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Hello again 🙋🏻‍♀️! I couldn't stay away from your blog much longer, treating myself a full binge of your beautiful work on my evening off 😋.

So, I come with another meow meow Daemon thingy, where he's betrothed to a sharp Stark lady who's ruthless with him and he's like 😍; So he's geting "ahem" impatient at the wedding, losing control and trying to touch her. I'll leave the rest to you as I trust in this vivid imagination 😄.

Thanks for being the amazing creator you are, have a lovely day 💐

A Ring is Merely Jewelry and Marriage a Contract

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You had a lot to say to your father about his plans to marry you off to house Targaryen. And though you thought the prince was as appalled by the match as you are, something rewired his brain when he saw you. Direwolf against dragon anyone? Dare to place your bet on who wins?

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Misogyny, arranged/forced marriage, fem!reader, snarky!reader, annoying!Daemon, enemies to lovers(?), father's reader is sick and coughs every other moment, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE THIS IN MY INBOX!!!!! '... couldn't stay away from your blog much longer' begs the question why were you staying away in the first place 🤨 I'm so glad you think im amazing <3 SLAY yuh. my heart goes boom but i have to admit, the prompt stumped me a bit. so hopefully you enjoy what I made. i enjoyed writing it myself Also, I don't know much about game of thrones lore so im just making stuff up as i go SKSKASKFA:SF I LOVE LONG HAIRED DAEMON GAAH LOOK AT HIM ALL PETTY AND PATHETIC WITH THAT DRAGON EGG Part 2 anyone "Fire & Havoc"

I slam my hands on the table, "I WILL NOT GO, FATHER!"

He is unfazed by the ruckus I cause and only proceeds to eat his breakfast.

"You told me I could choose whom I marry," I whine, "you swore it. I-"

"But that was before," he speaks plainly, offering me a mere look after.

I scoff, twice as wronged because I knew exactly what he meant. "Cregan!" I call to my older and only other sibling, "surely you do not-"

"This matter does not concern your brother," my father dismisses.

"Oh," I stand from my seat and glare at my father, "does it not" I scoff yet again, "when he will surely benefit from the marriage you are suggesting with that horrid prince-"

"Silence!" my father takes his turn slamming his hand on the table. For a moment, the two of us glare at each other. He continues after taking a deep breath, "you are to pack, leave your wolf and-"

"Leave my wolf?!"

"-to travel to King's Landing at once, with not a single complaint."

My jaw slacks in utter disbelief. My fists tighten in rage.

Cregan, who had been spectating silently the entire time, finally drops his fork and swallows the food in his mouth, "father, don't you think making her leave without Ha-"

"ENOUGH!"

Both Cregan and I stiffen at the echo of our father's voice. However, his body proceeds to rattle with an intense cough.

The anger in me fades into concern when his ragged barks do not cease. Before I could gather my skirts and go to him, he raises his hand and forces him breath to even, "enough."

Rickon looks back to me and the hollowness of his face is suddenly apparent, "I will not argue over this any further, daughter."

"But, fa-"

"You are a Stark," he sighs, "cunning, strong, and capable, but when I die, all that I have will pass to your brother," he leans against his chair, "and even though I know he would not abandon you, the fool will surely not remember you enough to keep you safe."

"But I don't need him to be safe, I-"

"The world will not allow it," he manages before choking into another cough.

As Cregan gives the old man a drink, I feel tears glass my eyes out of spite.

Rickon does not accept the cup upon seeing my expression.

"It is not fair," I mutter under a jagged breath.

He sighs, "if it were up to me, I would-"

"You cannot make me leave my wolf," I point accusingly, "you cannot make me go to him, as though I am a subservient entity with no mind and no desires."

My father speaks my name, but I am not having it.

"If you are so hellbent on me marrying that insolent younger Targaryen that you waste your dying wish on him," I seethe, anger leaving me in a form of bitter of tears, "then I will do as my Lord Stark commands," I offer a fake curtsy.

My father calls me again, another cough takes possession of him.

"But know this," I say as I straighten myself up, "if he dares lay a finger on me, I will slit his throat. And if he is a good enough warrior to survive my blade, then he will slit my throat for my treason," I move away from my seat, "and when my blood waters the earth, father, it will be because of your dying wish."

"ENOUGH!" Cregan demands, pointing at me angrily.

By the time my the coughs reverberating in the dining room dampens, I've already made my way out.

There was a part of me that regrets leaving home like that. But it was precisely Rickon Stark who imparted his great pride upon me. I could not even bring myself to look at him before I left, though Cregan bribed me with my own wolf to have me speak to our father.

She new I was leaving, Havoc. I nearly jumped out of my carriage when I heard her desperate howls. I found that my door was locked from the outside and the idea enraged me enough that I nearly broke the window open.

But then it dawned to me that it was pointless.

Even if I managed to get out of my prison, I would be shipped to King's Landing either way, only this time, I would have worn everyone's patience thinner.

You could only imagine the state of my own patience when I arrived at my horrid destination.

It was unbelievably sweltering and unimaginably cold all at once.

Him, tenfold, that Daemon Targaryen.

Not only did he place no efforts in welcoming me, it seems he ordered my chambers to be at the opposite of his, to make things more annoying and more difficult for everyone.

Fine.

It seems he did not want me, and I did not want him. We at least had something in common we could work on.

Today marked the 10th day of my stay in this wretched place. Each morn, I would seek audience with my betrothed and yet his handmaiden would curtsy to me and say, "the Prince is not here, my lady."

I chuckle dryly in disbelief and make an effort not to snap at the woman, for I knew she was not at fault, "and have you expressed my tenacity to seek audience with him. I-- Lady Stark, who has defeated my Lord suitors in combat, and would gladly attack him for less if he continues ignoring my existence-- seek his audience" I nod feverously, "have you expressed this to him?"

My words are visibly unsavory to her ears, "I have, your grace."

My face twitches as I avert my gaze away from the woman. But not even the sight of the blue sky halts the way my chest vibrates in annoyed laughter, "then he is more insolent than I could have ever hoped," I release a sharp shudder, "and I am to be wed to him in two days time."

I turn back to the perturbed maid, "what jovial news, don't you agree-- Bethany, was it?"

She nods her head as her face twists in fear.

I take deep breaths to calm myself and screw my eyes shut at the feel of sweat dripping down my nape because of the fucking climate of this wretched place.

I rub the back of my neck roughly as I open my eyes and force a smile, "then shall you lead me to the training grounds?"

"As you command," she shakes her head, "but I am sure the prince is not-"

"Not for him," I blurt, "for me."

Her brows knit, "... your grace, I-"

"And I do not mean the royal training grounds. It's utterly boring there. I mean the area where those Gold Cloaks train. Do you know what I speak of?"

Bethany quickly nods.

"Yes, that's the one. I am fucking sick of doing nothing all day, and so I might as well entertain myself before I end up killing someone."

I do not have enough patience to explain the light jest in my tone after hearing how roughly she gulps.

Bethany wordlessly escorts me to the training grounds, where I then see about a dozen men, sweaty and loud, as they spar and practice together.

I find myself releasing a sigh of relief at the sight before me, and promptly dismiss Bethany with a nod.

The moment she goes on her way, however, I call out to her, remembering my own poor handmaiden, "might I ask one last favor before you leave?"

Bethany nods, "of course, my lady."

"Please inform Belidea of my whereabouts. She is a terrible worry wart and I cannot stand the sound of her high pitched nags."

"Of course, my lady," she repeats more urgently.

I nod, "very good. You have my thanks."

Once she is gone, I make my way to the training grounds, and my mere presence commands the attention of the soldiers.

"My lady," a man with brown hair and a long beard nods, walking over to me with his golden cloak swaying behind him.

I nod back at him, "who is the commander of this training session?"

"That would be me, my lady."

I smile at him and introduce myself, "you are welcome to call me simply by my name."

"I do not wish to offend Prince Daemon," he says, then adding, "Ser Phineas, at your service, Lady Stark."

"A pleasure," I say, "though I must correct you in your belief that your beloved prince even knows of my existence."

"Nonsense," he shakes his head, "his head is heavy with thoughts of your marriage."

I snort, "you don't say? You are acquainted with his insolence well then?"

Phineas lets out an uncomfortable cough, My lips curve at it.

"I would not myself assume to be well-acquainted with our prince at all."

"Hmm," I cross my arms, "very well then, ser Phineas. I wonder then if you would allow me the warm regard your dragon born did not when I arrived to King's Landing."

The man bows in response.

"I would like to spar with your finest swordsman."

He lifts his face to me.

"I am terribly bored and quite frankly annoyed by the continuous absence of my beloved," I suck in a deep breath, "and so I should like to relieve my stress rather than allow it to fester within me."

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, square shoulders relaxing, "Ah. I would gladly instruct the lady in the art of-"

I raise a finger at him, "I did not ask to be taught," I cut him off, "and if it is you who you believe to the best amongst your peers, then I shall warn you not to twist my words and delude yourself to be better than I, simply because you are a man."

I see how his expression shifts at my words. Phineas sucks in a a breath from his nostrils, "Lady Stark, I do not wish to harm you, nor do I think it would be wise for you to rile up the prince, if that is-"

"Bold of you to think you could harm me, first of all," I say walking off to the circle him, "second of all, if you bring up the prince again, I will rip your cloak off and use it as a towel," I rub my forehead, "the heat of this place is unbearable."

"It must be polar opposite to the frost up North," he says, turning to me when I make it back in front of him.

"It is," I state, "now. Will you let me spar, or will I have to provoke you even more?"

He is unable to control the curl of amusement from his lips.

The whole training ground clears and crowds around us as we make it its center. Phineas turns to his brothers-at-arms and then back to me as he twists his sword in his hands for show, "I will go-"

"Easy on me?" I roll my eyes and finish for him, stabbing my sword on the ground before me so that I can stretch, "I would advise you otherwise, since I am as adept with the blade in a skirt, as I am without." I roll my shoulder back as I smirk, "it would hurt your fragile ego too much if you should lose to me too quickly."

The crowd mumbles at my haughty remark.

Phineas chuckles but shows no trace of annoyance or anger.

I smile at his composure and pull my sword up, pointing it to him, "enough chat."

"MY LADY, NO!" the frantic voice of my handmaiden calls out. All eyes turn to her as she makes her way through the crowd and makes herself visible to me.

"Belidea," I call, "just in time for the show."

"Please," she catches her breath, adding lowly, "do not make a spectacle of yourself."

I roll my eyes, "then would you like to spar with him?"

Belidea only continues to heave as I offer her the weapon in my hand.

I raise a brow at her and go back to my stance, "then be still and silent."

Phineas readies himself, "you can still-" but the sound of my steel crashing against his effectively shut him up.

It seems, finally, after all this time, I have finally merited the attention of the prince.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Daemon barks, beholding his beloved Gold Cloaks, worn out, battered and beaten, with several injured.

Having taken a moment to drink some water, I see the long silver hair on his back and find my brows raising at the sight of it.

The man I was drinking with, Elias, chokes on his water and wipes his lips quickly with his wrist. He leans and mutters to me, "that's the prince, my lady."

"Yes," I shift on my leg, "it is obvious, it is not?"

Faced with frantic faces, Daemon is still with rage at the lack of answers.

"Betrothed," I call from behind him the moment I am near. With my hair wild out of its original hairstyle, and my skirt ripped short out of my own rage towards it, I curtsy at him with my hands behind my back.

My eyes do not leave the Targaryen's face as he examines the cuts on my arm and thighs. There was blood on my clothes that was indistinguishable if it were mine or not, but there was a sure darkness behind my eyes. I rise when I speak, "it is a wonder to finally meet you face to face."

Belidea, who was quick to run to my side, shrinks as not to meet the prince's gaze. She quickly makes an effort to wrap the golden cloak I took as my prize to mask my indecency, but I merely push the cloak of me.

"Were you captured?" he quickly interrogates, as if he is concerned.

I scoff and roll my eyes, "as your men are ashamed to admit," I turn to Phineas, who was missing his cloak, "I amused myself by winning all the matches against them."

The man shifts to face me, grabbing the fabric of what used to be part of my sleeve, "and this looks like winning to you?"

I rip the fabric off me using I had in my palms and step forward, motioning to the side, "does that?"

He bares his profile to me as he examines his battered men. A curve forms on his lips and it makes my eyes narrow in anger.

"All of you morons lost to the lady?" he calls loudly, ending his words with a chuckle.

I fidget with the dagger in my hand.

Upon catching this, Phineas places a hand on my arm. I turn to him with a dirty look that immediately makes him withdraw.

"Is it so hard to believe, Prince Daemon?"

Daemon turns back to me, eyes bright, matching his grin, "no, I am impressed."

I scoff, "because you do not believe my might."

He steps closer to me, eyes flickering to the dagger I was still playing with, "perhaps you would grace me with a demonstration-"

"Go fuck yourself," I blurt, throwing the dagger off to the side before storming off.

And as shocked as he was, Daemon was more so excited than anything.

It seems he was so moved by my performance that he finally came to me instead of the other way around. He, however, lacked the decency I had and came to me in the darkness of night.

It took everything in my not to ram into him and strike him with the comb I was using when he rudely walked in my chambers. I controlled myself for the sake of the poor servants that would behold my massacre.

"What do you want?" I blurt, eyeing him from my vanity.

Daemon, who was in his own sleeping attire it seems, smiles softly as he places his hands behind his back, "my lady wife has been seeking my audience."

I slam my comb on my vanity and cause my maids to gasp. I march in front of the seemingly further amused prince and clench my jaw at the sight of him, "the mere fact you are referring to me as your wife tells me that I should not seek your audience at all."

He chuckles at my words, linking his hands in front of him. Daemon hums, "I see. You do not wish to wed me."

I scoff, "and a few hours ago, you shared the same sentiment." I tilt my head up at him in annoyance, but it seems the sight of the blood on my clothes has made you change your fickle mind."

He chuckles more loudly this time, "that was because I was fed lies about marrying an obedient wife that wanted nothing but to sire me strong heirs with the will of Starks and Targaryens."

"And what pig shat out that crap?"

"That would be the lords of the council," he smiles, "but clearly they have not met you."

I lick my teeth at his expression, "do not act so pleased, as though you have won me over."

"Worry not, my dear, the dragon in me so burns at the challenge."

I shake my head and roll my eyes at him, "do not speak to me of your dragon," I step away from him, "it does not entice me."

I catch sight of my servants as Daemon laughs. I promptly dismiss them as the prince makes his way to my bed and sits on the side, "ah yes. I was wondering why I had yet to behold your famous direwolves."

I cross my arms as he presses his lips into a pleased smile, "would they not fare well in this weather? Is that why you did not bring yours?"

"Are you quite comfortable, my prince?"

His shoulders shake in amusement, "I am."

"Then do not be surprised if you do not make it out of here alive," I say as I stalk towards him.

Daemon give me a lopsided smirk, "they did not allow you any weapons, as your brother warned."

"A comb would be a good weapon as any," I blurt, grabbing the said object from my vanity and pointing it to him as I stand before him.

I am surprised that he does not laugh at my words. He is wise not to anger me any further.

"You must admit it is better that you and I end up with each other."

"And why would I ever admit that," I whisper through grit teeth.

"Because you and I are the same," he says, standing.

"We are not the same."

Daemon turns to the comb still pointed at him as he walks closer, "I too would make a weapon out of anything I could get my hands on."

I lean towards him, dropping my comb, to grab his collar, "that does not make us the same."

He releases a hot breath that hits my face. As I glare at him, his hands land on my sides, making me jolt. I promptly shove him off when I feel his unwelcome touch, "fuck off."

He reels back, but does not fall on my bed. I gaze upon him with anger and wrap my arms around myself, annoyed by the goosebumps that form on my skin.

"If you shall call to me again, I will hastily answer."

I grunt, "Fuck. Off."

He offers me one last chuckle as he nods, "I look forward to our wedding."

I do not.

The hour comes swiftly despite this.

We were now in the dining hall on either side of the king. The two brothers were making merry, yet I was making no effort to hide my distaste.

"I heard that you made a spectacle of the Gold Cloaks, sister," Queen Aemma spoke, making me turn to her as she caressed the bump of her belly.

I looked at her smile and pitied how she was reduced to nothing but a baby maker.

"Uncle went from denying your existence to praising the very ground you walked on," Rhaenyra adds, mischief written all over her face. Her mother to scolds her, to which she responds, "what, it's true?"

"I so would like to know how good you are with blades. It is not everyday that we hear of a woman warrior," King Viserys chuckles, and it makes me snap.

"Well it is not everyday that a father allows his daughter to practice her strength," I coldly remark, turning from him to Rhaenyra, "I heard you dissuade the princess from going on dragonback though it is in her very nature to be drawn to it."

Daemon chuckles as his older brother goes quiet.

I catch sight of my impeding doom's amusement, and turn away from him. That very moment, the dining hall's doors open and I find myself shooting up from my seat.

No matter ho much of a solid fortress I convinced myself to, the moment I saw my brother walk in with my father being carried by two of our men in a litter, I was crumbling at the very seams.

I feel the Targaryens burn their eyes on me but I do not care.

The moment my family is before me, I clench my jaw.

"My King, My Queen, My Prince, My Princess," Cregan smiles between the royal faces then turns to me, "dear sister."

"Lord Rickon," Viserys greets, "Lord Cregan."

"I hope you have taken kindly to my daughter, Prince Daemon," my father mutters with a strained voice.

I do not tear my gaze from my father, whose illness was clearly getting the better of him.

"She was surely the pride of your house," Daemon says, "and now she will be the pride of mine."

The old fool nods at the prince's words, and I feel bitterness coat my tongue. My father seemingly wanted to say something, but his cough decides he won't before he can even open his mouth.

Cregan takes it as a cue to take him away. He gives me a look, "father wished to tell you that you are the perfect bride."

I watch as they make their way to their spot.

I cannot bring myself to move an inch from where I was standing as tears coat my cheeks. It was all a betrayal. It was all so much colder than the Northern snow I find myself yearning for. How could they allow this to happen to me? How could my-

"Go to him."

I turn to my side, finding Daemon's face as he repeats, "go to him."

Before I know it, I am standing behind my father who had just caught his breath from the coughs he started.

Cregan calls my name once he notices me, and this causes Rickon to turn over his shoulder and make me grind my teeth.

"You fool," I mutter bitterly, "you old, fucking fool."

Cregan places a hand on me. My father calls my name, and it brings me to my knees. I grab onto his cold and thin arm, thinking how it felt nothing like the hand that guided me in my youth.

"Do not waste your tears on this old, fucking fool, daughter."

I look up to him and see tears on his face. I shake my head, "papa," I whine, "don't do this to me. You can still take back your word."

"Sister, that is enough," Cregan hushes.

Rickon places his other hand on my head and sighs, "he does not deserve you," he inhales, "that much I agree."

"Then make this right! Release me-"

"So make him deserve you," he catches my chin, "make him as loyal as your wolf," he coughs twice, "or feed him to Havoc yourself."

Our father rattles out into another fit out coughs.

Cregan pulls me to my feet and sighs. He pulls me to the side yet the sound of coughing does not fade. "He has only worsened since you've gone."

I suck in a breath and will my tears away.

"I pray you release your grudges, before it's too late."

I scoff, "easy for you to say when everything is easy for you, brother," I push his hand off me, "you are the heir, you are in charge."

He calls my name in frustration, "you know damn well that is not what I meant."

"Worry not," I scoff in annoyance, "I will do as our father instructs," I turn to the said man, "as always. I will make him as loyal as Havoc," I gulp, turning to the prince who was already looking at me, "or feed him to her myself."

Cregan watches as I storm all the way back to my seat.

The rest of the events are a blur, the toast, the ceremony, the merrymaking I was clearly not a part of.

But it doesn't matter. What matters is that I could now feel Havoc's warmth against me. She had nearly tackled me to the ground when we were reunited. She felt my heartache and whined with me as I emptied my sorrows on her fur.

Though she spoke no words to me, she provided the best comfort I could ever ask for. Havoc and I have been bonded ever since she was born. She knew nothing but me and I knew nothing but her.

And so when she began to snarl, I felt her protectiveness in my bones.

I turn to the direction of her anger and see my husband still in his spot.

"You are wise not to tread any nearer," I mutter to him as I stand to my feet. Havoc stands beside me. I command her to stand down and lie on her belly. She is reluctant but obedient.

Daemon places his hands behind his back, "I hope you know that it was a mistake for them to bring her to the dragon pit."

"I am not a fool, I would not bring Havoc anywhere near your-"

"I will introduce Caraxes to her slowly," he cuts me off, "though I confess, I do not know how he would react."

I tilt my head to him and measure his words, "and why would you do that?"

"Because she belongs to wife," he spokes as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

When he stretches his hand out to me, Havoc reacts with another snarl.

"Enough, Havoc," I command her, placing a hand on her snout, making her soften her warning sounds.

"Would you introduce me to her?" the prince asks, hand reaching out to me.

I feel a pit in my stomach. There a loud voice was screaming loudly in disagreement, screaming to allow Havoc her carnal desire. Yet the voice of my father rings in my mind, 'make him loyal'. At the same time, the feeling of Daemon's gentle touch as he kissed me after our vows plays in my head.

I turn to Havoc, back to Daemon, and step once so I could reach the prince's palm. Once I have him in my grip, Havoc begins to snarl loudly again. I scold her and pull Daemon behind me. I ignore the way my stomach drops when his other hand rests on my waist. Though the touch is uninvited, I do not fight him off for the sake of keeping Havoc calm.

I place my hand atop Daemon's and link my fingers in his then place his palm on my wolf's large, furry head.

Havoc does not appreciate it, I can feel it. And yet, she does nothing but snarl as she feels Daemon's hand on her.

"He is my husband, sweet girl," I hush her, placing my other hand on her back, "you will not eat him."

Daemon chuckles, then presses closer behind me. I feel my body ignite when his chest meets my back.

He proceeds to speak in another tongue, and to my surprise, Havoc tilts her head at him and dampens her threats.

"How did you do that?" I mutter, turning to him as well.

Our faces nearly touch when I do, and I make sure not to start, lest I trigger the direwolf.

"My blood runs with magic she recognizes," Daemon mutters, violet eyes peering down at me. My breath hitches when his hand brushes to my belly, "I do not doubt Caraxes will recognize the same in yours."

I turn away from him and pull my hand out of his. I then push him away just as Havoc finally ceases her growls altogether and begins to pant.

I release a sigh and turn to my beloved wolf, "good girl," I praise, grabbing her large face.

Daemon chuckles behind me, "you treat her like she is merely an overgrown pup."

"Well, she is," I say, turning over, finding the prince's soft expression, "and yours is an overgrown lizard."

He tilts his head, "I have not met a lizard who breathes fire."

"I wonder why you look any further," I pull away from Havoc to look at the vast chamber, "so, tell me. If not here, where then shall I keep her?"

He shifts on his legs, "your chambers would be large enough, would it not?"

I narrow my brows, "my chambers?"

He chuckles, "well I cannot force it to be our chambers in the face of your beast now, can I?"

I scoff at this and whistle, making Havoc stand.

Daemon does not break eye contact with me as I walk over to him. I move past him though and beckon my wolf to follow, "I appreciate your candor, prince husband. Perhaps I shall not commit treason after all."

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