𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊

[roguecrown]

ROGUECROWN⸻ INDEPENDENT, MUTUAL EXCLUSIVE AND SELECTIVE BLOG FOR PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN FROM A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE AND HBO'S HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AND GAME OF THRONES. CST + 3. SHE/HER. WRITTEN BY CALI. (#)

exploration due to the book topics of: incest, murder, violence, torture, unreliable narrators, scheming and so much more. / promo. carrd.

psa: this blog does view and roleplay daemyra as the main ship. their interactions are going to be tagged as daemyra tw for anyone who wishes to block the tag.

OTHER BLOGS: ALYS RIVERS * MYRCELLA BARATHEON * LAENA VELARYON * SARA SNOW *JAIME LANNISTER * JAEHAERA TARGARYEN *AERION TARGARYEN *DOREAH *ALICENT HIGHTOWER *RHAENYRA TARGARYEN *ROBB STARK *ASOIAF MULTI

[hammeredstag]

Independent, Headcanon based portrayal of Robert Baratheon from GRRM's A Song of Ice and Fire. Loved by Els (27, they/them) (C)

[unmadekings]

𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔟𝔬𝔶 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 … 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔢, ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯? 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔨? 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔄𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰'𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔱? INDEPENDENT. PRIVATE. SELECTIVE AND MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE SER JAIME LANNISTER FROM A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE. WRITTEN BY CALI. 𝔅𝔶 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣 𝔧𝔲𝔡𝔤𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔬𝔫?

[roguecrown]

showing off some graphics i'm making for els' bobby b because i feel this went hard , a little.

[putthepromptsonpaper]

“I hate the term ‘an eye for an eye’. If you take my eye, let it be known that I’ll take both your eyes and your dominant arm”

submitted by anonymous

[roguecrown]

i gotta work on some commissions but do hit me on discord, and hey. . .if anyone wanna voice call while joining me , let me know. i love talking and i do need to practice my english.

shortnbittersweet

[roguecrown]

he has better hair than the female characters at this point.

[roguecrown]

if you see him cosplaying a gold cloak, mind your business

[roguecrown]

yes alyn, clock him.

[drcgnrider]

IT GRATED ON HER NERVES WHEN THE MAN called what she asked of him as such a hassle that he compared it to the greatest sins - her teeth clenched at the idea of becoming someone that even her husband did not wish to stomach for longer than he had to. the midst of an argument still flowing high in her veins, her heart still beating hard and fast in her chest as the strong facade of what SHOULD HAVE BEEN still tried to remain on her face. a mask of stone and iron, forged in the fires of the dragons and made to protect her against any and all harm --- sometimes meaning even the barbs sent her way from the lips that used to only ever kiss her sweetly.

Rhaenyra stared up at the tall man, lilac gaze slowly melting away its protection, its heavy pride - realising that what spurred the conflict further was more the weight of anger than the reach for peace. she sighed quietly, a dragon's soft puff of air, the battle slowly leaving her tensed frame and relaxing under the man's touch. the sound of his voice, washing away the thirst for blood and revenge and leaving what was simply the woman underneath the armor.

"do not treat me as a queen, do not take my requests for orders." she answered gently, not pulling away from the comfort of Daemon's touch but needing to voice her worries "stay because you wish, stay because you missed sleeping with your wife at your side, not because you have to - I am tired of holding the reigns of everyone's choices." Rhaenyra added, unconsciously leaning into the warmth of her husband's touch, seeking the connection that once upon a time seemed to be enough. the connection they seemed to forget about with the rules of court and threat of battle. she turned her head, pressing a kiss to the inside of Daemon's palm, where they had cut their palms during their wedding ceremony, where the laws of Old Valyria had marked them as one "i'mā zó'rrrhytor." [ I'm sorry. ]

[roguecrown]

Daemon   watched   the   last   of   her   anger   ebb   away,   saw   the   hard   lines   she   carried   for   the   realm   soften   into   something   far   more   familiar.   The   queen   vanished   for   a   moment,   leaving   only   Rhaenyra,   his   wife,   the   girl   who   had   once   chased   him   through   the   halls   of   Dragonstone   with   impossible   certainty   that   he   would   always   look   back.   The   sight   drew   a   quiet   laugh   from   him,   low   in   his   chest.   It   was   the   laugh   of   a   man   who   had   survived   enough   storms   to   know   that   this   one,   at   least,   had   already   passed.   "You   truly   are   impossible,"   he   murmured,   the   corner   of   his   mouth   lifting   as   he   kept   one   hand   against   her   cheek.   His   thumb   brushed   lightly   beneath   her   eye   before   he   rested   his   forehead   against   hers.   "You   quarrel   like   Balerion   himself   has   taken   your   tongue,   and   then   you   kiss   my   hand   as   though   you   fear   you've   wounded   me   beyond   repair."

When   she   spoke   her   apology   in   the   old   tongue,   he   did   not   allow   her   to   retreat   an   inch.   His   arm   settled   around   her   waist,   drawing   her   firmly   against   him   until   there   was   no   space   left   for   pride   to   wedge   itself   between   them.   The   kiss   she'd   pressed   into   his   scarred   palm   lingered   like   a   memory.   His   fingers   slipped   into   her   silver   hair,   holding   her   there   with   effortless   certainty.   "I   did   not   come   because   you   are   my   queen,"   Daemon   said,   his   voice   quieter   now,   stripped   of   the   sharpness   that   had   fueled   their   quarrel.   "If   that   were   all   you   were   to   me,   I   would   have   left   years   ago.   I   came   because   you   are   my   wife.   Because   I   missed   you.   Because   sleeping   beside   you   has   always   been   preferable   to   every   chamber   in   the   Red   Keep,   no   matter   how   fine   its   bed."   A   faint   smirk   returned.   His   laugh   escaped   again,   softer   this   time,   warm   enough   to   ease   the   last   of   the   tension   from   his   shoulders.   "And   no,   I   do   not   take   your   wishes   as   commands.   If   I   did,   we'd   both   be   miserable   creatures."   He   tilted   her   chin   until   she   met   his   eyes.

"You   bear   enough   burdens   without   dragging   mine   onto   your   back   as   well.   Let   me   choose   what   is   mine   to   carry."   His   expression   settled   into   something   gentler   than   most   men   ever   saw   from   him.   "As   for   your   temper..."   Another   amused   breath   left   him.   "I   am   glad   it   still   lives.   There   are   enough   grievances   circling   us   to   drown   lesser   souls.   Councillors.   Pretenders.   Lords   who   mistake   caution   for   loyalty.   Losses   that   refuse   to   leave   us   in   peace."   His   hand   found   hers,   scar   against   scar.   "Yet   your   spirit   still   burns   bright   enough   to   argue   with   me   over   where   I   choose   to   sleep."   He   pressed   a   kiss   to   her   brow,   lingering   there   before   speaking   again.   "I   would   worry   far   more   if   you   stopped   fighting   altogether."   A   small   smile   tugged   at   his   lips   as   he   looked   down   at   her.   "So   do   not   apologize   for   being   yourself.   Never   to   me."   His   fingers   squeezed   hers   once.

[valyrianvows]

She stared up at him through blurry, tear filled eyes and could only find the strength to give him a small nod before she placed her head back against his chest. Daemon was right, as he was about most things, even when she did not wish to hear it. She wouldn't let the deaths of their sons be for naught. She won't give up and let Alicent have the victory in this.

Because all of this, in Rhaenyra's mind, started with Alicent's betrayal to her as children… None of this would've happened if Alicent did not weasel her way into her father's bed and kept it hidden from her while doing so.

Her fingers loosened only a fraction in the fabric of Daemon's tunic, but she didnt pull away from him. Why would she when there was no place she would rather than curled up in his arms.

"We'll have to send news to Lady Jeyne," Rhaenyra muttered into his chest, her voice tired and worn down. Even hrough all of the grief, her mind wouldn't let her rest. It pulled her in a thousand different directions, all of them too painful to think about for too long.

She swallowed hard, her throat raw from how much she wept and screamed at the Gods today. Unable to continue on for a moment, she stayed there with her cheek pressed against his chest as she listened to the steady beat of Daemon's heart beneath her ear. She counted them as if they might keep her from slipping too far into the void.

"Joffrey…" His name nearly broke her all over again, because he was so so young. Too young to have so much placed on him, to have to learn about the passing of both of his older brothers and what is to be asked of him next. "We must prepare Joffrey for what is to be his when the time comes."

Her eyes closed, letting the tears that she was holding in start to fall once again. When she spoke this time, it was in High Valyrian. "I will always need you, Daemon."

When she drew back enough to look up at him, her tears paused and her violet eyes burned with dragonfire through the storm of her grief. "You were gone when this happened to Luke," she pointed out, her voice breaking around their son's name. "And now Jace."

"I cannot keep losing my sons and you too."

[roguecrown]

Daemon   did   not   answer   at   once.   He   held   her   as   though   the   weight   of   the   realm   could   be   kept   from   crushing   her   if   only   his   arms   remained   around   her.   His   hand   moved   slowly   over   her   back,   steady,   unhurried,   until   he   felt   the   tightness   in   her   grip   ease   by   the   smallest   measure.   When   she   spoke   of   sending   word   to   Lady   Jeyne   and   preparing   Joffrey,   he   gave   a   faint   nod.   Even   drowning   in   grief,   her   mind   reached   for   duty.   That   was   the   woman   he   had   chosen   all   those   years   ago—not   because   she   wore   a   crown,   but   because   she   had   always   risen   after   every   blow.   "It   will   be   done,"   Daemon   said   quietly.   "Lady   Jeyne   will   hear   the   truth   from   us,   not   whispers   carried   by   frightened   men."   His   thumb   brushed   against   her   shoulder.   "And   Joffrey..."   His   jaw   tightened.   "He   should   not   have   to   bear   this   burden   so   soon.   Yet   the   gods   have   never   cared   for   what   children   deserve.   We   will   teach   him   together.   We   will   make   certain   he   is   ready,   but   he   will   not   stand   alone."

The   sound   of   Jace's   name   settled   between   them   like   another   stone   laid   upon   his   shoulders.   He   closed   his   eyes   for   the   briefest   moment.   Luke's   laughter   on   Dragonstone.   Jace's   certainty,   so   much   like   his   mother's,   refusing   to   bend   even   when   the   world   demanded   it.   They   were   ghosts   already,   and   Daemon   hated   how   quickly   memory   tried   to   soften   sharp   edges.   When   she   spoke   to   him   in   High   Valyrian,   saying   she   would   always   need   him,   something   inside   him   threatened   to   crack.   He   rested   his   forehead   against   hers,   his   voice   just   above   a   whisper.   "And   I   you.   Always."   Then   her   accusation   came,   raw   and   undeserved   only   because   it   was   true   in   the   one   way   that   mattered:   he   had   not   been   there.   Daemon   did   not   defend   himself.   There   was   no   excuse   that   could   bury   two   sons.

"I   know,"   he   answered,   the   words   rough.   "I   was   not   beside   Luke   when   he   needed   me.   I   was   not   beside   Jace   when   the   gods   stole   him   from   us."   His   hand   came   up   to   cradle   her   face,   brushing   away   tears   that   refused   to   stop   falling.   "That   failure   will   follow   me   until   my   own   ashes   are   scattered."   His   violet   eyes   held   hers   without   wavering.   "But   hear   me   now,   Rhaenyra.   I   am   here."   The   words   were   simple,   but   there   was   iron   beneath   them.   "I   will   not   leave   you   to   carry   this   alone   again.   If   our   enemies   want   this   crown,   they   will   have   to   come   through   me   first.   If   death   seeks   another   son   of   ours,   it   will   find   me   standing   before   him."   His   voice   lowered,   hardening   with   every   word.   "I   cannot   promise   the   gods   will   listen.   I   have   never   believed   they   care   to.   But   I   can   swear   this—I   will   not   abandon   you.   Not   for   councils,   not   for   war,   not   for   vengeance."   His   gaze   flickered   toward   the   dark   windows   before   returning   to   her.   "Alicent   and   those   who   placed   her   son   upon   my   brother's   throne   have   taken   enough   from   us.   They   have   taken   sons,   blood,   peace...   but   they   will   not   take   you.   They   will   not   break   the   last   of   House   Targaryen   while   I   still   draw   breath."

Daemon   leaned   forward   until   their   foreheads   touched   once   more.   His   fingers   curled   gently   around   hers   where   they   still   clutched   his   tunic.   "Do   not   mourn   me   before   my   time.   I   have   survived   too   many   battles,   too   many   fools,   and   too   many   kings   to   die   anywhere   but   where   I   choose."   The   corner   of   his   mouth   lifted   into   the   faintest   shadow   of   a   smile—not   from   amusement,   but   from   certainty.   "And   when   this   war   is   over,   when   our   enemies   have   answered   for   every   child   they've   stolen   from   us,   you   may   curse   me   for   being   impossible   for   another   twenty   years.   I   would   gladly   endure   that."

[roguecrown]

choices are being made in the show.

[branwinged]

Alys is different. Daemon, I think, breaks Alys's heart in episode one. She assumes that that's her ally, that's her friend, he's going to help her out and he doesn't. And I think she's different after that interaction and she starts to look at her role being different [...] It was a heartbreak. I think it's a breakup. — Gayle Rankin

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022 - )

[roguecrown]

validation, btw.

[roguecrown]

@drcgnrider asked: ❝ stay, please. ❞

Daemon  had  already  turned  halfway  toward  the  door,  every  intention  of  putting  distance  between  himself  and  the  room  before  anger  or  regret  found  a  way  back  into  his  mouth.  At  her  voice,  he  stood  still.  His  shoulders  remained  rigid,  though  the  tension  in  them  shifted.  Rhaenyra  had  always  been  the  one  person  capable  of  asking  something  of  him  that  no  one  else  could.  He  looked  at  her  over  his  shoulder.  She  had  not  raised  her  voice.  She  did  not  need  to.  Silence  settled  between  them.  Daemon  let  it  linger.  For  once,  he  did  not  rush  to  fill  it  with  sharp  words  or  false  confidence.  He  studied  her  face  instead,  searching  for  the  answer  she  had  not  spoken.  Not  the  queen  before  him,  burdened  by  crown  and  council,  but  the  girl  who  had  once  climbed  onto  the  back  of  a  dragon  simply  because  she  trusted  he  would  catch  her  if  she  fell.

His  jaw  tightened.  "You  ask  me  to  stay,"  he  said,  turning  to  face  her  fully  now,  "and  I  will."  The  admission  came  without  pride.  "Gods  know  I've  done  far  worse  things  than  remain  where  I  would  rather  not."  He  crossed  the  room  at  an  unhurried  pace,  stopping  close  enough  that  only  a  single  step  separated  them.  His  hand  lifted  almost  absently  before  settling  against  the  side  of  her  face,  his  thumb  brushing  beneath  her  eye  with  a  gentleness  that  few  ever  saw  from  him.  "But  if  I  stay,"  Daemon  murmured,  his  gaze  fixed  on  hers,  "then  speak  to  me  as  my  wife.  Not  as  my  queen.  Not  as  the  Realm's  Delight.  Just  Rhaenyra."  A  faint,  weary  smile  tugged  at  one  corner  of  his  mouth  before  fading  again.  "Because  I  can  fight  kingdoms.  I  cannot  keep  fighting  you."  His  hand  remained  where  it  was,  warm  against  her  cheek.  "I'm  here,"  he  said  at  last.  "I'm  not  leaving."

[kroneulv]

𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥, ℑ 𝔱𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 … 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 … 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔬𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔰 𝔉𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱, 𝔩𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔢𝔰 … 𝔫𝔬𝔴 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. INDEPENDENT. PRIVATE. SELECTIVE. KING ROBB STARK FROM A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE AND HBO'S THRONES ADAPTED UNIVERSE. HEAVY DIVERGENCIES. LOVED BY CALI. EST. 2024. 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔭𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔡 𝔲𝔭 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱.

[calisverse]

HBO's House of the Dragon (2022, United States) Season One, Episode One / Season Two, Episode Five

Matt Smith as Daemon Targaryen

Daemon and the Gold Cloaks. Then and Now