hii!! could you write something witj daemon where you tell him you’re pregnant or he somehow finds out (through your the dragons or something…) thank u!!! 💕
Hi! I'm so sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it.
This could not be happening.
You were dreaming. Yes, that must be it. This is all a dream, and in a second you're going to wake up and all will be well.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times you pinch yourself, you don’t wake up.
'And there's no way you could be wrong?' You question the healer.
She's an old lady with matted hair pulled into two plaits. The mole on her chin stares up at you from her spot on the floor. She's hunched over a tiny stove, fiddling with as a handful of kindling.
Two beady black eyes follow the mole as she scoffs.
Her response elicits a sigh from you as you close your eyes. You're pregnant, again.
The last time you got lucky, as you had barely gotten the confirmation from the healer before it passed.
You actually cried when it happened. Hands balled into fists as you sat over the toilet.
The relief followed soon after. And now, here you were, in the same situation. Yet this time, you didn't think you'd be so lucky.
You head for the door, needing some fresh air to clear your head, but the thwack of a wooden cane against your knee stops you.
Pain erupts from the spot, and you bend down to rub at it as you screech, 'Ah, what was that for?'
'No leaving til you pay.' The words are punctuated, her thick accent emphasizing them even more as she repeats them.
She sighs as she sees the look on your face, and her beady eyes take on a soft look.
'If you want to get rid of it, I can help you.'
You turn sharply at that, eyes raking over her face. ‘What do you mean?'
'I have a cousin. It would be a long ride, a very very long ride, but if you want it, I can arrange.'
You’d heard of it, of women doing something like this. The stories you’d heard were horrible, many died, and of those that lived, few were ever able to have children of their own.
She holds her hand out as you nod slowly in understanding, hands digging into your pockets before fishing out a few coins.
You shuffle your hand slowly, listening to the coins jingle before dropping them into her waiting palm.
The loss of their weight in your hands hits you like a punch in the gut.
A whole month of pay down the drain.
With that, the lady smiles at you gleefully. It pains you, the way she smiles down at the few gold coins in her hand. But all that disappears from your mind when, in less than a second, you find yourself turned around and shoved out the door. It closes behind you with a sound thump.
The air is bitter cold, and it bites your cheeks as you push through the crowded streets, eyes set straight ahead.
You pull your hood lower on your head as you approach the castle. Daemon has spies everywhere, and it will do you no good if he finds out you left unsupervised. It would be even worse if he knew where you went.
The subject of children had never come up between the two of you. And why should it? You were nothing but a maid, someone who had caught Daemon’s fancy a few months ago.
The halls are quiet, not a soul in sight as your feet trace the familiar route to your room. You nibble at the skin on your thumb - a bad habit you've had since you were a child - as you walk. You're just outside the door when it comes, a maid running down the hall with a single slip of paper. She thrusts it into your hands, and then she's off, nothing more than a pale orange blur as she streaks down the hall and out of your sight.
For a second, you debate on just throwing away the note. After all, you could always say that it never reached you.
You scramble it open with cold hands, fear filling your veins as you read it.
He doesn't sign, and he doesn't need to.
It takes twice as long as it normally would to reach Daemon's room.
You knock softly, tucking your shaking hands behind your back as you wait.
The door opens, one hand coming out to grab you and pull you inside. The door closes with a thump, giving you an odd sense of deja vu.
You don’t have time to think about it before Daemon’s in front of you. His hands are everywhere, lips attacking yours hungrily before leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck.
‘Daemon…’ you trail off, voice wavering slightly. ‘What are…what are you doing?’
‘What does it look like?’ He purrs, cornering you against the wall as his nose nuzzles up and down your throat.
Against your better judgement, a breathy moan leaves your mouth. Your hands come up to his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as you give it a sharp tug.
The resounding growl against your throat makes you smile.
Daemon steps back then, purple eyes on fire as he takes in your panting form.
You flush under his intense gaze, hands coming to pat against your warm cheeks. You turn, intent on moving past him and reaching the safe haven that is your room, but before you can a heavy arm blocks your path.
'Where are you going?' His voice is genuine, laced with confusion.
'Really?' He asks, moving behind you and lacing his arms around your front. His nose grazes against your neck again before stopping just short of your ear.
'And why would you do that?'
Desire pools in your stomach as he continues, lips soon replacing his nose. He presses chaste kisses there, sometimes following them up with tiny love bites that he soothes over with his tongue.
'Daemon we can't...not tonight okay.' Your voice is weak, the ends of your words trailing off into breathy moans as he finds that one spot on your neck that makes you see stars.
He freezes at that but makes no move to loosen his hold.
'I'm on...I'm on monthly.'
Daemon's hold on you loosens a little. He moves around to face your front, hands coming up to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ears.
'Hmm, that could make things...interesting.'
You blush furiously at his insinuation. 'Um, no. It's really more cramps, and I just...I don't feel good, so I'm gonna...I'm gonna go.'
You push through his hold, moving towards the door. A hand slams the door shut just as you open it. You whirl, turning to face him as he caves in on you.
'Stay here,' he whispers, and it takes everything in you to keep the surprise on your face to a minimum.
Daemon isn’t one to be soft, so this is…shocking. Your heart thumps in your chest as you stare at him. He’s messing with you, he must be, there’s no way he can mean for you to stay here as more than a…a nice fuck. Can he?
‘Um…what…what do you mean?’ Your voice is airy, the question impeccably soft on your tongue.
He leans in closer, gesturing slightly with his head toward the roaring fire.
It does look comforting, you think. The seat in front of the fire so warm and toasty, and so, so different from your tiny, cramped room.
‘Just to…just to sleep?’ Your tone is hesitant, and you hope it doesn’t betray your worries.
It doesn’t work, and Daemon’s brows furrow, purple eyes narrowing as he searches your face. For what? You don’t know.
‘What do you think? That I would manipulate you with false promises just to get in your pants?’
‘Daemon, that is absolutely something you would do.’
‘Yeah, but not…not for you.’ His voice is…sad, as if he feels accused. Well, as sad as you think Daemon can get. He is still Daemon, after all.
You bring a hand up to trace his hairline. He takes a hold of it, moving your hand to press against his cheek. Almost instinctively, he leans into it, inhaling deeply as his whole being deflates, and, for the first time, he seems almost truly relaxed.
You sigh. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll give him a chance. You’re playing with fire, you think, but you can’t help it.
He sighs out, seemingly relieved, before tugging on your hands. He catches your eyes, smiling slightly, wolfishly, as he walks backward toward the chair by the fire.
Your hands are still connected, so when he moves, you move, and before you know it you’re sat in front of the fire, curled up on Daemon’s lap.
You’re not entirely surprised. There is only one chair. But you are surprised at how he wraps his arms around you, completely encasing you against him.
His breath is in your ear, and he’s warm. So warm. You can’t help but snuggle down further into his embrace, and the low growl that sounds in response tells you he may be enjoying it as much as you.
A long inhale breaks your blissful silence, and your eyes shoot open.
‘Something’s different.’ The words catch you off guard, and you turn slightly, moving so you can look up at Daemon. The confusion in his eyes mirrors your own.
‘Your scent.’ It’s a statement and a question, and you frown in confusion. The healer’s hut couldn't smell that bad, could it?
Just to be sure, you lean toward the crook of your elbow and give it a sniff. As far as you can tell, you smell fine.
‘Well, what does it smell like?’
Daemon doesn’t answer, too busy staring into the fire.
Shrugging your shoulders, you let it go, grateful to resume your snuggling.
You’re almost asleep when Daemon shifts, one arm coming down to the wine bottle on the floor.
You hadn’t noticed it before, but smile slightly as he leans down again and an ornate glass comes into view.
Your eyes are blurry with sleep, but even so, you keep them open as you watch him pour. The wine is smooth, dark, and…pungent.
It takes all of three seconds for your stomach to connect to your brain before you’re up and running.
The bathroom’s too far away, so you make do with the next best thing: there’s a bucket on the floor. You don’t know what’s in it, and you don’t have the time to check before you’re leaned over it, dropping to your knees with a rough thump as bile comes flooding down your throat
How could this have happened? It had never bothered you before. It…the baby. The damn baby! Part of you chides yourself for cursing at your unborn child no matter how untimely it is, but the other part…the other part shrinks in fear.
The nausea gone, you sit back on your hunches. The room is silent, deathly silent, as you sit still, not turning around for fear of what you’ll see.
Is it possible for him not to put two and two together?
Just play it off as an illness. That’s all you have to do.
Yes, that, and lie, your mind is quick to remind you. Lie to the one person who can always tell when someone’s lying.
You inhale deeply, prepared to turn, when a hand comes out of nowhere holding a glass of water.
You take it, nodding a silent thanks without turning your head before you drink, spitting the first few out in an effort to rid your mouth of the ghastly taste.
A hand rests on your shoulder as you finish, and you freeze. Your heart begins to race as you sit there.
And then he’s kneeling, dropping to his knees before he moves to mirror your position. His thighs are around yours. Encasing. Protecting.
Hands come up to your neck, collecting your hair and bundling it onto one shoulder, freeing up the other for him to rest his chin on.
It would be comforting if not for the ice-cold fear pulsing through your veins.
If you froze before, it’s nothing compared to what happens now. You can feel the blood drain from your face as your hands begin to shake. Unfortunately, this time you can’t tuck them behind your back.
A pale, much larger one comes to encase them, and you watch it, afraid to turn and meet the eyes of its owner.
Your voice is soft, laced with fear. The hand holding yours squeezes, his other coming to press softly against your hip.
It’s meant to be reassuring, you know it is, but still, you can’t help but shiver in fear at the contact. It’s just so foreign. Daemon is not one to be gentle, to settle down with one woman, never mind a maid.
A snort on your shoulder brings you back, and it dawns on you that Daemon is waiting. But waiting for what?
‘Have I offended you, my prince?’
Reverting to his title is your little safety net, a way to put some distance between the two of you despite the warmth of his chest on your back.
Your voice is shaking, and inwardly, your curse and how feeble you sound.
A chuckle vibrates through his chest. You feel it before you hear it, jaw dropping slightly in surprise even as you keep your gaze strictly pointed ahead.
It’s not the cackle you’d expect. It’s warm. A barely there chuckle that’s gentle and reassuring and makes you melt inside.
It dies off, replaced with a smile. You can’t see it, but you can feel it as he turns to press his face in your neck.
It quickly turns into wet, warm kisses that he pecks across your neck.
Your hands come up to his neck, inadvertently pressing him closer to you even when your mind screams at you to stop.
He doesn’t. And it isn’t until you’re left a giggling, blushing mess that he finally backs off, sitting back with a proud look on his face as he turns you around to face him.
The smile dies off your face at that, and your heart’s hammering so loudly you fear it may burst out of your chest and go running out the door.
You keep your eyes leveled at his chest, adamantly refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
You can feel them on you, begging you to meet them.
Slim fingers come to grip your chin, pulling your face up until the two of you are eye-level. He leans in, pressing your foreheads together and nudging his nose against yours.
He’s edging for your lips, but you freeze, body refusing to lean in and meet him. Like anything with Daemon, he quickly loses his patience, mouth moving to capture yours.
He’s like air. You need him, and no matter how much you get you’ll always need more.
You don’t know how many minutes pass before you stop, leaning back with a gasp as you struggle to let air into your lungs.
It’s not but a nanosecond later that he leans in again, but you scramble back.
You don’t want to. His lips call to you like a siren, and damn, do they have you ensnared by their song.
But a queasiness in your stomachs stops you. You can’t keep doing this.
‘What’s wrong?’ His tone is in disbelief. Like he can’t imagine why you’re reacting the way you are.
‘I can’t go on like…like nothing’s happened!’ You finally say, voice raising an octave as the tears prick your eyes again.
Your hands clench in fists at your side as you meet his eyes again. They’re unreadable, but sad. Melancholic almost.
Something in them makes your heart lurch.
He turns, staring into the fire, body tense and unreadable.
‘You are…unhappy about it?’
He turns sharply, purple eyes on fire.
‘Why would I be? This is our child, my child, we are talking about.’
‘Yes, and a bastard at that.’
He scoffs, stalking up to you. You’re still sat on the floor, and can do nothing but watch as he crouches in front of you. His hands come to trace up your neck as he leans in.
He comes in to kiss you again, but you cut him off with your hand. You can’t let yourself get distracted again.
You almost laugh at how Daemon looks, his lips smashed up against the palm of your hand as his eyes widen in confusion.
‘What exactly do you mean by that?’
‘What do you think? I intend to make you my wife…’
Now it’s your turn to scoff. There’s no way in hell.
‘And when did this become the plan? Before or after I got knocked up with your child?’
The words are so simple, so casual, and yet they knock the wind right out of you.
Your heart longs for there to be meaning behind his empty words, but your head tells you it can’t be true.
He’s messing with you. He must be.
You shake your head absently before looking up to him through your lashes.
He’s looking at your like you’re everything.
‘Oh yeah? And when we’re you planning on telling me? Plus, Daemon, I’m not blind. I have more than a little idea as to who you visit when you leave the castle.’
You’re panting hard by the end of your rant, fists clenched at your sides, fully Daemon to manhandle you again.
He doesn’t. Instead, he stands alarming still.
Minutes later, you’ve caught your breath, and still, he hasn’t moved. Slowly, your eyes inch their way up his form, until, at long last, you meet his eyes.
Just as you’re thinking how bizarre this all his, Daemon inhales loudly. His chest puffs out slightly as he waits a few seconds before exhaling. Then, slowly, as if he’s afraid to scare you away, he moves over to his desk.
You can’t see what he’s doing, but the rattling of the drawers combined with the odd curse tells you he’s looking for something.
Whatever it is, he hides it before you can see.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he makes his way to you again. Crouching in front of you, he lays out his hand.
You take your time prying his fingers open, ever so often shooting him looks to make sure it’s okay.
Inside, is a ring wound round a simple chain. The ring is…magnificent. Strands of silver roping around a single amethyst like vines.
The exact color of Daemon’s eyes, you muse.
Somehow, the realization doesn’t make you squirm. If anything, it comforts you, having him watching over you like that.
He doesn’t say anything, just holds it out there for you to take.
He’s leaving it up to you. You can take it, and your whole life will change, or you can leave it.
A single shiver of fear that runs down you over what may happen should you refuse, but you ignore it in favor of your rapidly beating heart.
It’s a promise, a symbol of a changed Daemon.
And this time when he leans in to kiss you, you let him.
I didn’t expect this to be so long, but I hope you like it! I kinda ran out of steam towards the end. Hopefully it’s not too bad.
Disclaimer*: I don’t actually watch HOTD. Everything, besides the characters and the setting, is from my imagination. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.
Also, if you have a request, please send them in! It will take me some time, but I will get to it.
