Daemon Targaryen - Our Little Dragon
Summary - She battles through excruciating labour, consumed by pain and fear, desperate for her husband's presence. As the chaos around her intensifies, his calm arrival becomes her only solace. In the midst of agony, their shared strength will shape their future.
Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x reader
Warnings - Childbirth, strong language
Word count - 2397
Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.
"Daemon! Where is Daemon?!" I cried, my voice breaking, as I clutched the collar of the handmaiden standing before me. Her wide, terrified eyes met mine, but I could barely focus on them.
A surge of pain ripped through my body, and I moaned, doubling over as another contraction tore through me like a blade.
The girl recoiled from my grip, her hands trembling, and instinctively took a step back. "I do not know, Princess," she whispered, her voice quivering with fear.
I looked around the room, the faces around me blurring in my vision, but their voices grew louder, muddled, a cacophony that only fed the storm of rage rising inside me.
I was drowning in pain, in fear, and in helplessness. My stomach was like a battleground, each wave of agony tearing through my body, but I was determined.
With a growl of frustration, I staggered to my feet. But before I could take another step, several hands reached out to steady me, pulling at my arms, my shoulders, as if they could contain me.
As if they could control this fury, this pain.
"Back. Away. Now!" I roared, my voice laced with command. I clutched my swollen belly, my body trembling under the weight of another contraction, and my breath came in sharp, desperate gasps.
The room swirled around me, but I couldn't focus on them. I needed him. I needed Daemon.
Each breath felt like a betrayal, my own body fighting against me, my mind warring with the impossible task of bringing life into this world.
I had wanted this—had prayed for it—but no one had told me it would feel like this... like breaking into pieces, shattering and trying to put myself back together.
"Find me my fucking husband!" I howled, my forehead pressing against the bedpost, my body quaking with the intensity of it all.
The frantic movement in the room seemed endless, people darting about as if they could make a difference.
"Princess, perhaps you should lie back down," Nysah, my most trusted handmaiden, murmured gently, her voice calm, almost too calm in the midst of the chaos.
She stepped closer, her face etched with concern, her hands hovering as if unsure of what to do.
But I didn't want comfort. I didn't want softness. All I wanted was him.
I turned my head, my gaze fierce, and shot Nysah a look that could have withered stone.
"Nysah, you have served me for eight years. You know me better than anyone in this room. And for that reason alone, I haven't already thrown you out of this chamber," I snapped, my voice low and cold, dripping with the weight of my frustration.
She frowned, taking a step back, and I felt the ache in my body intensify. The contraction was unrelenting, but so was my need to find him. To feel his arms around me. Daemon...
The door to the chamber creaked open, and the room fell into an almost eerie silence. Everyone froze. The air seemed to hold its breath as a figure stepped into the doorway—Daemon.
His presence was immediate, commanding, but there was a certain ease about him, as if he were strolling through a casual afternoon, not amidst the chaos of a woman in labor.
His eyes flicked over the room, landing on me with an expression that bordered between amusement and concern.
He raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene. "Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with that unmistakable smirk. "Yelling at everyone, are we, my fierce little wife?"
A quiet, collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the room as the tension lifted with his words. His command over the situation, even with the chaos around us, was palpable.
For a moment, I almost hated him for it—he was always so calm, so unruffled—but the sight of him steadied me in a way nothing else had.
I could barely stand, my body racked with another wave of pain, but Daemon was there in an instant, his arms wrapping around me with that familiar strength, his touch grounding me.
His hand pressed gently to my back, guiding me back toward the bed with the ease of someone who had done this countless times before.
As I sank back onto the soft sheets, the sharp, biting pain eased for a moment, and I allowed myself a deep breath.
But then, the words slipped out before I could stop them: "Where the fuck were you?"
Daemon's lips quirked, a light laugh escaping him as he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Relax, love," he said, his tone warm but teasing. "I was just out retrieving an egg for our little one."
I blinked at him, my mind struggling to make sense of the absurdity of it all.
"An egg?" I repeated, incredulous, a bitter laugh almost choking me. "How nice. While I feel like I'm being ripped apart from the inside, you're out egg hunting?"
Daemon chuckled softly, shaking his head as he sat beside me on the bed, brushing more strands of hair from my face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.
"You know I would never leave you if I thought you didn't need me," he murmured, his voice softer now. "But I wanted to ensure that our little dragon has a dragon of their own."
His words, simple yet filled with such affection, made my chest tighten, even as my body screamed with pain. He always had a way of making the impossible seem so... effortless.
I wanted to snap at him, to remind him that I was the one who had to endure this agony, but in that moment, I couldn't bring myself to.
Instead, I simply closed my eyes, letting the sound of his voice soothe the chaos in my mind. If he could make light of it all, then perhaps I could, too. But only just a little.
"You're insane," I whispered, my hand reaching for his, gripping it tightly as another wave of pain rolled through me.
He laughed again, low and rich, and squeezed my hand. "And yet, I still make sure you're never alone in the madness, don't I?"
His eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead to mine.
"You're right," I muttered, my breath shaky but steadying. "You do have a way of making everything better."
Daemon smiled, brushing a final kiss across my brow, his voice a soft promise in the midst of the storm. "Just wait, my love. Soon, we'll have a dragon of our own to raise."
The hours seemed to stretch on forever, each one a new battle as the pain intensified, waves crashing over me relentlessly.
I couldn't tell where one contraction ended and the next began—only that my body felt like it was being torn apart, stretched and strained beyond its limits.
Yet through it all, Daemon remained at my side, unwavering. His presence was a steady anchor in the sea of chaos, his hands never leaving mine, his voice constantly soothing.
"You're doing wonderfully," he whispered each time I gasped for breath, his fingers gently stroking my palm. "My fierce girl, keep breathing."
His words were a balm, though they did little to quell the fire burning inside me. But I clung to him, to his quiet confidence, because it was the only thing keeping me from losing myself entirely to the pain.
When the pressure built again, and I could feel the moment coming closer, I wanted to scream at him—ask him why this was so difficult, why my body had to go through such torment to bring our child into the world.
But I knew he was feeling it too.
His worry was barely hidden behind his calm demeanour, his eyes darting to the door as though expecting someone to burst in at any moment or perhaps hoping for something that might make it easier for me.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, the moment arrived.
I cried out as the final contraction ripped through me, my body tensing, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I squeezed Daemon's hand so hard I thought I might break it, but he didn't flinch, didn't pull away. His eyes never left mine.
"Almost there, love," he murmured his face inches from mine, his voice a low murmur against the deafening noise of the room.
And then, with one final, soul-shattering push, everything shifted. I felt her—a tiny, warm life slipping into the world.
I breathed in ragged, exhausted breaths as the handmaiden placed her on my chest, her small, wriggling form warm and soft against my skin.
Daemon's hand gently brushed my damp hair from my face, his voice barely a whisper.
"It's a girl," he said, his eyes wide with awe as he looked down at the tiny creature in my arms. "A little dragon."
I gazed down at the baby in my arms, her face red and scrunched in that unmistakable newborn way. She had tufts of silver hair, her tiny fingers already clutching at the fabric of my gown.
Her eyes were still closed, but there was something so perfect about her, so fragile, so ours, that I couldn't help the tear that slipped down my cheek.
"Daeneys," I breathed softly, the name slipping from my lips as if it had always been there, waiting for this moment. It felt right, the name resonating deep within me.
Daeneys. She was our little flame, our legacy.
Daemon smiled, his hand brushing over her tiny head. "Daeneys," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, as though the weight of the moment was finally settling over him.
He leaned down, kissing my forehead gently, and I could feel the quiet pride radiating off of him. "She's perfect, my love."
I nodded, blinking back tears, my exhaustion making everything feel hazy and distant, but there was a fierce joy in my chest that no pain could ever erase.
"She is," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "She's ours."
Daemon carefully reached over, taking Daeneys gently from my arms. His hands were steady as he cradled her, and I watched in awe as he looked down at the tiny girl in his arms.
There was a look in his eyes—so full of wonder, so full of love—that I had never seen before. It was the look of a father, and in that moment, I knew he would be everything for her.
"She's going to be a great woman, just like her mother," Daemon said softly, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips as he looked up at me.
His voice was warm, full of pride, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes as if he knew the future ahead of us would be as full of challenges as it was of love.
I laughed weakly, the sound soft and unsteady as I watched him with our daughter.
"Let's hope she doesn't inherit my temper," I joked, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace settle in my chest, the weight of the pain slipping away.
Daemon's laugh was low, filled with affection as he brushed his thumb across Daeneys's tiny hand.
"If she has your temper," he said with a wink, "she'll be a force to be reckoned with."
I watched as Daemon cradled our daughter with a tenderness that left me breathless. It was then that I realized: this little girl, our little Daeneys, was not just the beginning of something new for us.
She was the bridge between two worlds, a little dragon who would carry both our legacies, and perhaps even forge her own path.
A new chapter had begun, and I couldn't wait to see what it held for us.
Daemon leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "I promise you, she'll never be alone. Not while I'm here."
I nodded, my hand slipping into his as I watched him with our daughter. It was over. The pain, the uncertainty—it had all led to this perfect moment.
Daemon moved gently as if the world might shatter if he moved too quickly.
Cradling Daeneys in his arms, he carefully walked toward the small cradle beside the bed, where the freshly acquired dragon egg lay. Its smooth, cool surface gleamed softly in the dim light, an unspoken promise of the future.
He placed Daeneys down, her tiny body nestled comfortably in the soft blankets, and for a moment, he stood there, gazing down at both her and the egg with a look of profound pride.
I shifted in the bed, exhausted but unable to tear my gaze away.
My heart swelled as Daemon reached out to tenderly adjust the blankets around Daeneys, making sure she was settled, her small chest rising and falling with each breath.
His hands were careful, deliberate, as though he feared disturbing the fragile peace of this moment.
Then, slowly, he turned his eyes to me, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. "She's perfect," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, as he looked from our daughter to the egg in her cradle.
I nodded, my heart full, my body still heavy from the hours of labour. "She is," I whispered, my voice hushed, reverent.
Daemon stepped back a bit, just enough to take in the sight of the two things that would forever tie us together—the tiny, fragile girl who had changed everything, and the egg beside her, a symbol of the future we would build for her.
He glanced down at Daeneys, then at the egg. "One day, our little dragon will have her own dragon," he said, his tone light, yet full of a quiet certainty. "She'll grow into her name."
I smiled, watching the two of them—Daemon, so sure, so steady, and Daeneys, so fragile yet full of promise.
I could already see the strength in her, the legacy we would build for her, and I knew without a doubt that she would carry it forward in ways we couldn't even imagine yet.
Daemon brushed a hand through his hair, still gazing down at the cradle, his fingers brushing over the egg.
"Our little dragon and her dragon," he repeated, his voice soft, almost a vow.
And for a fleeting moment, the world outside that room faded away, leaving just the three of us—Daemon, me, and our daughter—and I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together.
Proud, unbroken, and with a future ahead that no one could take from us.
A/n - Not my fav tbh I didn't really know what direction it was going until I finished so it may be a bit all over the place.
It always great to see Daemon being a good father and husband because he is in the books!
