Mobile Masterlist 24.y.o. college student. I write reader inserts fanfics for SPN and HOTD. You can support me and read updates on what I'm writing in the link below! Buy me a coffee
Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.
Type: multichapter series
Chapter: eight
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader
Word count: 3982
Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, smut.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Part six.
Part seven.
The ground was covered in white velvet as it had been snowing the entire day. Her eyes rose to the sky, painted pink and orange as the sun descended. The weather had granted them a reprieve.
A light breeze caressed her skin and rustled the leaves of the trees around them. The forest was quiet and only the firewood could be heard as it burnt away. The red-hot flames rose from the small pyre, almost as tall as her. She looked at the man in front of her, dressed in red and gold, standing tall and proud with his silver hair framing his face. He had had it braided for the ceremony. Their eyes met briefly and Y/N clutched the bouquet of winter roses in her hands, anxious. Could an improvised marriage under the eyes of a god neither believed in be enough to heal their wounds?
They had argued about it. Daemon had insisted the answer was dragonfire, not a magic ritual. Yet the red priestess that guided them had made it clear that dragonfire would be necessary, but not sufficient to win this battle. Only the joint forces of ice and fire could, she had said.
Y/N was surrounded by doubt. Lord Umber had argued that Daemon Targaryen was still his prisoner despite everything, which was true to an extent. Lord Karstark believed what was happening in Winterfell could not be ignored, and they had to stop it no matter the cost. Lord Bolton had proposed flaying their Targaryen prisoner as a peace offering to the Old Gods. Lord Mormont hadn't survived the battle of Winterfell, to Y/N's dismay.
The argument had gotten heated between Lord Umber and Daemon, yet it did not matter in the end. Y/N was still Queen and her words were to be followed, especially after she had managed to fight three dragons and survive. She had captured the most feared man in Westeros and had brought him to Lord Umber's doors. They believed in the power she wielded now if they didn't before. And they would listen to her, because they had chosen her and had pledged their loyalty, and their vows were not to be broken.
The problem was that Daemon owed her nothing. There were no vows to be upheld, no promises to be kept, and no debts to be paid. So with him, she had to bargain. She could have him rot in the dungeons until the end of time if she wished, but her priorities were different. She needed him to participate in Vella's ritual and she needed him to ride Caraxes into battle. She needed him by her side.
It had taken them hours going back and forth until Daemon had finally agreed to play his part, even if he believed Vella was nothing more than a jester. Daemon could be incredibly stubborn, yet he was far from stupid. He knew there was a war on the horizon that he would be a part of sooner or later, and he knew which side he was on. His freedom was all he asked for in the end, and the respect he deserved. He was a Prince and wished to be treated as such.
And she granted it all.
They were fighting for a common cause now, and it trumped any other conflict they previously had. Daemon was their ally, not their prisoner. So he would have a seat in her small council to discuss war strategies, as one of them.
What would happen once the dead were defeated? Would Daemon Targaryen attempt to burn them all to the ground?
Those were questions for the future if they had one.
Suddenly, Vella threw some kind of dust into the fire that made it flare and burn even brighter, illuminating the eyes of everyone present. Lord Karstark was by Y/N's side, dressed in simple grey clothes. Vella stood next to Daemon in a flowing red dress and started reciting prayers in High Valyrian, which Y/N could barely understand.
Nobody else was with them.
The maids had helped her with her wedding dress, made of white silk and Myrish lace. Even if it covered her modestly, with a high neckline and long, loose sleeves, it hugged her body so tightly it made her figure the center of attention. With blue pearls embroidered and a train that shined in the snow, it was a work of art.
Her hair had been cut even and styled in a bun decorated with the same blueish pearls, which also adorned her ears. She was wearing her crown as well. It had never felt heavier.
Vella had insisted on the white, for it represented innocence and purity, which sounded ridiculous. Yet it also represented winter and ice, so she had agreed to wear it.
It was Vella's voice that snapped her out of her trance, asking for her presence.
"May the bride approach the sacred fire?"
"She may," Lord Karstark answered, offering up his arm and leading her toward Vella and Daemon.
She stood in front of the man responsible for her love and her grief.
The priestess' red eyes were fixed on Y/N as she spoke.
"Y/N of House Stark, do you come before the Lord of Light of your own free will?"
"I do," she answered, making eye contact with Daemon. He let his eyes wander up and down her figure with no shame. She knew he had always wanted a Valyrian wedding and this was far from one, yet his eyes were shining bright anyway as he took her in. There was even a soft smile on his lips.
"Before entering a sacred union one must rid oneself of curses. Cursed objects, cursed desires, and cursed souls doom marriages. So under the eye of the Lord of Light, Y/N of House Stark and Daemon of House Targaryen shall cleanse their darkness by burning it in the sacred fire."
Y/N took a deep breath as she nodded.
"Where is the old crown that once belonged to a King?"
Y/N leaned down slightly, allowing Lord Karstark to reach for her head and take it off, passing it to Vella's hands. It did not look magical at all, just old, rusty, and jaded.
Vella approached the fire and let the crown fall into the flames. It sizzled and burned brighter.
"Where are your broken hearts? The source of your love and the source of your pain. Bring them forward."
Y/N bit her lip as she took off the ruby ring Daemon had gifted her and handed it to Vella, even if giving it away made her chest feel heavy. The ring had been Daemon's gift to her, the promise he cared about her, and she had worn it as a promise she cared about him as well. It was a symbol of their love for each other. Yet their love had withered the roses and left her only with thorns.
And that was why it needed to burn.
She watched as Daemon wordlessly handed Vella a folded piece of parchment he had inside his shirt. It appeared to be written on. She squinted as Vella placed both tokens above the flames before letting them fall and burn as well. Was that the letter she had written to him? Had he been carrying it with him the whole time?
A lone tear fell down her cheek as she focused on the fire.
He loved her.
He had loved her all this time.
He had been carrying her letter the same way she had been wearing his ring, both holding onto a piece of each other, refusing to let go of what had been. Of what could be. But those tokens did not represent hope at all. The ring was a constant reminder of what she had lost, a painful consolation, a source of memories that did not bring her joy anymore.
She used to smile at the thought of Daemon. At the memories they shared in the Red Keep. Fighting, reading, laughing. And when she was living in Winterfell after her father's death, reminiscing about her time with Daemon had been comforting. She would laugh, remembering how they used to sneak around the castle, avoiding guards and maesters. She would drift to sleep at night wondering where he was, if he was looking at the same moon as her, if he was thinking about her as well.
Things had changed since the war started. Now his name had become a source of anguish and every time she looked at the ring her heart would shrink in her chest, as if her own rib cage was turning smaller, squeezing it. She would cry herself to sleep at night every night. The past months had been torture.
She was free of it now.
And she was ready to start over.
"Daemon of House Targaryen, do you claim Y/N of House Stark as your bride?"
"I do," he answered, locking eyes with her.
"You will be joined forever with the blessing of the Lord of Light," Vella recited, as bride and groom looked at each other, entranced. "Blood of the First Men and the blood of Old Valyria, the magic of ice and the magic of fire, two souls that shall belong to one another for all eternity. A union that has never been seen before."
Vella closed her eyes as she whispered in High Valyrian, making the fire crackle and the flames rise brighter and higher.
Daemon seemed focused on her words, briefly closing his eyes as well.
Then Vella produced a dagger from inside one of her sleeves and presented it to them.
"Now is time to bleed."
Daemon took it in his hands as Y/N passed her bouquet to Lord Karstark and walked a step forward, facing the man that would become her husband. Her soulmate. Forever.
He offered up his hand and she placed hers on top, with her palm facing upwards. She did not look away from his face for a second as she waited, just observing. His violet gaze, his lips, his jaw. She would finally be able to look at him, touch him, and kiss him without hiding. It seemed surreal, standing there in the snow, in a wedding dress, getting married to Daemon Targaryen. How was it even possible?
The sudden stinging pain in her hand made her shiver and attempt to pull away, but Daemon held it in place as blood started gushing out from the deep cut, staining the sleeves of her dress.
He looked her in the eye, nodding, silently telling her to trust him. And she did, as she accepted the dagger with her other hand and, clutching his with her own bloodied one, cut him deep as well. He didn't even flinch as he turned his hand around and held hers with it, joining their blood as it dripped on the pristine, white snow.
Vella took the dagger from them and carefully let it fall into the fire as well.
"You have given back your curse, your pain, and your blood. May the Lord of Light guide you in your future path and undo the evil your heartache has caused." She positioned herself between them. "Now it shall be known that Y/N of House Stark and Daemon of House Targaryen have chosen to bind themselves to each other for eternity, sharing their fire and forever protecting one another. For the night is dark and full of terrors."
The sun had set, yet the fire was so bright she could see well. Vella's red eyes became even brighter, if it was possible, as she finished the ceremony.
"You are now one. You may bed and warm each other tonight, and every night…" She made a pause. "You are now husband and wife under the eyes of the Lord of Light."
And as the last words were said and Vella disappeared into the darkness of the forest, Y/N's focus turned to Daemon. She didn't care about anything else. She had just married the man she had loved so deeply for so long. She couldn't believe it was real.
He didn't waste a second as he leaned forward to capture her lips with his, fervently claiming her as his. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, hugging him and bringing him as close as possible, feeling his strong body against hers, inhaling his scent, and letting herself get lost in him. The pain in her hand was long forgotten as she clutched his shirt, messing it up with her blood. It did not matter. Nothing else mattered. Only Daemon.
She slid her tongue against his, moaning against his lips when he tugged on her hair, undoing her bun and letting it free. His large hands then grasped her waist to pull her even closer to him, as if it were possible, biting her bottom lip to engulf her in another passionate, intoxicating kiss. His lips moved against hers with mindless desire, refusing to let her go, as she clung to his shoulders, giving herself to him. They had yearned for each other for too long. The intensity of the kiss made her forget to breathe, and a minute later her lungs forced her to pull away abruptly, gasping for breath. She kept her eyes closed as she recovered, feeling a little light-headed, and heard him chuckle. She smiled as she stood on her toes and touched his nose with hers, still holding onto him.
"What are you laughing about?" she whispered, as he rested his forehead on hers.
"You, of course," he teased. "The Queen in the North is out of breath after a little kiss."
"Mmm, not Queen in the North anymore. I don't think so."
"Are you sure? I was told I was marrying a Queen. If you tricked me, Y/N, I swear…"
She giggled as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent.
"What will you do? Lock me up in my chambers?"
"Lock you up in our chambers. And I am not letting you out until I am done with you."
"You'll never be done with me," she breathed out.
"You are right about that, love. I will warm your bed every night until the day I die."
She smiled to herself, still hugging him, choosing to remain silent as she took everything in. They were married. They were bound by blood and they still had one last battle to fight. How would Viserys react to the news? Daemon was still married to Rhea Royce under the Faith of the Seven. Would her people be in danger?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a breeze of chilly winter air that made her shiver in Daemon's arms. He pulled away to look at her, the moonlight shining on his hair.
"You are cold," he said. "How about we start with the bed sharing now?"
She leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips.
"That sounds lovely." She looked him in the eye then. "Thank you for doing this."
"Are you thanking me for marrying you?"
She laughed, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.
"I guess," she said, resting a hand on his chest. "For taking part in this whole ritual. I know you don't believe Vella too much."
"I did it because it was important to you. And because I wanted to. You don't have to thank me for that, Y/N."
She smiled at him, wondering what she had done to deserve a man that was both fearsome and loving.
"That's fair. Let's go back then."
They had plenty of worries, but they would have to wait until the morning. They walked back to the castle hand in hand, receiving strange looks from her men camping outside. Her white dress was covered in Daemon's blood, and his attire had suffered a similar fate. Still, they radiated peace as they made their way inside the castle, and were too preoccupied with one another to notice the curious and questioning looks they got from guards, servants, and lords.
Their shared chambers were not bigger than Y/N's own in Winterfell, but it had a fireplace with a warm fire burning, and a bed with plenty of furs, so she had nothing to complain about. Once the doors were shut and they found themselves in private for the first time as husband and wife, Y/N made her way to the mirror.
Even with her hair tousled and her dress stained, she looked like a bride. A real one, not just one for Vella's ritual. Daemon approached her from behind and hugged her waist. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he observed their reflections.
His voice cut through the silence as he picked up her hand.
"You're hurt," he stated, looking at her bleeding palm.
It was true, but the pain had dulled with the cold.
"So are you," she answered, turning around to face him. "Don't worry about it."
He let her go as he approached one of the nightstands, rummaging through the drawers until he found what he was looking for.
"Come here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let me bandage it for you."
She obliged, sitting next to him as she offered up her hand. She distracted herself by examining the canopy, made of grey fabric. For a warrior, Daemon had an incredibly soft touch. He was careful not to hurt her while doing a fantastic job, making her immediately feel better.
"Thank you," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "Now let me do you."
Kneeling at his feet, she cleaned his wound with great care and bandaged him the same way he had done with her. Their eyes met once she was done, while she still held his hand in hers.
It seemed like an eternity and less than a second had passed at the same time as they gazed into each other's eyes, until Daemon's voice interrupted their trance.
"Shall we get you out of that dress?"
She smiled, noticing the mischievous look in his purple gaze. She didn't need to give him a verbal answer, as she stood up and turned her back to him, waiting. A few seconds later his fingers were moving her hair to the side while he undid the first button of her dress. He did it slowly at first. Once he got past her hair, he picked up his pace until the last button came undone and her wedding gown was allowed to fall, pooling around her on the floor. She tensed as the cold air around them touched her naked skin for the first time, and turned to face her new husband.
His shirt was already half undone from their time in the woods, but she finished the job and placed her hand on his naked chest. Then she pushed him, making him walk backward until she forced him to sit on the bed again. She wasted no time, climbing on his lap as she threaded her fingers through his hair and guided him to take one of her nipples in his mouth.
He did as asked, sucking on it and using his warm, wet tongue to massage it. His hands found their place at her hips, helping her move on top of him, rubbing her pussy against his thigh. His cock was rock hard under his breeches as he finished sucking on her breast, leaving it with a glistening red mark on it before moving on to the other one. Y/N's breathing became heavier as Daemon buckled his hips, helping her position herself on top of his cock.
"Don't stop," she breathed out, needing to feel his wet mouth on her, as she undid his breeches and finally let him free. She licked her hand before using it to stroke his cock a few times, making him groan and let go of her. She used the moment to take control, pushing against his chest to force him to lie down on the bed, using her hands and knees to stay on top of him.
She leaned down to kiss him again, slowly, taking her time to feel him. Her skin was burning with desire, and she couldn't help moaning into his mouth when she felt his fingers stroking her wet cunt. She continued leaving open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, enjoying the sound of his labored breathing. He placed a hand on her hips while using the other one to hold his cock, guiding her as she lowered herself to take him in, inch by inch. She bit his shoulder as they finally came together, feeling his cock pulsing inside her. He stretched her open so good. She clenched around him, getting used to his size again, as she splayed her hands across his chest and lifted herself up.
Daemon's eyes were dark with unadulterated desire, watching her while resting his hands on her sides. She lifted her hips and sank down on him again at an agonizingly slow pace, torturing him as she got what she wanted from him, looking into his eyes with nothing but wanton need.
"Do you have any idea how much I want to come inside you right now? Fill you up?" he purred.
Y/N bit her lip as she rocked her hips against his.
"I do," she breathed out. "But you must satisfy me first, Daemon. It is our wedding night after all."
She arched her back as his cock slid into her over and over again, swallowing hard as beads of sweat formed on her skin.
He tightened his grip on her hips.
"Are you questioning me, wife?"
Her husband thrust upwards, attempting to take control and increase the rhythm, but Y/N didn't let him, stopping her movements instead.
"Just reminding you," she replied, using her hands to stroke the muscles of his arms, "of your husbandly duties."
Daemon smirked, using the strength of his arms to lift her up and carefully throw her on the bed again, right next to him. She barely had time to react as he positioned himself on top of her, making her lie down with her back to the ceiling.
"And I intend to fulfill them," he answered at last.
She felt his thick cock sliding between her buttocks, downwards until he found her entrance again and buried himself deep inside her. She made a strangled noise as she tightened around him, her body moving on its own as she lifted her hips, giving him easier access.
"Do you like it this way?" Daemon grunted, giving her no respite as she writhed underneath him, fucking her deeper.
She tried to answer but gave him an incoherent response instead, drunk with pleasure as she saw stars every time Daemon filled her completely. She arched her back even more as he kept pounding into her, her vision becoming blurry as her eyes filled with tears.
"Daemon..." she cried out, trying to ask him to fuck her harder, to never stop...
She shuddered as she finally reached her peak, clenching around him harder than she ever had before. Time slowed down as the world shattered around her, her breathing turning irregular as her body went limp.
It took her a few minutes to recover. She felt Daemon's body lying next to her as she realized he had come too, with his cum dripping out of her. She turned around to kiss him, coming down from her high and looking for his warmth. He embraced her, enjoying the feeling of her body against his.
They had a long night ahead of them.
There was a message from Viserys waiting for him on the desk next to the fire, still unopened. The raven had arrived that morning. It was probably a response to Daemon's own message telling him about his future wedding and the magical enemy they faced.
It would have to wait until the morning.
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TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.
👏👏😳😳 they got married omg I love this I really hope their union will stop the great others and night king. Viserys won’t be happy but I’m so glad they get to have some happiness loved loved loved the chapter !!!!!
It was about time!!!
A chapter with love and smut in between all the angst, it was deserved.
Now let's see how it turns out for them...
Thank you so much for reading, love!!! You're my favorite!
Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.
Type: multichapter series
Chapter: eight
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader
Word count: 3982
Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, smut.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Part six.
Part seven.
The ground was covered in white velvet as it had been snowing the entire day. Her eyes rose to the sky, painted pink and orange as the sun descended. The weather had granted them a reprieve.
A light breeze caressed her skin and rustled the leaves of the trees around them. The forest was quiet and only the firewood could be heard as it burnt away. The red-hot flames rose from the small pyre, almost as tall as her. She looked at the man in front of her, dressed in red and gold, standing tall and proud with his silver hair framing his face. He had had it braided for the ceremony. Their eyes met briefly and Y/N clutched the bouquet of winter roses in her hands, anxious. Could an improvised marriage under the eyes of a god neither believed in be enough to heal their wounds?
They had argued about it. Daemon had insisted the answer was dragonfire, not a magic ritual. Yet the red priestess that guided them had made it clear that dragonfire would be necessary, but not sufficient to win this battle. Only the joint forces of ice and fire could, she had said.
Y/N was surrounded by doubt. Lord Umber had argued that Daemon Targaryen was still his prisoner despite everything, which was true to an extent. Lord Karstark believed what was happening in Winterfell could not be ignored, and they had to stop it no matter the cost. Lord Bolton had proposed flaying their Targaryen prisoner as a peace offering to the Old Gods. Lord Mormont hadn't survived the battle of Winterfell, to Y/N's dismay.
The argument had gotten heated between Lord Umber and Daemon, yet it did not matter in the end. Y/N was still Queen and her words were to be followed, especially after she had managed to fight three dragons and survive. She had captured the most feared man in Westeros and had brought him to Lord Umber's doors. They believed in the power she wielded now if they didn't before. And they would listen to her, because they had chosen her and had pledged their loyalty, and their vows were not to be broken.
The problem was that Daemon owed her nothing. There were no vows to be upheld, no promises to be kept, and no debts to be paid. So with him, she had to bargain. She could have him rot in the dungeons until the end of time if she wished, but her priorities were different. She needed him to participate in Vella's ritual and she needed him to ride Caraxes into battle. She needed him by her side.
It had taken them hours going back and forth until Daemon had finally agreed to play his part, even if he believed Vella was nothing more than a jester. Daemon could be incredibly stubborn, yet he was far from stupid. He knew there was a war on the horizon that he would be a part of sooner or later, and he knew which side he was on. His freedom was all he asked for in the end, and the respect he deserved. He was a Prince and wished to be treated as such.
And she granted it all.
They were fighting for a common cause now, and it trumped any other conflict they previously had. Daemon was their ally, not their prisoner. So he would have a seat in her small council to discuss war strategies, as one of them.
What would happen once the dead were defeated? Would Daemon Targaryen attempt to burn them all to the ground?
Those were questions for the future if they had one.
Suddenly, Vella threw some kind of dust into the fire that made it flare and burn even brighter, illuminating the eyes of everyone present. Lord Karstark was by Y/N's side, dressed in simple grey clothes. Vella stood next to Daemon in a flowing red dress and started reciting prayers in High Valyrian, which Y/N could barely understand.
Nobody else was with them.
The maids had helped her with her wedding dress, made of white silk and Myrish lace. Even if it covered her modestly, with a high neckline and long, loose sleeves, it hugged her body so tightly it made her figure the center of attention. With blue pearls embroidered and a train that shined in the snow, it was a work of art.
Her hair had been cut even and styled in a bun decorated with the same blueish pearls, which also adorned her ears. She was wearing her crown as well. It had never felt heavier.
Vella had insisted on the white, for it represented innocence and purity, which sounded ridiculous. Yet it also represented winter and ice, so she had agreed to wear it.
It was Vella's voice that snapped her out of her trance, asking for her presence.
"May the bride approach the sacred fire?"
"She may," Lord Karstark answered, offering up his arm and leading her toward Vella and Daemon.
She stood in front of the man responsible for her love and her grief.
The priestess' red eyes were fixed on Y/N as she spoke.
"Y/N of House Stark, do you come before the Lord of Light of your own free will?"
"I do," she answered, making eye contact with Daemon. He let his eyes wander up and down her figure with no shame. She knew he had always wanted a Valyrian wedding and this was far from one, yet his eyes were shining bright anyway as he took her in. There was even a soft smile on his lips.
"Before entering a sacred union one must rid oneself of curses. Cursed objects, cursed desires, and cursed souls doom marriages. So under the eye of the Lord of Light, Y/N of House Stark and Daemon of House Targaryen shall cleanse their darkness by burning it in the sacred fire."
Y/N took a deep breath as she nodded.
"Where is the old crown that once belonged to a King?"
Y/N leaned down slightly, allowing Lord Karstark to reach for her head and take it off, passing it to Vella's hands. It did not look magical at all, just old, rusty, and jaded.
Vella approached the fire and let the crown fall into the flames. It sizzled and burned brighter.
"Where are your broken hearts? The source of your love and the source of your pain. Bring them forward."
Y/N bit her lip as she took off the ruby ring Daemon had gifted her and handed it to Vella, even if giving it away made her chest feel heavy. The ring had been Daemon's gift to her, the promise he cared about her, and she had worn it as a promise she cared about him as well. It was a symbol of their love for each other. Yet their love had withered the roses and left her only with thorns.
And that was why it needed to burn.
She watched as Daemon wordlessly handed Vella a folded piece of parchment he had inside his shirt. It appeared to be written on. She squinted as Vella placed both tokens above the flames before letting them fall and burn as well. Was that the letter she had written to him? Had he been carrying it with him the whole time?
A lone tear fell down her cheek as she focused on the fire.
He loved her.
He had loved her all this time.
He had been carrying her letter the same way she had been wearing his ring, both holding onto a piece of each other, refusing to let go of what had been. Of what could be. But those tokens did not represent hope at all. The ring was a constant reminder of what she had lost, a painful consolation, a source of memories that did not bring her joy anymore.
She used to smile at the thought of Daemon. At the memories they shared in the Red Keep. Fighting, reading, laughing. And when she was living in Winterfell after her father's death, reminiscing about her time with Daemon had been comforting. She would laugh, remembering how they used to sneak around the castle, avoiding guards and maesters. She would drift to sleep at night wondering where he was, if he was looking at the same moon as her, if he was thinking about her as well.
Things had changed since the war started. Now his name had become a source of anguish and every time she looked at the ring her heart would shrink in her chest, as if her own rib cage was turning smaller, squeezing it. She would cry herself to sleep at night every night. The past months had been torture.
She was free of it now.
And she was ready to start over.
"Daemon of House Targaryen, do you claim Y/N of House Stark as your bride?"
"I do," he answered, locking eyes with her.
"You will be joined forever with the blessing of the Lord of Light," Vella recited, as bride and groom looked at each other, entranced. "Blood of the First Men and the blood of Old Valyria, the magic of ice and the magic of fire, two souls that shall belong to one another for all eternity. A union that has never been seen before."
Vella closed her eyes as she whispered in High Valyrian, making the fire crackle and the flames rise brighter and higher.
Daemon seemed focused on her words, briefly closing his eyes as well.
Then Vella produced a dagger from inside one of her sleeves and presented it to them.
"Now is time to bleed."
Daemon took it in his hands as Y/N passed her bouquet to Lord Karstark and walked a step forward, facing the man that would become her husband. Her soulmate. Forever.
He offered up his hand and she placed hers on top, with her palm facing upwards. She did not look away from his face for a second as she waited, just observing. His violet gaze, his lips, his jaw. She would finally be able to look at him, touch him, and kiss him without hiding. It seemed surreal, standing there in the snow, in a wedding dress, getting married to Daemon Targaryen. How was it even possible?
The sudden stinging pain in her hand made her shiver and attempt to pull away, but Daemon held it in place as blood started gushing out from the deep cut, staining the sleeves of her dress.
He looked her in the eye, nodding, silently telling her to trust him. And she did, as she accepted the dagger with her other hand and, clutching his with her own bloodied one, cut him deep as well. He didn't even flinch as he turned his hand around and held hers with it, joining their blood as it dripped on the pristine, white snow.
Vella took the dagger from them and carefully let it fall into the fire as well.
"You have given back your curse, your pain, and your blood. May the Lord of Light guide you in your future path and undo the evil your heartache has caused." She positioned herself between them. "Now it shall be known that Y/N of House Stark and Daemon of House Targaryen have chosen to bind themselves to each other for eternity, sharing their fire and forever protecting one another. For the night is dark and full of terrors."
The sun had set, yet the fire was so bright she could see well. Vella's red eyes became even brighter, if it was possible, as she finished the ceremony.
"You are now one. You may bed and warm each other tonight, and every night…" She made a pause. "You are now husband and wife under the eyes of the Lord of Light."
And as the last words were said and Vella disappeared into the darkness of the forest, Y/N's focus turned to Daemon. She didn't care about anything else. She had just married the man she had loved so deeply for so long. She couldn't believe it was real.
He didn't waste a second as he leaned forward to capture her lips with his, fervently claiming her as his. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, hugging him and bringing him as close as possible, feeling his strong body against hers, inhaling his scent, and letting herself get lost in him. The pain in her hand was long forgotten as she clutched his shirt, messing it up with her blood. It did not matter. Nothing else mattered. Only Daemon.
She slid her tongue against his, moaning against his lips when he tugged on her hair, undoing her bun and letting it free. His large hands then grasped her waist to pull her even closer to him, as if it were possible, biting her bottom lip to engulf her in another passionate, intoxicating kiss. His lips moved against hers with mindless desire, refusing to let her go, as she clung to his shoulders, giving herself to him. They had yearned for each other for too long. The intensity of the kiss made her forget to breathe, and a minute later her lungs forced her to pull away abruptly, gasping for breath. She kept her eyes closed as she recovered, feeling a little light-headed, and heard him chuckle. She smiled as she stood on her toes and touched his nose with hers, still holding onto him.
"What are you laughing about?" she whispered, as he rested his forehead on hers.
"You, of course," he teased. "The Queen in the North is out of breath after a little kiss."
"Mmm, not Queen in the North anymore. I don't think so."
"Are you sure? I was told I was marrying a Queen. If you tricked me, Y/N, I swear…"
She giggled as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent.
"What will you do? Lock me up in my chambers?"
"Lock you up in our chambers. And I am not letting you out until I am done with you."
"You'll never be done with me," she breathed out.
"You are right about that, love. I will warm your bed every night until the day I die."
She smiled to herself, still hugging him, choosing to remain silent as she took everything in. They were married. They were bound by blood and they still had one last battle to fight. How would Viserys react to the news? Daemon was still married to Rhea Royce under the Faith of the Seven. Would her people be in danger?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a breeze of chilly winter air that made her shiver in Daemon's arms. He pulled away to look at her, the moonlight shining on his hair.
"You are cold," he said. "How about we start with the bed sharing now?"
She leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips.
"That sounds lovely." She looked him in the eye then. "Thank you for doing this."
"Are you thanking me for marrying you?"
She laughed, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.
"I guess," she said, resting a hand on his chest. "For taking part in this whole ritual. I know you don't believe Vella too much."
"I did it because it was important to you. And because I wanted to. You don't have to thank me for that, Y/N."
She smiled at him, wondering what she had done to deserve a man that was both fearsome and loving.
"That's fair. Let's go back then."
They had plenty of worries, but they would have to wait until the morning. They walked back to the castle hand in hand, receiving strange looks from her men camping outside. Her white dress was covered in Daemon's blood, and his attire had suffered a similar fate. Still, they radiated peace as they made their way inside the castle, and were too preoccupied with one another to notice the curious and questioning looks they got from guards, servants, and lords.
Their shared chambers were not bigger than Y/N's own in Winterfell, but it had a fireplace with a warm fire burning, and a bed with plenty of furs, so she had nothing to complain about. Once the doors were shut and they found themselves in private for the first time as husband and wife, Y/N made her way to the mirror.
Even with her hair tousled and her dress stained, she looked like a bride. A real one, not just one for Vella's ritual. Daemon approached her from behind and hugged her waist. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he observed their reflections.
His voice cut through the silence as he picked up her hand.
"You're hurt," he stated, looking at her bleeding palm.
It was true, but the pain had dulled with the cold.
"So are you," she answered, turning around to face him. "Don't worry about it."
He let her go as he approached one of the nightstands, rummaging through the drawers until he found what he was looking for.
"Come here," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let me bandage it for you."
She obliged, sitting next to him as she offered up her hand. She distracted herself by examining the canopy, made of grey fabric. For a warrior, Daemon had an incredibly soft touch. He was careful not to hurt her while doing a fantastic job, making her immediately feel better.
"Thank you," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "Now let me do you."
Kneeling at his feet, she cleaned his wound with great care and bandaged him the same way he had done with her. Their eyes met once she was done, while she still held his hand in hers.
It seemed like an eternity and less than a second had passed at the same time as they gazed into each other's eyes, until Daemon's voice interrupted their trance.
"Shall we get you out of that dress?"
She smiled, noticing the mischievous look in his purple gaze. She didn't need to give him a verbal answer, as she stood up and turned her back to him, waiting. A few seconds later his fingers were moving her hair to the side while he undid the first button of her dress. He did it slowly at first. Once he got past her hair, he picked up his pace until the last button came undone and her wedding gown was allowed to fall, pooling around her on the floor. She tensed as the cold air around them touched her naked skin for the first time, and turned to face her new husband.
His shirt was already half undone from their time in the woods, but she finished the job and placed her hand on his naked chest. Then she pushed him, making him walk backward until she forced him to sit on the bed again. She wasted no time, climbing on his lap as she threaded her fingers through his hair and guided him to take one of her nipples in his mouth.
He did as asked, sucking on it and using his warm, wet tongue to massage it. His hands found their place at her hips, helping her move on top of him, rubbing her pussy against his thigh. His cock was rock hard under his breeches as he finished sucking on her breast, leaving it with a glistening red mark on it before moving on to the other one. Y/N's breathing became heavier as Daemon buckled his hips, helping her position herself on top of his cock.
"Don't stop," she breathed out, needing to feel his wet mouth on her, as she undid his breeches and finally let him free. She licked her hand before using it to stroke his cock a few times, making him groan and let go of her. She used the moment to take control, pushing against his chest to force him to lie down on the bed, using her hands and knees to stay on top of him.
She leaned down to kiss him again, slowly, taking her time to feel him. Her skin was burning with desire, and she couldn't help moaning into his mouth when she felt his fingers stroking her wet cunt. She continued leaving open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, enjoying the sound of his labored breathing. He placed a hand on her hips while using the other one to hold his cock, guiding her as she lowered herself to take him in, inch by inch. She bit his shoulder as they finally came together, feeling his cock pulsing inside her. He stretched her open so good. She clenched around him, getting used to his size again, as she splayed her hands across his chest and lifted herself up.
Daemon's eyes were dark with unadulterated desire, watching her while resting his hands on her sides. She lifted her hips and sank down on him again at an agonizingly slow pace, torturing him as she got what she wanted from him, looking into his eyes with nothing but wanton need.
"Do you have any idea how much I want to come inside you right now? Fill you up?" he purred.
Y/N bit her lip as she rocked her hips against his.
"I do," she breathed out. "But you must satisfy me first, Daemon. It is our wedding night after all."
She arched her back as his cock slid into her over and over again, swallowing hard as beads of sweat formed on her skin.
He tightened his grip on her hips.
"Are you questioning me, wife?"
Her husband thrust upwards, attempting to take control and increase the rhythm, but Y/N didn't let him, stopping her movements instead.
"Just reminding you," she replied, using her hands to stroke the muscles of his arms, "of your husbandly duties."
Daemon smirked, using the strength of his arms to lift her up and carefully throw her on the bed again, right next to him. She barely had time to react as he positioned himself on top of her, making her lie down with her back to the ceiling.
"And I intend to fulfill them," he answered at last.
She felt his thick cock sliding between her buttocks, downwards until he found her entrance again and buried himself deep inside her. She made a strangled noise as she tightened around him, her body moving on its own as she lifted her hips, giving him easier access.
"Do you like it this way?" Daemon grunted, giving her no respite as she writhed underneath him, fucking her deeper.
She tried to answer but gave him an incoherent response instead, drunk with pleasure as she saw stars every time Daemon filled her completely. She arched her back even more as he kept pounding into her, her vision becoming blurry as her eyes filled with tears.
"Daemon..." she cried out, trying to ask him to fuck her harder, to never stop...
She shuddered as she finally reached her peak, clenching around him harder than she ever had before. Time slowed down as the world shattered around her, her breathing turning irregular as her body went limp.
It took her a few minutes to recover. She felt Daemon's body lying next to her as she realized he had come too, with his cum dripping out of her. She turned around to kiss him, coming down from her high and looking for his warmth. He embraced her, enjoying the feeling of her body against his.
They had a long night ahead of them.
There was a message from Viserys waiting for him on the desk next to the fire, still unopened. The raven had arrived that morning. It was probably a response to Daemon's own message telling him about his future wedding and the magical enemy they faced.
It would have to wait until the morning.
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TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.
i am ABSOLUTELY ADORING YOUR DAEMON SERIES!!!! IT JUST HITS ALL THE RIGHT PLACES IN MY HEART!!!! i will definitely be waiting for the next chapter! i do have a question, how often do you post so that i know where to be aware you updated?
LOVE LOVE LOVE THE SERIES OF YN QUEEN LF THE NORTH
Thank you sooo much love!!!! It always makes me happy when somebody tells me they like my fics so much ❤️
Unfortunately I am a slow writer that has been slowed down even more by life (all good things though, I'm travelling a bit). So I don't really have a schedule to post. HOWEVER, I intend to post the next chapter before february ends. And then I'll be gone for a month because I'm going to Thailand, sorry 🥲
But don't worry, it's only three more chapters and it will be finished!!
Ooohh man now a red priestess is involved and the only way to fix it is fix her broken heart that will be interesting to see how that works out loved the chapter!!
Sorry for taking so long and thank you for reading 🥰❤️
We're nearing the end of the series and a little magic is always a good idea ✨
Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.
Type: multichapter series
Chapter: seven
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader
Word count: 2785
Warnings: swearing, violence.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Part six.
The ride to the Last Hearth had been fast and quiet. They had saddled some horses and abandoned Winterfell, considering it lost. She had ordered Daemon's shackles to be removed so he could ride with them, making him swear at sword's point he wouldn't even attempt to run away. She knew he wanted to go after Caraxes, so she quickly reminded him that Caraxes would be fine but he wouldn't if the dead got to him. At last, he had agreed to follow her.
Lord Karstark asked her what she was planning to do with him, quietly pointing out they could still execute him before their departure.
"We are facing an enormous threat, Lord Karstark," she responded, mounting her horse. "We do not have the luxury of time to spare and an execution is hardly a priority. Besides, killing the most powerful dragonrider in Westeros would be beyond unwise now."
Those were her last words before she rode off, following the path that would take her north. The rest of the men caught up to her quickly, and Daemon took his place at her left without another word.
As they rode next to each other she refused to look at him... at any of them. She was guilty of what was happening, she was sure of that. She wondered if Daemon was coming with them because she was forcing him, because there was no better choice, or because he still cared about her deep down. Even if they had had their blades at each other's throats a few hours ago.
It was snowing again and it didn't let up, and she shivered as she had abandoned her coat long ago. All she had now was her dress, torn to shreds, and hair too short to shield her back. She could feel Daemon's violet gaze on her, but she didn't even glance at him, her own eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Day turned to night as they approached the Last Hearth and the dark castle's torches became visible in the distance. Was she supposed to feel relieved or anxious? She brought doom with her.
Thousands of men camped around the outer walls of the castle, chatting, cooking, and warming themselves around fires. The flames, surrounded by life and hope, reminded her it was not too late.
As they approached the gates on horseback everything started to feel like a blur. She could feel everyone's silent gazes on her as she passed them by, looking at her, looking at Daemon, wondering what had happened but not daring to ask. She could hardly face her own people, crushed by the weight of her failure.
They were received by a cheerful Lord Umber, clearly glad to see them at last, yet their grim demeanor was enough for his smile to disappear in an instant. He urged them inside the castle without further questions, even if he had raised an eyebrow at the Targaryen prince she had brought with her.
Y/N didn't utter a word as Lord Karstark explained what had happened, as flashes of dead men walking in the night invaded her mind and she got lost in the visions, clutching the sides of her head and wishing for it to be over. She barely had control of herself as she and Daemon were led away by a maid, his hand finding hers to guide her when he realized she wasn't entirely present. She wasn't sure why Daemon was with her and not sent to the dungeons, but perhaps her small council knew more than they let on. Or maybe Lord Karstark was simply respecting her wishes, as she had made it clear she would need the man and his dragon to fight this battle.
They were brought into a room with a large fire burning strongly in the hearth. She sat in one of the chairs next to it as Daemon took a seat in front of her and closed her eyes, trying to regain control. The maid talked to her but Y/N wasn't listening. Shortly after a few more servants burst into the room to bring her hot tea and furs, gushing over her as she gazed into the flames, letting herself get lost in them as she ignored everyone else.
The warmth was comforting, both from the furs that now covered her body and from the fire, yet it didn't ease the persistent pressure on her chest. The flashes had stopped, but the turmoil inside her only grew.
She didn't realize they had been left alone until Daemon's voice cut through the silence.
"How long are you going to ignore me?"
She looked at him with empty eyes. He was dressed in the same clothes he had on earlier when they had fought each other, dirty and torn, and his silver hair was in a messy braid that did its job of keeping it out of his face. His eyes remained as bright as always as he stared at her.
"I have nothing left to say, Daemon." Her voice came out hoarse as she spoke for the first time since they had left Winterfell, hours ago.
"What was happening back in Winterfell?" he insisted, leaning forward.
"I already told you, I don't know what's going on." Her eyes filled with tears she didn't let fall. "Why can't you trust me?"
He stood up suddenly and strode the few steps that separated them, going around her and standing behind her. The feeling of his strong hands massaging her shoulders made her sigh and loosen up. She hadn't realized how tense she was until his fingers kneaded her aching muscles.
"I do trust you," he breathed out, "but dead men are still rising on that battlefield, and sooner or later, you will have to give me an explanation."
She wished she could give him one. She really did. But since she couldn't, she asked the question that had been on her mind for hours instead.
"Why did you come?"
He answered almost absentmindedly as his hands moved softly now, rubbing the skin on her shoulders and the back of her neck, "what do you mean?"
"When you were unshackled on the horse. Why didn't you turn it around and run away? We wouldn't have followed."
His hands wandered to her chest as he wrapped his arms around her as best as he could with the back of the chair between them. His warmth enveloped her completely and she relaxed even more, closing her eyes as she leaned back. He rested his forehead on top of her head, making her feel at peace and at home.
She could hear his breathing slowing as he answered with a whisper, "I don't know."
A few seconds passed in complete silence aside from the burning wood of the fire, and she breathed in Daemon's scent, which brought her calm and safety. Still whispering, she asked another question.
"What will you tell your brother?"
She couldn't see him, but she knew he had that look on his face he always put on when he talked nonsense with absolute seriousness.
"That I saw a greater threat to the realm and followed you to find answers."
"Is that the truth?" she inquired, playing with a strand of her hair. It felt much lighter now.
"It's not a lie," he responded, running his fingers through her dark locks as well.
She was about to ask him something else when the door creaked open and they both scrambled to get away from each other. Daemon straightened up quickly, resting his hands on the back of the wooden chair, and Y/N leaned forward as she opened her eyes to look at the intruder. It was a young woman that moved with silent, graceful steps, wearing a long red dress and golden jewelry. Y/N had never seen her before, her crimson eyes captivating her as the flames from the fire danced in them.
Lord Umber and Lord Karstark entered the room next, yet Y/N paid them no mind as she followed the mysterious stranger's movements instead. Who was she?
She didn't need to ask, for it was answered by Lord Umber as the woman took the seat Daemon had been occupying before, right in front of her.
"This is Vella, a red priestess from beyond the Narrow Sea. She arrived here a week ago with a warning. She told me she had had a vision of doom and death in Winterfell. That dead men would rise again and bring utter destruction with them." Lord Umber shook his head as he stared at the flames. "Of course, I didn't believe her." He made a pause, looking at Y/N. "Now I can see it was a mistake."
Y/N frowned as she looked at the woman in front of her, who was watching her intently. She leaned forward, examining her delicate features as she tried to understand.
"You knew this would happen?" she asked, frowning. "Why didn't you come to me?"
Vella only raised an eyebrow briefly before speaking for the first time, her voice coming out deep and sultry.
"Would you have believed me?"
Y/N's grey eyes studied Vella's before she came to an answer.
"No."
There was no point in lying to the woman. She suspected she was the type that wouldn't ask a question unless she already knew the answer.
"Then it matters not. I had been eagerly awaiting to meet you, Y/N. I wanted to know what the woman who had united the North looked like."
"And what do you think?" she challenged.
Vella stood up gracefully and walked a few steps in her direction. Y/N stood up as well, letting the furs that were wrapped around her fall to the ground, baring herself to the mysterious woman. If she had truly had visions of the future, and if she could truly see her and rumors of the power of red priests were true... she would show herself as she was.
What was left of her dress was so scant she felt naked without the furs that were now at her feet.
Everyone stayed completely silent as they exchanged looks.
The witch's red eyes didn't leave her as she extended her hand, finally touching her skin. Her fingers were warmer than expected, roaming down her neck, her chest, her breasts... Y/N's body was covered in goosebumps that Vella's warm touch faded away... until she pulled her hand away, and her bright eyes gazed into hers once again.
Y/N stood still, waiting for an answer with an eyebrow raised.
Finally, Vella spoke again.
"I see great sorrow and guilt," she claimed, bringing her hands together. "The pain inside you is unbearable."
Her eyes were shining red as they met hers, and Y/N let her continue.
"You were meant to unite the North... yet your pain blinded you and you've destroyed it instead."
Y/N frowned and tried to walk a step back, the words making her head turn. She bumped into someone and glanced back briefly to see it was Daemon's chest. He was looking at her with worry in his eyes and wrapped the furs around her again, covering her and bringing her warmth.
It was overwhelming. What was she supposed to do? Ignore the fact that this woman had looked into her soul? What she claimed she had seen was unsettling. How was it even possible? How could she even be the cause of so much death and waste?
"What are you talking about?" she asked once she could speak again, shaking her head in denial. "Northerners united because winter was coming. How am I responsible for what is happening? I wasn't meant for anything!"
She was telling the truth. Her father's death had been unexpected. It should have been him in her place. She was a barely capable replacement. And only temporarily, as her brother would take her place once he came of age.
Luck hadn't been on her side, but to think of it as her fate... it was too farfetched.
Daemon rested his hand on her shoulder, comforting her, and Y/N took a deep breath as she let his touch soothe her. Vella's eyes didn't miss it and she took a step back, understanding the hidden threat in Daemon's gaze. She focused back on the flames as she answered.
"Winter was coming, it was true. Yet your desperate attempts to prepare yourself to fight your enemies is what brought it." Vella smiled a little to herself. "Isn't that ironic? You ended up causing what you feared. But it is not your fault, as we cannot escape who we are."
"She doesn't know what she's talking about, Y/N," Daemon interjected, leaning down to whisper in her ear. She had her back glued to his torso. "Don't listen to her."
"Are you sure about that, Daemon Targaryen?" Vella's voice was loud in the silence of the room. She fixed her gaze on him as she moved in his direction, standing so close to them Y/N could see the tiny specks of gold in her otherwise red eyes. "I could look into your eyes too and tell you what I see. Yet I shall not, for I am not here for you." Her red gaze was redirected to Y/N again, making her feel as if she was burning. "I am here for her."
Y/N bit her bottom lip as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The lords that had brought this witch to her had chosen this moment to remain absolutely silent. She believed Lord Umber, and therefore, she believed this woman was capable of having visions of the future. But how much did she know, really? And how much could she gamble, as Queen in the North, considering the threat she was facing?
It wasn't an easy decision to make, but it was her job to do so.
"She knew what would happen in Winterfell, Daemon," she said, squeezing his hand. "I believe her."
Daemon took a step back, taking his warmth with him. "Just because she had a vision doesn't mean she knows what is happening!" he exclaimed. "Why are dead men walking? Isn't that the answer we were looking for? All I hear is a lot of words that say nothing."
Vella raised an eyebrow at Daemon, challenging him. "Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, and Queen Y/N know the answer to that question."
The room became silent once again as everyone stared at her, yet Daemon was the only one who seemed confused. Y/N walked toward the center of the fireplace, warming her hands as she explained.
"Winter comes, and the dead come with it. It's a prophecy," she said, shrugging. Her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of what Vella told her. "I never knew... how could it happen now? I only asked for the strength to win my battles."
"No request made with an empty heart will ever reach the Lord of Light," Vella responded. "Your grief called for winter and for death. And that is what you received."
Y/N stared at her in bewilderment. She had made no request to the Lord of Light. She had asked her gods for help, the Old Gods. Yet it appeared her pleas hadn't reached them either.
"How is it possible? Why was I granted my wish? Why was it twisted?"
"A crown of old, that once belonged to a King... blood of the First Men... and the strength of your heart..." Vella's words got lost in the silence of the night. Was she implying she had used blood magic? "Yet the blood was from a wound caused by the one you love..." Vella grasped her hand and held it up, making the ruby ring glow with the light of the fire, reflecting the flames. She looked at it intently before focusing her eyes on Y/N's again. "And your tears reflected the sorrow of a heart that was strong, but broken."
Y/N looked at Daemon for support, yet he seemed as perplexed as she was.
"I did not wish for this. I did not wish for any of this. I wasn't even aware..."
"There is magic in your blood, Y/N Stark," Vella interrupted her. "So it happened. And you have to fix it."
Her grey eyes were almost teary as she stared at the woman who had claimed could help her.
"What can I do to fix it?" she asked, defeated.
Vella took one last look at her hand, at her ring, before letting it go.
"You have to fix what caused this... your broken heart."
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Next part.
If you like my writing, make sure to check out my masterlist and my page, where you can support me or read updates on what I'm working on and leave your comments.
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hey!! i love your séries and was wondering when the next chapter is going to be posted? continue the great work, love you!!
Hey!!
Thank you so much for your message! I'm glad you like it!
I'm hoping to post the new chapter this week. I know it seems like I disappeared but I swear I didn't, I write a little bit every day or every other day. I really thought my vacations would mean I would have more free time to write, turns out I don't have free time at all! Plus I'm super tired and I'm really feeling it now.
So don't worry, the chapter is already written, I am just editing it. I promise it will be posted very soon.
Hope you're having a good time, whether you celebrate or not. I was hoping I could post another chapter of my HOTD series before Christmas but turns out I had a lot to do this year 😂
Whatever, I'll go back to my regular posting schedule now. Just have fun!! Love ya
Do you write for Aemond? If so, how do you think he'd be different from Daemon?
I do, actually! I mean, I haven't written anything for him because I'm busy with hot daddy/uncle Daemon, but I'll probably write a fic in the future.
About your question... well, they are different in many ways.
Headcanons below the cut
Their way with words
While Daemon is comfortable cursing and being generally indecent around you, Aemond is still a young man raised by his religious mom so he does care about the use of proper vocabulary. I'm not saying Daemon curses at you —not at all— just that he doesn't mind calling Otto a cunt when you're alone. You have probably learned fifty new ways to insult someone just by spending time with him, and there is nothing more liberating than drinking wine with the one you love, feeling comfortable enough to speak your mind freely. At least, that is how Daemon feels when he's with you.
Aemond, on the other hand, never curses. He despises his enemies and can be incredibly cruel —perhaps even more than Daemon— yet he always finds a way to offend other people without resorting to curse words. Perhaps he will call his enemies weak, or old, or as disgusting as cockroaches, but he will always refrain from cursing, especially in front of you, to whom he shows the absolute respect a prince must show his lady. Unless you are having sex, that is a different story.
What they call you
Daemon calls you by your name in private, sometimes my love when completely alone and intimate, and sometimes he calls you pet names. If you are a Stark he will call you his wolf, or his lioness if you're a Lannister... his dragon if you're a Targaryen just like him. He might even call you a vixen if you try to seduce him while he's otherwise occupied.
In public, he will use your name when talking to you directly, but will refer to you as his wife, princess, or queen —whichever of those titles you possess— and force others to respect you when addressing you as well.
Aemond, in private, refers to you as princess, for two reasons: first, he is a prince and you're with him, so that makes you a princess; second, it's a pet name. He is more romantic than Daemon in the traditional sense, so he will also call you the love of his life, his soulmate, and the source of his happiness. He will also call you by your name, of course.
In public, he will call you his lady wife, as he has been taught. When addressing you he will use your name, but perhaps his pet name for you, princess, might accidentally slip out every once in a while. He is similar to Daemon in that he will command everyone to address you properly, and will take great offense if anyone dares insult you —blood will be spilled—.
How they are in bed
Daemon is lustful, lewd, and obviously very experienced. He will show you and teach you things you never even dreamed of, and will always be open to trying out new things as well. His appetite is insatiable, and if it were up to him he'd spend entire days in bed with you, just fucking, resting, fucking, drinking, and fucking again. You actually do that sometimes, when you're both free. He will also get horny anywhere, and you end up fucking in the bath, in the library, at the beach, and even in the middle of the woods. Maids and servants are already used to this behavior so they leave you to it when they hear moaning and grunting coming from somewhere in the castle. He's so salacious he will even go as far as stroking your thigh under the table at dinner, even if the rest of the court is there. The man can't keep his hands to himself.
Aemond, contrary to popular belief, is absolutely inexperienced in the department. He knows how it works, Aegon took him to a brothel when he was younger and he learned the ropes, but it wasn't a pleasant experience and he hasn't been back since. So when he's with you, you end up being the one that shows the most interest in carnal desires, at least initially. He wants you, and he wants to have you and to claim you, but as passionate as he is about it, it will be you that will blow his mind when you kneel in front of him to undo his breeches or when you take charge and ride him until he's spent. Soon he understands why so many men spend their nights in brothels: sex is a pleasure and he wants it as well... with you. He had always called Aegon a degenerate for only thinking about women and fucking, but he now finds himself in a similar situation in which he can't stop thinking about you during the day and counts the hours until he's free from his duties to go to your bed and make you his once again. You will show him how much pleasure he can feel with you, and briefly, you will tame the dragon.
when is the next chapter of queen of ice prince of fire coming out?
Soon I hope! I'm very busy with finals so I really haven't had the time to sit down and write, as much as I love to do so.
I know I'm a slow writer but I guess in this case it's not just me, the story is a little complicated haha! It will end soon anyway, I won't bore you guys to death with 20 chapters.
I also started writing what I thought would be a one-shot with dark!reader x Daemon buuuut it's a little long so I'm thinking of writing it in five short chapters. Definitely not more than five. I'm really excited about this idea too, and I swear the reader is a lot like a Lannister but this time I will write her with no house, no hair color, eye color, nothing. Just a little cruel, hahah
After debating with myself on this one, I finally decided to open my inbox for anons.
Please remember to be kind.
You should only send anonymous asks if you don't have a tumblr account or just prefer the anonymity when expressing your thoughts, it's not permission to hide behind anon to be an ass.
My requests are still closed, although I'm open to share my headcanons with you.
Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.
Type: multichapter series
Chapter: six
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader
Word count: 4488
Warnings: swearing, violence.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Marching to war with an army of useless buffoons hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences. It had taken almost a month to do it on foot. He had proposed they just rode their dragons to avoid precisely that, yet the fact that only three were fully grown and available to fight had forced them to assemble an army of men.
It turned out that hadn't been as easy as expected. Otto Hightower's brother had no choice but to answer the King's call considering the green snake's position in court, but the Stormlands and Westerlands hadn't been as agreeable. Ten thousand men from House Baratheon had cost them a seat in the small council, and fifteen thousand from the Lannisters... that had cost them Rhaenyra's hand, promised to Lord Jason Lannister. His niece had begged her parents not to, hollering that she would ride Syrax to war instead. Daemon would've allowed it —another dragon was worth fifteen thousand Lannister imbeciles— yet Viserys and Aemma refused. The Velaryons' strength was their fleet, which they couldn't unman, but their contribution was more than enough: two dragons.
He had forced the army to march nonstop for hours, only allowing them to rest five hours at night. There were complaints, but neither Rhaenys nor Laenor had dared say anything, so he ignored them. And after the first Lannister that publicly whined about it was devoured by Caraxes, the men became incredibly quiet. They could rest when they were dead.
It was the sudden snow that had forced them to make camp and reorganize themselves. They were expecting winter, just not yet, and not so cold. It gave the men a break for a day and a half.
He flew Caraxes as the first snow fell, letting himself get lost in the cold and the misty skies. As he closed his eyes and let his dragon guide him through the clouds, he imagined Y/N's arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tight. She had never ridden Caraxes with him, despite accompanying him to the dragonpit many times to see him off and welcome him back.
It will be too obvious and I do not wish to be questioned on my virtue, she had said. I will ride with you once we're free from these shackles.
Now the opportunity was gone forever, and the shackles had become even tighter around their wrists. He placed his hand on his armored chest, where he kept her letter, just beneath the steel.
They were supposed to be together, to face adversities side by side, not fight each other. Maybe if she had been a dragon riding Targaryen instead of a wolf they could've run off together. Why did he even harbor feelings for a woman so different from him? There was not a single drop of blood of Old Valyria in her, yet her aura was just as magical. Whenever their fingers touched, and their eyes connected, he felt it deep inside him. A bond similar to the one he had with Caraxes, one that didn't need words for understanding, and was just as deep. Y/N was part of him and his life just as his own dragon was, forever. He dared say she was even more important. If Caraxes was one of his limbs, Y/N was his beating heart.
It had taken them nine more days walking under the storm to reach Winterfell. As he mounted Caraxes, ready to fly towards the castle, he noticed his hands shaking. He cursed under his breath, forcefully grabbed the reins, and disappeared into the sky.
What was wrong with him? He had been tasked to lead the army with Caraxes, and his hands were shaking? What was he, a fucking idiot knight that had never even jousted before? With his jaw clenched, he gained speed as he flew towards Winterfell. Caraxes cried out, feeling his anger, and the castle finally became visible.
He barely had a second to find Y/N's position —a white spot with dark hair on the battlements— when large bolts were fired in his direction. He evaded them effortlessly, knowing they couldn't get too close without becoming an easier target. Y/N had delivered what she had promised.
"Do not fly toward the castle yet!" he warned Rhaenys, flying next to her. "They have bloody scorpions."
She nodded and he flew away, four more bolts meant for Caraxes disappearing into the sky. He looked down, seeing their army finally meeting the one awaiting them at Winterfell, but something was wrong. He descended, focusing his purple eyes on their men, and noticed they were bloody and disordered, and some of them even tried to run away.
The anger brewing inside him grew into sheer fury. Frowning, he flew even lower, inspecting the men under his command as Caraxes dodged the bolts sent his way. This was the King's army? A bunch of cowards and useless boys, clashing against the Stark army on the front lines and being cut down as if they were nothing? Madness took over him as he uttered his command.
"Dracarys."
He didn't even bother to look at the battlements anymore, focusing solely on the front lines. He left a trail of fire as he burned both sides to death, wreaking havoc as the men screamed and tried to move backward, with nowhere to go. No, they would burn. He didn't care for cowards that couldn't even lift their swords properly against their enemy. And he definitely didn't care for Y/N's men, no matter how tough they were.
Dragons would win this battle.
The chaos he caused on the frontlines spread to the rest of the armies, but another rain of bolts forced Caraxes to fly higher and stop his attack. He focused back on the battle, noticing Seasmoke slowly flying away. They had managed to hurt him.
It was only then he realized Rhaenys was flying straight toward the battlements, toward Y/N. It looked like it was happening in slow motion; the Red Queen majestically burning everything in her path and directing her fury to the woman in command. He was unaware he had stopped breathing until his lungs begged him for fresh air. And then everything was happening at the speed of light again. Daemon wasn't thinking anymore, he was acting. He whispered a few words to Caraxes, determined to reach Meleys before it burned Y/N to death. Another round of bolts forced him to dodge and stay away once again.
He placed his hand on his armored chest, feeling the folded letter under it, as he watched what was about to happen.
He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
A sudden storm with rocks made of ice and cold rain fell upon them. Caraxes screeched in shock and pain, and Daemon placed his hand above his head to avoid getting hit by the stones, cursing himself for not bringing his helmet. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the battlements, searching for Y/N behind the rain and the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated her crown and he saw her standing there again.
She was alive.
He whispered a few words of comfort to Caraxes as he placed a hand on the scales of his neck, calming him down. He felt calm again as well.
But the battle was not over.
He would burn the rest of her army and force her to surrender.
"Dracarys!"
Letting the storm fall on him and his dragon, knowing he could weather it, he attacked again. This time his eyes searched for Y/N's, though.
And they finally met.
She looked at him briefly before turning around and leaving, and he didn't even know how, but he knew what she meant.
Agreeing, he ordered Caraxes to fly west, and as they left the battlefield the storm suddenly stopped and the skies were just grey. The grass was wet, but it wasn't raining anymore.
He saw her white figure a second before Caraxes landed before her, and he dismounted, walking to meet her again.
She stood before him dressed in a long white fur coat, with her hands holding each other, his ruby ring the only color to disrupt the white and grey vision before him. There was something different about her, Caraxes could feel it and he could too. Something magical. She held herself regally, her grey eyes bright yet emotionless as she watched him approach. His own eyes widened as he saw her crown shined with blue ice. Her direwolf stood next to her, as tall as she was.
She looked otherwordly. The smell of winter roses permeated the air. He stood there, admiring the sight before him. She had always been beautiful, yet she had never looked as divine as she did right then.
She truly looked like a Queen. A Queen of beauty and ice.
A Queen he would've gladly bent the knee to, had the circumstances been different.
"Daemon," she greeted, snapping him out of his trance.
"Y/N," he answered, studying her face. She looked as young as always. "Nice crown. How did you get it? Blood magic?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"I do not meddle with such things. You know it."
"You managed to injure a dragon and survive a deadly attack from another one. I am not sure I know anything about you anymore."
She smiled, lovingly but not without pride.
"I am Queen in the North now. Ice runs through my veins. But there is nothing supernatural about war strategy and a few well-made scorpions. I did warn you."
"What about the storm?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You should call yourself Queen of Ice. It appears that is what you are now."
She remained impassive.
"The Gods have granted me the power to win this battle, that is all," she explained, her hand reaching for her crown and taking it off. The ice melted immediately. "Any more questions?"
"Yes, actually. What is the plan now? Take down Meleys? Try to kill me?" he walked a few steps closer to her, his voice coming out as a whisper. "Because right now you're at a disadvantage, love."
Her stare remained cold as he approached her, not moving an inch.
"Take down Meleys and take you as a hostage to force the crown to back down," she stated. "We will let you go when spring comes."
He laughed in disbelief. Had Y/N forgotten who she was talking to? Her crown made of ice didn't change the fact he was still a dragon, and a proud one.
"I would rather be killed by your cunt lords than be your hostage."
Y/N smiled slightly.
"I figured as much. What is your plan then, Daemon?"
"I'm still undecided," he said simply. "I planned to go back, burn every single person still alive in Winterfell, and come get you."
"And take me where?"
He shrugged.
"Where do you want to go?"
Sadness passed briefly through her eyes before she composed herself again. Why was she trying so hard to play her role in front of him? He knew her as she was.
Yet he understood, partly. He had been sent to kill her. She had her own duties as well.
"You'll have to kill me to get back on that dragon, Daemon," she whispered. "I am not forcing you, I am asking you. Pretend to be our hostage. Live this winter by my side. You'll have chambers next to mine. I'll warm your bed at night."
He shook his head, wondering what had gotten into her. They both knew how this encounter had to end, and they were both trying to take a different path. Yet it seemed they couldn't even agree on that.
"And yet I'd still be a prisoner, away from Caraxes, away from everything I know."
"By my side," she insisted.
He laughed again, but it was far from funny. A Targaryen prince forced to spend months, or even years, inside a dark castle, unable to ride his own dragon, unable to feel the wind on his face as he flew above the clouds. History books would not be kind to him.
"My offer is to run away together, as equals," he said. "Yours is I become your prisoner. I think you know the answer, Y/N."
"Then there is no use in further negotiations."
There was a brief silence between them as they looked at each other.
Her grey eyes were sad but determined. She knew it was her duty as Queen to end the bloodshed.
And it was his as Prince, as the King's appointed commander, to end it as well. Even if he loved her.
His gaze hardened as he ordered his dragon to leave. There was no point in Caraxes being there to watch. Even if he commanded him to burn her to death, he wouldn't. The bond they shared was so strong Caraxes could do what Daemon needed without the need for verbal commands, yet that also meant he wouldn't obey his words if they weren't true to his heart.
"Caraxes, qrīdrughāks," he said. Then he looked at the woman in front of him. "No beasts. Just you and me."
Y/N nodded, looking at her wolf.
"Storm, go away."
Both their companions hesitated for a few seconds, and then Caraxes flew and Storm ran, both getting lost in less than a minute.
Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister as Y/N did the same with Ice, letting her crown fall to the ground. He cut at her immediately and the sound of swords clashing was heard as she met him halfway, their blades forced against each other as their eyes met.
"Are you sure you can fight with that sword?" he questioned. "It seems ridiculously large."
"It is also ridiculously light," she countered, getting out of the way and slashing at him again from his left.
She landed blow after blow at him, and he blocked all of them with ease. He knew how she fought. He sometimes joined her in the courtyard when she trained. She was by no means bad at it, but she wasn't as good as he was. And she was slowly starting to realize it as he made no attempts to attack and merely defended himself, not breaking a sweat.
Y/N halted her attack then, narrowing her eyes at him, and reached for her collar to unfasten her coat. It fell to the ground, leaving her dressed in a simple grey dress and a breastplate. She didn't stop looking at him as she got out of her armor with great difficulty, sticking her sword in the ground to do so. He lifted a brow as he looked at her, admiring her beauty, before deciding to follow her example. His armor was light, Valyrian steel, but if she was going to fight unprotected, so was he.
He made sure her letter was still kept in the inside pocket of his shirt before picking up his sword again.
She did the same, grabbing the skirts of her dress and bunching it up before slashing at it with her sword, letting parts of it fall to the ground. She ruined it, leaving the skirt cut unevenly and barely reaching her knees, allowing her to move more freely and allowing him to admire her boots. He wished she would take those off too, so he could take a look at her legs.
Finally, she let her scabbard fall to the ground with the rest of her clothes.
And then she came at him again, attempting to cut at him, and he stopped her. This time, though, he fought back. They went back and forth for a few minutes, as Y/N's skills improved drastically without the unnecessary baggage, and they were almost matched.
Almost.
After forcing her to walk back a few steps as he used all his force to cut at her, he finally managed to disarm her as her sword flew backward and fell to the ground. He pointed his own sword at the center of her chest and she lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender.
She was defeated.
He only had to end it now.
But then she raised an eyebrow at him with mischief and dipped to the ground, doing a barrel roll in his direction that ended with her clutching his legs with both arms, throwing him off balance.
Even then, he managed not to fall, using his sword as a cane to stay upright as his legs were forced together.
He hadn't forgotten Y/N's love of hand-to-hand combat, he just didn't expect it. He remembered she had shown him some moves once, explaining that since she, as a lady, almost never carried a sword, had to be a better fighter without blades. He had never taken it seriously. If your enemy has a sword and you have nothing, you are as good as dead, he had told her.
The problem was she was fucking good at it.
"Are you seriously going to fight me like this?" he asked, feeling her grip tightening.
She smirked at him from the ground, her arms refusing to let go of his legs.
"There is no such thing as a fair fight, Daemon," she said. "Scared you'll lose?"
He attempted to point his sword at her again, but the second he lifted it from the ground she moved like a gazelle, rising to elbow him in the gut with her right arm and catch his wrist with her left. As he gasped at the unexpected blow, she forcefully rotated his wrist as far as it would go. They exchanged looks as he refused to let go of his sword and grasped her hair with his left hand, pulling on it to try and bring her down. She clenched her jaw as she looked at him, clutching his wrist even harder and sinking her nails into his skin until she drew blood.
"What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" he hissed, trying to ignore the pain as blood started running down his arm.
Y/N didn't answer. She used her free arm to punch him square across the jaw and twisted his wrist even more until his hand couldn't hold his sword anymore. Dark Sister fell to the ground. Now both of them were disarmed. He turned to look at her again with fire in his eyes, refusing to let go of his grip on her hair. She might've managed to disarm him, but she couldn't expect to win against his brute force. He could knock her out with a punch if he wanted to.
"Winning," she said, at last. She finally allowed herself to fall, following the pull of her hair, and landed on her knees. He remained standing with her dark locks still held tightly in his hand.
"You're fucking mad," he whispered, watching as she pulled a dagger from inside her boot. He walked a step backward to avoid getting stabbed, pulling on her hair again even harder than before, forcing her to look up at him.
"And you fucking love me for it," she responded, raising the dagger to her head and slashing at her hair, freeing herself with one clean cut.
He looked at her as she stood up and then at his fist that still held strands of her long dark hair. He opened his hand, letting it fall with a soft smile on his face.
She was fucking right. He loved her, his wild wolf. And he loved her even more when she got her hands dirty.
She ran at him with the dagger raised and he stopped it midway through, catching her arm just before the blade could stab his neck. She attempted to punch him with her other hand, but he caught that one too. Their eyes connected once again, grey against purple, both determined to win this fight.
Her hair was now shoulder-length, still wet from the earlier rain, and he could see the sweat running down her forehead. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. And she looked at him with her brows furrowed, completely focused on defeating him. On killing him.
He felt himself getting aroused as they gazed at each other. She was always stunning when she was polished and ladylike, but she was fucking luscious when she was out for blood.
He would have let her kill him if it meant she would fuck him one last time.
It was a game of push and pull, he didn't let her go, and she changed strategies between trying to pull away and trying to hurt him.
"You're right," he admitted, his eyes wandering down her body. "I love you for it."
She seemed taken aback for just a second, which he used to twist her arm just as she had done to him previously, forcing her to let go of the dagger that fell to the ground. His grip was so tight he was sure he would leave bruises, not unlike the ones he had left on her hips and thighs once, after nights of incredible passion.
"You have me," she said, at last. Her arms let up as she leaned forward, her face getting closer to his. She raised a brow, challenging him. "Take me, then."
His eyes moved to her lips, soft and wet, waiting for him. He leaned down, kissing her with the passion of a man that knew this was the last time he would kiss the woman he loved. She kissed him back fervently, and for a moment it felt like nothing else existed in the world but the two of them, loving each other until the end of time.
That illusion was shattered as soon as they parted.
She kicked him in the groin with the full strength of her leg, forcing him to let go of her as she jumped him, wrapping herself around him and using her entire body weight to make him fall backward, falling on top of him.
He groaned, cursing under his breath, and closed his eyes briefly as the pain of the fall slowly faded away. The feeling of a cold blade against his neck made him open them again.
Y/N sat on top of him, with her legs around his torso, as she held the dagger to his throat. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, and he swallowed, waiting for her to do her duty.
Yet she took too long, and that was enough for him to flip them over, making her lose her dagger again as they exchanged positions. He took the blade in his hands and traced a pattern down her neck with it.
"You shouldn't have hesitated," he whispered, looking into her eyes. It pained him he had to take the life out of them. The bright, grey eyes he loved so much. "Never hesitate."
"Then why do you?" she asked, sprawled underneath him, defeated.
He didn't have a chance to answer as the distant sound of horse hooves approaching distracted him. They both looked as three men on horses made their way toward them, dressed in the simple silver armor of the northerners.
"Harm her, and I will run you over with my horse until you're dead!" shouted the old, white-haired man that reached them first.
Daemon lifted his hands in the air, signaling he meant no harm, and let the dagger fall to the ground once again. Y/N moved under him, sitting up.
"Lord Karstark," she greeted. "What is going on?"
"The battle is won, Your Grace," he said, dismounting. He drew his sword at Daemon, who looked around only to find Dark Sister completely out of reach. And he had no idea where Caraxes was.
"How many men did we lose?" she asked after Daemon helped her up, making her way toward her men.
Y/N punched his leg, mouthing at him to get up. He did, offering her his hand so she could do the same. There was no point in continuing the fight now, he had no way of winning.
He was relieved.
He noticed the old man's demeanor turned even more serious then.
"Almost all of them, my Queen," he answered.
He couldn't see Y/N's expression from behind her, but he could guess she was harboring immense guilt. Thousands of her men had died in a useless quest.
"What of Rhaenys?" Daemon asked, stepping forward. "The other dragon. What happened to it?"
The Karstark man and Y/N exchanged a look as she nodded at him almost imperceptibly, and he proceeded to answer.
"An archer managed to wound her and she flew away."
"Wound her?" he questioned. "How badly?"
Silence.
"Will Princess Rhaenys survive, Lord Karstark?" Y/N asked. "Her death means we should expect an attack from both Houses Targaryen and Velaryon."
"It was an arrow to her neck," the old man responded. "She was wounded enough that her dragon carried her away. I can't tell if she will survive or not."
"You can expect an attack from both Houses just for wounding her, anyway," Daemon interjected.
Y/N turned to look at him with empty eyes.
"Then there is no point in keeping you alive, is there?" she asked. She looked at her men then, who had also dismounted their horses. "Shackle him. I shall execute him at sunrise, in Winterfell."
He admired her display of strength and leadership; no wonder they had named her their Queen. Yet he wondered if she was speaking the truth and was finally ready to do her duty, or if she would try to find a way around it again.
He felt the heavy iron of one of the shackles tightening around his right wrist as her two guards surrounded him.
"Tighter," she instructed. "And behind his back. Do not underestimate him."
"I can't ride a horse to Winterfell with my hands behind my back, my Queen," he mocked with a bow of his head.
"That won't be a problem," she said simply. "Winterfell is not far. We will walk."
The walk lasted less than an hour, in complete silence, with Y/N and Karstark leading. The literal shackles were more uncomfortable than the metaphorical ones Y/N kept bringing up.
When they finally arrived, the battlefield was barely visible because of the fog and the smoke. Yet there was something that made Y/N stop in her tracks, and everybody else did as well. Daemon walked until he reached her side, noticing her eyes were fixed on the scene in front of her. What was she looking at?
And then he saw it.
Men, dead men, rising to their feet and walking around. Headless men, men without arms, men burned to a crisp. They walked.
"What is happening?" Y/N whispered, so low he could barely hear it.
"This is..." Karstark started to speak and shut up, not knowing how to continue.
Daemon walked one step forward, his purple eyes unable to look away.
"Y/N..." he said. "What did you do?"
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Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.
Type: multichapter series
Chapter: six
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader
Word count: 4488
Warnings: swearing, violence.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Marching to war with an army of useless buffoons hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences. It had taken almost a month to do it on foot. He had proposed they just rode their dragons to avoid precisely that, yet the fact that only three were fully grown and available to fight had forced them to assemble an army of men.
It turned out that hadn't been as easy as expected. Otto Hightower's brother had no choice but to answer the King's call considering the green snake's position in court, but the Stormlands and Westerlands hadn't been as agreeable. Ten thousand men from House Baratheon had cost them a seat in the small council, and fifteen thousand from the Lannisters... that had cost them Rhaenyra's hand, promised to Lord Jason Lannister. His niece had begged her parents not to, hollering that she would ride Syrax to war instead. Daemon would've allowed it —another dragon was worth fifteen thousand Lannister imbeciles— yet Viserys and Aemma refused. The Velaryons' strength was their fleet, which they couldn't unman, but their contribution was more than enough: two dragons.
He had forced the army to march nonstop for hours, only allowing them to rest five hours at night. There were complaints, but neither Rhaenys nor Laenor had dared say anything, so he ignored them. And after the first Lannister that publicly whined about it was devoured by Caraxes, the men became incredibly quiet. They could rest when they were dead.
It was the sudden snow that had forced them to make camp and reorganize themselves. They were expecting winter, just not yet, and not so cold. It gave the men a break for a day and a half.
He flew Caraxes as the first snow fell, letting himself get lost in the cold and the misty skies. As he closed his eyes and let his dragon guide him through the clouds, he imagined Y/N's arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tight. She had never ridden Caraxes with him, despite accompanying him to the dragonpit many times to see him off and welcome him back.
It will be too obvious and I do not wish to be questioned on my virtue, she had said. I will ride with you once we're free from these shackles.
Now the opportunity was gone forever, and the shackles had become even tighter around their wrists. He placed his hand on his armored chest, where he kept her letter, just beneath the steel.
They were supposed to be together, to face adversities side by side, not fight each other. Maybe if she had been a dragon riding Targaryen instead of a wolf they could've run off together. Why did he even harbor feelings for a woman so different from him? There was not a single drop of blood of Old Valyria in her, yet her aura was just as magical. Whenever their fingers touched, and their eyes connected, he felt it deep inside him. A bond similar to the one he had with Caraxes, one that didn't need words for understanding, and was just as deep. Y/N was part of him and his life just as his own dragon was, forever. He dared say she was even more important. If Caraxes was one of his limbs, Y/N was his beating heart.
It had taken them nine more days walking under the storm to reach Winterfell. As he mounted Caraxes, ready to fly towards the castle, he noticed his hands shaking. He cursed under his breath, forcefully grabbed the reins, and disappeared into the sky.
What was wrong with him? He had been tasked to lead the army with Caraxes, and his hands were shaking? What was he, a fucking idiot knight that had never even jousted before? With his jaw clenched, he gained speed as he flew towards Winterfell. Caraxes cried out, feeling his anger, and the castle finally became visible.
He barely had a second to find Y/N's position —a white spot with dark hair on the battlements— when large bolts were fired in his direction. He evaded them effortlessly, knowing they couldn't get too close without becoming an easier target. Y/N had delivered what she had promised.
"Do not fly toward the castle yet!" he warned Rhaenys, flying next to her. "They have bloody scorpions."
She nodded and he flew away, four more bolts meant for Caraxes disappearing into the sky. He looked down, seeing their army finally meeting the one awaiting them at Winterfell, but something was wrong. He descended, focusing his purple eyes on their men, and noticed they were bloody and disordered, and some of them even tried to run away.
The anger brewing inside him grew into sheer fury. Frowning, he flew even lower, inspecting the men under his command as Caraxes dodged the bolts sent his way. This was the King's army? A bunch of cowards and useless boys, clashing against the Stark army on the front lines and being cut down as if they were nothing? Madness took over him as he uttered his command.
"Dracarys."
He didn't even bother to look at the battlements anymore, focusing solely on the front lines. He left a trail of fire as he burned both sides to death, wreaking havoc as the men screamed and tried to move backward, with nowhere to go. No, they would burn. He didn't care for cowards that couldn't even lift their swords properly against their enemy. And he definitely didn't care for Y/N's men, no matter how tough they were.
Dragons would win this battle.
The chaos he caused on the frontlines spread to the rest of the armies, but another rain of bolts forced Caraxes to fly higher and stop his attack. He focused back on the battle, noticing Seasmoke slowly flying away. They had managed to hurt him.
It was only then he realized Rhaenys was flying straight toward the battlements, toward Y/N. It looked like it was happening in slow motion; the Red Queen majestically burning everything in her path and directing her fury to the woman in command. He was unaware he had stopped breathing until his lungs begged him for fresh air. And then everything was happening at the speed of light again. Daemon wasn't thinking anymore, he was acting. He whispered a few words to Caraxes, determined to reach Meleys before it burned Y/N to death. Another round of bolts forced him to dodge and stay away once again.
He placed his hand on his armored chest, feeling the folded letter under it, as he watched what was about to happen.
He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
A sudden storm with rocks made of ice and cold rain fell upon them. Caraxes screeched in shock and pain, and Daemon placed his hand above his head to avoid getting hit by the stones, cursing himself for not bringing his helmet. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the battlements, searching for Y/N behind the rain and the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated her crown and he saw her standing there again.
She was alive.
He whispered a few words of comfort to Caraxes as he placed a hand on the scales of his neck, calming him down. He felt calm again as well.
But the battle was not over.
He would burn the rest of her army and force her to surrender.
"Dracarys!"
Letting the storm fall on him and his dragon, knowing he could weather it, he attacked again. This time his eyes searched for Y/N's, though.
And they finally met.
She looked at him briefly before turning around and leaving, and he didn't even know how, but he knew what she meant.
Agreeing, he ordered Caraxes to fly west, and as they left the battlefield the storm suddenly stopped and the skies were just grey. The grass was wet, but it wasn't raining anymore.
He saw her white figure a second before Caraxes landed before her, and he dismounted, walking to meet her again.
She stood before him dressed in a long white fur coat, with her hands holding each other, his ruby ring the only color to disrupt the white and grey vision before him. There was something different about her, Caraxes could feel it and he could too. Something magical. She held herself regally, her grey eyes bright yet emotionless as she watched him approach. His own eyes widened as he saw her crown shined with blue ice. Her direwolf stood next to her, as tall as she was.
She looked otherwordly. The smell of winter roses permeated the air. He stood there, admiring the sight before him. She had always been beautiful, yet she had never looked as divine as she did right then.
She truly looked like a Queen. A Queen of beauty and ice.
A Queen he would've gladly bent the knee to, had the circumstances been different.
"Daemon," she greeted, snapping him out of his trance.
"Y/N," he answered, studying her face. She looked as young as always. "Nice crown. How did you get it? Blood magic?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"I do not meddle with such things. You know it."
"You managed to injure a dragon and survive a deadly attack from another one. I am not sure I know anything about you anymore."
She smiled, lovingly but not without pride.
"I am Queen in the North now. Ice runs through my veins. But there is nothing supernatural about war strategy and a few well-made scorpions. I did warn you."
"What about the storm?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You should call yourself Queen of Ice. It appears that is what you are now."
She remained impassive.
"The Gods have granted me the power to win this battle, that is all," she explained, her hand reaching for her crown and taking it off. The ice melted immediately. "Any more questions?"
"Yes, actually. What is the plan now? Take down Meleys? Try to kill me?" he walked a few steps closer to her, his voice coming out as a whisper. "Because right now you're at a disadvantage, love."
Her stare remained cold as he approached her, not moving an inch.
"Take down Meleys and take you as a hostage to force the crown to back down," she stated. "We will let you go when spring comes."
He laughed in disbelief. Had Y/N forgotten who she was talking to? Her crown made of ice didn't change the fact he was still a dragon, and a proud one.
"I would rather be killed by your cunt lords than be your hostage."
Y/N smiled slightly.
"I figured as much. What is your plan then, Daemon?"
"I'm still undecided," he said simply. "I planned to go back, burn every single person still alive in Winterfell, and come get you."
"And take me where?"
He shrugged.
"Where do you want to go?"
Sadness passed briefly through her eyes before she composed herself again. Why was she trying so hard to play her role in front of him? He knew her as she was.
Yet he understood, partly. He had been sent to kill her. She had her own duties as well.
"You'll have to kill me to get back on that dragon, Daemon," she whispered. "I am not forcing you, I am asking you. Pretend to be our hostage. Live this winter by my side. You'll have chambers next to mine. I'll warm your bed at night."
He shook his head, wondering what had gotten into her. They both knew how this encounter had to end, and they were both trying to take a different path. Yet it seemed they couldn't even agree on that.
"And yet I'd still be a prisoner, away from Caraxes, away from everything I know."
"By my side," she insisted.
He laughed again, but it was far from funny. A Targaryen prince forced to spend months, or even years, inside a dark castle, unable to ride his own dragon, unable to feel the wind on his face as he flew above the clouds. History books would not be kind to him.
"My offer is to run away together, as equals," he said. "Yours is I become your prisoner. I think you know the answer, Y/N."
"Then there is no use in further negotiations."
There was a brief silence between them as they looked at each other.
Her grey eyes were sad but determined. She knew it was her duty as Queen to end the bloodshed.
And it was his as Prince, as the King's appointed commander, to end it as well. Even if he loved her.
His gaze hardened as he ordered his dragon to leave. There was no point in Caraxes being there to watch. Even if he commanded him to burn her to death, he wouldn't. The bond they shared was so strong Caraxes could do what Daemon needed without the need for verbal commands, yet that also meant he wouldn't obey his words if they weren't true to his heart.
"Caraxes, qrīdrughāks," he said. Then he looked at the woman in front of him. "No beasts. Just you and me."
Y/N nodded, looking at her wolf.
"Storm, go away."
Both their companions hesitated for a few seconds, and then Caraxes flew and Storm ran, both getting lost in less than a minute.
Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister as Y/N did the same with Ice, letting her crown fall to the ground. He cut at her immediately and the sound of swords clashing was heard as she met him halfway, their blades forced against each other as their eyes met.
"Are you sure you can fight with that sword?" he questioned. "It seems ridiculously large."
"It is also ridiculously light," she countered, getting out of the way and slashing at him again from his left.
She landed blow after blow at him, and he blocked all of them with ease. He knew how she fought. He sometimes joined her in the courtyard when she trained. She was by no means bad at it, but she wasn't as good as he was. And she was slowly starting to realize it as he made no attempts to attack and merely defended himself, not breaking a sweat.
Y/N halted her attack then, narrowing her eyes at him, and reached for her collar to unfasten her coat. It fell to the ground, leaving her dressed in a simple grey dress and a breastplate. She didn't stop looking at him as she got out of her armor with great difficulty, sticking her sword in the ground to do so. He lifted a brow as he looked at her, admiring her beauty, before deciding to follow her example. His armor was light, Valyrian steel, but if she was going to fight unprotected, so was he.
He made sure her letter was still kept in the inside pocket of his shirt before picking up his sword again.
She did the same, grabbing the skirts of her dress and bunching it up before slashing at it with her sword, letting parts of it fall to the ground. She ruined it, leaving the skirt cut unevenly and barely reaching her knees, allowing her to move more freely and allowing him to admire her boots. He wished she would take those off too, so he could take a look at her legs.
Finally, she let her scabbard fall to the ground with the rest of her clothes.
And then she came at him again, attempting to cut at him, and he stopped her. This time, though, he fought back. They went back and forth for a few minutes, as Y/N's skills improved drastically without the unnecessary baggage, and they were almost matched.
Almost.
After forcing her to walk back a few steps as he used all his force to cut at her, he finally managed to disarm her as her sword flew backward and fell to the ground. He pointed his own sword at the center of her chest and she lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender.
She was defeated.
He only had to end it now.
But then she raised an eyebrow at him with mischief and dipped to the ground, doing a barrel roll in his direction that ended with her clutching his legs with both arms, throwing him off balance.
Even then, he managed not to fall, using his sword as a cane to stay upright as his legs were forced together.
He hadn't forgotten Y/N's love of hand-to-hand combat, he just didn't expect it. He remembered she had shown him some moves once, explaining that since she, as a lady, almost never carried a sword, had to be a better fighter without blades. He had never taken it seriously. If your enemy has a sword and you have nothing, you are as good as dead, he had told her.
The problem was she was fucking good at it.
"Are you seriously going to fight me like this?" he asked, feeling her grip tightening.
She smirked at him from the ground, her arms refusing to let go of his legs.
"There is no such thing as a fair fight, Daemon," she said. "Scared you'll lose?"
He attempted to point his sword at her again, but the second he lifted it from the ground she moved like a gazelle, rising to elbow him in the gut with her right arm and catch his wrist with her left. As he gasped at the unexpected blow, she forcefully rotated his wrist as far as it would go. They exchanged looks as he refused to let go of his sword and grasped her hair with his left hand, pulling on it to try and bring her down. She clenched her jaw as she looked at him, clutching his wrist even harder and sinking her nails into his skin until she drew blood.
"What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" he hissed, trying to ignore the pain as blood started running down his arm.
Y/N didn't answer. She used her free arm to punch him square across the jaw and twisted his wrist even more until his hand couldn't hold his sword anymore. Dark Sister fell to the ground. Now both of them were disarmed. He turned to look at her again with fire in his eyes, refusing to let go of his grip on her hair. She might've managed to disarm him, but she couldn't expect to win against his brute force. He could knock her out with a punch if he wanted to.
"Winning," she said, at last. She finally allowed herself to fall, following the pull of her hair, and landed on her knees. He remained standing with her dark locks still held tightly in his hand.
"You're fucking mad," he whispered, watching as she pulled a dagger from inside her boot. He walked a step backward to avoid getting stabbed, pulling on her hair again even harder than before, forcing her to look up at him.
"And you fucking love me for it," she responded, raising the dagger to her head and slashing at her hair, freeing herself with one clean cut.
He looked at her as she stood up and then at his fist that still held strands of her long dark hair. He opened his hand, letting it fall with a soft smile on his face.
She was fucking right. He loved her, his wild wolf. And he loved her even more when she got her hands dirty.
She ran at him with the dagger raised and he stopped it midway through, catching her arm just before the blade could stab his neck. She attempted to punch him with her other hand, but he caught that one too. Their eyes connected once again, grey against purple, both determined to win this fight.
Her hair was now shoulder-length, still wet from the earlier rain, and he could see the sweat running down her forehead. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. And she looked at him with her brows furrowed, completely focused on defeating him. On killing him.
He felt himself getting aroused as they gazed at each other. She was always stunning when she was polished and ladylike, but she was fucking luscious when she was out for blood.
He would have let her kill him if it meant she would fuck him one last time.
It was a game of push and pull, he didn't let her go, and she changed strategies between trying to pull away and trying to hurt him.
"You're right," he admitted, his eyes wandering down her body. "I love you for it."
She seemed taken aback for just a second, which he used to twist her arm just as she had done to him previously, forcing her to let go of the dagger that fell to the ground. His grip was so tight he was sure he would leave bruises, not unlike the ones he had left on her hips and thighs once, after nights of incredible passion.
"You have me," she said, at last. Her arms let up as she leaned forward, her face getting closer to his. She raised a brow, challenging him. "Take me, then."
His eyes moved to her lips, soft and wet, waiting for him. He leaned down, kissing her with the passion of a man that knew this was the last time he would kiss the woman he loved. She kissed him back fervently, and for a moment it felt like nothing else existed in the world but the two of them, loving each other until the end of time.
That illusion was shattered as soon as they parted.
She kicked him in the groin with the full strength of her leg, forcing him to let go of her as she jumped him, wrapping herself around him and using her entire body weight to make him fall backward, falling on top of him.
He groaned, cursing under his breath, and closed his eyes briefly as the pain of the fall slowly faded away. The feeling of a cold blade against his neck made him open them again.
Y/N sat on top of him, with her legs around his torso, as she held the dagger to his throat. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, and he swallowed, waiting for her to do her duty.
Yet she took too long, and that was enough for him to flip them over, making her lose her dagger again as they exchanged positions. He took the blade in his hands and traced a pattern down her neck with it.
"You shouldn't have hesitated," he whispered, looking into her eyes. It pained him he had to take the life out of them. The bright, grey eyes he loved so much. "Never hesitate."
"Then why do you?" she asked, sprawled underneath him, defeated.
He didn't have a chance to answer as the distant sound of horse hooves approaching distracted him. They both looked as three men on horses made their way toward them, dressed in the simple silver armor of the northerners.
"Harm her, and I will run you over with my horse until you're dead!" shouted the old, white-haired man that reached them first.
Daemon lifted his hands in the air, signaling he meant no harm, and let the dagger fall to the ground once again. Y/N moved under him, sitting up.
"Lord Karstark," she greeted. "What is going on?"
"The battle is won, Your Grace," he said, dismounting. He drew his sword at Daemon, who looked around only to find Dark Sister completely out of reach. And he had no idea where Caraxes was.
Y/N punched his leg, mouthing at him to get up. He did, offering her his hand so she could do the same. There was no point in continuing the fight now, he had no way of winning.
He was relieved.
"How many men did we lose?" she asked after Daemon helped her up, making her way toward her men.
He noticed the old man's demeanor turned even more serious then.
"Almost all of them, my Queen," he answered.
He couldn't see Y/N's expression from behind her, but he could guess she was harboring immense guilt. Thousands of her men had died in a useless quest.
"What of Rhaenys?" Daemon asked, stepping forward. "The other dragon. What happened to it?"
The Karstark man and Y/N exchanged a look as she nodded at him almost imperceptibly, and he proceeded to answer.
"An archer managed to wound her and she flew away."
"Wound her?" he questioned. "How badly?"
Silence.
"Will Princess Rhaenys survive, Lord Karstark?" Y/N asked. "Her death means we should expect an attack from both Houses Targaryen and Velaryon."
"It was an arrow to her neck," the old man responded. "She was wounded enough that her dragon carried her away. I can't tell if she will survive or not."
"You can expect an attack from both Houses just for wounding her, anyway," Daemon interjected.
Y/N turned to look at him with empty eyes.
"Then there is no point in keeping you alive, is there?" she asked. She looked at her men then, who had also dismounted their horses. "Shackle him. I shall execute him at sunrise, in Winterfell."
He admired her display of strength and leadership; no wonder they had named her their Queen. Yet he wondered if she was speaking the truth and was finally ready to do her duty, or if she would try to find a way around it again.
He felt the heavy iron of one of the shackles tightening around his right wrist as her two guards surrounded him.
"Tighter," she instructed. "And behind his back. Do not underestimate him."
"I can't ride a horse to Winterfell with my hands behind my back, my Queen," he mocked with a bow of his head.
"That won't be a problem," she said simply. "Winterfell is not far. We will walk."
The walk lasted less than an hour, in complete silence, with Y/N and Karstark leading. The literal shackles were more uncomfortable than the metaphorical ones Y/N kept bringing up.
When they finally arrived, the battlefield was barely visible because of the fog and the smoke. Yet there was something that made Y/N stop in her tracks, and everybody else did as well. Daemon walked until he reached her side, noticing her eyes were fixed on the scene in front of her. What was she looking at?
And then he saw it.
Men, dead men, rising to their feet and walking around. Headless men, men without arms, men burned to a crisp. They walked.
"What is happening?" Y/N whispered, so low he could barely hear it.
"This is..." Karstark started to speak and shut up, not knowing how to continue.
Daemon walked one step forward, his purple eyes unable to look away.
"Y/N..." he said. "What did you do?"
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Next chapter.
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TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.
hii love ! i love queen of ice and prince of fire & wanted to ask if you could add me to your taglist? i‘m obsessed & super excited for part 6 !! <333
Hey hun!! Thank you soooo much for your kind words!! Tumblr for some reason isn't allowing me to tag more people, that's why I post the fic under the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire here on tumblr so people can follow it if they wish, and I also have my buymeacoffee page where I post what I'm working on and when I post a new chapter I send an email notification to my followers (you don't have to pay).
I’m split between an angsty ending and a happy one. Would daemon want to marry and become a ruler of the north then it would be so sad if one had to kill the other. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!
I definitely want it to be original in its own way. I'm working on it.
IDK what happened with the algorithm for the last chapter that nobody read it, so I hope tumblr doesn't fuck it up with part 6 lmao
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