It was so cute. He just wanted to take her by the hand, and have this innocent cute girl all to himself but he had better plans.

"... well. Not exactly that entertainment. And you're going to be the main attraction, princess. Do you understand?" He smirked at Her and took Her by the hand.

she shook her head she was confused but she had complete trust In her uncle,

Daemon grinned, how cute she was, completely in his control. He pulled her to the bed. "I'll explain, but you have to lie down on the bed first... this explanation might take a while."

she giggled and laid down on the bed on her back kicking her feet playfully

And he lied down behind her, and wrapped his arms around her kissing her shoulder as his hands explored her dress, "Well, you know how you are the princess, princess?" He smirked teasing her.

she nodded with a giggle,

"And the princess is supposed to be married to a handsome prince, correct?"

She nodded again running her hands over his own,

"And... all men would love to marry her. Yes?"

"I have to marry a lord father picked out he says so. I don't think anyone would want to marry me"

"That's the most foolish thing I've ever heard, princess." he said, "You know how men are. They like beautiful women only… and you're the most beautiful in the realm. Don't you believe me?"

"I suppose I have to believe you... But still, how does me being a princess connect to this place's entertainment?"

He smiled at her. So cute. She was still innocent, he would have to take matters into his own hands. "Men will love to have you, do you understand me? They would kill others to have you just for one night... Do you understand me, princess?"

"I do,"

"So. You are the... most precious thing in the whole realm. It's your secret, your beauty that makes you so precious." he cooed between kisses starting to pull at the ties of her dress, "Tonight... you'll learn how precious you are, princess."

"how will I learn that?" She blushed

"By... letting men see you, so that they can love you... just for one night." He smirked at her "It will be a new experience for you, something quite unusual. But I'm sure you'll really begin to see how precious you are afterwards."

"What..." she froze up,

He smirked at her. "This place is... it's not a normal inn, princess" He looked deep in her eyes, as he explained slowly, "This is... uhmm... it is a... a pleasure house, where men come to... entertain themselves."

"ohh..." She is taken back, "I see... But then why am I here? Why are were here uncle?"

He smirked "Well.. princess if all these men would love to see you, and know you..." he growled kissing her neck more aggressively keeping her in his grip even if now she began to squirm, "Then you'll give them what they want, right?"

"but I can't I... I have to be innocent for my marriage father says so"

"Oh princess, I know. You're a good girl. But no one would know, this... this is your secret, your uncle's secret. No one will ever know, I promise. You'll be the innocent good girl that the Prince will marry, and no one will ever suspect a thing."

she shook her head "I cannot, I've never..."

"It's... it's ok, I know it's a new experience for you," he grinned. "That's exactly why you should... learn it... you're the princess right? You have to learn how to... entertain... men... "

"I'm a princess it's not right" she tried to argue but he just held her tighter,

"Princess. It's a princess's duty to learn this. All those lords and princes, they need some entertainment to be happy, to support the king. Don't you want to entertain and make these men happy? It is your duty as a princess after all..."

"But uncle!"

"Princess... I know this might be a hard thing for you, but... it's the duty of a Princess. And you can't deny your duty, that's your responsibility, to be the best princess ever." he cooed,

"I- But I shouldn’t-”

"Your uncle loves you very much, princess. And I want to make the King... and the Lord's and Princes happy, because they are so desperate for you. It's your duty to entertain them... just one night. They're all waiting princes so please, Can you do that for your sweet uncle? "

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vbempress · 5 days

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good riddance | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen meets a lowborn woman. He is forced to choose between duty and love.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/lowborn!reader

ANGST

"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end." - Sylvia Plath.

Winter came in a typical fashion - all the heat purged itself and was replaced with uncomfortable coldness. A small chuckle escapes your mouth understanding the bitter irony of the situation. It was a cold winter, the type of cold that would make you shiver and unease - the same could be said with your current detriment.

Your father, ever the gracious host decided to house rebels. Of course, not just any rebels but ones where the Rogue Prince wanted to settle a score with. "How long does he plan to keep them here?" your brother paced back in forth, his fear growing with every second.

"There are already whispers that Prince Daemon plans to visit every town - the guards have doubled since last week. Seven hells, what if someone sees us with those rebels? They'll wring our necks." he cursed underneath his breath. A small sigh escapes your mouth and you continued sewing the dress that you were working on.

As if your brother jinxed himself, the Rogue Prince came knocking. You could see him from the window, long blonde locks and those peculiar purple eyes. "We're going to die." Kirdan mumbled, carefully watching his father open the door with a smile on his face.

The both of you exchange a knowing glance, slowly marching down the stairs to eavesdrop on the conversation. "Good morrow, Ser." the Prince met your eyes. He welcomed himself inside your home. "Good morrow, my prince. To what may I owe your presence?" your father did not falter nor stutter.

Daemon smiles at him, a charming smile - you almost expected him to be kind. If it weren't for the rumors that surrounded him. "Me and my men are here to ask you about your visitors, the insurgence is what they call themselves." Daemon's posture shifted quickly.

His shoulders were straight now - an aura of command permeating around him. "My visitors? I suppose that you are my only visitors." your father smiled, and your brother's grip on your shoulder tightens. "We're looking for the rebel brothers. There were rumors that they resided in your estate." Daemon argued.

You were sure that there was no use in lying now. Your father might as well kneel on the floor and begin begging the Prince for forgiveness. "The rebel brothers?" your father repeated the name. "Frode and Harald Stone." Daemon named them.

The moment those names exited the Rogue Prince's mouth a sudden commotion happened outside. A man began running away from the estate, barefoot and wearing nothing other than his sleepwear. "Catch him, now!" Daemon commanded and the rest of the goldcloaks began chasing after Frode.

"My prince," your father now began. He is momentarily speechless by that glare in Daemon's eyes. "- what will you do to him?" your father inquired. Daemon's grip on the Dark Sister tightens.

The men began dragging Frode back into the foyer, blood dripping down the rebel's mouth. Prince Daemon's attention now twirled towards you. His gaze softens, and the facade begins. "I apologize for the commotion, and I shall make amends when I return." he breaths.

He grabs the rebel by his collar, and begins dragging him outside.

He will return?

"We should be thankful that he did not sought to punish us." Kirdan breathes a sigh of relief, leading the both of you down to the base floor. "What did he say, papa?" your eyes narrowed.

Ser Groleo evades your gaze.

"He will return - for supper. I suppose." the man groans.

"We should prepare a feast. In gratitude of not arresting you." Kirdan immediately retorted. "I'll leave the both of you to arrange that." your father smiled bitterly. You and your brother exchange a stare again.

The table was arranged in a neat fashion. All of your best cutleries and porcelain ware were all in view. The best meats and exotic fruits were there too - it was a feast for a king, and the Prince didn't even look impressed.

"I apologize once more for the commotion that me and my men have caused. It was protocol to ensure peace in our realm." he apologized, staring at your face. Presumably soaking in your features. "Frode and Harald are honorable men - they fight for a good cause." your father laid out, in a tone that wasn't at all offending.

"Though their knowledge may be great - and their heart in the right place, what they do is treason. As the Commander of the Goldcloaks, it is my duty to rat out the poison that seeks to usurp my brother." Daemon responded, taking a sip of his dornish red.

Your father swirls the wine in his mouth.

"The government that they propose is akin to the Free Cities, whose wealth has expanded since they last welcomed freedom." your father discussed, and to your surprise, the Prince seemed to listen.

"Volantis can vote for its triarchs, only if the citizens are free but slavery is still rampant. If I may speak for myself, I'd rather be ruled by someone who was taught how to rule since their birth rather than vote for a man who wants to see himself as King." Prince Daemon decided to leave the conversation at that.

Kirdan smiles, nodding his head.

"I agree with the Prince, father." he voiced out. Unamused by the audacity that his father encompassed. Daemon turns his attention towards you - his eyes trailing back and forth between your eyes and your body. "You should apologize to my daughter for the commotion that happened earlier on." your father smiled.

"There is no need, my prince. The women of this household are not like mimosa pudicas, we do not rattle easily." you interrupted his sentence. Daemon is piqued in interest. "I have no doubt that you are fearless, brave and not easily rattled, which is why I must apolo-" he opens his mouth but you interrupt him the last moment.

"Then there is no need to apologize. If I am all that." you smiled falsely, seemingly teasing his limits or seeing if he'd rage at you. "Alright then, my lady." his responded in an equally teasing manner.

He could not stop thinking about you - ever since that dinner in your father's estate; your features have consumed his entire soul greedily. When he sleeps, all that he sees is you - when he opens his eyes all he longs to see is you. He couldn't believe that he was feeling this way - over a woman whose features are not all different from his Bronze Bitch.

He sits beside you, in one of the soirees that your town hosted. He couldn't stop staring at you, eyes glistening from the light of the fireplace. "Not even the Prince has a chance with Ser Groleo's demure daughter." he could hear the whispers from behind him.

The blood of the dragons flow down his veins, and you were his newest conquest. If you were hard to have - then he'd work well to have and hold you. "Do you rarely dance in these events?" the prince leaned on your body, whispering on your ear.

A smile finds itself on your face.

"I dance - all the time, my prince. But somehow, I do not feel like dancing tonight." you responded, implying that he may have something to do with that feeling. "Is it my fault?" he raised an eyebrow and you turn your head to look at him.

He was more beautiful up close.

His chiseled jaw - his unnatural beauty. It was new for you.

"I would not risk offending you, my prince." you looked away. "There is nothing that you can do to offend me." he enunciated, and the townsfolk began buzzing behind you. "- dance with me." he commanded, standing up and offering his hand.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. "I see these men looking at you and I wish to compete for your attention." he explained. You exchange a knowing stare with your brother, Kirdan nods - encouraging you to dance with the prince.

The lively music begins, and he claps in beat of the song. "I've heard rumors about your lifestyle, about the women around you." you opened the conversation plainly. His eyes did soften, but it returned to its normal posture before you could realize any difference.

"Don't believe the rumors that you hear, they are naught but spittles encouraged by those who want to weaken my family." he gritted his teeth - you could not figure out if it was a sign of his lying. "I-I've heard nothing, but I see it in your eyes. Lust - you lust for everything that moves." you accuse him. He shakes his head.

The both of you continue dancing. "Do you see that or are you still basing from the rumors?" he raised an eyebrow, and a defeated sigh escapes your mouth. "My father told me long ago, that you can change a man's face but not his nature." you say.

"That may be the case for men with skinny arms, but not for us warriors. We can always be changed - we live hundreds of lives. You believe me to be wanton and lustful, but give me a chance and I shall prove otherwise." he promised, and the both of you stop dancing.

"I wish to wed you."

You have avoided him for three months now. Pretending to sleep when he'd visit your father's estate. Passing your chores to your brother, who was now forced to go to the market every Sunday. You prayed to the Seven Gods that he'd forget about you.

That he'd be piqued by another young lady from your town, but he never did. He never seemed to forget about you.

One time, he managed to see you.

"I'm leaving, my lady - but I will return in week's time." he promised. You forced yourself to smile. Your decision suddenly becoming clearer. He was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, and his brother would never approve of him marrying a lowborn woman.

The love you shared was still in its early stages but it could not be. He was a hero, a prince, a dragon and you were mere sheep. "I am still adamant in having your hand in marriage. Your father has already approved and if you feel the same way - send me a letter." he pressed a kiss on the back of your hand.

A kindness that he has never shown any woman before.

My Prince,

You are reading this now in Kingslanding. Possibly sitting on one of the thousands of chairs that you own, or lounging on your bed. One thing is for certain, however, the love I bare for you is stronger than the ocean waves, warmer than any dragonfire. Our love is true, exciting and forbidden. That is the reason I will decline your marriage proposal.

At a young age, I was taught the importance of duty and sacrifice. A lady of my stature must marry above my ranks, not a prince, but still above my ranks. A prince like you must marry someone the same level as him. Someone like Lady Rhea Royce.

You are a prince, a hero, a warrior - a father of the goldcloaks. You have your duty and I have mine, mayhaps in another life. One where we're living in the Free Cities, selling oranges and cinnamon. Mayhaps in that life we'd build a home.

Yours, Lady (Your Name) Groleo.

Prince Daemon wasn't sure on how to react.

A few days ago, he got a letter from you - rejecting his proposal of marriage and now he's received a letter from your father - stating your death from an unknown fever from Naath.

He could not think straight. He could not breathe.

He hasn't cried since his mother died, and he didn't expect himself to cry harder than he did with her. The Seven Gods were cruel and he spurned them will all his heart. "Kepus, think before you do anything else." Rhaenyra warned him, fearing that he'd hurt himself.

His cloudy eyes gazed up at her.

You looked like Rhaenyra in some lights.

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vbempress · 6 days

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Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

A Visit - Flirty A Visit P2 - Smut A Visit P3 - Smut Baby Dragon -Suggestive My Prince - Smut Little Bird - Suggestive Little Bird P2 - Smut Princess - Smut Caraxes - Flirty Deep In The Den - Smut The Dark & The Dawn P1 - Sweet The Dark & The Dawn P2 - Sweet Missed You - Smut ȳdragon - Smut The Tourney - Flirty I want to devour you my queen - Smut Away - Sweet Away P2 - Sweet

Entertain - Flirty

Updated 19/04/24

63 notes · View notes

vbempress · 6 days

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Away P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Niece, Viserys Second daughter with Aemma) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1735

Warning - Suicide Mentions

Part One

Using the secret tunnels to return Y/n to her chambers as if she never left, she tossed away the common clothes and put on her black silk nightie collapsing on her bed,

Daemon watched her change your clothes He could tell she was holding back tears. He felt bad for his sweetling. He knew she must be lonely at times, and he wasn't with her all the time. He decided not to leave just yet. Daemon approached and sat next to her on the bed. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he looked at her face. His face was soft and he looked genuinely concerned for her loneliness.

"you'll be leaving again soon, and I'll be alone again…"

Daemon saw her frown growing more upset and he decided to pull her closer to him. He held her for a moment, letting her get some comfort. His hand on her shoulder rubbed gently and he put his other hand on her back and held her close to him. "I know, I know. But I will always come back to you my sweetling. The first thing I do when I return to King's Landing, is rush straight to you. And the last thing I do before I leave is visit you again."

she nodded "But then you're gone. I see you off and then I'm alone, my sister doesn't visit, father never asks to see me, and I'm locked in here so much the handle has dust."

Daemon noticed how sad it was for her. ‘She had no one to really talk to or even just enjoy the time you spent with’ he thought. "Can you tell me something though, sweetling?"

"yes?"

"What do you always do when I'm gone? Are you always alone like this? No one to talk to?"

"always. I just read it. Sew. Sleep"

Daemon frowned as you said that. He felt guilty for being away so long. "You should have more people to spend your time with. What about the handmaidens? You don't get along with any of them?"

"they only come when I call for them, then they do what I ask and go. Most don't talk to me even when I try"

Daemon frowned as he heard her answer. He didn't even want to think about how lonely and depressing this experience was for her. "You haven't got a single friend, have you?"

"... No."

The news made him a bit disappointed. A lonely little princess with no friends and a sad life. Her only comfort in this world was her uncle. Daemon was feeling a little guilty for not being here and keeping a closer eye on her. "You can never truly be sad, though. Not when your dear old uncle is here for you. You can always tell me your problems and your sadness and I will be here to comfort you." He smiled at her softly but he could see she was still upset.

"but you're not here... You go off on an adventure to the Stepstones or off with the city watch or off at Dragonstone. I do love when you're here it's... The only time I ever smiled anymore"

That last sentence pained Daemon a lot more, hearing that the only times she smiled were the rare occasions he was around. He felt like he was abandoning a child for leaving her alone for so long. His expression showed his feelings for a split second before he hid it away and continued to comfort her. His voice was kind and compassionate. He spoke with a smile to conceal his guilt. "It's alright... I feel like the only time I feel happy is when I'm holding you. You are my source of happiness, my sweetling."

she nodded and she sat up a moment wiping her tears before she hugged him her arms around his shoulders, she sat in his lap, her head in his chest as she fought the urge to cry

Daemon put his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. He rubbed her hair and he looked down on her little face which was buried in his chest. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck and his hands were rubbing her back. Daemon felt his happiness come back as he embraced you like this.

After a bit, Daemon decided to speak "You know, you are so much smaller than me when you sit in my lap, my sweeting," He said trying to comfort and distract her,

she nodded "When are you leaving?"

Daemon's face slightly fell at the mention of him leaving. But he decided to not let that stop him from comforting her. Even if he was going to leave soon he would make every second count. "Soon, my sweetling. I'm not sure, it will be soon but I will come back. I always do. Even though I know it might leave you feeling sad, I will always return. I promise."

"you'll be gone days? Months? Longer?"

Daemon seemed troubled as he thought about how long he would be leaving for. It was possible it would be longer than the usual. And after what she said, he felt bad about it now as he thought about how lonely she would feel when abandoned for a long amount of time. He didn't know what to say now, and he could see that his answer was also painful to her. "I don't know... Most likely a few days or weeks... Maybe longer than that but I promise you with all my heart that I will return."

she nodded "... I can't promise I'll be here"

Daemon felt a stab in his heart when she said that. He stopped rubbing her back and he stared down at her. He looked at her face as she was trying to hold back her tears and he felt bad that she felt this sad. "Sweetling, you can never do that! I can't lose you, I just can't. Are you telling me the truth? You really plan to leave?"

"... I have thought of it. More than once" she said,

Daemon was shaken to the core by her words. The pain of losing her suddenly hit him and he felt the urge to cry. He held her close to him and spoke softly but urgently. "Sweetling, listen. Please take my words to heart. Never think that again. I would be devastated to lose you. I will do whatever it takes to protect you. Whatever it takes to keep you alive and healthy. I don't want you to ever think of doing that again, okay?"

she nodded clearly still sad,

Daemon was still worried even with her nod. ‘I couldn't let her do this ever. She means too much to me’ the thought. Daemon held her close to him, he didn't care whether she was crying or not, he would keep her close to him to comfort her. "I hope I haven't disappointed you too much with how I have been acting," Daemon said softly, letting her cry against his chest. All his worries and fears were flooding his body and he couldn't hide them. He didn't want to lose her, and he felt like a failure right now.

she shook her head, "Often it feels you're all I have anymore..."

Daemon heard your answer and he was surprised to hear that to be honest. He smiled slightly and he squeezed her tighter as he held her against him. "Then it's my duty to protect you, my sweetling. I will do anything in this life to protect you. From now on I will come to see you as often as I can. Will that make you happier?"

she nodded,

Daemon smiled softly but still looked concerned He still could feel the sadness in her but he decided to try and comfort her by holding her against him and playing with her hair. The more time he spent with her, the more he felt his happiness coming back. He didn't want this moment to end. "Will you promise me something?"

"yes, Daemon?"

"Will you promise me that every time I leave, whenever you have thoughts like those, you will tell me as soon as I return? I need to know if you ever intend to do that again, sweetling. Or If you really do feel alone while I am away."

"I Will I promise"

"Thank you, my sweetling. That is very important to me. And from now on I will try my best to come see you as often as I can. I promise you that. Just please, let me know how you feel and I will always be trying to make you as happy as I can while I am away, and if you really do start to think like that send a raven and I will rush back on craxaes just to see you. okay?"

she nodded and laid herself down on her pillow,

Daemon kept his hand gripped with her and he continued to smile at her he helped to tuck her into her bed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. He could feel the sadness that still lingered in her and he didn't want to go just yet. She was still in need of comfort and love. So he continued to sit there with her and play with her hair.

"May I ask you one more question, my sweetling?"

she nodded

"Are you happy right now, my sweetling?”

"very happy and very content but also sad because I know it will end eventually"

Daemon sighed a little bit when she told him how she felt, it was true and her feelings were valid."I will always come back. No matter what happens, I will come back. I promise you, I will never leave you and I will never be gone for more time than I have to,"

she nodded and slowly closed her eyes, after a while she began to drift off to sleep her grip on him became loose, he smiled and watched her sleep for a while But for some reason he felt a strong urge to stay now. He wanted to stay with her, no matter how long he would be away from her he wanted to spend these last few hours with her, "Daemon?" she spoke up,

"Yes, my sweetling? What is it?"

for a moment she doesn't speak she just looks at him taking in every element of him as if she's trying to ensure her memory of him before she rests a soft hand on his cheek stroking his face before she finally connects her lips with his…

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vbempress · 6 days

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Away

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Niece, Viserys Second daughter with Aemma) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1122

Y/n could barely believe the sights she was seeing, you'd think he had taken her to some magical realm not this dirty street in King's Landing. But Y/n had rarely been out of the red keep so this was a whole new world to her and she looked at it with wonder,

Daemon could sense her fascination. At this moment, she was a source of entertainment for him. His eyes drank it up. He wrapped her close under one arm, and guided her down the street, past the stalls and the drunks and the children shouting in pleasure and fear at the jugglers and tricksters and acrobats.

The young princess is beyond fascinated and she trusts her uncle likely more than she should, she stays within his grip giggling away with that wide innocent smile,

Daemon found her innocence adorable. She hadn't been corrupted by the capital or by the world yet, he squeezed her close by the shoulder. Your presence made him very comfortable and he began to speak, to bring up the matter he knew would upset her. "You know I won't be gone for long, sweetling." Then he kissed her head.

"but you always say that," she said almost childishly pouting as they walk, "you always say you won't be gone long and sometimes I don't see you for months, even years. And you only returned three months ago,"

Daemon smiled. 'She’s too cute.’ he thought, "That's true. But do you know why I was away for so long?" He asked.

"fighting a war..." She pouted,

"That's right, and what else?" He asked as he looked at her in the eye. "Wasn't I fighting to bring back the Targaryen legacy? Wasn't I trying to protect that in which our family has always believed? We Targaryen must never let anyone forget that we are superior to everyone else. Our blood runs in our veins with the blood of Old Valyria, of dragons."

"I know but... You were gone so long, you were away for three whole years. And you took all your men. Father just locked himself away with his new wife, rhaenyra of doing goodness knows what" she explained, "Everyone leaves me…” She sighed, “If you’re not here I'm always alone, locked away in my chambers, not even my king's guard protector will talk to me"

"I knew you were feeling sad for my absence, sweetling. How can I not feel love for a creature so gentle and beautiful like you?" Daemon kissed one of her cheeks and smiled, feeling guilty for keeping you alone. "Would you like to know about what I was doing in those three years?" He asked, knowing she wouldn't refuse.

"fighting I suppose," she chuckled a little,

Daemon chuckled seeing his little niece laugh. It was endearing to see her laugh that way. "Now I was fighting for Targaryen cause, just as you assumed. But it was more than just that. I was gathering supporters for your dear sister. No matter how the crown falls war is coming, other members of our family are merely too foolish to see it. I was preparing the ground for her rightful claim. I want the realm to recognize her claim above all others."

"a noble pursuit," she said slightly sadly,

"Does this sadden you, Sweetling?" he asked,

"I simply... Have no interest." She answered honestly as they walked through the streets, "My father is king, and in good health at least good enough to be attempting to sow more seeds with his new wife. You are off fighting wars and when in the city you are off leading the city watch into greatness. My sister preps for the throne as is her birthright. And as father has a son with his new bride it would be a fight between my sister and half-brother. I am... Irrelevant. A spare girl. In this world I am worthless and I have no doubt soon Father will sell me off to a noble house like Lannister or Baratheon for the sake of army numbers..."

Daemon listened intently Her words were wise and she was very mature. His protective instincts towards you kicked in full force as he heard her speak of this matter.

"You are not worthless, my sweetling. You have a dragon's blood in your veins. You are special. Your father can never sell you to a random Lord. You are a princess." he explained, "And besides, you are never worthless to me. You are my very special sweetling, you know that my little Y/n." He gave her a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

"I know, but I worry Is all. One day you'll go away again and... Perhaps it'll be years before I see you again. Father will ship me to casterly rock, or storms end, or winter fell and I'll be away from everyone alone without any company at all....forced to... Squeeze out heirs of potential dragon blood,"

Daemon frowned. He hated the thought of her being shipped off to marry a boring lord who would just use her for their blood and nothing else. He felt jealous just by the thought of it. His eyes narrowed. "I won't allow that to happen, you know that." He said, his voice soft but with an edge to it, and he kept his voice so low that no one else could hear he took her by the arm and met her eyes with his,

"Father will wait till you go away again... Then he'll ship me off. No one but you would try and stop him"

"Don't worry. I promise that I won't allow your father to just marry you off like that. I would rather take to the sky on caraxes and burn the red keep to the ground than have you sent away to be some lord's babymaker." He chuckled, but he meant it. "You are far too precious for just marrying off somewhere. You are dragon blood. Valyiran blood. Targaryen.” He held her even closer, squeezing her close to his chest. "I will always come back to you and I will never let anybody hurt you or force you into something you don't want to do. Your father may be your King but I am your uncle, and I won't let anybody hurt my sweetling."

she squeezed him back even if it was clear she was frightened she knew her father had already been taking letters about betrothing her,

He found it heart-warming that she was so worried. It saddened him deeply and he felt a burning sensation in his blood, a fire boiling at the thought of her being used like a prize breeding mare and nothing more. "I know you have heard rumours about who your father wants to marry you off to but trust me, it won't happen. Not while I am here."

Part Two out now

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vbempress · 6 days

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fresh out the slammer | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen always found himself running to you after his failed marriages.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/The Hand!Reader

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to.

The Dragon Prince was always an unpredictable figure. He made choices of his own, allowed his hot-blooded anger to rule his decisions instead of his mind. "Lord Otto warned me years ago, he knew that Daemon would try this..." Viserys cursed underneath his breath, it was a mere second ago when Lord Otto Hightower delivered the news about Rhaenyra's excursion with Daemon.

"I know Rhaenyra, she wouldn't do that in her own accord - this is Daemon's doing, my husband." Queen Alicent followed behind him, and you both exchange a look. Viserys takes a deep breath.

Viserys wanted to believe that his daughter was as innocent as Alicent thought but he knew that it wasn't the case. "The same blood flows through their veins, Rhaenyra and Daemon, they are both unpredictable - untamed by tradition. I would approve of this but my brother has a wife, we cannot risk offending House Royce." the King responded, waiting for your reply.

"We must do something about Daemon." Viserys articulated, "I believe that we have exhausted all our efforts into taming your brother, my king. You've already named him as the Commander of the City Watch. If that position has not taught him anything about honor and respect, I-I cannot see a possibility that anything could." you mused, his eyebrows merged into each other.

"We can send him away, force him to return to his lawful wife." Alicent suggested. "- the people at court, they'll talk about Rhaenyra, they'll bring her moralities into question. If she is to be the future Queen, then shouldn't the court respect her?" Alicent added, hoping to sway her husband into making the decision.

"It is already an endless cycle, my queen. Prince Daemon is forced into exile, he returns a few years and he does something that forces him to exile once more." you argued, on top of that, the prince was an asset to the crown - a warrior if not anything lesser.

"- to catch him would be to catch the wind." you ended and a sigh escapes the King's mouth. "- and we are still unsure if Prince Daemon was with Princess Rhaenyra. Mayhaps, it was just a whore from Lyss who bore resemblance to our princess." you defended, mentally reminding yourself to confront him after this conversation.

Viserys was silent for a second.

He takes a deep breath.

"I shall speak to my brother, confirm or derail the allegations. Then I shall call the small council and make a decision there." he concluded.

Daemon clenched his jaw, seeing you walk towards him in his periphery. A child in his eyes - decades lesser than his age, and yet his brother found you more fitting to be the Hand.

What did you have, that he did not?

"Lord Otto reports seeing you with Princess Rhaenyra late at night in Fleabottom." you opened the conversation and he did his best not to show any facial expressions. "What do you want?" his eyes narrowed.

"It was her then? I'll have you know that your brother plans to wring your head because of that." you chuckled, amused by his childish antics. Was it his first time in court? "If it is her, if it is not her, it is none of your business, hand." he grits his teeth.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Your brother will send you back to your wife. He will not grant you disbarment, nor will he grant you marriage with your niece. You are caught in a limbo, my prince." you explained his situation.

He could give lesser of a fuck.

"- but I can offer you a way out." you offered, and his pupils dilated. Suddenly piqued by your proposition. He takes a strand of your hair and moves it behind your ears. Your faces were mere inches away from each other. "A pretty lady offers me a proposition, I cannot decline." he agrees with the deal.

You stare deep into those purple eyes.

"I'm fairly knew to court, they don't trust me - I've made a few enemies. Especially Lord Otto, and I know enough to know that you are smarter than you seem - that he fears you to some extent." you whispered, your voice low so that he'd have to lean closer to hear.

"You protect me, and I'll protect you." you offered. "- this thing with Rhaenyra will die down, just pretend that it was some Lyseni whore you bedded, and not your niece. You can still fuck her, if you wish, but be a little more discreet." you counseled.

"Sure." he hummed, pulling away from your body.

It's been a few months since the start of your alliance with the Rogue Prince, and surprisingly he's become a decent friend. Hilarious, when he tries. "Drink this," he placed a cup of ale in front of you. It wasn't your first time in Fleabottom, but it was your first time going here incognito beside him.

"Gods, aren't you going to help Harwin?" you chuckled, taking a slight sip of the ale. It was much too strong for your tastes. Daemon laughed in return, raising his hand and calling out to Harwin. "Are you alright?" he inquired and the man nodded his head sluggishly, fighting against the effects of alcohol.

"He's alright," Daemon antagonized, biting back a few giggles. "This is my first time seeing you loosen off. You're kind of a boring prude." he insulted jokingly, and you responded with an eye-roll. "Fuck you." your eyes narrowed.

"Seven hells, aren't you going to do anything now?" you raised an eyebrow, seeing Harwin led to the stage by a few bedwarmers. One of the girls pressed kisses on his cheeks. "I thought I was your only one," Daemon chuckled, not planning to stop Harwin from having his fun. "I thought you were old friends." you teased.

"Closer than friends, lesser than lovers." he shrugged and a laugh escapes your mouth. You always managed to laugh at his antics. He always pretended to be close to the people that hated him, sometimes even referring to Otto Hightower as the father he never had - of course, that was an insult to the man's physical features.

There was a comfortable silence between you, a silence that was only marred by the habitual sipping of ale. "You frequent these types of places?" you inquired, only beginning to realize the slight reddish tint on his cheeks.

"I used to, but not much now, they've grown...boring." he waited for the right words to exit his mouth. The truth was, he found himself slowly liking your company - liking the words that came out of your mouth, the insults that made him laugh, and the thought of fucking a woman who was only paid to moan and groan left him unfulfilled. He craved something deeper - like an idiot, he wanted a woman that understood him, that was able to shake his soul with avarice.

He needed someone like you, but he hasn't quite figured that out yet.

"The Prince of Flea Bottom, finding his own kingdom...boring." you mimicked his tone. "I've merely understood the fact that there are much better things to do than empty my spend on a whore's belly." he retorted, the conversation turning serious. "You should return to your wife and empty your seed on that belly." you teased once more, you've always laughed at the topic of his wife.

"I fucking hate you," he took a large swig of his ale. "- get me pissed enough and I'll fuck you, I swear to god." he cursed and you froze slightly. He made you feel dangerous for a moment. Like something could sweep by and take him, and you won't even have the right to mourn - you'll just watch him go, and wallow in the memory of him being vulgar with you.

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vbempress · 11 days

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Skyfall

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: Death, mention of miscarriage, mention of rape, forced marriage, angst, smut fluff, post-Dance

Summary: Daemon was the only surviving, elder Targaryen to wear the Conquerors Crown. His heir was a broken little boy. Driven by spite, he took the widow of the nephew he had slain as his wife.

A/N: This fic was inspired by this fic game from @ewanmitchellcrumbs

He felt the crash hard. It was unlike falling to the ground. Water was more resistant, and firmer. He wanted to groan, the pain shooting from his back to his whole body. But as soon as he tried to breathe, water was already filling his lungs.

The weight of his heavy armour pulled him down to the ground of the lake. But he resisted as best as he could. His head broke the surface of the lake, coughing, and spluttering as he took deep breaths.

He crawled out of the water with difficulty. His wet jerkin was adding to the weight of his chain mail and dark armour. His body was protesting against every move he made. Crying out for him to give up, to surrender. But he was too stubborn.

Tears of frustration threatened to spill down his cheeks. His hands were muddy and full of cuts from the stones on the shore. Left shoulder, where Aemond’s sword pierced him, burned from the exertion. He could feel the pumping from his heart in the gaping wound.

He gave up in the middle of the cobblestone shore right where the grass line began. He was heaving heavily. He was trying to get enough air into his lungs to breathe, but all his body wanted was to shut down and succumb to the darkness calling him.

The last thing he remembered where men of his army rushing to him. Carrying him to a cart.

He woke up surrounded by maesters and servants. All fussing as he tried to sit up. He was stronger than any of them if it wasn’t for the milk of the poppy the maesters had given him in his unconscious state. His movements were sluggish, his head fuzzy. He roared out for the hands around his body to unhand him. He threatened them to behead them in the name of his wife, Queen Rhaenyra.

The room grew quiet at his mention of Rhaenyra. He looked around, his eyes hardening. “What is the meaning of this?” Everyone in the room averted their eyes. His anger burned brighter with every quiet moment passing by. “Talk!” He boomed.

A maester hesitantly came closer to his side. He bowed deeply. “My p-prince, the Princ-Queen Rhaenyra was killed by the order of King Aegon. She burned in the fires of Sunfyre.” The elderly man became quiet at the end. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath for his reaction. Fearing the worst.

Daemon’s nostrils flared as the words sunk in. The usurper green cunt burned her alive. They had their flaws, but he cared for Rhaenyra deeply. She did not deserve to die like this. “Where is he now?” The servants looked down. The maester, an elderly man with a bald head and dark brown eyes, looked at him with sympathy. He looked like a Great Dane, with his sad dark eyes and the deep wrinkles around his face. “He is dying, my prince.”

Satisfaction spread through his body as he got the news about Aegon dying. “Who else is still alive?”

The maester looked up at him, fixing his posture as he had been bowing the whole time. “The Dowager Queen Alicent, Princesses Jaehaera, your son, Prince Aegon the younger and…” The man trailed off.

Daemon impatiently looked at him. His fingers drummed on the bedding. “Who else?” He growled. “The widow of Prince Aemond, my prince.”

A wide, nearly sadistic grin spread on his lips. Good, he thought. He takes further revenge on his naïve nephew.

The day Daemon was announced King, was the day Aegon the Second died. He took it as the opportunity to announce not only his coronation as king, as he was the only elder male Targaryen left. He also announced his betrothal to the widow of Aemond.

He saw in the corner of his eyes how she stood next to the Dowager Queen. Her eyes cast down as the herald announced the news. The corners of his lips lifted at her reaction. Alicent broke down, another triumph for him, as he knew the Lady had become like a daughter to her.

She stood in her chamber with her maids flittering around her. They had already undressed her out of her heavy wedding gown. Lifting the weight from her shoulder, but not from her chest.

She had heard stories from her late husband about his uncle. He had admired the man. But his arrogance and his ignorance had led to his death. She had mourned him, even though in the end he didn’t deserve her tears.

She had heard of the witch of Harrenhal. How he had bedded her time and time again. Maybe he had been under her spell, maybe he did it out of his free will. But she was with his child, not her, the witch.

She stood in front of the mirror of her room. Seeing the maids working on unbraiding her hair. How she wished they knew how to unbraid the coil in her stomach.

Her hands shook slightly as she touched the fine lace of her night dress. A gift from Daemon. “The lace was made in Myr, my lady.” One of her maids whispered in awe. She only nodded. Her mind was blank. Her soul had gone to a far-off place.

She was led to Daemon’s chamber. Her steps were so stiff she felt like a puppet being moved on strings. Maybe the gods took control of her, leading her to her slaughter. She had been Aemond’s wife, now married to his killer. From one kinslayer married to another. But who had not earned that title in the Dance? No one's hands were untainted with spilt dragon blood. Not even her own hands were clean.

Daemon sat in front of the lit fireplace, a goblet of the finest braavosi wine in his hand. He held the conqueror's crown in his hand. Looking at it with indifference. He was king now. A king with a broken heir. Aegon had seen his mother being burned alive. Being scared for his life.

He had always been a guarded boy. Keeping to himself most of the time when Viserys wasn’t next to him. Viserys, his other son, was taken by the Triarchy. Believed to be dead.

He took a large gulp from his drink. He was staring into the flames with a blank stare. He needed a new heir. Aegon would not be fit to rule. He was too broken, too much grief and darkness surrounded him. He would break under the weight of the heavy crown.

He pursed his lips and chuckled humourlessly. Would he break too? He had lost much too. Laena and their son, his brother, Rhaenyra, their younger son Viserys, their daughter, his dragon, his trusted life companion he had fought in plenty of wars with. Caraxes was nowhere to be seen. His guards searched far and wide for any signs of his beloved dragon. But until now, he was believed dead.

His chamber door opened and a maid of his new wife stepped in, announcing her presence. He did not turn as she entered. Did not acknowledge her. It seemed she did not do the same. Maybe she was scared of him? He fought with amusement.

He heard her move before he saw her stand next to him. She was dressed in a thin robe covering her shoulders. It was opened, probably a maid’s work. She looked like she wanted to close it again.

"Should I lay on my back, lord husband?” She whispered so softly. He looked up at her, seeing the hidden fear in her glassy eyes. “No.” He spoke softly. A softness he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You are not willing to lay with me.”

Her eyes widened at his words. He chuckled and drank the rest of his wine before putting his cup and crown on the table with the jug of wine. “Did the Dowager Queen tell you I would take you without your consent? I think she has lived too long with her rapist of a son and sadly, my brother too. I am not too obsessed with having sons like he was. I have a living son, even if I see him as unfit. I also have two daughters from my dear Laena. If one of them marries and has a son, he will inherit my throne.”

He stood up and looked at her for the first time. She was beautiful, he had to admit that. He was not blind. “I think you would appreciate it if you were to be left alone. You do not only mourn Aemond, do you?” Her body stiffened. “How…?” He smiled softly. “I have my little birds everywhere. They told me about your … misfortune. No woman should ever feel that kind of pain.”

She bit her lip and looked down at the stone floor. Her arms wrapped unconsciously around her empty womb. A few months ago she had felt the flutter of life there, but the gods were cruel to her.

“I could order my men to hunt her down and kill her,” Daemon murmured. His lady wife looked up with shock. “Do not kill Alicent! Jaehaera needs her!” Daemon shook his head. “Not that green snake. I mean the witch. Aemond’s mistress who is with his child. I could let her be killed if you want.”

She stared at him with wide eyes before she shook her head. “No, let her be.” “Even if she was the one who caused you to lose your child.” She took in a sharp breath. Her answer was still no. Even if the rumours were true, she didn’t want more blood on her hands.

Daemon nodded, walking past her to the open balcony doors. He heard music and the cheering of the smallfolk. “Why did you marry me? I am not of Valyrian decent.” Daemon grinned softly. “You are not, little dove. I married you to spite your late husband. I want him to look from beyond and see you filled with my child. Caring for my children. I want him to see what he has neglected.”

He turned to her, seeing her wide eyes. “Only if you want. I will not force you. I am not my brother and certainly not my nephew. If you want, I can give you a child.” They stared at each other. The room is quiet.

It had been a year since that fateful night. The realm slowly regained strength under Daemon. No one thought he could become a good king. But he listened to his small council and had competent and trusted advisors. One was his lady wife. She was beautiful but had a sharp tongue that matched Daemon’s wit.

He looked down at her as she writhed on top of the wooden table of the small council as he drove his member over and over into her warmth. Her mewls and moans floated through the empty room. Only the noises of their sticky skin slapping and her moans filled the room.

His stones slapped against her buttocks as he leaned over her. Holding both her wrists over her head. “Who is fucking you this good, little dove.” He looked into her pleasure-filled face. Seeing her struggle to keep her eyes open. “You… Daemon!”

He clicked his tongue and slapped her thigh harshly. “Wrong answer, dōna ābrazȳrys. Who is making you feel this good?” (Sweet wife)

Her soft lips opened and closed like a fish out of the water until her soft, pleasure-filled voice gasped. “You, my king. Ñuha dārys!“ Daemon smirked at her words. “Good, you are learning, little dove.” (My King)

He drove himself over and over into her tight warmth. “Will you give me another one? Another little girl.” She nodded softly. “Kessa, ñuha dārys!” (Yes, my king!) Daemon chuckled softly at her words.

His pace slowed down as he felt his end approaching. His thrust became hard, pushing into her with force. Her gasps grew louder with every push. “Such a good, little wife. Taking her king's cock. Ñuha sȳz dāria!” (My good queen) He groaned out loudly. Filling her with his warm seed.

Her body began to tremble as she approached completion. Her body tensed until it went limp under him.

He looked down at her. Her chest heaving. The sun rays streaming from the window made her sweat-covered skin glisten. He was far from a religious man, but to him, she looked like the personification of the maiden. So innocent and vulnerable. If he weren’t so possessive he would commission a painting of her in her post-orgasmic state.

He leaned down, kissing her softly before helping her sit up. He was still inside her, his softening member keeping his semen inside of her. His arms were tightly wrapped around her. “I heard you had coaxed Aegon out of his room and walked around the garden.” He smiled softly at him.

His wife smiled at him. “We talked. I wanted him to know I would never replace his mother. Then we talked about his studies. He is a smart boy.” She grinned up at him. Daemon chuckled. “Good. He told me he feels safe with you.”

His wife looked down, playing with the embroidered dragon on his doublet, heat spreading across her face. “I feel honoured.” She mumbled.

Their bubble was broken by hurried steps coming closer to the small council chamber. Both turned as a knight entered the chamber. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply. “There is a boy at the gates claiming to be your son, my king.”

Daemon looked up from his wife to the knight. “Go.” His wife whispered. She pushed him softly from her. He hissed at the loss of her warmth. Whining slightly as she closed his breeches with nimble fingers.

With a fast pace, he rushed into the courtyard, seeing Viserys riding into the gates. He had grown since the last time he saw him.

Daemon was at the horse's side, pulling his son down from the animal. He held him to his chest. Viserys wrapped himself around his father. Both Targaryens couldn’t hold their tears back.

Another body crashed into Daemon’s side. Aegon sobbed loudly as he wrapped his hand around his father and little brother.

With tears in his eyes, he looked at the steps, seeing his wife standing with their daughter in her arms. A gentle smile on her lips. He nodded at her, thanking her for bringing Aegon down from his room.

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vbempress · 12 days

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Unwanted bride

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You are forced to marry the infamous Rogue Prince. (I suck at summaries)

A/N: I have so many requests waiting to be written, but I'm currently trapped in a HOTD-mood. So, sorry for everyone who is waiting!

Enjoy reading!

PS: Not proofread. BTW should this be a series? Is it worth a second part? Please let me know!

Your breath hitched as the huge doors opened. The chatter inside immediately died down, the silence weighing heavy on your shoulders. You struggled to breathe. And the tight corset around your waist felt like a deadly snake out to kill you slowly – its grip growing tighter by the minute until it finally suffocates you until you are no more.

You slowly lifted your head high, as high as you felt, your vision disrupted by the thick veil on your head. You were glad you couldn’t see clearly, for the turned heads alone were enough to send your heart into overdrive.

The hand on your back slowly pushed you to move forward, the touch scorching hot as it sent a wave of nausea straight to your stomach. You wish your family had been with you – someone familiar. Someone warm. But instead, the hand belonged to the uncle you hated. And apparently, he hated you too.

He had brought you with him, with the promise of adventures. But instead, you were immediately sold off like life-stock.

They are Targaryen.

Your uncle had told you.

He is a dragon rider.

He had added with excitement and slight envy – as if he wanted your future husband for himself.

You’ll be known as the lady wife of The Rogue Prince.

You shuddered at the memory as you had shuddered then. You had heard the tales about The Rogue Prince, and you had only gained more knowledge on him the closer you had got. From what you could gather: He was the worst. And he would not treat you kindly, as you lacked certain attributes that he was known to desire.

With one last push from your uncle your feet started moving, taking slow and deliberate steps while minding the heavy skirts of her wedding gown, spread around her like rose petals. The Valyrian steel necklace with the red stone felt too tight around your neck, you felt the strong urge to rip it off and throw it onto the cold marble floor. But you couldn’t.

Instead, you took in a deep shaky breath before you reached the dais where Daemon Targaryen stood, his silver-gold hair cascading down his back, his violet eyes ablaze with a mixture of irritation and blinding fury. Your heart stuttered chest tight with anxiety, as you approached him. You couldn't help but notice the contrast between his striking Targaryen features and your own plainness. You weren’t unattractive – you were beautiful. Yet you couldn’t help but feel small in front of your future husband.

The murmurs of the gathered guests intensified as you drew nearer, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down on you like a leaden cloak – like the cloak of Daemon’s house would feel. You felt the urge to flee, to escape this suffocating atmosphere, but you knew there was no turning back now.

With every step, your heart pounded louder in your ears, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. And then, finally, you stood before him, your breath catching in your throat as you dared to raise your gaze to meet his. He loomed over you, a deep frown on his face as he tried to look past your veils. He was so much taller, broader and older than you – his stature intimidated you.

As the High Septon’s voice sounded, you felt Daemon's gaze burning into you, even though he couldn’t exactly see you his violet eyes seemingly bored into your soul with an intensity that made your heart race. You gulped; throat dry.

The ceremony passed by in a blur, you flinched slightly when your cloak was removed replaced by Daemon’s heavy one, his smell lingering on the fabric and surrounding you like a blanket.

And then, it was finally time for him to remove your veil. Screaming internally, you willed your facial muscles to relax, eyes widening slightly as Daemon lifted his hands to lift the fabric. As the delicate fabric fell away, revealing your face to him and the assembled guests, you held your breath, bracing for his reaction. His fiery eyes now finally meeting your big, scared ones. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as his gaze locked with yours. In that instant, you saw something unexpected flicker in his violet eyes — a glimmer of awe and curiosity. He smirked.

A hush fell over the hall, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the beating of your heart, as your husband gripped your chin with his hand, lifting your head before his lips were crashing into yours, hot, wet and demanding. He tilted his head slightly, parting your lips with his thumb, before pushing his tongue hungrily into your inexperienced mouth. Your face heated up at the sheer embarrassment you felt. The kiss was brutal, void of any emotion or warmth – it was just to spite you in front of everyone.

A gasp was heard before the king cleared his throat.

And just as quickly as it had begun the kiss ended, biting your lip as he pulled away, leaving you breathless and reeling, your senses swimming in a dizzying whirl of emotion. And as you stood there, locked in each other's gaze, the crude smirk still plastered on his face, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

As the ceremony gave way to celebration, the great hall erupted with the sounds of revelry. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, the air thick with the scent of roast meats, spiced wine, and freshly baked bread. Guests laughed and sang, their voices mingling with the strains of music that filled the air.

You found yourself seated at the high table sitting next to your husband. Despite the festive atmosphere, a palpable tension hung in the air, a silent undercurrent of unspoken grievances and unfulfilled desires.

As you sat there, picking at your food with feigned interest, you couldn't help but feel the weight of Daemon's gaze upon you. His violet eyes bore into you with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. You knew he resented you, resented being forced into this marriage against his will, and the knowledge only served to fuel the flames of your own insecurity. You wanted to cry, the little girl inside you slowly dying as the dream wedding and the lord husband of your dreams slowly seeped through your fingers like sand. You kissed all your dream and wishes goodbye as the angry Targaryen sitting next to you finally turned to face the other way.

Releasing a breath of relief a figure approached your table, cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. It was Cregan Stark, tall and imposing, his ice-blue eyes glinting with mischief as he offered you his hand.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance, my princess?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. And for a brief second, you wished you had married a man like him instead of the brooding dragon rider who refused to ask you for a dance. You smiled slightly, your first real smile of the day, as your cheeks flushed a pretty pink. But before you could even formulate a response or lift your hand, Daemon's hand shot out, gripping your arm roughly, quickly pulling it down before anyone could see.

"She's my wife," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

But Cregan Stark merely smiled, unfazed by Daemon's obvious displeasure.

"Of course, my apologies," he said with a polite nod. "I meant no offense. But I couldn’t help but notice the longing in your eyes, princess."

“It is none of your concern, Stark.” Daemon spat out, glaring at the still smiling male.

You sat there stunned, your heart pounding in your chest and your arm throbbing from the tight grip. You stole a glance at Daemon and noticed his clenched jaw and deep frown. It must have hurt his ego that another man asked his wife for a dance. Your heart beat faster as you forcefully removed his hand from around your arm, turning to smile up at Cregan Stark, your eyes shining as you put your hand in his.

“I would love to, my lord.”

As you gracefully twirled away with Cregan Stark, you felt everyone’s eyes glued to your form. It was unheard of for the bride to have her first dance with another. Yet there you were.

You couldn't help but steal a glance back at Daemon. His expression was a storm of conflicting emotions, his fists clenched at his sides as he watched you dance with a mixture of anger and frustration etched across his features.

The king, seated beside him, chuckled at the sight, his voice carrying over the music with a hint of amusement. "Well, brother, it seems you've only yourself to blame for not dancing with your wife."

Daemon's glare intensified, his jaw tightening with barely contained fury. "I didn’t even want to marry her," he stated through gritted teeth.

The king merely shrugged, taking a sip of his wine as he watched the scene unfold before him. "And yet, here you are, brooding with something akin envy. Perhaps you should be more attentive from now on, brother dearest. She is your wife after all. And from the looks of it, she has many admirers.” The smile on Viserys’ face morphed into a chuckle as he he nodded towards another lord who was waiting eagerly to dance with you, his eyes alight with mirth at the sight of your popularity among the assembled guests.

Daemon's response was a low growl, his gaze never leaving you as you moved across the dance floor with another man. It was clear that he resented the Stark's intrusion, that he bristled at the thought of another man laying claim to what is rightfully his.

With a sudden, angry movement, Daemon Targaryen pushed his chair back with a loud scrape against the stone floor, his fists clenched at his sides as he rose to his full height. Rolling his shoulders back he walked away from the table and towards you, his violet eyes flashing with a fierce intensity.

Viserys, rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatic display, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips nonetheless his heart at ease as he could detect the way his brother was drawn to his new bride, no matter how vehemently he would deny the truth.

Daemon’s gaze was solely fixed on you as he strode towards you. You still hadn’t noticed him.

How dare you?

“It’s time for us to dance, my dear wife.” He demanded, with a saccharine sweet smile on his face. He didn’t wait for your response as he took ahold of your hand and practically ripped you away from Cregan – pulling you straight into his strong arms. He placed his hand dangerously low on your back, his touch possessive as he looked down at you, your body immediately tensing up at the close proximity. Whereas Cregan Stark had been respectful, Daemon was daring, pressing your bodies together as he danced with you. His arm wrapping around your waist tightly.

Narrowing his eyes, Daemon mumbled quietly, “If you wanted to dance, you should have asked, wife.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at the Targaryen prince’s audacity. “A bride shouldn’t have to ask her spouse.”

Daemon seemed do dislike your tone as his grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing harshly into your flesh.

“Careful with that attitude, little bird.” He sneered, his eyes darkening with a strange emotion that you haven’t seen before – you couldn’t pinpoint it.

You chose not to retort to your husband’s silent threat, not wishing to anger the man you had to spend the rest of your life with further. Averting your eyes, you missed the devilish smirk on his face. His movements laced with an air of impatience. He couldn’t wait to finally be alone with his pretty little wife.

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vbempress · 15 days

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Imagine being the wife of Daemon Targaryen. (+21)

***

When you look at this man, you cannot believe how fortunate you are. It isn’t only about the looks, even though to deny these don’t play a part in how attracted you still are towards him is to indulge in lies; but how protective he can be whenever you fly with him on Caraxes, whenever you accompany him at court.

Or how attentive he can be when you are sharing your day with him. Daemon Targaryen actually listens whenever your studies get your brain sharped—in truth, he is often horny whenever you and him have this moment talking about politics, philosophy, art… because he is also aroused by your looks.

When you are not well, he is the kind of husband who tends his wife. And he makes sure to leave his duties aside to be by your side. Saying nothing, but his presence says a lot.

These are your thoughts as you miss him a great deal. Daemon has been exiled again… probably for rebelling against that douchebag who attends by the name of Otto Hightower. And you had to stay behind because he assured you he’d not take long.

It’s been three days though and to sleep in a bed without the comfort of his body, the warmth of his skin against yours… is too dreadful. You are often anxious, considering pleading to the king to give his brother another chance, even if this means to take the risk of angering Daemon, for he is very prideful.

It’s when you, trying to busy yourself with sewing a new tapestry for your household, are told by one of the maids of your trust that Caraxes has been spotted.

“Oh praise the Gods!”, you exclaim, relieved. “Please ensure that all is set to receive the lord.”

And you are quickly having another lady to help you dress a better gown—perhaps the red one with details in black, his favourite colors—to welcome him properly.

The idea of how this night might end already gives you goosebumps, for it’s been a while since you and him haven’t done it—mostly because you’ve been engaged in philosophy studies and he, with wars waged against the Tetrarchy at Free Cities.

Your y/c hair is left partially loose—you tied a few locks in a short braid—, your delicate features are painted in light make up and your curves are reinforced by this beautiful long silk sleeved gown.

It does show some cleavage, the line of your neck to that of your breasts quite exposed—as you see yourself in mirror you blush at it, specially because your nipples are getting hard, eager to pop out to his mouth. But you, as a lady and his wife, know that it’s always better when you hold your desires back.

Right?

Heavens, you don’t know. Your legs shake lightly as your pussy begins to ache. You remember still how, before he went off, he reclined your back, spread your legs and slided his length, throbbing his cock into your womanhood. To recollect is to be bit by agony, for that night he smirked when hearing your screams going louder.

“Had I known how loud you could be, I’d have tried this position before”, he said then.

Another memory flashes back, when he caught you naked in bed touching yourself. You hadn’t seen him for a few days too—because he flew to see his brother— and here you were, moaning his name with your legs indecently spread and your fingers doing poorly the job he excelled.

And all so suddenly, he removed his clothes and laid back next to you, shuddering you as he helps you getting to reach your climax.

“Is it good? Thinking of me, does it make you good?”

That same day he replaced his finger with his tongue. And Gods be damned, you loved it. And you want it again. Even if he might accuse you of naughtiness.

Well, you once told him, how can one be his wife without being prompted to lust? And you swear you’d never seen this man blush before.

So here you are, holding back your fire, waiting for the reunion. You have an emerald necklace that he gifted you last Yule as well as a pair of rubies embellishing your ears.

By the time you get to the living room, Daemon, with his hair shorter, is impatient for his wife.

“Fuck, where is…?” And he is as silent as you are, as if you two are transfixed by each other’s presence.

“Daemon”, relief comes through as you run to his arms, there staying engulfed. “Three days never before felt so long.”

He smiles to himself when feeling your frame pressed against his, smelling your scent and hearing your voice—the sentiments there being expressed making his heart race.

The rogue prince presses a kiss over your forehead before cupping your face and finally kissing your lips, a reward for a painful, long waiting.

“My lady”, he smiles down at you. “Always loyal.”

“It could never be otherwise”, you stroke his cheek, eyeing him with the utmost devotion. “Three days and yet it felt like eternity to wait for your return. My prayers were my only comfort, the balsam to my aching heart.”

“A poetess”, he murmurs in awe, “with a soul that never ceases to inspire me love.”

Daemon gives a side crooked smirk when seeing his words paint a crimson shade on your cheeks, when seeing how bright your smile is. He then leans to peck your lips before whispering down to your ear.

“I’m looking forward tonight. You are gorgeous, my wife. All of this for me?”

His voice, a quiet whisper that contains a lot more than lets it show, gives you shivers. You lower your gaze before smiling rather shyly.

“Yes, lord. All of this to my husband.”

When you raise your eyes, you know you are lost. Daemon Targaryen has just pierced your soul.

***

“Finally”, he pulls you to himself, staying right behind you as he rests his chin over your shoulder, arms around your waist. “Finally a moment alone with you, Y/Nickname.”

You giggle softly.

“I’ve been looking forward to this…”

“If I remember well, you burn as bright as any dragon fire”, recollects Daemon, smirking when in reference to the first night spent together after the bedding ceremony where he deflowered you. “Especially where weak spots are concerned”, and here he whispers hotly in your ear, pleased to see a shiver running over your spine and how weak your knees are.

You hate to be so vulnerable before him, to be so easily read, but at the same time you love that he knows you so well.

You try to find balance at the nearest object nearby, which happens to be the window. As darkness grows outside, there is little of the landscape you can spot, although it hardly distracts you of your husband’s preying eyes.

As Daemon turns at you, he denudes you with only a gaze. He drinks of the view of you, pleased to find you in a struggle to hold back the long lust he—and only he—evokes in you.

His cock goes rigid in his pants as he watches your breathing going painfully slow, as your hands hold against the wall, as your body begs him to do what you both want him to do.

But Daemon wants to take his time—because when he does, oh the waiting will be worth it.

His fingertips begin to caress your features before slowly going to your neck.

“I love the colour you chose to welcome me tonight”, says the rogue prince, secretively smirking at how you notice his small details, much like he does at you.

“It pleases me to hear it so”, you tilt your head to the side, locking gazes with him. “All was done with this purpose.”

And in this moment his index finger slides to your mouth. A glint of mischief sparks behind his eyes as you open it and welcome it with your tongue in a very suggestive gesture.

“Mm.” He sighs almost inaudibly, aroused already. “You like it, don’t you? Ever since I taught you how it’s done… you’ve mastered it.”

“Like you taught me indeed, my lord”, you smirk back, eyeing him intently. Your hands are about to buckle his bell but he soon stops you.

“No”, Daemon groans as he pins you against the wall. “Wife, I play this game.”

“Better than I”, you aquiesce, willingly so.

He chuckles before leaning inches closer to you.

“Indeed”, and when his hands move from your waist to embrace you, before grabbing your hair gently, he kisses you.

His tongue gently comes after yours, pairing synchronously in perfect harmony. You dwell in the taste of sweet Dornish wine that mixes with yours, carefully minted after dinner.

And then it gets deeper. It gets passionate. You start to burn in fever, longing for his command, to be subdued to his will. Daemon knows you, even when your breathing comes out a different pace or how your hands slowly move to play with his now shorter locks.

He knows.

A devilish smirks paints his lips when sensing your impatience. He likes to take his time, though by now your rose scent drives him insane. It’s a particular rose. He knows it.

It’s as if a dragon calls another to mate.

He knows.

Daemon finally unlaces your gown. He needs to see your nude state, to devour your curves with his eyes. So he parts his lips from yours, pleased to find in your eyes that pledge he likes so well.

And you blush before his intent gaze. You promptly try to cover yourself, but the domineering man you call your husband gently parts your legs with his knee and firmly takes your hands to pin your wrists above your head.

“Daemon!”, you whimper like the wench you are.

“Yes?”, he licks his tongue around his mouth, already with a bone at the sight of you so exposed, your nipples so damn hardened. “Can’t I appreciate my wife?”

Your face goes pink with his words. You are at his mercy, you dare not to pledge liberty. But you begin to feel dropping wet in your legs. Rubbing one to the other, you try to show some control.

But Daemon knows he’s affecting you. And he likes the view. Oh, he does.

A sly smirk runs in his lips as he pulls your hair with one hand and wraps another around your neck, all the whilst parting your legs with his knee.

“Hmm. You couldn’t handle staying three long days and nights without me, could you?”, he whispers, aroused as you whimper at the pressure he makes into your womanhood.

Your mouth barely opens, forming an “o” as you flutter your eyelashes. The torture only worsens when you whimper due to the short distance he takes of you.

Because Daemon Targaryen starts touching himself at the thought of you. So ready, so undone… right under his power.

“It is most unfair to be unkindly treated in such a manner”, you protest, already salivating when remembering what it felt like to have his length throbbing in your mouth.

Daemon smirks still at you, locking eyes precisely as he releases his pressure.

“Is it?”, he then groans, pleased to be under your intent stare. “I thought you liked to watch.”

You blush once more at the reference of the day you caught him, perhaps unintentionally, on such a private moment. You were sent by the king to look after him—the prince hasn’t courted you yet, despite his openly flirting to you, so innocent back then—and you found him rather jerking at the library.

You could not look away though you froze when he opened his eyes and found you there, watching as he came undone. And to think all of what he did next…

Still gives you shivers even after these years.

“Do you like that, don’t you?”, he places his soaked index finger into your mouth, watching you with eyes dark with desire as you suck it, glinting with mischief when doing so.

You barely come to an answer as his mouth engulfs yours, colliding lips in a passionate and deep kiss. It is as if your soul is set alight, burning with something more meaningful than merely desire.

You are his and he’s yours. He knows it, he feels it too. Never before he’s been so tamed as he is now. This dragon who was known to many women down the capital, whether high or low born, are faithful to one woman now who is fortunate to be called his wife.

And you occupy such privileged position that certainly has some envious ladies grumbling on and upon—rumour has it that Rhaenyra Targaryen is one of those heartbroken ladies who never truly accepted that you are his lady.

This certainly does not cross your mind by now when his lips pursuit your skin, deliciously devouring your neck—his gritted teeth leaving bruises all the way.

“My husband, I need more”, you whimper louder, impatiently so.

He leans back to smile at you, that way you like him to—carrying a mix of bashfulness and cheekiness— before saying:

“My darling spoilt brat”, he chuckles. “What have I raised?”

A peck in your lips and the man finally lowers his kiss. At long last your lust is satisfied and he cups each nipple, devouring you like a famine man.

It feels so good to have his tongue twisting it around your pink nipple, biting it, taking his time there. You arch your back, you want to play with his hair, but he’s still holding your wrists, tightening the grip as if saying he “owns” you.

And you blissfully give in. Specially when he stops caressing your boobs and slides a hand to your feminine part.

So suddenly you moan louder. For the moment his fingers are inside you, clutched within, digging a deep path to your uterus, your chest gets heavier and it is as if you have butterflies in your stomach.

“Come to me”, he is now standing his nude body so close to yours that sweats are mixed. “Come. I want to hear you scream my name.”

One look is enough and you are crying out his name, finally released off that unbearable pressure that has been within you.

“Daemon…”

“Y/N…”

And with no waiting for further playtimes, your legs are wrapped around his waist and he finally thrusts his erect manhood within you.

Locked against the wall, you two move synchronously, breath to breath, body to body. The fire of a dragon burns all over you an it feels good to be burnt alive.

As his thrusts match with the moves of your hips, climax seems to approach. He pulls you to his lips, before gently lifting you up only to lay you down at the table and there fucking you intently.

Hardly surprises anyone awake by that hour at the castle to hear indecent sounds echoing through it. This only means how the prince is in a very good mood indeed.

***

Daemon watches you sleep peacefully in his arms. Both of you are in his quarters now, poorly covered by a silk linen sheet over your bodies. His eyes linger in your heart-shaped face, in how serene you look with your eyes shut.

He puts delicately your y/c locks behind your ear, making sure none make you uncomfortable in your sleep. The prince looks at you with a sweet, almost secretive grin in his lips.

He loves his lady. He missed her company, her laughters, her body, her wit.

The prince holds you tight against him, drifting to sleep himself. In his mind he replays the scenes of the day he discovered you and him loved each other.

Such sheepish smile only spreads when, resting a hand over your belly, he is struck with a feeling he’s having an heir anytime now…

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vbempress · 17 days

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Taking care of my dragon | Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After getting his pride hurt at the tourney, Daemon needs help to calm down and unwind

Word count:

Warning: pure softness and intimacy (no smut)

Request: You are amazing♥️ You bring me a sense of comfort that I haven’t felt in a really long time and Daemon please🙏🙏🙏

You winced as you watched Daemon’s back slide along the tilt rail, his armor screeching and hurting your ears, and got knocked down and unhorsed as he reached its end. One of the squires came to help him up, but Daemon and his pride shoved him off.

This joust was off to a bad start…

On the opposite end, Criston Cole got down his horse, both men wishing to continue in a contest of arms.

Keep reading

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vbempress · 18 days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

“I don’t like being powerless.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And not the earmuffs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love the gun?”

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You moan. Daemon laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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vbempress · 18 days

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vbempress · 19 days

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Ruie my dear, can I get an imagine or oneshot fluff Daemon x poc Martell (or Essosi) fem! reader where they're married with kids and reader is pregnant again and for some reason Daem decides to give her a tiger as a gift, at first she's kind of confused and really surprised (like how/when/where and why of all possible gifts he chose a fucking tiger ) but the children are fascinated by the animal and in the end she ends up getting attached too. Just some good old fluff with some humor if possible please? (if that doesn't make sense, sorry is that I saw a picture of a tiger and a half of this idea and coincidentally saw that you reopened your requests, so… but feel free to ignore it and sorry for my English)

ahhh, I really wanted make a longer one but felt I should keep the fluff to the point so here’s a blurby fic

WC: 1.2k?

You had laid lounged out in the beach, your pink chiffon gown clinging to your skin in the warm summer breeze. A small white haired child sat a few feet away from you, six summers of age and the prettiest lady in all of the Known World. Her hair, the same as her father and her skin, the very olive tanned aura of your own. There was much serenity in the small family of comfort you had procured, a fiery husband who filled you to birth your firey daughter Alyssa. She sat making castles out of sand, far enough that the moat would fill with water but wouldn’t topple her creation.

“Madame, the prince had returned from Bravos,” an attendant tore you attention from your daughter, Daemon had been gone for near a week, away striking bargain or mostly threatening people with his dragon to get what he wanted. You acknowledged the servant before he took his leave, from your periphery out pours the vision of silver hair blowing against the winds as the thuds of his boots against the sand filled your ears

“Papa!” Alyssa shrieked, pulling herself up with wobbly legs and running over to Daemon. Ready to throw herself at him as he reached down to swing her body up to towards him. She giggled and shrieked some more, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she giggled at him tickling her. He smiled at where you were sat, curls in a neat braid and the curve of your swollen belly against your dress, he did that, the glow of motherhood adorning your skin so pretty, he did that.

He walked over with Alyssa in his arms to situate himself next to you, the girl once again ran of to finish her architectural masterpiece as Daemon leaned his head down to lay a peck at your belly before letting your lips, “have they been good?”

You nodded, “they simmered down a while ago, might have grown bored fighting within mama, huh?” you questioned at your belly.

“Papa look! M’ made a castle!” Alyssa said, waving her hands frantically to grab her father’s attention.

He complimented his girl, his lips curling wider. “I brought you something,” he whispered, his small finger tracing against your jaw as he kissed your lips once more before standing up. He reached down to pull you up before pulling Alyssa onto his lap as he led you inside the palace. Alyssa all through babbled about the shells she found and the baby crabs she saw. Daemon humming along, finding her stories to be valiant stories of knights, his perfect poppet with her legs hanging couldn’t help but spew every detail of her day to her father.

“What have you done?” you stopped at your tracks, the white feline that seemed of popped it’s head out a wicker basket.

“I’ve bought you a big cat,” Daemon said all nonchalant as Alyssa wiggled in his arms to be let down, “go on, help mama name it,” he told her.

“Daemon,” you hissed at him. “That is a bloody tiger,” you covered your daughter’s ear as you glared at him.

“Mind you, they are tigers,” he corrected as the other orange feline joined his brother and popped the basket over as they escaped.

“Daemon…” you sighed, feeling a nerve in your head pop as you looked the aquarium of snakes and the pit for the small alligator he had procured months before.

“Until my darling’s egg hatches, she gets whatever animal she wants,”

You hadn’t realized how serious Daemon had been about turning this palace into a humid jungle. “What does it even eat?”

“Boots apparently,” Daemon chuckled as one waddled over to him and began nibbling on the fine leather of his boot.

“We keep it?” Both Daemon and Alyssa began to give the eyes, this was a plot, being teamed up against with purple eyes pleading at you. “please mama,” she whispered, her little tongue poking out to pronounce her “l’s” as “w” this was extortion.

“Fine,” you sighed once more.

After supper that night you sat by the glowing hearth, in it laid the metal pot with Alyssa egg. You were willing to hatch with all your maternal rage, hatch you damn fire bird, “glare at it harder my love, it will bond to you instead Alyssa,” Daemon pulled you from your anger fuelled staring.

“I swear on my milk cakes Daemon, if those cats, lizards and snakes eat your precious daughter. I am not birthing you another,” you pouted as he slotted himself behind you, lifting your shift to lay his warm palm upon the babes moving within you.

“Hush, just shhh,” he hummed against your temple. “What animal do you want, I’ll get you one to be rid of this fuss,” he mused.

“I have you, isn’t that more than enough,” you chuckled, already picturing the scowl that settled behind you.

“Huh, I am a dragon, just as these beauties within,” he poked at your middle.

“I was thinking more of a cute white sheep,” you giggled once more.

“Oh? Sheep is it,” his brows shot up as he turned your body to lay under him as he held his weight up by his elbow next to you head. “Would a sheep make you swell so full, hmm.”

The piercing gaze of his eyes made you wriggle underneath him as you shook your head.

“Make your breasts-“ Daemon’s salacious deeds would have continued had you not heard a very faint crack, you both stared at the egg for moment before Daemon shook his head and resumed pressing kissed down your neck.

Another faint crack,

“Gods Daemon!” you whispered in shook as you furiously tapped his shoulder, the top of the egg cracked open. Both of you froze in your compromising position before Daemon shuffled of you and rushed for the door.

You wanted to peak inside, yet you knew to give the little things it’s time to realize what was happening. Daemon returned with a groggy Alyssa with her head buried in his shoulder. “Darling look,” he shook her, patting her back to wake her up just enough to see what she was to become.

The egg rattled as a wing popped out, one of red membranes and purple scales, then popped out it’s tiny head. Alyssa, though usually a loud child, silently watched as her new friend crawled away from the egg pot.

Alyssa lifted her baby finger, apprehensively hiding her face in Daemon’s chest as the baby dragon grazed her skin. She flinched away only to turn to you with the widest smile you had ever seen. “Name it,” you whispered.

“Dragon!” She excitedly whispered making Daemon and you chuckle. “Yes zaldrititos, but you cannot name a dragon, Dragon,” Alyssa’s smile downturned as she looked to her father. You could tell she was thinking hard, reaching within her small vocabulary to find a name.

“Crocus,” she looked to her father for approval, you shook your head. After all, something of yours influenced her as she named the dragon a flower from your hand grown gardens.

“Crocus,” he agreed.

Alyssa sat upon the rug with the baby dragon climbing in her shoulder as Daemon returned to sit next you, the scene unfolding in front of you, so intimate and sweet you hadn’t realized your eyes were wet until Daemon wiped at them.

“Daemon,” you sniffled, he hummed as a reply.

“You bring another animal into the house, you sleep on the floor,”

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vbempress · 19 days

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Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 1

Word Count: ~1,644 words

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest

Description: She was not her uncle’s first choice Naery’s knew that, but she would do her duty.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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115 AC - Dragonstone

Naerys had been told by her septa that a woman’s place in this world is a precarious thing, but she had not known what it meant until now. She was the blood of old Valyria though she did not feel it. She lacked the true spirit of her dragon rider ancestors. It mattered not now. Today was her wedding day and she had been every inch the Valyrian bride. She knew her duty. Naerys was to be her uncle’s long-awaited prize.

Her uncle’s wife, the Lady Rhea Royce, had died. It had been an accident. Lady Rhea had fallen off her horse and broke her back hawking. A tragedy, but that did not stop the murmurs around court and the Vale. The whispers only grew when her uncle had gone to Runestone to claim his late lady wife’s seat.

The king dismissed them of course. Daemon had been away from the Vale in the Stepstones at the time. Short of him being in two places at once, Lady Rhea’s death was an unfortunate incident. And with it, Daemon was freed from his ill-fated union. Free if he chose to take a woman to wife.

Her uncle did not have to remarry. He was a second son who stood to inherit nothing. Daemon had not been his brother’s heir for years. In that time, king Viserys had more heirs. His eldest daughter had sons of her own now. House Targaryen’s future stood secure, but the prince had made it clear that he intended to marry again.

The small council suggested that a match between the Prince of Dorne’s daughter and the rogue prince would be ideal. She was said to be beautiful, she was an avid rider, her High Valyrian was near perfect, and most importantly she was her father’s heir. A second son could not want more in a bride. Daemon had rejected the match with a chuckle that bounced around the throne room.

A Martell bride would bring him his own seat. It would finally bring Dorne into the fold with the rest of the kingdoms Viserys ruled over, but he had not wanted it. He had already been made to take one wife he did not want. He would not take another. This time around Daemon Targaryen had wanted a wife of his own choosing.

Daemon had informed her uncle’s small council that he wanted a Valyrian wife and Dragonstone. He would take his niece Naerys, his half-brother’s only daughter, to wife. The prince had Caraxes, fought in wars, and he would now have her. His final trophy. A young Targaryen wife. A naive impressionable girl and a seat for them to rule over.

The council had all scoffed at his initial request. “Our niece is too young for you brother,” her uncle, the king, had told him.

“She is not Rhaenyra my prince,” Naerys uncle Lord Corlys Velaryon had chimed in as well. “You will find her wanting.” As she was his ward it was his job to worry over her safety and future marriage prospects.

Daemon’s involvement with the king's heir and oldest daughter, Princess Rhaenyra was an open secret. Though she was herself now married to Lord Corlys son Ser Laenor, with them both being at court it was only a matter of time before the two might rekindle their affections for one another.

Naerys was too sweet. A shy little thing who had seen little of the world outside of Driftmark. She would not be an adequate replacement for the worldly Prince’s true desires. It was not until Daemon threatened to go to Lys, find his mistress, and take her to wife, that the king then conceded much to the disappointment of some at court.

No one had dared to voice their objections once the king agreed to the match apart from the queen and unsurprisingly the princess. Her father had once been the king's hand. Ser Otto Hightower and Daemon had never seen eye to eye. It seemed that the father's grudge had passed onto the daughter. Queen Alicent had tried to remind her husband of his brother’s ways, but the king dismissed her concerns.

Rhaenyra had initially laughed upon hearing the news that Daemon had wanted to take her for a wife. “Let my uncle have his little Targaryen bride,” she had exclaimed with glee to anyone who asked her opinion on the matter. “My dear little cousin and his duties at court should keep Daemon occupied. He will do his duty to his king and his heir.” The meaning was not lost to those around the Red Keep.

“If he wants to plot it will not be easy with the whole court watching him,” the princess had added. Naerys would often find her cousin staring across a room in search of their uncle. The man would sometimes meet her hopeful lilac gaze though his eyes would often drift to a pair of deep violet ones.

Rhaenyra’s tune changed upon finding out that they would not reside in the Red Keep and would be given Dragonstone. She then joined in with Alicent. Naerys own opinion on the match had not been asked for her opinion on her future union with her uncle. In the end, Daemon had gotten what he wanted. A young unspoiled niece for a bride and their family’s seat Dragonstone.

The ceremony itself had been nerve-racking. Her uncle had insisted upon a Valyrian ceremony. Naerys did not know half the words. Her Valyrian had always been less than satisfactory. Daemon had not laughed when she stumbled over the words. He never had when it came to her. Even when her face grew hot at his vulgarity he simply grinned at her.

Naerys had not been able to cut herself nor when the priest had called for the binding. Daemon had to do it for her. Seemingly taking pleasure in her anxiousness as he brought the blade to both of their lips and then hands with a self-satisfied smirk. The feast afterward had been a blur.

“Come here sweetling,” Naerys' new husband had called her once her new lady’s maids had left, breaking her out of her daze. They were alone in her bed chambers. Her uncle had been kind enough to allow the dispensation of the bedding ceremony. There was no need to when they all knew that this marriage would be unlike the prince's first.

Naerys felt the urge to pretend she had not heard him. She had been made to change into a sheer gown that did little to hide her figure. Her aunt Princess Rhaenys had tried to warn her of what might occur on her wedding night, but it did little to calm her. When Daemon called for her again she knew that she could not avoid him.

Naerys reluctantly made her way out from behind her changing screen, her eyes briefly landing on her uncle who stood by her fireplace. The fire's glow bathed him in its warm light and cast shadows across the room. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that her husband's gaze followed her across the room. He did not waste time pulling her into his arms when she finally reached him.

Daemon did not say anything as he stroked her silver curls. For a time they stood in silence. His gaze fell back to the fire. The only thing that could be heard was the crackle of it and the faint sounds of the feast down below.

“I suppose I will need to break you in.” He seemed to be thinking out loud, but that did not stop Naerys from pulling back from him. Daemon did not move to stop her as she turned away to face the side of the room. Her arms came up to cradle herself as her dark eyes landed upon what would soon be her marriage bed.

“Give him heirs Naerys.” Her uncle Ser Vaemond had whispered in her ear before her husband took her away to her new chambers. That is what she was there for. A mere plaything for her uncle. To appease him, birth his children, care for them, and console him when needed.

Naerys was wanted for her blood and what she could offer him with it. She was the blood of the dragon even if she did not feel it. She was a dragon rider. She might have even been queen had her father, but she felt even younger than her sixteen name days at that moment.

“Come niece, I will not harm you.” Naerys turned slightly to see that he held out a pale hand towards her. She hesitated to take it, but her fate was sealed whether she took it or not. She gave into her husband's demand, reaching for his outstretched arm with her small brown one. He laid another kiss on her head when she was close enough. She heard her husband sigh as he pulled her back into him.

“Ao issi gevie byka mēre.” Naerys only made out half of his words.

“Do not worry little wife,” Daemon hummed lightly. He drew circles upon her back with his right hand. It was almost soothing until he began to pull her gown up with his other hand. “I will not mind teaching you.” His hands drifted down to her newly exposed rear making the young bride tense up once more. As she closed her eyes she was confronted with the realization of why they were here, to begin with.

With any luck the sooner they consummate their union, the faster he would leave her and go back to his own quarters. Rhaenyra was with them on Dragonstone. The young bride was not naive. She was not her uncle’s first choice, Naerys knew that, but she would do her duty.

Translations:

Ao issi gevie byka mēre: You are beautiful little one

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