𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦.

[rogueprnce]

#ROGUEPRNCE     :     ind.    &.    sel.     daemon    targaryen     from     the house     of the dragon     series.     protected     by     ti,     (     she/her    )     18+     blog     due     to     triggering     content.     heavily     canon compliant     &.     crossover     friendly.    mun   &.   muse   are   of   age.

[rogueprnce]

which subtle way of saying "i love you" are you?

"you're the exception"

your emotional walls have walls. seriously, you've guarded yourself so well, you sometimes forget how to look over your own walls and see the beauty of the world outside the safety of the protection you've set up. you forget how to escape the confines you built for yourself, that is, but some people (some incredibly rare people) somehow know their way through that intricate maze of walls and thorns around you. they're the exception, and terrifying as it might be at first, you'll let them know eventually. you smile at them where you'd scowl at another. you crack a joke where you'd usually stay quiet. you find yourself opening up more than you'd ever imagined. don't tear your fortress down if you don't want to, but maybe try to build your loved ones a little home inside it instead. you don't have to be alone. you deserve better than being alone in there.

tagged: @macrodatum

tagging: anyone :)

[backwaterscum]

"Then I'd ask why it's takin' you so long to talk about it."

If Merle were here, he'd have grabbed the back of Daryl's collar and yanked him as hard as he could. If Merle were here, and not upstairs fucking the nearest woman who'd give him the time of day, he would tell him they ought to milk a Targaryen for all they're worth-- they're the crown family, after all (as if the words are supposed to mean something).

But Merle isn't around, and Daryl is nursing his ale alone and squinting.

"You're rich, ain't you?" At the very least the man has the accent Daryl's begun to associate with the "lords and ladies" of the realm, utter bullshit as the concept might be. "Fuck're you doin' in a shit tavern like this?"

[rogueprnce]

Daemon couldn't help but let out a chuckle as he stared down at the man with the funny accent.

"Perhaps I like shit ale from a shit tavern..." He said as he slowly moved to sit down across from the man. He found him intriguing... Like no one he has ever met before. "Or... Perhaps I could use a bit of company."

He leaned back with a smirk, his hands moving up to take his hood off.

His eyes trailing over Daryl's figure, "and you look like the only interesting person here."

[backwaterscum]

97. lonely swings (teenage dirtbag au?!) // @rogueprnce, from here.

It's half an hour to midnight and Daryl still doesn't want to go home.

In Georgia's sweltering summer nights, his father tends to stumble back to their house once he's done drinking. For the rest of the school year Daryl always worried whether the old bastard was safe out there; in the summers between, though, he was always there to meet his son when night fell. Daryl knows why, of course-- between May and August, he gets to work full-time without school bogging him down-- and that reason is what makes going home so hard.

Saving up to go to some community college is a crackpot dream. Daryl knows this. He also knows that it isn't likely he'll go to college at all, and that he's stupid for even entertaining it. But he's got thousands of dollars in savings now, and if he went home his dad would demand for it and piss it all away.

His dirty shoes scuff the ground as the swing moves back and forth. The playground had been an easier stop than the shithole that was his house-- as unreasonable as being out all night is (and if Pa was up when he made it home, he was definitely grabbing the belt), it was still easier than telling his father "no". Loneliness, he finds, suits him just fine.

Which is why the sound of running footsteps startles him.

Daryl turns, fingers curling the slightest bit tighter around the chains to the swing. Tongue wetting his lips, his posture straightens some-- it isn't just anyone out this late, it's Daemon Targaryen.

He says nothing as the other boy comes closer, opting instead to duck his head like making himself small will turn him invisible. Daemon's one of the most notorious kids in school, but as school is wont to do, seeing him out in the real world like this feels almost unreal. Daryl had expected to see him next in the Fall... not that Daemon ever really looked at him, but nevertheless. Hopefully the 7-Eleven uniform makes Daryl blend in with his surroundings.

[rogueprnce]

Daemon was sick of this shit.

Everyday it was the same thing with his family. 'Daemon you cant do that.' 'Daemon you aren't worthy enough.' It was the only thing he heard from his family. Viserys has tried to be there but Daemon knew he would always take their parents side.

At school, Daemon was enough. He was worthy. He had people flocking to him, especially the prettiest girls he could charm with ease. Yet, he knew that they only liked him for his money but he didn't care. He loved the attention being on him for once.

Which is why he needed out of his house. His ass had gotten chewed out for dyeing his hair to brown and while he was glad it caused distress, he didn't necessarily want to see the end of the argument.

His legs and chest hurt from running far from his house. The dingy park was his safe haven in a way and in his blinded rage and roaring thoughts, he hadn't noticed the guy sitting at one of the swings until he had sat down on the vacant swing next to him.

Harsh pants came out in a slight wheeze as Daemon tried to catch his breath. His eyes glancing over at the man, looking over the 7-Eleven uniform.

He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know the kid.

"Do... You have any water?"

[farwaytree]

"Westeros" doesn't sound like anything Victor's heard before. He's about to say it sounds as made-up as Daemon's dragon, but the way the man's fingers clench around the crayon stops him from speaking-- you only ever get upset by things like that when the things are real.

Victor fidgets, fingers rubbing together where they lie hidden beneath the table. The upset on Daemon's face leaves him uncomfortable, but Victor supposes this was probably his fault. He was the one who opened his big mouth and said Daemon's precious dragon wasn't real. Anyone would be sad about that.

"How big were they?" he asks, hoping to change the subject.

"All the stories say dragons are big. Was yours--" He blinks, looking at the red thing on Daemon's page and furrowing his brows. "How big was your dragon?"

[rogueprnce]

Daemon's lips curled a bit at the question as he leaned back a bit, recalling the years he spent watching Caraxes grow.

"Ah... Dragon's are very large creatures to an average human... But they vary in size." He started, setting his crayon and paper down before turning to fully put his attention on Victor.

"See... Caraxes, my dragon, was only about 220 feet long. He's smaller than most but he is long."

He was beaming as he spoke passionately about dragons, he missed his dearly. He missed all of the dragons just as much as he missed home. Though, he was free here... Free from the pressure and watchful eyes.

"Almost like that pasta Tian Chen made... Caraxes may be one of the smaller dragons but don't doubt that he was just as strong."

[selinas-deactivated20251210]

MATT SMITH as DAEMON TARGARYEN House of the Dragon (2022-)

[farwaytree]

"We've all seen the-- the monsters," Victor argues, lips pulled into a frown. His leg jumps slightly beneath the table, restless in his perceived irritation. "I saw them, and you saw them, and everyone did.

"Dragons don't... there weren't any dragons in the world outside. Even I know they're just stories."

But then... the world outside had been bigger, hadn't it? Victor contemplates the map of the United States in the sheriff's station, then wonders if maybe they'd found dragons in Nevada. That was really far away from Maine, and way hotter too.

Watching Daemon colour his picture, Victor exhales through his nostrils.

"...what place did you come from that-- that dragons are real?"

[rogueprnce]

Daemon hummed as he listened to Victors incessant ramblings as he continued to color on the paper. He had been so confused these past few days and it wasn't even the monsters. If he was being honest, it was everyone's clothing... The crayons and how everyone talked that had his mind spiraling out of control.

"Westeros..." He whispered as he tried to think back on the last time he had felt somewhat normal. The days were blending together and he hated it.

He hoped Caraxes was okay. He hoped his army was okay.

Daemon had stopped coloring as his grip tightened on the crayon before he quickly set it down, not wanting to break anything of Victors.

"You would've liked the dragons."

[farwaytree]

"You're-- you're doing it wrong," Victor says, tone sharp and squinting eyes disbelieving of what's featured on Daemon's paper.

"Dragons aren't real." His fingers curl a little tighter around his crayon. "You're only supposed to draw what's real, Daemon. Pictures are-- are for memories."

@rogueprnce

[rogueprnce]

"And how do you know that?" Daemon raised a brow before narrowing his eyes at Victor, his hand clutching the red crayon.

"I could say the same about the monsters in those woods, but I don't." He huffed and shook his head before continuing his drawing of him riding Caraxes into war.

How dare he question his dragons...

[backwaterscum]

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” // @rogueprnce, from here.

Daryl's lip curls, brows furrowed in clear distrust. "The hell're you callin' pretty?"

Merle had given him ample warning for these kneelers, but Daryl had never taken any of it seriously. What were those south of the Wall worth when all they had to them was the luck to live on the other side?

He turns a short angle away from the hooded figure, hands wrapped around his mug of ale. "If you've no work for me, I'm not interested."

[rogueprnce]

"Ah... Did I strike a nerve?" Daemon's lip curled into a faint smile, his eyes looking over the man's form.

It was obvious the man before him didn't know who he was, although he couldn't tell if it was the hood granting him that peace. A tilt of his head as he studied the rugged man and it was then, that he knew that even without the hood, he wouldn't know (or care) who Daemon Targaryen was.

Interesting...

"And if I did have work for you?"

He didn't but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to meet this interesting specimen.

[daemyradaily]

TARGARYENS + Wearing Symbols Of Their Dragons  ⤷ Daemon’s scales and dragon details at King’s Landing