pronouns: they/them (there is use of the word 'suitor' but that's only because I couldn't think of another word to use and as we know from my 'only fair' fic i don't feel the need apply real world childbearing mechanics and there isn't much talk of it so you can imagine your body, gender etc however)
warnings: suggestive at times, none others that i can think of, lmk of any if you find them!
summary: History remembers names, not blood, he knows that all too well so why are you so important to The Sea Snake, the bastard of the Rogue Prince
A/N: In this, Rhaenys has been dead I'M SORRY i couldn't find a good time or reason for her not being his wife and i didn't want to mess with the lore too much. race of reader's mother is never mentioned however reader is daemon's bastard, i hope you like it! open to a part 2 but only if you'd like one, this is a lot more slowburn and reader centric than my other stories but i love book!baela and wanted to look at her relationship w/ reader a bit
prompt
divider: firefly-graphics
wordcount: 1516
YOUR FATHER'S FIRM hand on your shoulder distracts you from the dark affair around you. Another dead. Another important house on the verge of extinction. Daemon squeezed and let out a shaky breath, it wasn't due to the grief that death brought, you were sure, but rather the grief of another loss of aid and another oncoming threat of the House in mourn. If he had to deny another suitor he wasn't sure Rhaenyra could hold him back from his rage this time. It was the middle of war and he was as politically aware as his wife but that didn't mean he was happy about betrothals in war. He was forced to marry young and he would never force the same on you, he made that promise to himself many moons ago. Daemon huffs and soon the warmth of him turns away from you again. You swallow around the lump in your throat and cast your eyes to your half-sisters. Baela shares an anxious glance while Rhaena stays staring ahead with tense shoulders. She clenches her jaw and looks down. Baela gestures with a tip of her head to beckon you over. You take cautious steps but reach them without difficulty, the sound of your feet beating down on the hard ground rings in your ears. It's deafening in the surrounding silence. It is a small ceremony but not any less intimate. Baela tries to send an encouraging smile but it comes out forced. She grasps your arm a little too tightly and tugs you away with your arms interlinked.
"Father thinks they might turn on us." Baela tells you plainly. Her expression is strong and not for the first time you miss the playfulness that usually lies within her eyes like a knight of your childhood fairy tales. "I think we need something to keep them distracted, a wedding." You freeze and furrow your brows.
"I thought Jacaerys wanted to wait for the war to be over?"
"He does," She sighs and scrunches her nose quickly, the only action betraying her emotions. "I fear he has taken to the Snow girl Mushroom has spoken of." You sigh and move to stand before her, clutching her hands in your own.
"Listen to me," You demand firmly. She reluctantly flutters her fierce eyes open and looks into your own, the first sight of vulnerability hidden beneath her irises but you knew this girl better than you knew yourself. You had held and loved her since she was a mere babe in your arms. "You are strong, you are beautiful, you are a Targaryen." Her shoulders softened. "Any man who does not trip over themselves to please you is a fool and I know of one in particular who cares for you more than you know." For only a moment her brows pinch. Her lips twitch of their own volition upward.
"Whom?" She asks, dark eyes wide. You put a finger to your lips and shrug.
"Perhaps you will discover tonight..." You trail off. "at the festivities, no marital behaviour however that I will remain strict on." A breathy laugh drops from her and you're both walking again, though this time toward the large estate you have been residing.
The bright moon is dancing among the sky as much as you are beneath it, or at least that is how you perceive it as Rhaena giggles sweetly and lets her fingers guide your own. Raucous music and laughter fills the empty space outside as the scene plays like a sonnet to your hope. The war is not yet won but you are sure it will be soon. You only stop moving once a new dance partner catches Rhaena's attention in the form of a friend. You nod and part from her although your spinning and smooth movements don't stop and your eyes drift around the fire you are all circling around. Your eyes linger as you see Baela's beaming grin while Alyn Velaryon extends his hand. Prince Jacaerys clenches his jaw from beside her. You feel glad you have no attention on yourself as you snicker quietly, at least you think there is not. He may not have the hair of a Valyrian but he certainly had the spit of fire within him. Your sister had been the centre of attention all night with her coils wrapped in beautiful braids and her figure draped in the most gorgeous of gowns. She was the image of heart-stopping charm. Half the men and women present would be accusing her of using enchantments by the night's end. Suddenly you feel a warm hand connect with your waist from behind you and you gasp quietly.
Corlys Velaryon's attention was not easy to garner but once you felt it it was hard to remove and he knew this. Corlys had been watching you for what felt like hours with his gaze firmly planted on your untroubled frame, how you guided his granddaughter so effortlessly, how your eyes look glassed with the roaring flames reflected in your eyes. This wasn't the first time he had seen you of course, in some respects you were family but this was the first time he had seen the ferocity in which you fought, how you had avenged that young man that had been slain earlier that day. He distantly hoped that the man meant little to you–that it was merely an act of loyalty to his House and not personal. The last he had seen you before the war was at Laena's funeral when you were only seven and ten summers old. You had been still a child and his beloved Rhaenys was beside him.
Now, his fingers tickle up your sides before spreading along either your arms. It sent delightful shivers up your skin. "My lord..." you murmur in acknowledgment while his breath runs down your exposed neck. "I was not expecting you." He hums and a smile curls his mouth, not that you can see it.
"Greetings, princess." Amusement flickers in you.
"I am no princess." You remind. He grumbles quietly.
"But you should be." He retorts. "And so I shall treat you as such." He winds his fingers to lace with your left ones and spins you around so that he can press his lips in a kiss to each knuckle. Your breath hitches. Your eyes narrow in suspicion and rake over his handsome face.
"If you are attempting to charm me, you will reap no reward." You purr, face tense and unrelenting. He only chuckles warmly.
"I only hope to seek your approval, princess."
"Approval?" You laugh. "Approval for what?"
"To court you." Silence. Your brows pinch and your head tilted downward.
"Court me?" You ask, your tone thick with suspicion. He nods, not elaborating. "I thought history only remembered names, my lord." The edge is sharp to your words but they don't cut him, only entice.
"Then they would remember the Liege Velaryon with the intellect of a maester, the wits of a Queen and the beauty of not only the stars threaded in your eyes but the moon that entraps my heart." His words aren't rushed nor forceful. Instead they are intentional and planned, much different than the other men who flirted spontaneously and then lost interest within the night's end. You cock your brow. You don't respond, then a familiar presence is beside you.
"Lord Corlys." Your Queen and stepmother greets but he doesn't change the direction of his gaze.
"Your grace."
"I have unanswered inquiries of your fleet, might we speak privately?" You can see a tick in his jaw but still he rises and finally looks at her. He nods, his smile forced, and steps away. His touch lingers on your hand as he follows Rhaenyra and despite your wishes, your eyes track him until he's completely out of sight.
The rest of your night is spent with fleeting glances from yourself but also those around you and you only stop once the fire has tired out on you. Your sisters decided to wander back to their chambers but sending enough guards to follow after them, Your father hangs back to wait up for you, not dozing asleep like you expected him to. Once you approach him while flushed and exhaustion ebbing at you, he extends his arm and walks you back soundly. However, there is a tense thickness to the air you're not quite used to yet. Daemon only breaks the silence once you reach the door to your chambers. "I want you to think wisely." He states, firm as always. You look at him and know there is no way to deceive him. You nod slowly. Your father is a calculated man but he was not cruel. "You are the blood of the dragon and I do not want you settling for less than your worth." His tongue curls like it's spewing fire but the tone stays authoritative and safe. His steps echo once he leaves you to wrap your hand around the stocky doorknob and turn. You have a lot to think about but as soon as your gaze slipped through the large window, the illuminating moon whispered the sweetest future for you to decide.
