the breaker box’s tasks were always supposed to be done by two people; Eddie was struggling so much so had to create Volt. If he had always been alone, he would have been able to cope, so perhaps there was someone else helping him.
As soon as I saw this, I connected some dots and thought… YES! this is my headcannon: that Daemon is Eddie’s brother and used to help out in the breaker box… until he became glitched, until he became “a frayed wire flying free”.
The two of them ran the breaker box together and Daemon took Volt’s role of performer, host and front stage man, while Eddie preferred hanging back and serving drinks.
Eddie grieved for the loss of his little brother for years, struggling with the upkeep of the Breaker Box until eventually he split himself and created lovely Volt.
Let me know what you guys think plspls I have plenty more Daemon propaganda to spread bc he is my baby boy
✢summary: daemon doesn’t often love, and when he does he deals with it in the worse ways possible
✢tags: daemon targaryen x reader
✢tw: reader is implied to be a targaryen so typical incest
✢a/n: ik i don’t write things with reader bring preggy and kids because the very thought of it disgusts me, but seeing as the story is set in the game of thrones universe i doubt any woman can refuse to have children especially if they are highborn.
Daemon loves many things. He loves his girls down in Flea Bottom where every whore would approach him like flies to honey at the sight of his white hair for a chance to sleep with a Valyrian prince. He loves his role as the commander of the City Watch and his gold cloaks who are loyal to his demands, he loves the violence, the blood that slicks his hand red when he slits the throat of a criminal or the painful look of a rapist’s face when he cuts his cock off. Daemon loves war, this war for the Stepstones is something he has craved for a long time. The weariness of it, the frustration, the battles and the sword fights- Daemon loves every bit of it.
Daemon loves his ancestry, his Dark Sister who fights with him in every battle, his Caraxes, his pride and joy, whom he rides on to war like a god as cold wind wooshes through his hair in the sky. Daemon also loves his brother, despite popular belief. Viserys who was there from the start, a peacemaker to his violence, someone soft to Daemon’s harsh lines. Viserys, who Daemon bends every rule and law for his attention. Viserys just makes it so…hard to love him sometimes.
Viserys has also given Daemon a wife, who he does not love.
Viserys did not realize that Daemon wanted to choose his wife, not to be given another as soon as his previous marriage was annulled. He does not love his wife, but the Lady Y/N Targaryen is far easier to look at than his old bronze bitch. They both have the blood of the dragon in their veins, strumming chaos and fire in their blood, making it enjoyable to bed her. And so Daemon did, over and over again, until her screams rang across the Red Keep, eating his lovely Targaryen wife until she fainted but even then Daemon did not stop- until her peaks were just short shivers, until she was heaving heavily with no thoughts in her head but his name.
Daemon likes the way the court averts their eyes every time he sees his wife, yanking in her hair to expose her neck to him. He likes the way her neck feels in his hands, so soft and delicate, but he likes the sultry gaze Y/N Targaryen gives him more.
There was only one moment where the thought of loving his wife came up in his mind was when he had held his son in his arms, still freshly birthed and red from blood. “Jaehaerys,” she whispered, taking his attention away from the babe to her. “A name of a great king to a great babe.
Daemon merely nodded and drunk in the sight of her. Y/N’s cheeks have sunken and eyes have darkened after long hours of labor. Her hair was tied to her back by a handmaiden in the middle of her labor but some strands had managed to escape. She was wearing nothing but loose robes with no jewelry on her neck or hair, a far cry from the the Lady Y/N Targaryen of the Viserys’ court. Daemon had never seen her so beautiful. And now, she had given him his son.
Before he could even stop himself, Daemon leaned over and pressed a kiss on her sweaty forehead. “Thank you.”
Y/N have him a surprised look.
Perhaps this was it. Perhaps he could stay here, in Dragonstone, with his wife and Jaehaerys without a thought of the world. Perhaps he could love her as he already loves his son. Kings Landing could die and he would not care, but…
Second sons must make a name for themselves, Daemon’s head echoes the words of Corlys Velaryon upon his summons at Driftmark.
Daemon gives Jaehaerys one last kiss before giving him back to his mother. He had ridden Caraxes to the Stepstones by sundown.
-
You had barely even finished your fast when you were suddenly rushed by your handmaidens to dress quickly. “The King has called for an audience, Princess,” said Mhyra, gently guiding you to your vanity as you sit down before it.
Alys, your other handmadien, scurried to you from your closet with a red and black dress in hand. Your eyes squinted on her bold dress of choice. It was one of your ‘strong’ dresses that boasts your house with two dragons on your shoulders while rubies are bejeweled to the embroidered third dragon on the back. “Audience for what?” You asked.
Behind you, more of your ladies in waiting scurry around in a flurry. “Get the Price Jaehaerys!”
You turn at the mention of the prince, watching as three of Jaehaerys’ maids walk briskly out of your chambers. “Wha- what is happening?”
“Prince Daemon has returned with victory from the Stepstones, my lady.” Mhyra answers, as you immediately tense.
You almost fail to hide your displeased grimace.
Within minutes you are dressed in your best dress directly below the Iron Throne as is your right. You watch as the Kings Guard fill Viserys’s court first, then sworn shields, then the lords and ladies of Kings Landing flock to the hall until it was full. Chatter and whispers fill up the hall of the Iron Throne with rumors of Daemon’s victory, Daemon’s defeat, or god forbid- Daemon’s rebellion from the Iron Throne.
From the corner of your eye, you spot Rhaenyra’s platinum head among the chatty crowds. You give her a questioning raise of your eyebrow as she should have been in Dragonstone while she sheepishly smiles in response.
Silence holds the room immediately as Daemon finally walks through the halls. He walks slowly, taking his time like he was strolling through a garden. He is still arogant, it seems. Though the crowd wa already split into two, you think that Daemon was like a shark swimming through schools of fish as the crowds take a step back when he passes by as he walks towards the throne.
The first thing you notice him was he was wearing a crown of white bark held together by a dark strings. You raise your head up to the Iron Throne and almost immediately, Viserys’s purple eyes return your worried gaze.
You turn your head back to the exiled prince. The second thing you notice- his hair. Gone was his flowing white locks of hair that passed by his shoulders. His hair was now sheared short that ends before his nape. He looks as handsome as ever.
Before he can take another step towards the Iron Throne, Daemon is stopped by a sword. The crowd hold their breath as Daemon raises his own sword to the King before dropping it to the ground. “Add it to the chair.”
The sword echoes as it falls to the ground.
“You wear a crown,” starts Viserys, looking down at Daemon with the legendary sword of Aegon the Conquerer rests sheathed on his hands. “You also call yourself king.”
“Once we smashed the triarchy, they named me King of the Narrow Sea,” Daemon shrugs in explanation. A wave of tense anticipation rolls to the shores of Viserys’s court. You do not fail to see the Kingsguard slowly grasp their sheathed swords. Beside you, your own sword shield has moved from your side to your front, ready to defend you if chaos arrives.
You do not blame them, as you yourself had already calculated an escape plan. You would hand Prince Jaehaerys to your shield, and run towards fastest way to the dragonpit to mount your dragon. Lords and ladies flicker their gazes back and forth to the King and his brother, waiting in anticipation of his next words. Would this be a surrender or Daemon’s rebellion?
“But I know that there is only one true King, your Grace,” Daemon’s words were sweet as honey as he kneels in genuflect infront of his brother. Viserys turns to his Otto Hightower in silent contemplation, then he turns his gaze to you.
Viserys cranes his neck to the crowd as he searches for his former Master of Ships. “Where is Lord Corlys?”
“He sailed home to Driftmark.” Answers Daemon, still on his knees.
“Who holds the Stepstones?”
“The tides, the crabs, and 2000 triarchy corpses stakes to the sand to warn those who might follow.”
Viserys descends down the steps of the Iron Throne and takes Daemon’s wooden crown. He looks at it in discontent before passing it to one of his Kingsguard, as it pales in comparison to his own crown and all the riches House Targaryen has to offer. “Rise.”
Viserys holds a hand to Daemon’s shoulder as a fond look appears on his face. As if he was weak to his brother’s touch, Daemon’s head immediately falls to Viserys’s shoulders.
The court finally breathes free as a thundering applause echoes across the hall. Any rumors of Daemon’s rebellion has now faded away to praises of ‘King Viserys’s mercy’ and the brothers’ love for one another.
But the clapping soon faded as soon as Daemon soon removed himself from Viserys’ loving embrace to face you.
“My lady,” he starts, and the crowd goes silent again. “I have won the war at the Stepstones for you and out King.” Daemon walks to with a smile that you can’t decide is charming or apologetic. Your face is stone as you remember how Daemon left so abruptly, the ladies that whisper at your back in court, the pitying stares Jaehaerys gets when he walks down the halls of the Red Keep.
You see Daemon’s eyes pan to you, then down to your dress to look at the boy who looks so much like his father, who has been clutching your skirts like it was a shield. For a moment, you see Daemon soften infront of his son like he did three years ago when he held him first.
“And who might this little prince be?” He breathes so reverently that you have never heard Daemon sound so gentle before. There was no question as to who the father was. Jaehaerys’s Valyrian looks hav attested to that. Jae’s tiny fists curl tighter around your dress as Daemon kneels infront of him.
“I’m Jaehaerys,” came the little voice from behind your skirts. Normally, Jae would be a cheerful child, a far cry from the shy on that Daemon sees now. Jae is a ball of restless energy, eager to please and talk. But this stranger is someone else.
“And do you know who I am, little Jaehaerys?” Daemon’s head tilt at the child.
Immediately, you regret telling your decision to tell Jaehaerys’ stories of Daemon- of his brave acts in battle, and how he is strong as he is brave. You remember his sad words as Jae asks why Daemon isn’t here when his Aunt Rhaenyra’s father is with her like how his cousins Laena and Laenor has Lord Corlys by their side. You regret telling him that he has sadly left to defend the realm when in reality he had left Jaehaerys as soon as he was born at the first mention of a war.
“You’re my father.” Jae answers bravely. “Isn’t that right, mother?” Your hand instinctively moves to rest on Jae’s head as he looks up to you in confirmation. You look down at Jaehaerys’s purple eyes that looks at you to innocently, but you also feel the gaze of hundreds of people at court.
A nod from you was all it took before a wide smile appeared on his face. His shyness was tripped away as he let go of your skirts and jumped to Daemon’s arms with no fear. Applause filled the room again as the court adored the sight of a loving father-son reunion, paying the scorned wife no mind.
if you like this, check out my masterlist!! as always, please don't hesitate to leave your throughts through comments. they keep me going :))
Sugar Baby Series Part one of five, next parts linked at bottom
Pairing: Modern!Daemon x reader
Platonic: Cregan Stark, Sara Snow, Jace Velaryon
Summary: After a horrible night at work the reader finally gets some good news
Warnings: bitchy customers
Word count: 2370
Masterlist Here
Moving out was one of the best decisions you had made. Moving in with your best friend Sara Snow gave you the freedom you always craved but with one slight problem; being alive is fucking expensive.
Being a server was not as easy as many seemed to believe. You worked at the Dragons Den as a server which was the most exclusive restaurant in Kingslanding. Even to work there you needed connections.
Luckily for you Sara had managed to get a job as a host through her friend Jace, who is admittedly still denying his major crush on her, and lucky for you both the grandson of its owner, Rhaenys Velaryon. When a server position opened, she instantly referred you and Rhaenys, who interviews all her staff personally, seemed to take a liking to a girl trying to be independent.
You'd think working in a fancy place would mean the guests would have more decorum. However, you would be very wrong. It was as if rich people got off on causing problems for the staff. Dealing with their ridiculous requests was one thing but what was worse was when the Hightower’s came in. They seemed to get off on the fact they knew the owners, despite Rhaenys not really caring about their existence but not wanting to restart another family drama. Alicent always sent her food back at least twice while Otto constantly tried to wiggle down the bill despite constantly trying to flex his watch or car or whatever else you pretended to care about.
When you walked in the restaurant tonight the sorry look Sara gave you from the host stand made you internally groan. "Is it seriously my turn again?" you asked her as you clocked in at the tablet at the host stand.
"Aly had them last time and Cregan is one write up from being fired and I cannot risk that," you loved Sara's half-brother, you really did, but if he skipped his turn one more time you were ready to fight him in all his 6ft jacked glory. "C’mon do it for me," Sara said, batting her eyelashes dramatically at you.
"Ugh fine," you groaned as you tied your hair up, the lobby currently empty thankfully, "How many of them and when?"
"4 of them at 6.30," Sara grinned at you as you finished getting ready and putting your apron on, "Not sure who's coming with them, but it was made under Alicent so only one way to find out,"
The beginning of your shift was normal, peaceful even. Your first three tables had all left a 25% tip, so you were already perky to say the least. That was until you watched Sara walk your worst customers over. Alicent had brought her husband, for once, as well as her stepdaughter of the same age. Rhaenyra had always been lovely to you, but it was rare for her to come at the same time as Alicent. However, what really caught you off guard was the newest silver haired man.
You knew practically all the customers by name from the sheer amount of gossip you got from Sara who seemed to know everything about everyone. However, you had never seen him before, but your eyes were locked on him as he slinked across the restaurant, his lilac eyes scanning the room. Definitely a Targaryen you thought. You were knocked out your thoughts when you accidentally met his eye and turned away quickly, pretending to look for menus as you disguised your blush.
“He’s smirking btw,” Cregan chuckled at you from beside you at the server station and you quickly hit him with a menu before turning to go to your demise.
"Hi, my names (Y/N) and I'll be your server tonight," you greeted as you placed down the menus. "Can I get any of you started with drinks before I leave you to look over the menu?"
"Could I have-" Rhaenyra had started but was cut off by Alicent who finally looked up from her phone.
“This tables dirty,”
The fun begins. “I can move you to another- “
“No this will do,” she cut you off, “took that long to be seated in the first place,” you saw how Rhaenyra shrunk in her chair and how Viserys refused to meet your eye, “Water for the table, lemon, a whole lemon sliced not just two silly little slices,”
“Of course, ma’am,” you said, pretending to jot down the nonsense she always sprouted.
The only one not sulking or avoiding your gaze was the mystery man who was glaring at the oblivious bitch, “I’ll have the salmon, whole potatoes not mashed, peas not green beans, extra sauce but hold the lemon on the fish,” she said her words quicker than the speed of light but luckily the kitchen had pinned her ridiculous order to the board so you just scrawled ‘that bitch’ on the note pad which had become the code for her. “He’ll have the duck, hold the sauce,”
“But I like the sauce,” Viserys finally piped up however quickly looked away like a scorned child.
“It’s bad for you heart,” she glared at him before turning back to you, “Well aren’t you gonna ask them what they want?” she said gesturing to the embarrassed Rhaenyra.
You nodded and turned to her as she gave you her order with an apologetic smile. Finally, you turned to the mystery man, finally getting to have a good look at his perfectly sculped cheek bones and that intoxicating smirk he wore, “I’ll have the alfredo; however, it comes,” he said, shooting Alicent a smile when he ordered. “Thanks, dear,” when he looked back at you, you struggled not to blush as you wrote the order.
“Okay guys I’ll be right back with your- “
“Why don’t we have any water?” Alicent cut you off and it took everything in you not to force feed her your notepad.
Forcing a smile onto your face, “I’m just about to get it- “
“Okay then,” she rolled her eyes and turned back to her phone.
As you turned to leave you heard the man speak again, “She’s not a magician you know?” the man’s voice said but you had no time to eavesdrop as you had to rush about to do the hundred other jobs your manager demanded you to.
Aemond used to be a cool guy, even if at times up tight, when he was just a bartender. However, when he got promoted to manager through total skill, totally not complete nepotism, a stick got shoved so far up his ass he was now able to taste it. “Quick steps, quick cheques,” he quipped as you rushed past, sweat practically dripping down your forehead with your now full section.
The dinner rush was hitting hard tonight and even Cregan, the phone addict he was, hadn’t checked his phone in the past couple of hours. However, he had managed to tell you as you grabbed food from the pass that the man at your table was Daemon Targaryen and he had just relocated back to Kingslanding after running the Targaryen headquarters in Riverrun. You weren’t exactly sure what it was the Targaryen did, something money related or maybe tax, but whatever it was it made them the richest family in Kingslanding, something Alicent and her father were quick to gloat about.
The rush seemed to give you the superpower to carry all four of the desserts at once to your most demanding table. “Who had the cherry tart and ice cream?” you asked, desperately trying to not crumple from exhaustion.
“Not shocked you don’t remember considering it’s been 20 minutes,” Alicent grumbled.
Tears threatened to prick your eyes, but you refused to give her the satisfaction, “Sorry the kitchens backed up tonight- “
“I don’t need your excuses,” she cut you off.
You took a deep breath before asking again, “The cherry tart?” you asked, your arm starting to waver.
“That’s mine,” Rhaenyra said, and you sighed in relief as you sat it down.
Then the same thing happened with the chocolate cake which Viserys refused to claim till your third ask. “Cheesecake?” you said for the third time.
“That’s hers,” Daemon snapped as he took the plate out of your hand and thrust it in front of Alicent who was blissfully unaware on her phone. “Then that’s mine, sorry bout that love,” Daemon said as he took his plate out your hand.
“Its alright sir,” you said, desperately trying to stay composed. “Enjoy,” you said before rushing off, picking up a check from a table that had just left and heading to the server stand to press it into the computer.
When you opened the check your eyes screwed shut, tears seconds from falling as you punched in the tip. $12 on a check of $198. You rushed to press the numbers before practically running into the kitchen.
Cregan was leaning in the corner, practically inhaling some stolen fries when he looked up to see tears falling from your eyes, “What’s up?” he asked as he rushed over to you, fries in hand, “Fry?” he asked holding out the plate.
“12 bucks on nearly 200,” you spat, shoving the salty fries in your mouth, “I’m barely gonna break even by the time I tip out tonight my first tables were great but everyone’s being so cheap tonight,”
“Time to lean- “you heard a smug voice perk up from behind you. your eyes screwed up as you tried not to swing on Aemond as he spoke, “-time to clean. Don’t you have a table?” Aemond said as he went to stand beside Cregan when his face fell, “Are you okay?” he asked, his managerial face finally falling.
“Just fucking peachy,” you spat as you grabbed another fry before rushing out of the kitchen leaving the cooks to yell at the new manager in your leave.
You had two tables left: an old couple and the Targaryen’s. The old couple left you thirty on 180 which while not great was better than twelve bucks however at least they didn’t bark orders at you all night. As you waited for Alicent to wave you over you debated whether this job was worth it all. The clicking across the restaurant made you lean over to the not worth it side, but you weren’t quite ready to quit yet, rent was due tomorrow and who knows maybe Daemon was a generous tipper and would get the bill.
When you dropped the cheque at their table your stomach dropped when you saw Alicent throw it at Viserys. When you went to punch it in you genuinely considered how much you could withdraw from the ATM before he caught you. $9.21 on a $289.79 tab.
“Night folks,” you smiled as you dropped the check back, Aemond watching you from the kitchen window.
“Did you get your tip?” Viserys asked as he slipped the card back in his pocket.
How much jail time would you get for slapping a millionaire, you wondered. “Yes. Thanks sir,” you said with your fakest smile which oddly seemed to leave him satisfied before you rushed off.
“Can I go?” you asked Aemond through the kitchen window. He tried to stutter out a no but when he saw your eyes water he finally agreed, and you rushed to clock out and thrust money into the tip out jar. You were left with a whole $20 bucks from that 10-hour shift. Plus, your hourly wages which were honestly just laughable despite how high end this place was.
Sara tried to ask how it had gone but you brushed her off as you grabbed your jacket from the coat check and practically ran for the door when you saw the Targaryen’s approaching. The air was cold against your skin, your cheap jacket doing little for you as winter approached. You walked a few paces down from the restaurant to the bus stop and crouched down, leaning against the wall to catch your breath waiting for the bus which was always late.
There was no one around to see your tears fall so you let them. After all they were the only warm thing around. When you heard footsteps, you quickly whipped them off your cheeks and stood up, not about to get mugged as well as this night went. “What did he tip you?” your head whipped round to meet the sorry eyes of Daemon Targaryen.
“Its alright,” you tried to say but he insisted, stepping closer. You looked up at him, his face perfectly lit by the moon and streetlamps, “9 bucks,” you half laughed, your eyes rolling as you turned away. “It doesn’t matter. Some nights are just shit,”
You heard him ruffling in his pockets but didn’t turn around. Being murdered by a millionaire might be fun you thought. “Here,” you turned round at his voice, but he was already pressing the money into your hand. “You don’t deserve this shit,” he said, his hand still holding yours, “Get out you still will,”
“There’s nothing else for me to do,” you said, keeping your hand in his larger one. If not for your tears this might have been a cute moment.
“I doubt that doll,” he said before looking up the street, “That your bus?” he asked, and you nodded. “Get home safe love. And keep that to yourself alright?” he said, and you nodded as you slipped the cash into your pocket without counting.
“See you around?” you asked as the bus pulled up.
“Definitely,” he nodded before turning to where a sleek black car began honking at him, “Gotta goes love. Night,”
“Night,” you said despite him already being away. you quickly got on the bus, paying from your lousy tip money before taking a seat up the back of the bus.
You quietly took out the money from your pocket to count it, your eyes scanning the bus to make sure no one had moved to sit further up the bus as you counted, “Holy shit,” you whispered under your breath as you counted the bills. 3-hundred-dollar bills and a slip of paper with a number on the back.
request: Hey! I saw that your requests are open so I was wondering if I could get a Daemon x fem!reader where they are happily married and one day reader has an accident and is unconscious for weeks and he is desperate and when she finally wakes up ( to make his despair worse) she has lost her memory (maybe she doesn't remember anyone or to be more distressing maybe she just doesn't remember him, I'll leave it up to you) Seeing her condition, Viserys and Rhaenyra + try to help by telling things about her and also about their relationship before the accident and how happy they were and completely devoted to each other, but it doesn't do much good. Seeing such a situation Daemon decides and is determined to win her back, at first she is defensive and even a little afraid of him (which makes him very sad, since of all of them she was the only one who was never afraid of him, nor even before they get together) the months go by and he has some advances +(like she starts to feel more comfortable around him and that sort of thing) one night she is talking to Rhaenyra when she gets a really bad pain in her head and flashes of memories begin to flood her mind, when rhae says she is going to call the maester, she runs off to Daemon's room (which was the room they shared before the accident) she enters and runs towards him and him. kisses passionately, when they break up she says she remembered everything. With lots of angst, fluffy, a little nsfw at the end (if you feel comfortable) and happy ending, please? (If you could also develop Reader's relationship with Viserys and Rhaenyra while she is out of memory I would be extremely grateful. Sorry for the amount of detail, feel free to ignore and sorry for my English)
pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n velaryon
word count: 2.9k
warnings: angst, mentions of head injury, permanent scarring, blood and memory loss, oh and targcest but this is hotd so...
a/n: i’ve decided to split this into two parts so it doesn’t feel rushed! i’m not a dr and have no idea how head injuries/memory loss actually works. also the boar incident didn’t happen on Aegon’s nameday :)
The young prince Aemond’s third name day hunt in the Kingswood was meant to be a celebratory occasion. You’d arrived behind the immediate royal family, emerging from the carriage hand in hand with your love, the Rogue Prince Daemon. At first everything had gone well after the two of you arrived shortly after your younger brother Laenor and his cousin-wife Rhaenyra.
It had been far too long since you had celebrated such an occasion with your family as you’d spent the last few years living in Pentos with your husband. Daemon enjoyed Pentos, but you could tell he missed the west. He missed the Keep and the city he had known his entire life, and so you had managed to convince him to come back to King’s Landing, if only for a while.
Things took a turn when trouble came the next day in the form of an argument between Viserys and Rhaenyra over Gods knows what that ended in the king yelling in his daughter’s face in front of the majority of the royal hunt. Rhaenyra stormed out of the tent, and you rose from your seat to follow her but Daemon grabbed your wrist to stop you.
“Must you chase after her?” Daemon asked, frown forming on his face. “Rhaenyra is quite capable of taking care of herself.”
You clicked your tongue at him and pulled your arm free of his grasp. “You know I must, Daemon. She is like a sister to me and you know that.”
It was true, the two of you practically grew up alongside each other as sisters would as the two of you were the only girls your age around (minus Alicent, of course). In the years before either of your marriages you would often join Rhaenyra and Syrax in the skies upon your own green scaled dragon Rixende.
You were just fast enough to catch up to Rhaenyra and her hose upon one of your own, alongside Ser Criston. The three of you dismounted your horses for the day as the sun had begun to set and you were too far away to make it back to the campgrounds before dark.
Rhaenyra sat in front of the barely light makeshift fire pit while you scavenged around for more fire fuel. The last thing you remembered before waking up in royal chambers was the snorting of a wild boar.
Daemon knew something was wrong when he could not find the strength to will himself to sleep. His stomach felt like it had twisted itself into a tight intricate knot and in the back of his head he knew he was right in not wanting you to follow after Rhaenyra. Although Daemon loved his niece and held her very dear, you meant more to him than anyone else in the world.
He was awake when Rhaenyra and Criston rode back into camp, the princess screaming for the best healers present. Daemon nearly tore down the front of the tent with the force of his rage as he ripped through the camp, searching for you. He met a devastating sight.
Rhaenyra cradled your head to her chest as she held a soaked red cloth to your head, your own silver hair stained red with blood. The princess herself was stained in a fair amount of blood which would have been just as concerning but you were the one unconscious on the ground with a grievous wound to the side of your head.
Despite every instinct in his body to be by your side and let no one near you as to protect you from further harm, Daemon merely watched with a cold glare as the healers pushed Rhaenyra away and began to stitch at the open wound on the left side of your head just above your ear.
Daemon instead turned his fury to Ser Criston, who seemed to be the only one of the three of you completely free of blood. The sight of him, clean in the face of the love of his life and his niece blood soaked while a pathetic excuse for a knight of the Kingsguard stood idly by in spotless armor, woke the dragon within the Rogue Prince.
Criston hit the ground so hard it knocked the air out of him. Before he had the chance to stand, or even catch his breath, Daemon kneeled over him to deliver several hard blows to the face of the knight.
Criston’s nose cracks under the force of Daemon’s blows, blood spurting down his face and chest.
Daemon gripped the neck of Criston’s armor and raised his now bloodied face to meet the prince’s. “What the Seven hells happened out there?” he growled out. “and if you should tell me anything but the truth I’ll have your head on a spike!”
“A boar,” Criston croaked out before spitting blood out onto the side of his face and to the ground. “A wild boar attacked the princesses. Princess Rhaenyra was brave enough to face it after it attacked Princess Y/n.”
“How worthless you’ve proven to be,” Daemon spat in return. “Leaving the princesses to fend for themselves. If my wife dies, I’ll feed you to Caraxes myself. I might do it anyway!”
All the commotion woke the entire camp and by now a large circle had formed around the royal family as King Viserys ran towards his brother. The king pulled on his brother’s shoulder and off of Criston.
“Daemon enough!” Viserys urged. “There’s been enough bloodshed for one night, brother. You must focus your energy on your wife.”
The comment lit a fire in Daemon’s chest and he shoved his brother’s hand away. “Do not speak to me of the duties of a proper husband.”
He brushed passed the king to join the healers at your side. The stitching was finished now, and by the looks of it Daemon knew it would leave a welted scar just above your left ear. With the most care he had and as gentle as he could, Daemon lifted you from the ground where you laid and brought you back to the tent you two shared.
The healers followed him inside to give Daemon instructions of how to clean the wound throughout the night before excusing themselves, ushering the prince to call for them if need be.
Daemon leaves your side briefly only to finally remove his armor. He reattached Dark Sister to his hip before pulling a chair to your bedside and taking your hand in his. He thought of the night he saw you for the first time since before leaving for the war in the Stepstones.
It was Rhaenyra and Laenor’s wedding, and you arrived with the rest of your Velaryon kin to the throne room. Daemon hadn’t seen you since before the war in the Stepstones when you were still a young girl and he was surprised to see the beautiful woman you’d grown into.
The eldest of Corlys and Rhaenys’ children, you wore a sea green satin dress to represent your house. Daemon couldn’t help but admire the way it flowed around you as you twirled around the dancefloor with your sister Laena.
He ignored the stares of others, namely Corlys and Rhaenys, as he split the dancefloor in half on his way to you. He graciously asked for a dance, and had expected you to reject him. No doubt Rhaenys had filled your head with every filthy thing the realm had to say about him. And if not her, surely one of your handmaid's had.
You surprised him, though, when you smiled up at him, and accepted his invitation. Daemon took control, wasting no time in taking your hand into his own while wrapping his other arm around your waist to lead you.
When the music slowed down you’d began to pull away from him, but Daemon only tightened his grip on your hand and his other arm around your waist to pull you closer into him.
“Must you leave me so soon?” he’s asked you softly. “The nights only just begun.”
Daemon charmed you into one more dance, which he dragged out into dancing the rest of the night until the unfortunate demise of Ser Joffrey due to Ser Criston’s outrage. After that night Daemon whisked you away to Pentos, where the two of you were wed under the traditions of Old Valyria.
He took you flying across Pentos upon Caraxes, showing you wonders of the world you’d never even dreamed of seeing. Daemon remembers your excitement fondly as he’d spent the majority of the flight memorizing the smile on your face and shine in your eyes.
Daemon rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand almost in an attempt to wake you. He new it wouldn’t happen this night, you’d been given too much milk of the poppy for that, but it didn’t stop him from trying.
He spent that first sleepless night by your side and remained there while the maesters prepared you for the ride back to the Red Keep for proper medical treatment.
Daemon stood outside the carriage with a heavy watchful eye as the maesters secured the makeshift cot to the carriage. Out of his periphrial Daemon can see Rhaenyra approaching, and while he normally dotes on his sweet niece, in this moment his stomach turns at the sight of her.
It should have been her. He thinks to himself. Not my precious wife.
Rhaenyra is respectful in her approach as to not set off her reckless uncle. Her lilac eyes rake over your injured form, guilt eating away at her.
“Any word from the maesters, uncle?” Rhaenyra asks softly.
The prince takes in a breath, soothing himself the way he know you would. He knows if the roles had truly been reversed then nothing would stop you from aiding the princess in any way. In his heart he knows he shouldn’t blame Rhaenyra, she’s the one who saved your life after all, but he can’t stop himself.
You should be awake, by his side. You should be enjoying the young prince’s nameday celebrations as you always did.
“They do not know why she hasn’t woken,” he explains solemnly. “I have requested the best maesters from the Citadel this morn.”
Rhaenyra nods, before looking to her feet as she twirls her golden rings. When she looks up again, Daemon turns to meet her gaze before he can stop himself and he can’t overlook the tears in the princess’s eyes.
“Iksan sīr vaoreznuni, kepūs (I am so sorry, uncle),” Rhaenyra mutters tearfully. “I should have protected her. I should have-”
“No,” Daemon interrupts her, knowing it’s what you would do. “You are lucky you escaped unscathed, princess. She will heal. She will come back to us, this I know.”
One of the maesters then steps off the carriage and approaches the pair. “Pardon me, my prince, but the carriage is ready. It is best for the princess that we do not delay our travels any further.”
“Of course,” Daemon nods. He gives Rhaenyra a hopefully reassuring hand on her shoulder in a goodbye before joining your side once more.
Despite the arrival and treatment of two maesters from the Citadel, and one healer Daemon flew in from Pentos personally, you had not woken.
After the wound on the side of your head began to heal and the maester took out the stitching, worry began to truly settle into Daemon’s core. The maesters and healer both had done what they claimed they could yet could not give the prince an answer for why you had not woken.
Day after day for three weeks Daemon sat by your bedside waiting for you to open your eyes and come back to him. The two of you hadn’t been apart for more than a few days in the entirety of your marriage, and these weeks without you have been torture.
Today had been no different, it seems. Daemon thinks to himself as he enters your shared chambers, where you still lie upon the bed. One of maester Orwyle’s trainees is by your side but rose upon the prince’s arrival.
The man bows respectively. “My Prince, I’m afraid there’s been-”
You interrupt the maester with a low groan. “M-my head hurts,” you wrasp, eyes still closed.
“Go, fetch the maesters, the healers, someone!” Daemon bellows his demands to the young healer, who wastes no time in scurrying from the room.
Daemon rushes to your bedside where a pitcher and empty cup sit on the bedside table next to you. He pours you a drink and carefully holds it to your lips.
“Here,” he whispers gently. “drink this, darling. You will feel better.”
You do as he says, not consciously thinking of it, you only wished for relief from your terribly dry, scratchy throat.
Once you’ve finished, Daemon pours another in case but leaves it on the table. He sits, and claps one of your hands with both of his own.
“I was so afraid,” he confesses softly. He doesn’t look at you, instead he focuses his gaze on your bundle of hands. “So afraid you would not wake. I thought you were gone and there was nothing I could do.”
WIth your free hand you grasp the thick fur covering your legs and you pull it up to your chest, and wriggle your other hand free from Daemon.
“D-do I know you, ser?” you ask, and Daemon can see the confusion laced with fear in your eyes.
He’s always been able to read you and you’ve told him before it’s one of the things that attracted you to him. Not once, since that night he asked for your hand in a dance, had you ever looked at him and been afraid.
Not when he arrived on Driftmark upon Caraxes years before you wed, soaked in blood from winning the war in the Stepstones. That night you sat with him, alongside your father Corlys and brother Laenor, and begged for every detail of battle. As they relayed their stories of war to you your eyes gleamed, and you enamored Daemon from that moment on.
Daemon shot up from his seat as a sickening feeling took over him. He swayed on his feet, or was he really? He grips the hilt of Dark Sister in an attempt to steady himself.
Wordlessly he turns and charges out the chamber doors, letting them slam shut behind him.
Once word had spread through the Red Keep that you’d finally woken you’d been swarmed by maesters and Pentosi healers bombarding you with questions.
How were you feeling?
What could you remember?
Why was Prince Daemon seen storming away?
You simply asked who Prince Daemon was, which stopped the bustle of your busy chambers.
“Have I said something?” you asked, blissfully unaware.
Laenor then bursts through your chamber doors, winded and eyes wide. His arrival sparks life back into the maesters and servants continue cleaning like nothing happened.
“Sister!” he gasps, rushing to your side. He wastes no time, carefully, wrapping you up in his arms from your spot on the bed. “I am so relieved to see you. How are you feeling? And where is Daemon?”
You groan, pulling away from your younger brother. “Why does everyone keep asking me about Daemon? I do not even know a Daemon! Have I missed something, brother?”
Laenor sits back slightly, lips parting. “Y-you do not remember? Y/n, Prince Daemon is your husband. You’ve been happily married for years.”
The two of you sit in silence as you do your best to file through your memories.
“I think I remember seeing him at court once, but I do not remember marrying him. How can I be married and not know it?” You push away from Laenor and stand from the bed. Without risking further bodily harm but as quickly as you could you slip on some simple shoes and pull a robe over your nightclothes.
Laenor follows you as you move about the room. “Where are you going? You’ve only just woken, you must rest!”
“No,” you insist, pulling away from his attempt to grab your arm to stop you. “I have a husband, whom I cannot remember. I have much more important matters than lying in bed all day.”
Many people watched you shamelessly as you made your way through the Red Keep looking for your cousin and close friend, Rhaenyra. If there was someone here who could help you make sense of things it would be her.
Eventually you find the princess sat under the weirwood tree in the Godswood, reading with a book in her lap.
“Princess,” you call as you approach. “Might I interrupt your studies for a moment?”
Rhaenyra’s head whips up, mouth slightly open in shock. She tosses her book aside carelessly and rushes to wrap her arms around you. The younger girl hits you with such force the two of you nearly tumble to the ground.
“I was so worried,” Rhaenyra whispers into your curly hair. “All I could think of these past weeks was your recovery, it’s all I have prayed for.”
“Yes, such is the sentiment I have been hearing. But I am afraid there’s trouble, cousin.”
Rhaenyra pulls away from the hug but keeps her hands on your forearms. “What is it?”
“I do not remember Daemon,” you confess softly. “Laenor informed me I have been married to Daemon for years, but I cannot remember any of it and it worries me.”
The princess’s violet eyes widen, “Nothing? Not even your time in Pentos?”
You shake your head mournfully and Rhaenyra’s frown only deepens. She pulls you to sit with her under the weirwood.
“Come, we must find a way to bring your memories back.”
As always I was thinking about a world with daemons and something that I don't think get's brought up enough is that daemons need physical care too. They're gonna get dirty in our day to day lives! But even beyond washing them they some forms are going to need more intensive care.
Sheep are going to need to be shorn. Fluffy daemons are going to need to be brushed out regularly. Reptiles shed their skin. Birds molt their feathers. Claws would need to be trimmed. I would assume daemons in these forms would go through the same processes, and their human would need to jump in and help. I imagine it would become routine. I can imagine people with different forms may not realize it could be a thing. I can see someone being horrified learning that a tarantula daemon does in fact shed its' skin. That could also lead to some stylings too. If daemons need a hair cut that could be another form of expression.
Another thing is that it can get cold some places. Obvious I know but not all forms are cut out for snow. There would have to be some sort of work around. Keeping smaller forms in pocket close to the body would help for sure, but some forms are too large. Maybe there would have to be some sort of coat or boots, or even electronic heating packs to make sure they could still go outside. For the opposite problem of overheating, I think that cooling packs would be the best bet. There's probably a more elegant solution that strapping a vest of ice packs on a polar bear, but I don't have it. Either way I think more specialized forms would want to spend more times indoors waiting or their preferred season. Lots of complaining.
On a bit of a side note, I do think that daemons would change appearance based on the season if their form does as well. Like an arctic fox would change from white to brown depending on the time of year. The idea of a normally elegant fox being mid shed and being teased by their human is very funny to me.
And of course this would be a form of self care too. It's taking time to take care of yourself as much as it is your daemon. Setting time aside to take care of your soul. I think that there's something beautiful in that. It could also be a good indication of someones mental health as well, the same way as not showering can be an indication of someone not doing well. Check in on your friends.
Any way, that's all for this time. As always I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!
Do you write for Aemond? If so, how do you think he'd be different from Daemon?
I do, actually! I mean, I haven't written anything for him because I'm busy with hot daddy/uncle Daemon, but I'll probably write a fic in the future.
About your question... well, they are different in many ways.
Headcanons below the cut
Their way with words
While Daemon is comfortable cursing and being generally indecent around you, Aemond is still a young man raised by his religious mom so he does care about the use of proper vocabulary. I'm not saying Daemon curses at you —not at all— just that he doesn't mind calling Otto a cunt when you're alone. You have probably learned fifty new ways to insult someone just by spending time with him, and there is nothing more liberating than drinking wine with the one you love, feeling comfortable enough to speak your mind freely. At least, that is how Daemon feels when he's with you.
Aemond, on the other hand, never curses. He despises his enemies and can be incredibly cruel —perhaps even more than Daemon— yet he always finds a way to offend other people without resorting to curse words. Perhaps he will call his enemies weak, or old, or as disgusting as cockroaches, but he will always refrain from cursing, especially in front of you, to whom he shows the absolute respect a prince must show his lady. Unless you are having sex, that is a different story.
What they call you
Daemon calls you by your name in private, sometimes my love when completely alone and intimate, and sometimes he calls you pet names. If you are a Stark he will call you his wolf, or his lioness if you're a Lannister... his dragon if you're a Targaryen just like him. He might even call you a vixen if you try to seduce him while he's otherwise occupied.
In public, he will use your name when talking to you directly, but will refer to you as his wife, princess, or queen —whichever of those titles you possess— and force others to respect you when addressing you as well.
Aemond, in private, refers to you as princess, for two reasons: first, he is a prince and you're with him, so that makes you a princess; second, it's a pet name. He is more romantic than Daemon in the traditional sense, so he will also call you the love of his life, his soulmate, and the source of his happiness. He will also call you by your name, of course.
In public, he will call you his lady wife, as he has been taught. When addressing you he will use your name, but perhaps his pet name for you, princess, might accidentally slip out every once in a while. He is similar to Daemon in that he will command everyone to address you properly, and will take great offense if anyone dares insult you —blood will be spilled—.
How they are in bed
Daemon is lustful, lewd, and obviously very experienced. He will show you and teach you things you never even dreamed of, and will always be open to trying out new things as well. His appetite is insatiable, and if it were up to him he'd spend entire days in bed with you, just fucking, resting, fucking, drinking, and fucking again. You actually do that sometimes, when you're both free. He will also get horny anywhere, and you end up fucking in the bath, in the library, at the beach, and even in the middle of the woods. Maids and servants are already used to this behavior so they leave you to it when they hear moaning and grunting coming from somewhere in the castle. He's so salacious he will even go as far as stroking your thigh under the table at dinner, even if the rest of the court is there. The man can't keep his hands to himself.
Aemond, contrary to popular belief, is absolutely inexperienced in the department. He knows how it works, Aegon took him to a brothel when he was younger and he learned the ropes, but it wasn't a pleasant experience and he hasn't been back since. So when he's with you, you end up being the one that shows the most interest in carnal desires, at least initially. He wants you, and he wants to have you and to claim you, but as passionate as he is about it, it will be you that will blow his mind when you kneel in front of him to undo his breeches or when you take charge and ride him until he's spent. Soon he understands why so many men spend their nights in brothels: sex is a pleasure and he wants it as well... with you. He had always called Aegon a degenerate for only thinking about women and fucking, but he now finds himself in a similar situation in which he can't stop thinking about you during the day and counts the hours until he's free from his duties to go to your bed and make you his once again. You will show him how much pleasure he can feel with you, and briefly, you will tame the dragon.
Stone cold was so good. Amazing really. Any chance you’d write daemons reaction to her death. Bonus point if the maester tells him he’s sorry for his losses cause she was pregnant.
🙈.
ok i'll indulge you with a tidbit because we have the same brain for your bonus scene. this is the last anyone will get out of me from stone cold tho
this is exactly the scenario i had in my head
daemon would come back from his escapades prematurely, having received word. he would have been in the middle of commanding his troops when someone would walk in and tell him the news. still in his armor, covered in blood and dirt, he'd drop everything without another word and head home. if anyone made the mistake of getting in his way, they'd get to meet you in the afterlife real quick.
the first thing time he'd speak after hearing the news would be to ask rhaenyra where you were. if anyone else spoke, he'd ignore them; he'll only listen to rhaenyra. once he hears her say 'she's gone' he'd go still and quiet, nothing else. he'd be numb and not speak a word at all after. he be unable to contain his tears when one of the maesters explain to him why there was a separate pedestal next to yours. he'd cry in silence though, over not only yours, but as well as the death of your premature child. the only sound he'd make would be to say dracarys at your funeral. rhaenyra would have been holding on tightly to his arm the entire time.
What do you think are Daemons biggest fears, biggest lie to himself, his most inner desire?
I love asks so much. Thank you for this. Whoever decides to read this, bear in mind that anon asked what I think. So this isn't me posting an analysis, it's an opinion piece, people will disagree, it's 100% okay if they do. That's one of the best things about fandoms.
I made this gif specifically for this ask because it is arguably one of the most insightful moments into Daemon's psyche. This is the only time in season one that Daemon shows any remorse and it is telling that it is in episode one and that it is only when he is admonished for something that he knew to be wrong when he did it. Send me an ask or let me know if you want a scene analysis of his toast to the Heir for a Day and this companion scene; it's one of the most creative instances of editing in the first season. Not going to do that here though.
Instead of rambling like I usually do I'm going to break the question down exactly as asked.
Biggest fears:
Not having a legacy - I think having heirs is a huge part of this, keeping the Targaryen line alive, but also his actions are almost overcompensation for something. Possibly this fear. He isn't going to get the crown so, in his mind, what is left?
Becoming irrelevant - Wanting to be the Hand of the King, the taking of the Stepstones, stealing his nephew's egg are all efforts to get attention. Sure, the egg drama was petulant but he had been exiled. I'm not going to justify any of his actions, just answering the question.
Not having his brother's approval - Daemon, like most humans, has a difficult time admitting that what they say they want least is what they might want most. He tries to act indifferent to Viserys's opinion of him but Daemon is reactionary to his older brother in so many ways that I think he really fears that Viserys will continue to reject him. Daemon fears disappointing him.
Biggest lie to himself:
This is a tough one. The absolute biggest one is his love for Rhaenyra. He does love her. However, when people feel romantic love there are often factors involved of which the individual isn't aware. Daemon has convinced himself that wanting the Iron Throne isn't a part of his love for her. She can't be separated from the crown. It has been made a part of her character, part of who she is, thus part of how he sees her. I'm not saying that he loves her because she would be Queen but that it is a part of his love for her that he actively seems to deny.
His most inner desire:
I'm going to skip what I think is the obvious one: to be king. I think the more interesting desire for him is his desire to be loved. I see something undeniably broken in Daemon. I don’t think he was traumatized or has ever had anything but a life of privilege. However, humans have complex emotions and even princes can feel unloved. I don't think of him as a soft, cuddly character nor do I think of him as particularly self-aware. Would he say that he craves unconditional love? Most certainly not. He has a great deal of toxic masculinity so that would be a blow to his fragile ego.
