#daemon angst

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 3

Part 1 2 3 4

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, noncon/dubcon, implied smut/cunnilingus, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: pls comment and reblog because 🥲 i wanna nuke this again and could use the reassurance | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You are changed after that, you both are. When Caraxes lands in the dragon pit, Daemon helps you down, something he's never done. The prince knits his brows in offence when you break away from his hold. You walk towards the two knights in white cloaks, gazing in wonder, "twins."

You look between them, smile spreading across your face as you tried to make out one for the other. You point to the one on the left, "Ser Arryk?"

The man smiles back and nods, "well met, princess."

You giggle and clap you hands, "tis dumb luck." You turn to the other, "greetings, Ser Erryk. A pleasant afternoon to you."

You feel someone come up behind you.

Erryk returns your smile and bows, "a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my princess."

You look over your shoulder as Daemon places a hand on your waist. He looks between them, "you need not follow. I will be with my wife until later this evening."

Your brows quirk, "you will?"

Daemon turns to you, lip curving upward, "don't you wish to know the pleasantness of fucking in one's bed?"

In unison, the Cargyll brothers turn away and clear their throats. Meanwhile, your heart leaps into mouth and your jaw hangs low. You cannot even speak as you feel your face burn. Your devilish husband chuckles and rubs your back, "worry not. You'll find yourself making noises soon enough."

With that, the twins step aside and you cower into Daemon's shoulder as he leads you off. He laughs, both in mockery and amusement, enjoying your reaction thoroughly. There was something in the way you retreated into him that made his chest uneasy. The feel of your forehead upon his arm was rather unnatural. He does not like the effect on him, so he pushes you away.

You squeak at the sudden action. Your features spare no reflection of your confusion and hurt.

Daemon grins at it, then pulls you back in, one arm snaking around you.

Your face falls back into a state of rest, that is until his hand begins to travel up your breast. You whimper at his squeeze, "D-Daemon."

He hums, "feels good, doesn't it?"

Your hands tremble as you bring it up to his. You slowly push him away, "later."

His brow quirks. Defiance?. He drags you across him, eliciting another squeak as he traps you between his body and the stone wall. Your heart begins to race when he gathers your skirts. You press your hand on his chest, "Daemon-"

"Is this not my right?" he hangs his head low to press his nose upon your jaw, "if I take you here in this hall, I would only be exacting the will of the gods for a married man and woman."

You squeeze his shoulders, "but there are peo-"

"People should know of my efforts to produce an heir."

Your body burns at the thought. But then, you both turn to the side upon hearing the sound of skidding and footsteps running off.

"Daemon!" you whine, hiding into his chest.

That's enough. He smirks then looks down at you. He releases your skirts in lieu of taking your hand. "Very well, prudish wife. I will claim you in our marriage bed, as you insist."

And Daemon does, right after he claims you against your chamber door and your vanity table. In truth, you do not understand how he had the wits about him to leave bed when it was all over.

The next morning was strange. It felt like a dream, in both parts that you enjoyed yourself coupling with your husband, and that you could not believe the turn of events. You get out of bed when your servants come to rouse you with a, "good morn, milady."

"Good morn," you stand, pushing your long hair behind you. Your servants giggling catches your attention. Your forehead curls inquisitively.

"The prince is a very passionate lover, milady."

You are bewildered by the sudden remark.

"Shall you wear a turtleneck today?" one says.

"Or perhaps a large necklace?" the other adds.

You look into the mirror and only then do you realize why they were offering such things. Red and purple blossomed on your throat, travelling even beyond the collar of your nightgown. Your body burns and you promptly cover yourself.

Your servants giggle and come to your side, "you need not hide from us, your grace."

"My cousin works in a brothel and she has— aw!"

You watch as one of them rubs their arm. The other who had pinched her turns back to you, "many apologies, your grace."

"Apologies," she mutters, rubbing her arm.

You stare at the two of them, feeling something bitter creep up your throat. "Did you..." you take a deep breath, "mean to say your cousin has... lain with my husband?"

She give you an apologetic expression, "forgive me, I-"

You cut her off with your nod, "you need not say more. I would like never to hear about this in future."

The two curtsy and speak no more as they ready you for the day.

By the time you're dressed in a modest turtleneck dress, and your brown hair is braided and adorned with silver pins, there is a knock on your door. You open the door yourself, dismissing your servants on the way.

"Ah," you smile at the sight of Cargyll, "good morrow, ser."

He bows, "good morrow, princess."

You rub your hands together as you examine his face, "... is it Erryk before me?"

He smiles, shaking his head, "tis Arryk with you this morn."

"Ah," you raise a finger, "you misheard me, ser. I clearly said Arryk and not Erryk."

Arryk chuckles softly and nods, "apologies, your grace."

"Perhaps you might teach me how to tell you apart," you mutter, "as a twin myself, I would be most offended if someone mistook me for my brother."

His laugh is more pronounced this time. He links his hands together as he thinks momentarily, "well, I would say he is uglier than I, but then again, he has my face."

You giggle under your breath. You bring a hand to your lips, "I understand you completely."

"As of late," he rubs his chin, "my beard has become longer."

You hum, "good to know." You exit your room, closing the door behind you, "have you broken fast, ser Arryk?"

"Indeed."

"Oh," you pause, "... you... would not happen to know where Prince Daemon is, would you?"

He turns to his feet.

You raise your brows.

"Would you like to know the truth?"

You stiffen at the thought, "...yes, ser. Always."

"Last I heard he was drinking with Gold Cloaks in Fleabottom," he mutters before looking up at you.

"I see," you say softly, "I— thank you for your honesty."

He nods, "of course, my princess."

You needlessly inspect your fingers, "my siblings would be eating with my father," you turn to Arryk, "and I do not wish to face him. I am sure he would say the same about me."

He clenches his jaw. He remembers the argument yesterday, and how Lord Otto moaned and hissed as Arryk escorted him out the maester's ward.

"Do you mind accompanying me as I break my fast?" you mutter, "I do not like eating alone."

He bows his head, "it is my duty to accompany you wherever you may go."

"... Ah," you look to your feet. You meant to offer that he drink a cup of tea with you, but the thought becomes preposterous the longer it lingers. He is not your friend. You have no friends in the Keep, "yes... it is."

Arryk knits his brows then finds himself correcting, "but I do not mind it at all. It is my pleasure to serve."

You offer him a soft smile. He is taken slightly off-guard by the sadness he catches in your eyes, which is why he does not smile back.

As you masticated your first meal of the day, you absentmindedly mashed your food while looking out the window. You longed to seek refuge in your twin, but you knew it would not be long until your father came around to chew you out. It would only be worse if you went to your sister, though, if she was under the refuge of her princess, perhaps not.

You decide it would probably be better for you to look for your husband, for after all, you were no longer a Hightower.

Arryk watches how your hair blows with the wind. He remains five paces behind you at all times. You were a lonesome thing, he thought, fragile and melancholic. You appeared as though you were searching for someone, and yet your gait felt rather aimless. Suddenly, your back straightens when you spot something— someone from across the hall, in turn, so does his.

Before you could speak his name, he calls out yours and smiles at you. Daemon even adds, "there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Your brows quirk as you walk towards each other.

Arryk allows an extra five paces to come between you.

You examine your husband's face, the dimples on his cheeks, the silver hair tickling his curled lips. You simultaneously feel the urge to push his hair away and debate whether or not his fair expression is truly borne form the fact he was searching for you and has now found you.

Your brows furrow as he tucks his hair behind his ear.

Is this what sex does to a man?

"Come," he says, grabbing you, "we mustn't delay."

Your heart races as you look at your arm. He tucks it underneath his own and hastily leads you off somewhere. You do not know where your feet take you, but you do know that the prince looks lovely when he speaks through a grin, just as he does now.

In truth, you catch not a single word from his mouth, which is why you are turned to stone when he begins kissing you. However, whatever rigidness your form holds quickly melts as his lips urge yours to a slow dance. You go putty against the window sill he pushes you against.

There is peace in the warmth he radiates. Your fingers finally find what they had longed to touch and unabashedly crawl up his nape to tangle in the roots of his hair. When he moans and pulls away, you stiffen and come back to reality. Had you hurt him?

"Daem-"

He turns about and says, "ah, Lord Hand."

Your stomach drops. You feel sick as you peak past Daemon's shoulder to see exactly him, glaring at the both of you.

"Or shall I call you father?" the prince grins, as to show the venom on his teeth.

"It would do you good to comport yourself," Otto blurts, face calm, but you knew better to believe he was anything but.

He tilts his head, "what for?"

Your heart squeezes when Daemon takes your hand and brings you to his side. You cannot bare to look at your father as your husband speaks, "you have created such a desirable creature. It would be more tactless of me not to worship her body with my own."

You feel your breath quicken as you hear your father grumble.

Daemon is victorious to see the old man walk away with a dark cloud over his head. He chuckles, "do not be so sullen, my lord. Tis a fine day!"

You feel your palms go sweaty. You lick your lips frantically. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself.

He chuckles as he turns back to you, "very goo-"

Your brows tighten.

Daemon catches your chin between his fingers. You are forced to open your eyes and you see the glimmer in his violet ones as he repeats, firmer this time, "very good."

Your heart does not calm though he rubs your back.

"You did well for me."

Your eyes begin to water, "Daemon, I-"

"Shh," he shakes his head, "there's no need for this."

"I—'ve upset him. "

He feels your body begin to tremble beneath his palm.

"But-"

"You spoke the words yourself, he's tormented you, has he not?"

"D-Daemon-"

"Shh, shh, shh," he leads you back to the window sill and sits you down.

You are gasping for air at this point, but he does not stop hushing you. He even begins to rub your cheeks with his thumbs. He pushes himself into your skirt, making room for himself between your legs. You gawk at him as he mumbles in a language you do not understand. He is impossibly close, as though you were kissing without kissing.

You do not know how many minutes pass, but you do know his timbre is just as serene as the voice of water. You only realize you had been crying when you take his wrists and feel water drip to your fingers.

He speaks that language again and you shake your head, "I do not understand."

"It does not matter," he mutters, pulling away to examine your face, "you are calm, no?"

You cannot reply because the sensation of his rubbing your cheeks is far too arresting.

"There is magic in the High Valyrian," he says, pulling away. It is so abrupt and unwanted that you chase after his hold and involuntarily attempt to stand.

Of course, Daemon is in the way and prevents you from doing such a thing. His head inflates ten sizes bigger upon unveiling how deeply affected you were of him. But as he looks at your wet cheeks, he thinks, how could such a pathetic creature not be so affected by one such as he. He further amuses himself by tracing your collarbones.

Your body tingles at his gentle thouch.

"Think of it as revenge."

Your lips part and brows knit, "r-revenge?"

"Yes," he taps your nose, "to your tormentor."

You gulp and clench your jaw. Daemon grins, but you are no longer blinded by it. "I- I do not-"

"Your very existence is torment to him, is it not?" he tilts his head, "must I remind you of your own words, my love?"

You are flabbergasted by the pet name, but before you could even tell yourself he did not mean such words, his airy chuckles tells you himself. You turn to your lap.

Daemon takes your chin again, "look at me."

Your heart races and your breath heavies.

"You want to be a dutiful wife, yes?"

Your release a deep sigh through parted lips, "... yes."

"It pleases me greatly to watch your cunt father suffer," Daemon rubs your chin before releasing it, "that is all I require of you."

Your brows furrow.

"Then you are free to do all that you desire, notably all those that your father has forbade."

"I-" wait, what?

Daemon catches the way your face shifts when his words finally click. His grin only deepens as he nods, "yes, yes. If he did not let you go out and play, oh, I do so beg you to play at your heart's content."

Your lips part further at the thought.

"But be sure to always play with me when I so desire," he says, cupping your cheek, "I do not like to be kept waiting."

Your heart skips a beat when he swipes your lips before walking off. He nods once at ser Arryk, who you had no idea was still here.

The said man then walks over to you, offering you an arm, "princess."

You look at his armored limb and feel sheepish. He must think you uncouth and ill-bred upon witnessing what he did. You take his arm— amongst sickly and feeble. You weakly mutter, "thank you."

"Would you like me to escort you to the maester's office?"

"W-wha- why?" you stand.

His brows tighten, "you were having an attack, were you not?"

You release his hand and step away from him. You smile softly and shake your head. He watches as you clasp your hands together. "They would only supply me milk of the poppy to ease my pain. There is no medicine for my affliction, Arryk."

He nods, "I see. Th-"

"Apologies. May I call you Arryk?"

He nods once more, "you may call me whatever you so desire, princess."

You smile, "very well," you turn to your feet, "I desire to call you by your name. You may do the same with me," you lift your gaze but do not turn to him, "I admit, the title princess does not suit me."

As you walk, Arryk follows closer this time, "it suits you well for you are a princess."

You sigh and smile at him from over your shoulder.

For the rest of the day, you retreat to your chambers and lay in bed. You stare at the ceiling, repeating over and over what had happened to you. As much as your father's searing glare burned in your mind, it was somehow not as hot as Daemon's gaze. You could do nothing but go between dread because your father and- and... affection because of your husband.

You rub your chest as you feel it tighten, thinking of your prince. You begin to fight your own breathing though, and sit up to calm yourself. You screw your eyes shut as you bring to mind things that calm you: swimming, Gwayne, Alicent, you-

Your eyes open when you hear the door swinging. You straighten up as Daemon walks over.

"Mmm," he chuckles, "did you wait because I asked?"

"I-" but your words are cut off by how the bed dips when he crawls over to you.

"I would prefer you with less clothing next time," he says, leaning into you, pressing a hand on your thigh.

Your heart quickens at his kisses. He smells and tastes of wine. He pushes your skirt up and comes down to kiss your knee.

You gasp when he pushes you back. And then you realize your breathing is heavy, but not strangling. You squeal when he kisses up your thigh, "D-Daemon-"

He gives you a warning look and mutters in a foreign tongue.

Suddenly, your smallclothes are being removed and your husband is sinking between your legs. You yelp, "D-Daemon, you're drunk!"

He holds you in place by your thighs. "No," he dismisses, "but I will be once you let me taste your cunt."

Your eyes widen and you immediately try to sit up.

All he has to do is lift your legs and speak your name for you to- "cease your needless wrangling," Daemon grunts, "you will quite enjoy this."

"P-pl-"

"You enjoyed my fingers did you not?"

Your mouth goes dry.

"Then you will more so enjoy my tongue, shaky thing. Quit trembling."

The strangled moan that is pulled out your throat is more confirmation than any word you could have ever told him.

By the time Daemon was satisfied playing with you, you were sticky and sweaty and naked lying next to him on your bed. You tense when he stands and you immediately cover your body with your blanket, "w-where are you going?"

"Mmm," he walks towards the drawer and pours himself a cup of wine, "to my bed."

You turn to your lap, unable to help the pinch you feel at the confession he does not see this as his bed.

You watch him as he grabs his clothing, then quickly stand, "let me-e help you!"

Wrapped in a blanket, you come to Daemon's side and help him get dressed. He lets you, slight amusement falling on his features as you so ardently assist him.

He allows you and stares at your glowing face, glowing because of how good he fucked you. The blanket rests heavy on your shoulders, but your neck is bare to him. He finds himself reaching out after you tie his breeches.

You still when he pushes the blanket off your shoulder. He tilts your head to the side to behold his work. You begin to breathe through your mouth when his thumb rubs over the new and previous purple marks he's put on you. You gasp when he makes the blanket fall to the floor. Instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine.

He rubs your sides and kneads your breasts. He's made such pretty marks all over your chest.

"Come to me tomorrow," he rubs his hands down your bare bum.

You whimper as he squeezes you there.

"I will be with my Gold Cloaks," he tilts his head, "I wish to parade my prize, so wear something pretty," he rubs your shoulders, "something that shows my good work."

Your lips tremble, from both the cold, night air and his words, "I do not think it-"

"It is not a question, wife."

Your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

He leaves after and you scramble to wrap yourself in your blanket.

The next morning, Erryk Cargyll assumes his station and knocks on your door to announce himself. When the door opens, he is pulled inside before he can speak.

"Good morn," you clasp your hands together as you look him up and down, "Erryk?"

He smiles softly and bows, "yes. Good morn, my princess."

You smile back and him and motion to yourself, "I must enquire your opinion as a man and not a knight sworn to serve me."

Erryk straightens up and nods, "very well."

You rub the cowl upon your shoulders and sigh, "what do you think of my attire?"

The man looks over your red dress and black cowl. He takes a moment to think of what might be out of the ordinary with it, but finds nothing, so he says, "it suits you very well, my lady."

You sigh at this and untie the bow of your cowl. You remove it, revealing your décolletage and his eyes widen at the sight of the marks on your skin. He clears his throat and looks away.

Your face falls and you cover your shoulders with your dark curls, "is it very tasteless?"

Erryk opens his mouth but he cannot form more than a stutter.

You shake your head, gripping your cowl tightly, "Daemon wishes to... parade his work."

The man's brows furrow and jaw clenches.

"Perhaps the cowl should stay on," you mutter, feeling your breath begin to shorten. You turn to the said object and feel your hands shake. You try to put it on, but it feels as heavy as a boulder.

He catches your cowl just before you drop it.

You release a deep, shaky breath, looking up at him with watery eyes, "will you help put it on, Erryk?"

A line forms between his brows as he nods. He takes your cowl then circles around you. He gathers your hair and places it upon your shoulders one side at a time. As he circles back to fix the piece, he feels your trembling, but says nothing as he does the bow.

"What is a wife supposed to do?" you mutter, tears becoming too heavy to remain unshed.

Erryk feels a pinch in his chest upon seeing your pink eyes. He feels rather helpless as he retorts, "I confess, I am unsure."

Your throat tightens. You rub your lips and shake your head, "forgive me. It is a cruel question to ask a kingsguard."

"Did you not say you ask this of me as a man?"

You fiddle with the ring on your finger.

"I do not imagine it oft, for I will never have one, but I imagine still, if I had a wife, she would wait on me and help me out of my armor once I return. She'd nurse me to health whenever I'm beaten. She'd trim my beard and braid my hair. She'd give me children as fair as she."

Your brows raise at his solemn words.

"And in return, I would honor her. I would worship her like the gods," he motions, "I would not allow harm, or shame to befall her, not if I could help it."

You chuckle at the way he says this. You shake your head, "you are man of honor. It is both a blessing and a curse that you are kingsguard."

You feel light headed.

Erryk hovers when you lean your face into a hand.

You barely turn to him as he takes your arm. You mutter, "this is what he requires of me."

His brows knit.

"That I be a conduit of his chaos," you gulp, "and in return... I will have my freedom."

"Freedom?" he leans his head forward.

You finally face him fully and shrug, "many a thing my father forbade me to do. I once believed he did it with love... now, I am not so sure."

The line between his brows only deepen.

"I should like to do most of what I could not before I die," you chuckle, as if it was a jest, to soften the mood. It does not work; it was not a jest.. You rub your chest and walk towards the door.

He guides you, but grows wary upon noticing how you lean your weight into the knob, "perhaps you should take a seat?"

You smile and shrug, "it matters little if I sit or not, Erryk."

You open the door and step out. He links your arm into his. You lean into him and sigh, "apologies-"

"There is nothing to-"

"-I have been calling you by your name."

He places his hand atop yours, "you may call me whatever you so desire."

"Mmm. You truly are quite like your twin," you lead down the hall, "you should do the same for me."

"Very well, princess."

"Hopefully not princess, and simply my name."

He shakes his head, "too late. You told me I could call you what I desire, and I desire to call you my princess."

"Except princess."

"Once more, too late."

"Hmp. You are less kind than your twin."

His jaw drops, "you wound me so deeply, my princess."

"I am glad to hear it, Erryk."

"My princess is quite cruel."

"Relent, I beg."

You realize you unconsciously walked yourself to the training yard by the time you got there. You also realize then how famished you were. On cue, your stomach grumbles, making Erryk look to you in concern.

"Have you not broken fast, my princess?"

"I- no."

"Then why did you walk us here?"

You were about to explain that your body had a knack of going to the areas in which your brother frequented, but before you could speak, the said man was calling your name.

You instantly come alive at the sight of your twin walking over.

"Good morn, sister," Gwyane nods, "Cargyll." He looks at him for a moment, "I wager... Erryk?"

You gasp and chuckle, "how could you tell?'

Your twin turns to you, "mmm, it might have to do with the fact I passed Arryk, who was stationed at the gate today."

"Oh, bother," you swat Gwayne, "I thought you could tell them apart."

"I just did, simpleton," he raises a brow.

"No, you're the simpleton, you nincompoop."

"No, you're the nincompoop, you daft sod."

"No, you're the daft sod, you freakish dunderhead."

"No, you're the freakish dunderhead, you ratty ninnyhammer-'

"You dare speak to the princess this way?"

You all turn and see Daemon's severe expression. He steps between you and Erryk, imposing upon Gwayne.

You tense and take his forearm, "Daemon, tw-"

He silences you by raising a finger. He narrows his eyes at your brother, "I should have your tongue for that."

Your twin chuckles in disbelief, but whatever amusement he might have had instantly melts into irritation, "a jest, prince. You act as though you are not capable of doing the same to your older brother."

"There is a time and a place for jests, yet I doubt there is a time or a place to publicly slander the Princess of Dragonstone."

"Daemo-"

"Believe me, I would be the first to demand satisfaction to whomever dare slander my twin sister," Gwayne grits his teeth.

Your husband laughs loudly, "then perhaps you should go shove a-"

"Daemon, please," you quip, finally raising your voice enough that you could not be ignored.

Both Daemon and Gwayne turn to you. You grab the former's arm and undo the ties of your cowl, "my silly brother is not worth the headache he's about to give you."

Gwayne's jaw tightens as he looks at the face you pull as you look at Daemon.

"He's not, but I can-"

His mouth goes dry when you remove the cowl and hand it to Erryk. Daemon's eyes rove over your cleavage. The marks on your skin were more apparent than he remembered, but then again, he had only seen it in candle light.

"I... dressed so prettily for you," you mutter, pushing your hair back, "perhaps we should go for a stroll instead?"

Daemon's lilac gaze falls upon your pleading eyes. For a moment, he's so distracted he'd forgotten all about your brother, but when he remembers, he turns to him with a chuckle and grins, "yes, you're quite right, wife."

When you look at Gwayne and he immediately turns away from you. Your throat constricts because of it.

"A good stroll would do us good," Daemon turns to you, "then I will shall show you the might of my City Watch. Tis far more entertaining than whatever you could behold here."

With that, the prince leads you off, turning to Erryk as he did, "that is all, Cargyll. I have her now."

You watch as the kingsguard nods at the instruction, stepping back to let you pass. You look over your shoulder, finding Gwayne already looking at you. You give him a sorry expression before looking away.

[a-motherfcking-fish]

Me: "Fck House of the Dragon. I'm not waiting 2 years in between seasons".

Me after House of the Dragon Season 2 trailer dropped:

[inkareds]

I, Carrion - Hozier

Daemon Targaryen

5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy) ✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes) ✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out. 

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose. 

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died. 

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited. 

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her. 

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age. 

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content. 

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity. 

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you. 

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved.  You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit. 

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life. 

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him. 

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy. 

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes. 

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.” 

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing. 

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

 Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women. 

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to. 

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn. 

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in. 

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially. 

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden. 

The roguish prince grinned. 

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you. 

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him. 

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements. 

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you. 

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?" 

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable. 

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned. 

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you. 

“Now why would I do that?” 

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.” 

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage. 

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.” 

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted. 

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave. 

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm. 

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression. 

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm. 

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.” 

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms. 

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house. 

But now it sounded different. 

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.” 

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you. 

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.” 

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you. 

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you. 

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.” 

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?” 

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite. 

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations. 

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away. 

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot. 

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour. 

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows. 

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement. 

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses. 

“Loyal.” You answered. 

~

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens. 

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have. 

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep. 

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep. 

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past. 

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over. 

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious. 

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight. 

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair. 

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod. 

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.” 

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care. 

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.” 

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.” 

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction. 

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you. 

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze. 

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed. 

Your daze broke almost immediately. 

“Pardon me, my prince?” 

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,” 

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned. 

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him. 

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind. 

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression. 

“Why?” was your only question. 

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why. 

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before. 

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully. 

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction. 

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.” 

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air. 

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines. 

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you. 

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind. 

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice. 

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on. 

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.” 

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave. 

~

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father. 

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself. 

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne. 

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier. 

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply. 

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room. 

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you. 

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you. 

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure. 

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat. 

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward. 

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard. 

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?” 

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction. 

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front. 

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll. 

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair. 

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet. 

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.” 

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!” 

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest. 

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position. 

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself. 

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it. 

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?” 

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!” 

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you. 

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea. 

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

~

What followed after came in quick succession. 

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare. 

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary. 

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know. 

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive. 

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself. 

You will survive. 

~

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys. 

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration. 

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties. 

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win. 

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found. 

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand. 

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time. 

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off. 

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen. 

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him. 

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that. 

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother. 

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend. 

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you. 

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them. 

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well. 

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge. 

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye. 

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one. 

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions. 

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name. 

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever. 

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life. 

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt. 

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away. 

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck. 

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife. 

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones. 

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death. 

~

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused. 

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter. 

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face. 

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing. 

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed. 

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead? 

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him. 

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him. 

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound. 

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was. 

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak. 

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises. 

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room. 

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid. 

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly. 

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth. 

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside. 

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened. 

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak. 

“Who are you?” he whispers. 

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing. 

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.” 

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care. 

~

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew. 

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened. 

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved. 

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved. 

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on. 

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares. 

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you. 

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours. 

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real. 

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare. 

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more. 

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago. 

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods. 

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent. 

Daemon choked. 

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless. 

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear. 

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest. 

~

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes. 

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever. 

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it. 

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!” 

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon. 

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form. 

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly. 

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace. 

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!” 

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?” 

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air. 

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war. 

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off. 

At the question, the mood thickens. 

“Let’s talk inside.” 

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts. 

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start. 

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad. 

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever. 

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand. 

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes. 

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up. 

That brought you to that very moment. 

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you. 

Daemon was the first to break it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology. 

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him. 

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time. 

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you. 

Anything. 

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped. 

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions. 

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act. 

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house. 

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time. 

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet. 

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Queen, may I ask for stepdaughter reader BUT she runs to aemond when she’s pregnant and they tell their mothers it’s aemond child so they both get married instantly ? Imagine daemon all smug he had her then he returns to the keep to find her married and his child claimed as the guy who stole her away.

A/N: I hope you like it!

pairing: Dark!Daemon Targaryen x Stepdaughter!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

summary: Stepdaughter runs to aemond when she’s pregnant and they tell their mothers it’s aemond child so they both get married instantly ? Imagine daemon all smug he had her then he returns to the keep to find her married and his child claimed as the guy who stole her away.

Word count: 1,9K

Warnings: Angst, mention of rape, fluff

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You did not know what to do, this was a disaster, you were in trouble. Daemon had left you the day after getting his way with you four hours on end, he left to solve some problem in the Reach- that was a moon ago and now you were going through your supposed moon's blood without bleeding.

Your maids were surely catching on and soon will be telling your mother. You had three choices running through your head, one was to tell your mother the truth where there was a possibility she would not believe you. Two was to try and terminate the pregnancy which terrified you. Three find a respectable man who will care for you and try and help you and there was only one man that came to mind, Aemond.

He has not spoken to you ever since Daemon found you two and beat him. He kept his distance but kept a watchful eye on you. You knew there was a possibility he would refuse to help you and even spread your secret but that was a risk you were willing to take. So with a raised head and bruised ego you made your way to his chambers. The guard let you in, eyes staring straight forward and hard.

"Aemond" Your voice came out weaker than you planned making you wince. You did not want to seem weak especially during your explanation. Aemond raised his head from the book he was reading and looked you over. His singular eye was glaring hard through you, as he always did to everyone else.

"Niece, what is it you want?" He slammed the book shut making you jump. He threw the book on the table by his side and stood up. Even with several feet between you two he looked taller and scary.

"I need your help" You whimpered. Your heart was in your throat. Your hands began shaking with nerves so you clasped them in a sweaty mess in front of you. Aemond raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you.

"What do you want? How dare you even come here? You left me beaten on the floor and did not even bother to visit me after" He hissed. His harsh words were like a dagger that popped the bubble that held you together and a sob slipped through your lips. Your head bowed down in shame, you knew that you should have visited him to at least explain but you could not. You felt ashamed, you felt dirty with Daemon's touch still making your skin crawl even after weeks, his seed still felt hot inside of you, it was all in your head you knew but still you felt so dirty.

"I am sorry- please I am sorry" You sobbed. Your raised your hands to cover your face. The tears running down your cheeks felt like lava leaving your face burning and red.

"Do not cower" Aemond grabbed your wrists and pulled them off your face. The second his skin touched yours it was like a snap and your whole body began shaking.

"Do not touch me!" Your screamed pulling away from him. Your stumbled back almost tripping over your skirt. Your clambered back until your back hit the wall. Your whole body was shivering uncontrollably at this point.

"Do not touch please- no more, no more touching" You were gasping for air but nothing was coming into your lungs. The mere feel of another man's touch reminded you of Daemon's touch.

The pain of him slapping your face and behind with his rings on and full of force. The pain of his cock pushing inside of your pure and never used before cunt that was dry. The pain of his hand circled around your throat to cut off your air way and screams for help. The smirk he had on his face as he redressed leaving you a sobbing and bruised mess on your bed was still imprinted in your head.

"Calm down, please calm down- shhhhh" Aemond raised his hands in surrender. He approached you slowly trying to show that he was no threat to you. Your eyes raised from the ground to look at him, his heart broke at the pain he saw behind the tears.

"What did he do to you?" Aemond asked. Furry made his blood boil. He wanted to reach over and hug you, hold you close and calm you down. He wanted to find Daemon and strangle him to death for what he did.

"He t-touched me. I d-did not w-want to" You sobbed. You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face between your knees.

"Touched you?" Aemond asked, he wanted a confirmation that he did not mishear. He wanted proof that his uncle was the monster he always knew him to be.

"He touched my flower" You whispered. Flower was a code you and Aemond used for private parts, Aemond and you were not mere innocent lovers, you did get dirty when writing letters to one another but it was mere words, now this was serious.

"Does anyone know?" Aemond asked. He wanted to mount Vaghar and find Daemon in whatever whole he hid in.

"No but they will" Your body slowly relaxed when you noticed that Aemond did not make a move to hurt you, when he did not start yelling at you, when he did not belittle you. His eye widened when you placed a hand over your stomach.

"Right- uh we will fix this" Aemond ran a hand through his ties hair undoing the tie. He paced back to the sitting area.

"Help me Aemond, please" You begged. You pushed yourself on shaking legs to stand back up. He watched you as you moved over to him slowly. Hands shaking and eyes watery, his heart broke at the sight. He promised to protect you and failed. He promised to keep you happy and failed.

"We will say it is mine and they will marry us" Aemond stood up from the chair. You nodded your head and looked down.

"I am sorry, you deserve a better wife, a pure wife who was not tainted by anyone else. You will be stuck with a dirty woman. I will be your slave in exchange-" Aemond raised his hand making you stop. Your eyes snapped up to look at his face, it was almost as red as a ruby and his one eye wide with anger.

"Never belittle yourself like this, you have no faults, sweet angel- may I?" he pointed at your hands. You took a deep breath and held them out to him. He was very gentle with his touch as he took your hands into his bigger ones. He raised them up slowly to not startle you and kissed your knuckles one after the other.

"You are perfect, you are all I want" He whispered. One of his hands slowly reached to touch your cheek. You flinched but did not pull away from him.

"I am sorry I was not there sweet angel" With that said you two went to your mother's chambers requesting to meet her and the queen.

Both women were horrified by the fake story of you two coupling and conceiving a child so by the end of the moon you and Aemond were married to one another. Aemond refused the bedding ceremony and did not touch you on that night or any other night after. He suggested sleeping on the ground but you refused and let him share your bed but with at least three pillows in between you, not even your feet touched.

By the end of your eighth moon of pregnancy things were calming down and the pillows were gone from your marriage bed, cuddles were almost a must at night jut no intercourse and Aemond seemed content. But of course the gods were cruel and Daemon returned. He had a smug look on his face as he walked into the throne room with Dark Sister strapped by his side.

Instinctively you stepped back into Aemond who wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you calm. Daemon kept his eyes on his brother bowing his head in respect.

"Daemon you have been missed" Viserys spoke first. Daemon raised his head smirking.

"I have missed you all as well my king" Daemon said smugly, his eyes trailed to your mother on the other side of the room. She smiled at him naively not knowing of the devil she was married to.

"You have missed your daughter's wedding brother" Your grandsire said. Daemon's head snapped up to look at the king before his eyes moved in search of you only to find you swollen with child and holding onto Aemond who was glaring at him.

"My nephew seemed to not waste anytime at all" Daemon hissed. His eyes trailed down to your stomach, too big to be a new pregnancy. Aemond did something he has never done before, his hand trailed down protectively to your belly.

Aemond was not cruel he never hurt you or the babe, he just decided not to acknowledge the fact much. He made sure all your cravings were met, he made sure you were taken care of as well. He held you carefully but never did he look at the belly or touch it even when cuddling in bed.

"Yes their wedding night was fruitful seven moons ago" Your grandsire said proudly. He looked at you with pride, you usually would have basked into it but not this time.

"I can see that" Daemon hissed. Your mother gasped shocked at his behaviour.

"You must be tired brother, how about you go rest and we will meet again later" Viserys attempted to defuse the tension that filled the room. Your family started filtering out one after the other leaving the room.

You and Aemond followed after Alicent who was whispering with Helaena about gods' know what. Your mother long gone after hearing that your brother Aegon had woken up screaming, probably hungry or something. A gasp tore through your throat when a hand wrapped around your arm pulling back harshly. Aemond turned around faster than you thought possible and pulled out his dagger. You turned to find Dameon holding your arm with Aemond's dagger under his chin.

"You think you can deceive the others? Well you cannot deceive me, I know this is my child" Daemon whispered, his eyes glaring down at you. Aemond pressed his dagger harder into Daemon's neck.

"Let go of my wife" Aemond hissed. Daemon's eyes snapped to look at Aemond with a smirk.

"Your used wife, nephew" Daemon smirked. Aemond's eyebrow ticked and before you could even blink Daemon was shoved off of you with Aemond holding up against the wall with the dagger now drawing blood from Daemon.

"Come near my wife and child again and I will personally cut your head off" Aemond did not wait for an answer before turning around to face you, he wrapped his arm around your and pulled you away from the hallway.

That same night your precious daughter came into the world screaming and crying. A skinny little baby feeding into the lie of her being born two moons too early. Her face scrunched in discomfort as she was pulled out of your womb into the world. You named her Jacaella in honour of your older brother Jace, Aemond frowned at the name but let it go for your sake. Your heart filled with even more love for him when the baby was placed into his arms, he swayed her from side to side successfully calming her down and putting her to sleep.

Aemond's taglist:@mihrimahsultan03, @fullmoonworshipper, @papichulo120627, @seulbeomie, @melaena-the-reborn, @k4marina, @fullmoonworshipper, @axelsagewrites

Daemon's taglist: @luanasrta, @papichulo120627, @seulbeomie, @melaena-the-reborn, @k4marina, @fullmoonworshipper, @axelsagewrites

[drakoneve]

The Wolf Amongst Dragons

request: Can you pretty please do a daemon X reader where it's his niece who teases him about being super smitten with the reader BC she is a headstrong stark and makes a fool out of the court because she can. Perhaps she gets quite hurt in a battle that the king sends her and others out to fix. Basically it just ends up being fluffy where the reader knows his feelings and just soaks up the complete love he has. Like this boy has been knocked off his feet and he hates to admit it hehe 

pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n stark 

word count: 1k

warnings: canon typical violence, injured reader, blood

a/n: i tweaked this a little, hope you don’t mind!

You made a promise to yourself the day your older brother, Cregan, loaded you and your belongings into a carriage headed for the capital. Until this point you’d never stepped foot out of Winterfell, let alone were you prepared to move to the other side of the continent. Yet you had no choice. When the King of the Seven Kingdoms requests a Northern representative for the royal court, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to send his little sister.

When you finally arrived at the Red Keep you were meet with by King Viserys, his wife Queen Aemma, their daughter Princess Rhaenyra, and the king’s brother Prince Daemon. The Kingsguard stood tall in gleaming armor in full force surrounding the royal family, who was also accompanied by their personal staff.

“Lady Stark!” King Viserys cheers as he opens his arms in greeting. “We are honored to welcome you to the Red Keep! I hope your travels went smoothly?”

“Thank you, your Grace,” you answered as you bowed respectively. “The Kingsroad is fine, your Grace. It’s more the climate that’s concerning me. i’m not yet used to such... conditions, to say the least.”

Queen Aemma steps forward, “I’m sure you’ll adjust before you know it. Please, allow me to show you to your chambers.”

The queen was gracious enough to accompany you not only to your chambers, but she then took you on a tour of the palace. She began with the throne room, then took you out to the royal gardens where she took you to the Godswood. Having a weirwood tree right here in the Red Keep made you breath easier. At least this place had some trace of the North. Being so far from home unnerved you deeply, but in this place you could feel a connection to home.

Over the next few days you attended Small Council meetings where you watched from the sidelines. King Viserys assured you would have a seat on the council soon enough, but others suggested you have an ‘adjustment period’ of sorts. You scoffed at the idea but still took your seat outside the council table.

Being separated from the council, however, was not enough to restrain you from calling Otto Hightower a ‘spoiled southern cunt’ for suggesting Daemon send members of the City Watch into Flea Bottom to reprimand those who are already fighting to survive. During these meetings you happened to catch the violet eyes of the rogue prince, who had yet to make your acquaintance. 

Not long after your arrival in Winterfell, King Viserys announced that Queen Aemma is with child once more, and the palace went into a mode of celebrations. A feast had been prepared and the throne room transformed into a dining hall with room for dancing. 

Most everyone had finished their meals and began mingling and dancing their way around the room, but your attention focused mainly on the many molten swords of the Iron Throne. You had to admit the sight of the royal seat of Westeros was quite an intimidating sight.

Something inside told you to take a step towards the throne, and so you did. You stopped when you approached the first line of molten swords and reached out to trail your fingers lightly across the hilt. 

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Daemon advised teasingly as he came up on your right side. “My brother does not take kindly to those who yearn for his precious throne.”

“I merely grazed the hilt of one measly sword,” you refuted. “I did not sit my arse upon it and call myself the queen. Nor do I want to.”

“Truthfully?” he inquires, a look of curiosity upon his face. You take the moment to take in the sight of him, and you cannot deny he’s an incredibly handsome  man. Like the rest of his Targaryen ancestors, Daemon is beautifully crafted by the Gods of Old Valyria— blessed with silver blond hair and lilac eyes. 

You nod and look back up to the throne. “I could think of nothing worse,” you admit. “To live my life upon this ghastly thing and have to sit through endless bore-me-to-death Small Council meetings? Sounds miserable to me.”

With that you excuse yourself respectively to retire for the evening. You make quick rounds to the other members of the royal family to excuse yourself for the night totally unaware of how Daemon’s eyes are following you the whole time. He watches as you begin with his brother and sister in law, before finding Rhaenyra (who’s in the middle of the dancefloor with Alicent) and saying goodnight to her, too.

He laughs to himself when Rhaenyra and Alicent each take one of your hands and pulls you around in circles with them, as if trying to convince you to stay with them just a bit longer. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but his heart beats harder at the sight of your dark gray satin skirts flow around you while you twirl, at the smile on your face as you laugh with his niece and her friend.

Eventually you pull away from the girls before officially making your way out of the throne room and away from the chaos. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Several months had passed since the death of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon, and war had begun in the Stepstones just as Corlys Velaryon warned King Viserys and the eternity of the Small Council. Still Viserys refused to step in as king and help the Lord of Driftmark defeat the Triarchy once and for all. After the king rejected Corlys’ offer of Laena’s hand in marriage and instead married Alicent Hightower, the seasnake took off to fight in the Stepstones. It wasn’t long after that that Daemon joined Corlys in his war efforts.

You stayed in the Keep for awhile, trying to convince Viserys to aid Corlys and Daemon in their efforts of holding the Stepstones to no avail. Viserys had allowed you to take a seat on the council while Corlys and Daemon were gone, and each time you tried to plead with the king to see reason Otto Hightower would weasel his way in the king’s ear against you. 

So you decided to go to the Stepstones yourself, naturally. You recruited Ser Harwin Strong to accompany you once he swore on his honor he would not say a word of your plan to anyone until his safe return to King’s Landing. 

You and Harwin arrived on the shores of the Stepstones in time to rush to Daemon’s side as he was overrun by members of the Triarchy. You wore the armor your father had gifted you after many years of insisting on joining your brother Cregan on the battlefield with the Stark bannermen. 

Vaemond Velaryon scoffed at your arrival and insisted Corlys send you away. Daemon stepped forward, piercing Vaemond with his furious lilac gaze. 

“Put your cocks away, boys,” you tease, unimpressed. “We’ve a war to win, do we not?”

You joined the war torn men around the large table set up with the maps of the battlefields. Conversation continued back and forth as the lot of you tried to come up with a plan to take down the Crab Feeder and Triarchy. Laenor’s plan of sending Daemon to the Crab Feeder as a scapegoat of false hope only for both Caraxes and Seasmoke to burn the Triarchy men alive. 

For the most part everything went as planned, until you jained Daemon’s side as he was ambushed, unarmed, by a circle of the enemy. You’d jumped into the fight, effectively taking out several Triarchy soldiers before tossing a sword Daemon’s way. He showed his thanks by slaying the rest of the men with you, but not before one of them slashed you in the side, leaving a bloody gash on the side of your thigh.

“Fuck!” you yell as you clutch your leg, losing your balance and hitting the ground. Blood streamed down your leg in a slow, but steady, flow. Daemon joined your side in a flash, ripping the white flag he’d had to feign surrenderance to tie the cloth as tight as he could above the gash in your thigh.

The battle continued around you though for the most part Caraxes’ and Seasmoke’s flame had discouraged most of what was left of the Triarchy. With Daemon’s aid you were able to safely make it back to the shore where you’d first arrived to be treated by the healers available.

Daemon stayed by your side through the stitching and even went as far as to hold your hand and offer sweet words as comfort. You were grateful for him, this way you had something else to focus on other than the pain. And if you needed an alternative to keep your mind busy, there was no better pick than Daemon.

His silvery white hair fell around his face perfectly despite being slightly matted with sweat and blood. He’d always been handsome, that you couldn’t deny, but seeing this softer side to him made him even more so in your eyes. It’s no secret Daemon is a troublemaker, and you should probably keep your distance, but after this how could you?

Long after the battle was over Daemon was crowned King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. He’d cut his infamous long hair short, and it suited him. Sometimes little wisps of silver hair would fall down into his face and you had to remind yourself to breathe at the sight.

Your relationship with Daemon changed after the war in the Stepstones. Whereas before the war you would avoid Daemon in court, you now sought him out. Not that you had too, because he often would join your side in Small Council meetings or invite you out to the training yards.

Tonight however, you opted to stay in your chambers.

You’d already stripped down to your nightclothes when a knock came from the other side of your chamber doors.

“Come in.” you called.

The doors open and Daemon entered, dismissing your guards. They looked to you before leaving once they had your reassurance.

Daemon didn’t hesitate to step right up to you. “Forgive me for the hour, my lady, but I’ve found myself in a situation I am quite unfamiliar with and it seems you are the only one who can help me.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, trying to ignore the fluttering of your heart. “How am I supposed to be of aid?”

“Be mine,” he responds quickly with confidence. “I must confess from the day you arrived here in the Keep I’ve been quite taken with you. And the day you rode onto the shores of the Stepstones, I knew I could not live without you by my side—”

You reached your hands out to cup either side of his face. “Daemon, do not jest. I’m afraid my heart could not take it.”

A genuine smile breaks out across his lips. “I would never,” Daemon insists. “I’ve felt this way for a long time, my little wolf.”

Daemon’s hands fall to your waist as he pulls you into his body, leaning down to kiss you firmly. You pulled away and kissed his forehead before resting your own against his. 

“Come to bed, Daemon,” you purr and pull away towards the bed.

He laughs and smiles down at you. “As you wish, little wolf.”

[sadlvrgrrl]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐕𝐄𝐑.)

a daemon targaryen love story

Every night, when the moon is full and bright, he dreams of the one he calls his light.

disclaimer: daemon is extremely ooc

𝘸𝘤: 723

・❥・

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince of Westeros was far from pure. He was ruthless, stubborn, arrogant, and most of all, powerful. His blood was equivalent to a dragon, forged from the fiery pits of the seven hells. He was the deliverer of chaos and destruction, and no one was able to tame his savage inferno.

All until one; her.

She was the epitome of ethereal, a beauty so delicate, so pure in a way that she was too perfect for this world— too perfect for him. She was an angel forged of the purest light with hair as bright as the moon, skin as white as snow, and her eyes—

her eyes held magic.

Full of light, full of innocence, full of stars.

Starry eyes that had him hypnotized.

Starry eyes that made him stumble, but it was her smile that made him fall.

Starry eyes that had him vow to do anything in his power to keep their light kindle endlessly. 

She was a blessing from the gods. A wish upon a shooting star. If he could, he would tear the whole world apart just to rebuild it brick by brick to a standard he deemed worthy of her existence. Worthy of her light— worthy of his light; Celethiel.

・❥・

Daemon follows the elen wisps through a sprawling forest, letting them guide his way with their light to their keeper. The tall trees towered over him, reaching into the heavens. Their branches weave together a dense canopy, shrouding the forest in shadow and only letting strings of moonlight spill through the gaps, filling the forest with a soft light.

As Daemon enters the clearing, his violet eyes instantly fall upon Celethiel sitting on a stone bench under a white willow tree. She was clad purely in white, and her hair was long and bright; like a moonlight river cascading down her back, casting a glow around her like a magical veil. The sight of her beauty was utterly spellbinding and mesmerizing, and Daemon was enchanted.

“Why do you linger in the shadows, my prince?” Said the enchantress. Her voice was silvery and melodious, like the sound of a fine harp.

“I only linger in the shadows not to hide from you, but to admire the beauty you emit, ñuha ōños.” said Daemon. “For you are a treasure of all treasures worth worshiping.”

A musical chuckle was the response; short and breathy. It filled Daemon with excitement, making him wanting more; more of her sweet melody of a harmonious mixture of grace and elegance.

While his eyes were fixed on her; hers was on the moon, gazing at it with a distant look of tranquility and longing. Daemon envied its fortune, for it had become the object of affections of the one he loved the most. Desiring nothing more than to be in the moon’s place so he can feel the touch of her eyes upon his own face. He walks up to Celethiel, and slowly kneels on the ground in front of her. Gently, he takes her hands in his. His warmth instantly melts the chillness of the night as their fingers interlace together.

“My love?” He said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

“The moon...it's light shines brighter than ever before,” She said. “Mother must be happy.”

“I believe it is you that shines brighter, my love.” He said, his voice filled with tenderness and love. But her eyes have yet to stray away from the moon.

Daemon sighed, feeling defeated by the hold the moon had over his light. He slowly brings her hands up to his cheeks, wanting to feel the softness of her touch. Then his lips met with her smooth and delicate skin, and it felt as if he was kissing the finest silks in all of Arda.

“Celethiel…please…please look at me,” he spoke timidly. “kostilus.” 

Daemon Targaryen, a man known for his arrogance, had willingly turned his pride into sand. A man known for his steel strength is now bent by his passion. Upon his knees, he begs his beloved for her love. His whole world is consumed by the one he desires most; his light.

Then suddenly, as time seemingly to stand still, her gaze has finally met his. And for the first time that night, he saw the stars that graced the night sky.

(𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒅.)

a/n: a little story info, celethiel is a valar; daughter of manwë and varda. instead of varda being associated with the stars, she represents the moon. i really hope you guys enjoyed this, and I'm so sorry it's short. i just haven't been getting enough inspiration and motivation to develop a fixed plot. maybe one day i'll come back to add on to this story.

[imtryingbuck]

fluff - △ angst - ◯ Dividers by me🤍

[houseofthescrolls]

Midnight Rain

Daemon Targaryen x Reyna Targaryen (OC)

You were my midnight rain

- Angst - Slowburn - Fluff

Pt 1 / Pt 2

The ball was in full swing and I could hear music blaring loudly as I walked down the castle halls alone. It was an exhausting discussion, but I forced my father not to assign me a guard. I was weary of who to trust in this dragon’s den and I can protect myself.

My thoughts drifted to my son, wondering if he was having a good time. Viserys requested to go to this event with his cousins Jacerys and Lucerys tonight and I welcomed the bonding even if I felt highly uncomfortable around my sister.

I stopped by the open archway, peering up at the night sky. My growing nerves preventing me from entering the lively ballroom. Last time I was at a ball like this, Daemon had just returned from another victory in battle.

“I have watched you sulk your night away. Why are you not dancing?” Daemon asked as he leant back against the very wall I currently rested upon.

“My father thinks I am old enough find a suitor.” I answered glumly.

“And you are not happy of this news?” His tone was mocking as he took a drink of his wine already knowing the answer to his own question.

“You know very well why I am not, uncle.” I half heartedly glared in his direction.

Daemon nodded, “I was like you once.”

“Once?” I teased turning my body fully towards him now, “Do you forget that you are still are not married?”

“Hush,” He smiled matching my movements, “This is your suitors ball not mine.”

My smile faded at the teasing reminder, “I want to be more than just a wife and child maker.” I sighed.

“Then let me lighten your sorrows with a dance.” He set his glass down and held his hand out towards me patiently.

I smiled softly, the butterflies in my stomach always managing to appear when he is around. I placed my hand in his.

That was the first time he showed any interest in me. An interest that wasn’t the fleeting glances and cordial hello’s as he passed me by to greet his blood. Though no one would dare question my adoption out loud, the feeling of being an outcasted sheep was felt sourly.

But I remember… I remember his warm hands pressed against my waist. I remember our smiles that mirrored one another. I remember that night as if it were yesterday. He stayed with me, refusing to leave my side as he shooed off any suitors with his hard gaze. His hair was shorter then too. I mused.

“Alright.” I spoke to myself as I pushed aside my thoughts, “The past can’t help now and neither can he. I can do this on my own.”

I can entire the dragon’s den as force of my own for I am not a dragon… I am a wolf.

I entered the ballroom with stride, my dress made of ice blue silk and diamonds this time as it glittered from the lights.

“My king! The Queen Of Nox has arrived!” The page announced.

Those nearest to the door greeted me with a bow and a good evening. I smiled in kind before walking towards my father and greeting him with a bow.

“Thank you for joining us my daughter.” The king welcomed me and the party commenced.

“Thank you for inviting me and my son.” I smiled, “Speaking of, I must seek him out.”

“Last I saw he was by the food.” Alicent said and I smiled to her gratefully and went on my way.

I was thankful for the parting crowd as I walked throughout the ballroom and soon found Viserys by a table filled with a variety of food brought out by the butlers and maids. It warmed my heart to see him talking with his cousins, a wide smile on each of their faces.

“Mother!” Viserys waved me over as soon as his gaze landed on me, “Jacerys was just telling me about his time learning our mother tongue.”

“Oh that is quite lovely! I’m happy to know that the language is still taught within these walls.” I smiled towards my nephew, “And how are you finding the language?”

“Difficult.” He chuckled, “I’m not sure the difference between what is attack and what is a potato.”

“Tricky indeed.” I mused with a nod.

“I offered to help him learn while we are here.” Viserys said.

I nodded at the proclamation, “That is a wonderful idea! I am happy to hear the three of you getting along.”

“As am I.” I heard my sister say behind me.

I turned and the smile on my face settled to a plangency as I greeted her and our uncle, “Good evening sister… Uncle.” I greeted them both in kind.

“How are you my sister?” She asked.

I glanced towards her attire, fitted in black and gold, “I am alright, thank you. How are you?”

“Sore.” She humored, “I’ve been on my feet all day.”

I nodded in understanding, “That is understandable.”

“Are you sure you are alright?” She continued, “I haven’t seen you since the night you arrived.”

“Quite.” I stated pressing my lips together in a thin line, “I’ve just been busy. I have been with father, discussing some business between our kingdoms.”

“What kind of business?” Daemon spoke without so much as a hello.

I rolled my eyes refusing to look at him and instead directed my attention to a certain pastry I would like to have later, “Wouldn’t you like to know, prince.” I said pronouncing that word with mockery.

If I were looking at him I would have laughed at the glare he sent me, “I have every right to know, I am your uncle, niece.”

“I am a Queen to you, address me as such or get out of my presence.” I waved my hand towards him and moved to leave.

I could hear my son and nephews chuckling. They were in awe at the guts I had towards the rogue prince, but I don’t fear him. I never had.

“I was hoping we could talk.” Rhaenyra pressed as Daemon scoffed. She wanted to diffuse the tension to keep me longer, “I haven’t seen you in years, let alone heard any word from you.”

“A reason you surely know.” I tried to take a step back to turn once again, but she quickly stepped in my way.

“Please.” She pleaded.

“Viserys.” I looked at him silently telling him to leave.

“Why don’t you tell me how to say sky in old Valeryan.” Viserys guided his cousin away.

I turned to look at my sister sharply, “What is it that you truly want from me sister?”

“A truce.” She said lowly.

“A truce?” I raised an eyebrow at her praying to the gods that I wouldn’t punch the man with the stupid smirk now standing in my peripheral.

He was wearing black attire tonight with silver trims. If he wasn’t such a deceitful, lying, pompous prick I would find it quite handsome on him… if only. If only he wasn’t such an ass.

“Yes. I was hoping we could clear up this pathetic fight about the marriage between Daemon and I.” She stated appearing as regal as ever where as I was on the verge of drowning.

Pathetic? She thinks this is pathetic? Does my heart mean nothing to them?

“Then it is cleared.” I said without a care, “Now if you would excuse me.” I nodded and tried my escape again, but Rhaenyra had different plans.

“Just let me explain, please. I want you to understand that I never wanted to hurt you. You see, we have been on and off for a while.” She began and I couldn’t help but stare blankly at the array of roses just past her head.

The sooner she finishes the better. I don’t want to hear about how I was deceived, hurt, and betrayed. I have already found peace, I can—

“And while it may seem new to most, this attraction started when you began your courting season and so—“

My eyes snapped to her amethyst ones in disbelief, “What?” I could barely get the choked words out, “When did this start?”

“Never mind that—“ Daemon spoke up, but with the fire in my eyes directed toward him, he quickly shut up.

“Your courting season.” She stated again before her rant continued.

I couldn’t understand what she was saying as my world caved in once again. My confused gaze fell onto Daemon wanting him to explain himself, to just say something, anything, but he didn’t far speak a word.

That year was one of the only happy memory of us. I held onto it with my life, every time I tried to imagine what our future could have been. Even if he fell out of love with me when my sister came of age, at least during that season he saw me instead of her… That he chose me… Not her.

My confused look turned to sorrow as I watched his gaze fall from mine. In intimidation or guilt, I do not know, but I looked at him trying to understand his reason behind all of it.

I still remember when he confessed to me. The love he held for me could revel the strongest of seas or so I thought. For the first time since I came to the palace and met Daemon, he seemed so happy. I was so sure that it was going to be him, that he was going to be my forever. I refused any other suitors because of the way he looked at me.

“You are the first woman I have felt this way towards.” He said taking strides towards where I stood.

“Felt what way?” I asked turning to face him.

My room began to feel warm as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“Love, my little flame.” He answered.

His honey words had me reeling. My heart growing ten times bigger as he brought his lips to mine.

I was his first love. That is what he said, but I wasn’t was I?

“You…” Was the only word I could say in the moment, my throat constricting to get anymore words out. He looked back to me, waiting for me to continue, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to say the truth that was clearly in front of me.

My gaze fell defeated in a twisted understanding that he never loved me, he only used me.

“But, what we have is love.” Rhaenyra stated bringing me back to this moment.

I nodded desperately wanting to get away from here, “You can keep your love. I do not want it nor do I wish to ruin it. Now please excuse-”

She grabbed my arm, “I don’t want to have you as my enemy. This jealousy and resentment will get us nowhere. You know that we are stronger together so please for all of our sakes, can you put this behind you?”

It was that flicker, that spark that ignited the anger inside me as I ripped my arm from her grasp. My shoulders squared back as I used my height to tower over her, even if it was just a few centimeters, my crown made up for the rest.

“Do not.” I started, my voice stronger than before as it took on the role I was meant to be, a queen, “Ever assume that I would stoop so low as to resent either of you for a simple marriage, let alone be jealous of it.” The bile rising in my throat proves my emotions towards this, but I refused to be the sad and pitied Princess who was cast aside all those years ago, “I have a kingdom of my own to rule, a son whom I love deeply, and a life that keeps me content. In no way have I ever been jealous of you, little sister.” No one is going to know how I feel and I refuse to be the newest gossip of the kingdom.

“I did not mean any harm by my words.” She pleaded.

“Oh I know exactly what you mean. Do not worry, I will put this so called petty fight behind me as I fly back to my kingdom in a few days.” I glared at the both of them and turned away, this time I did not try to excuse myself as I left saying, “I’d like to enjoy the rest of my evening with the only friend I have in this godforsaken castle.”

I found Alicent, the only other person who knew of my failed engagement with Daemon though she didn’t not know of Viserys’s birthright. My rage burned hotter than dragon’s fire though I hid it, Alicent seemed to see right through my facade as she looked at me worried from her throne.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“I don’t understand why these white haired, purple eyed jerks think they are so righteous with whatever they do.” I stated angrily and was happy that my father was not around in this moment.

Her eyes widened at the proclamation, but in she nodded in understanding.

“She implied that I was jealous.” I continued sitting beside her, “Of her marriage to that tantrum throwing teenager. That this feud between us, no. That my feelings towards that humiliating rejection he gave me is petty.”

“I’m sorry.” Alicent reached over to place her hand on mine.

I looked down, “They didn’t even apologize.”

“They are Targaryen. They never apologize.” Alicent stated.

She was able to draw my attention away from the horrid topic for a while with gossip of her own but my gaze always seemed to find them in the crowd. It was getting late when I decided to part from the celebrations.

“Are you sure you want to stay up?” I asked Viserys.

He nodded almost immediately, “Yeah, Aemond has some cool things he wants to show me.”

“Alright.” I nodded before looking at Aemond, “Please keep my son safe brother.” I said the word lightly in case he would be offended.

He seemed caught of guard, but nodded, “Of course.”

“Have a fun night you two and stay safe.” I wished them both farewell before taking my leave.

I took my time getting back to my room, trying to stir off all the unpleasant feelings before I fall asleep. I almost made it… Almost. I could feel his presence behind me like a looming shadow.

“You can stop following me. Ive had enough excitement for today.” I spoke.

“Reyna.” His voice was gentle and my body straightened up a bit. It’s been a while since I heard that tone of his, but in the end I knew deep down I couldn’t fall for anymore of his tricks.

I rolled my eyes wishing that I could be away from his dramatics, “What is it uncle?”

“Do you refuse to say my name?” He asked tensely.

“Why should I? Do you not like uncle? Shall I call you rogue prince instead?” I challenged as I turned around, he was further than I expected, treating me as if I were some wild animal.

It was quiet for some time and I couldn’t help but turn around to see if he disappeared, but no. There he stood with a look on his face that reminded me of a small boy who knew he was in the wrong.

“I…” His voice trailed off and my ears perked up.

Was there a chance he was going to apologize? Say those simple words that held so much meaning? I waited now a bit more relaxed and as patiently as I could.

He cleared his throat and stood up straighter, “How are you doing?”

I sighed knowing that it was too good to be true, “How am I doing?” I stared into the sparkle his eyes possessed, “Our entire love was all just a cruel joke.” I watched his gaze fall as he looked at the wall beside me, “It is clear to me now that you never actually loved me, didn’t really care for me at all really.” I couldn’t help but scoff, catching his attention, “All an act to get closer to the one you truly cared about… Rhaenyra. Well you two can live happily forever without me.”

With that I left the rogue prince to stand there alone as I went back to my room.

I need some sleep.

Stay tuned!

Taglist

@shipheart @this-is-a-bad-idea @dragon-in-a-kettle @hadthemapplebottomjeans