#daenerys x reader

[bullseyegoon]

[moonofessos]

Jealousy

Daenerys Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daenerys demands absolute loyalty, and when you return to her chambers carrying the scent of another woman, she will accept nothing less than the truth.

warning(s): toxic relationship, possessive behavior, domestic violence (a slap), power dynamics

wc: 1.5k

Her chambers was dark except for the single candle burning in the corner, casting long shadows across the walls. You knew before you even closed the door behind you that she'd been waiting. The air felt charged, electric with the kind of tension that made your skin prickle.

"You're late."

Daenerys's voice cut through the silence like a blade. She was sitting on the divan, legs crossed, one arm draped along the back. Even in the dim light, you could see the way her jaw was set, the dangerous glint in her violet eyes.

"The council meeting ran long," you said, keeping your voice steady as you removed your cloak and draped it over the chair. "Lord Stark had much to discuss about the northern territories."

"The council." She stood slowly, deliberately, like a predator rising to stalk its prey. "Is that what you call it?"

Your stomach dropped. You knew that tone. "Dany, don't start."

"Don't start?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. She crossed the room in three strides, getting close enough that you could see the fury written across her beautiful face. "You dare walk through that door reeking of another woman and tell me not to start? I am owed your loyalty. Your devotion. And yet you insult me with lies."

"What are you talking about?"

But she was already invading your space, pressing close, her nose at your collar, your neck, breathing you in like she could extract the truth from your skin. When she pulled back, her expression had transformed into something wild and wounded.

"Perfume," she hissed. "Cheap perfume that is not mine. Who is she? Tell me her name."

"Dany, I swear, there's no one." You tried to step back but she followed, backing you against the door. "A member of the Council hugged me goodbye. That's it. That's all it was."

"Liar." The word was venom. "Do you think me a fool? Do you believe I cannot see what you do when you are not here, in my presence where you belong?"

"I'm not doing anything!" Your voice rose to match hers. "Seven hells, we've been through this a hundred times. I'm not cheating on you!"

"Then why do you smell like her?" Daenerys's hands fisted in your shirt, yanking you forward. "Why do you return to me late, why do you refuse to meet my eyes, why do you stand before me and speak falsehoods?"

"I'm not lying!" You grabbed her wrists, trying to pry her off, but she held on tighter. "You're being paranoid. You're being fucking crazy!"

"Crazy?" Her voice went dangerously quiet. "I am crazy for demanding what is mine by right? I am crazy for refusing to be betrayed?"

"I'm not betraying you! There is no one else! There has never been anyone else!" The words tore out of you, desperate and raw. "Why can't you believe me? Why do you always do this?"

"Because I know what you are!" She shoved you hard against the door, and pain bloomed between your shoulder blades. "I know how they look at you. I see the way other women watch you when we walk together. You think I am blind to it? You think I do not see them wanting what belongs to me?"

"That's not my fault! I can't control what other people do!"

"But you can control what you do." Her face was inches from yours now, breath hot against your lips. "And you came home wearing another woman's scent. So tell me the truth. Confess it. Tell me you fucked her."

"There's nothing to tell!" You were shouting now, all pretense of calm shattered. "I didn't touch anyone! I would never, I wouldn't, why can't you just trust me?"

"Trust?" Daenerys laughed again, that same bitter, broken sound. "You speak to me of trust when you give me every reason to doubt you? When you return late smelling of another and look at me as though I am the one who has wronged you?"

"You are the problem! This jealousy, this possessive bullshit, it's suffocating me!"

"Then go!" She screamed it, her voice cracking. "If I am so unbearable, if my love suffocates you, then leave! Walk out that door!"

"Maybe I should!"

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, everything went still. You saw something flicker across her face, something that looked almost like fear before it hardened into pure rage.

The slap came so fast you didn't see it coming. Your head snapped to the side, cheek exploding with heat and pain. The shock of it stole your breath, left you frozen against the door.

"You will go nowhere," Daenerys said, her voice shaking with fury and something deeper. She grabbed your face, forcing you to look at her, fingers digging into your jaw. "You are mine. You swore yourself to me. You do not get to break faith and then abandon me."

"I didn't..." you started, but she cut you off.

"Be silent." Her grip tightened, nails biting into your skin. "Shut your mouth and kiss me. Now."

For a heartbeat, you just stared at her. At the fury and desperation and twisted love burning in those violet eyes. At the way her chest heaved with each breath, the way her lips were parted, the way she was looking at you like she wanted to destroy you and devour you all at once.

Then something in you snapped.

Your hand shot up, wrapping around her throat, and you used the leverage to spin her, slamming her back against the door. She gasped, eyes going wide, but there was no fear in them. Only heat. Only want.

"You want me to kiss you?" you growled against her mouth. "After you hit me? After you accuse me of shit I didn't do?"

"I want what is owed to me," she breathed, her voice trembling with need and rage. "I want your obedience. Your devotion. Kiss me as you should. As is my right."

You crashed your lips against hers, hard and angry and desperate. She moaned into your mouth, her hands immediately tangling in your hair, pulling you closer even as you pressed her harder against the door. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and fury, everything you couldn't say with words pouring out in the violent press of lips and the bite of teeth on tender flesh.

Your hand tightened on her throat and she whimpered, the sound going straight through you. She kissed you harder, nails scraping down your neck, your shoulders, leaving marks you'd feel tomorrow. Good. Let her mark you. Let her claim you. It was what she wanted, what she always wanted.

"Mine," she gasped against your mouth when you broke apart for air, her voice taking on that imperious edge even now. "You belong to me. You will say it. I command you to say it."

"Fuck you," you breathed, but you kissed her again anyway, swallowing her moan, feeling the way she arched into you.

Her leg hooked around your hip, pulling you flush against her, and you could feel her heart racing, could feel the heat of her through your clothes. This was wrong. This was so fucked up. You should walk away, should leave, should do anything but this.

But her tongue was in your mouth and her hands were under your shirt and you were drowning in her, in this toxic, obsessive, all consuming thing between you that felt more like addiction than love.

"Say it," she demanded again, breaking the kiss to bite down on your lower lip hard enough to hurt. "Bend the knee with your words. Tell me you are mine and mine alone. I will hear you speak the truth."

You grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, exposing the long line of her throat. "You're fucking insane."

"I am a dragon." Her voice cracked on the words, and you could hear it now, the fear underneath the fury. The terror that you might actually leave. That she might actually lose you. "And you are mine to keep. You will not abandon me. You cannot. Say it. Please."

That last word, so small and broken, nearly destroyed you.

You kissed her throat, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Soft, despite everything. Despite the anger and the accusations and the handprint you could still feel burning on your cheek.

"I'm yours," you whispered against her lips. "I'm yours, Dany. There's no one else. There's never been anyone else. I swear it."

"Swear it again," she commanded, but her voice was desperate now, pleading beneath the imperious tone. "Swear your loyalty to me. Swear you will never leave. Swear it on everything you are."

"I swear," you breathed. "I'm yours. Only yours."

She pulled you into another kiss, this one deeper, slower, no less intense but different somehow. Like she was trying to crawl inside you, to fuse herself to you so completely that you could never leave. Her hands cupped your face with a gentleness that contradicted everything that had just happened, thumbs stroking your cheeks even as tears slipped from her closed eyes.

And god help you, you let her.

[azurewitchxx]

Dating Daenerys Targaryen would include

• Being by her side nearly every moment. Daenerys feels a constant tug of fear that the world might try to take you from her. If she turns and doesn’t immediately see you, her heart sinks until you’re back within reach. She relaxes only when you’re near enough to touch.

• Her protective streak being unmatched. As much as she leads armies and frees cities, Daenerys guards you the fiercest. Her hand automatically goes to your back in crowds, she notices any lingering gaze that makes you uncomfortable, and she calmly positions herself between you and any perceived threat.

• The dragons treating you like family. Drogon nudges you with surprising gentleness, Rhaegal coils around you for warmth, and Viserion watches you with owl-like focus. To them, you are their second mother—someone to defend and adore. Daenerys didn’t even teach them this… they simply decided.

• Daenerys doing anything to ensure your happiness. Whether it’s ordering the best silks for you, arranging a private dinner on the deck of her ship, or quietly listening to your worries late at night, she makes you feel treasured. Your joy becomes one of her quiet priorities.

• Riding with her on dragonback. You clutch her tightly, your forehead pressed against her shoulder as the wind howls around you. Daenerys always places her hands over yours before the dragon takes off, reassuring you without words. She loves the feeling of you holding onto her like she’s the only thing anchoring you to the world.

• Whispered reassurance when you’re afraid. If the night is loud with war or the skies are filled with smoke, she pulls you close and murmurs,

“You are safe with me. Always.”

Her thumb traces calming circles on your hand, grounding you until the fear fades.

• Quiet moments that belong only to you. Despite being a queen, she cherishes the soft hours: brushing your hair, resting her head on your shoulder, or falling asleep tucked against your chest with the dragons curled around you both like living guardians.

• Loving you with a fierce, unwavering devotion. To Daenerys, you’re not just her lover—you’re one of the few people who truly sees the woman beneath the crown. And for that, she cherishes you with a fire brighter than any dragon’s flame.

[kittyminion]

THE GODS' CHOSEN

daenerys targaryen x f!reader

whumptober day 6, oct 10 phophecy, lesbian sex

SUMMARY: daenerys targaryen never knew why she felt a draw to you, but ever since you joined her counsel, all she could see was you, until the prophecy was found WARNINGS: lesbian sex, smut 18+, prophesized love, language, canon-divergence, poc reader, reader has curly/coily hair, fluff, angst, porn w/ plot, mentions of violence/death/blood, martell!reader, pubes (it's normal freak)

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

taglist: @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @arquiiva @thegirlulike @stargirlgrimoire @lacrimasdulces

The first time you met Daenerys Targaryen, she stared like you were the oddest thing she'd ever seen. And perhaps you were. You kept your head held high in the face of the Mother of Dragons, despite your state—caked in blood, dirt, and vengeance alike. Your armor was soaked in scarlet, fresh wounds lining your neck where some poor bastard had their blade.

Unbowed, unbent, unbroken is what you were—a poor, lost, Martell soul looking for the person who'd caused the downfall of your House. The person who crushed your brother's head like a melon and killed every Sand that set foot inside King's Landing.

Time was a fickle thing, yes, and you'd spent many a moon seeking revenge, but you were volatile and you wouldn't stop until Lannister blood stained your hands. "The Vengeful Princess, they've called her." Tyrion Lannister said as he introduced you, standing beside your kneeled form, a few Unsullied keeping you compliant.

There was a permanent madness that came with fighting for what was lost, and Daenerys could see it all over your face. She could see it in the false hatred as you stared at her. She could see it in the balling of your fists. "And what does she have to offer? Otherwise, you would've killed her."

You scoffed, head dropping as you glared at the ground, "I won't let another Lannister kill a Martell; there's been far too much bloodshed over petty things."

Daenerys hummed, moving closer, hands resting by her sides. For some reason, your heart beat heavily as she approached. She smelt like dragon flame and a deep sultryness that took immediate root in your bones.

"She is skilled—can kill a man within half a second." Jorah Mormont spoke next, stepping to Daenerys' side, hands poised on his sword as his gaze gleamed down at you—judging, but rightfully so.

"And that's what we need, especially now." Tyrion stepped to Daenerys' side, and they all stared at you, thinking and unwielding. You had the right sense to calm yourself, appear trustworthy, because you wholeheartedly wanted to be. It took a toll to be stuck in a vengeful mindset for so long—and you were no closer to Cersei Lannister than you were a moon ago.

Was it time to settle, plan, and calculate, or was it just Daenerys Stormborn's eyes that kept you sensible?

She stared at you like she had something to prove—like there wasn't a pull between the two of you. It was like two magnets, each drawing closer together, but you couldn't act upon it because you didn't know what it was. You'd only known Daenerys as a victim of the Mad King. She was the same age as you, and each of you had been through your fair share of irrevocable damage.

But now, here she was, questioning whether you should be on her small council.

It wasn't a terrible idea, you knew that much. Daenerys and her dragons would give you shielding from the enemies you'd made on your trek. It'd give you an ironclad position when the war was over. And you couldn't deny how much you longed for some sort of normalcy.

Just then, you heard the grumble of one of Daenery's dragons, deep and rumbling, the walls shaking beneath the vibration of it. With a prolonged stare at Daenerys, she glanced at Missandei, then Jorah, who both nodded, "let her up."

The Unsullied let your wrists go, and you pushed yourself to your feet, feeling nausea settle in your belly. The filth was deep upon your skin, and you wanted nothing more than to settle in a bedchamber and sleep for centuries, but they were expecting greatness from you.

So you became great.

You planned battle strategies and attacks, you were on the forefront of every fray, riding your horse to all hell, watching Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion soar above head—a certain icy-haired Queen's eye on you. You took stabs to the abdomen like it was nothing and patched up at the end of the day alone, hoping she would visit, but she never did.

You went on reconnaissance with Jorah Mormont to track locations of Lannister men. You spent days upon weeks setting up alliances and bannermen with Houses you knew sided with Daenerys.

But that first night she did help you patch up was a quiet one. It'd been a long, hard battle, and everyone felt it. A dozen men were lost, a few close calls with the dragons, but you dragged yourself to the map room and sat upon the heavy stone chair with a grunt.

Ripping your armor clean off with such quickness it hurt, you pressed a shaky hand to a wound near your thigh—a rogue blade right through a crack of your armor. It was simple, yes, but it hurt like all hell. Blood soaked your underclothes, your leg propped out to make room for the large amounts of dressing you pressed against the laceration.

"Need help?" You didn't startle because you'd heard her approach—light footsteps, and a subtle pounding of her heart—quick. Daenerys sat across from you, elegant but somehow unguarded. She had a brush of dirt beneath her eye, hair caked with mud and ash.

"I think I can bode well on my own, Your Grace—" she shook her head, grabbing the dressing from your grip and adding pressure to the wound herself. She gave you a teasing grin when you winced, "you've been with us how long, Princess?"

You slipped the waistband of your trousers farther down, revealing a sliver of dark hair, but Daenerys simply blushed and kept her eyes on your wound. "This is the second year, Your Grace. It's funny to remember how I used to be."

Daenerys chuckled, glancing at you, violet eyes stark against yours, "very serious—very intimidating."

"I can't possibly intimidate the Mother of Dragons, can I?" Daenerys grabbed the bottle of medicinal herbs and packed it into your wound, then she pressed more dressing on top, "I can hide my face well if you didn't notice. I didn't know what to make of you that first day you'd arrived."

You wanted to say more than your brain allowed, but instead you said, "you looked strong if it means anything—like nothing and nobody could bring you down."

It was simple heart-to-hearts like this that made you rethink your relationship with Daenerys. Never had you touched her with salacious intent, but you couldn't deny the flutter of your belly when you shielded her on the battlefield, arms touching, chests pressed squarely together.

That's what made it confusing—staring into each other's eyes so deeply that it couldn't just be a Queen and her councilwoman. That little jump of your heart when you thought something was wrong was another given, or now, when she kept her hand against your thigh, leaning closer as she listened to your words.

And it wasn't just simple attraction—Daenerys Targaryen was a beautiful woman, in the way that ice could be so cold it burned. And Daenerys thought the same of you—sometimes she couldn't bear looking too long because you were so stunningly beautiful.

This was a deep yearning that went beyond normalcy. Dreams kept you hostage to the possibility of life with Daenerys. Your mind wondered what it would be like to feel her against you in the most mundane ways without having to worry about the formalities of professionalism.

"I wasn't strong at all before the dragons. It felt like I was constantly being dragged through mud just to get the bottom of the barrel."

"And what changed? What's made you like this?" You made the mistake of reaching up and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Just as you pulled away, Daenerys noticed how close the two of you were, and she quite literally flinched out of your vicinity. She drew up that virtuous energy she had and put on a placid face, chest rising and falling greatly.

"I think I ought to get to bed."

You couldn't pretend to regret touching her, because of the sharp spark that ignited when your skin against hers, but what did hurt was how easily she seemed to avoid you afterwards.

Council meetings were long and grueling as usual, but when you used to often meet with Daenerys privately to speak, now she left the room entirely, even when you approached.

Or not daring to connect eyes with you, simply scared to see the emotion within you. It was sickening, really, to have such a draw towards someone, but not be able to act upon it.

The day the parchment was found was a different one. You'd been rummaging through the old sept libraries looking for information about dragons when you'd seen it. It was extremely yellowed and frayed at the edges, but when you touched it, you felt your heart rate spike.

Bringing it over to a table, you sat with a sigh, wondering why that specific parchment almost hurt to touch. It was as if your heart was being physically ripped from your chest, but just as strong, it was placed back again.

There were no pictures on the parchment, just words, but it was in High Valyrian, and although you'd had a few lessons with Missandei, you weren't fluent and had no clue what it said save for unbearing and vengeance.

Before you could stand to go find Missandei, the door pushed open, heavy and scraping against the stone floor. Daenerys watched you for a second, face brightening, then she walked farther inside, closing the door behind herself.

"Something told me to find you. I'm not certain why." She sat cautiously beside you, violet eyes brighter than they usually were. Daenerys pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, pink lips pursed, and she pointed at the parchment, "what does it say?"

You shrugged, knee knocking with hers, but Daenerys didn't move away, "It's in High Valyrian. Can you translate?" Daenerys grabbed the parchment gently, sighing, but not unkindly, almost like she was trying to calm herself. You could see the small tremble of her fingers as you watched her.

Her eyes scrolled over the parchment a few times, face increasingly shadowed by surprise, then she glanced at you and scooted her chair closer to yours, beginning to read the parchment.

"It says: the Prince Who Was Promised, forever bound to—," she inhaled deeply, "—the One Who Seeks Vengeance. Without their love complete, unbearing pain shall prosper, and early death will come. Though with hearts intwined, power will pursue, with not institution but structure of love."

Somehow, never-ending calm overtook you as you sagged in your chair, letting out a deep breath and staring at the ceiling. You could practically feel your heart thrumming in your fingertips, but there was another beat too—Daenerys', quick and untamed.

There was nothing to be said, but her eyes held all the words, and she bit her lip and nodded slowly, cheeks red as a cherry. Before you knew it, you'd slipped your hand into hers—and they joined like two puzzle pieces.

"You hate it, don't you? Being bound to someone?" You muttered quietly, trying to gauge her reaction, but Daenerys scoffed, "I truly hope you don't think that, Princess."

"I don't, but you haven't said a word, Your Grace." Daenerys rolled her eyes playfully and squeezed your hand, pressing her lips to your knuckles.

"I am...complete. Nothing missing anymore, and it hurt more when you were right there, but I knew not what to do with you." Licking your lips, you turned to Daenerys fully, "they're going to think I seduced you."

Daenerys scoffed and suddenly kissed you, soft but demanding like the dragon she was. Her fingers moved to your jaw, and she muttered something in High Valyrian, hand dragging down your torso to knotch against your thigh.

Your body was on fire, but deep inside, you felt cool, like someone had stuffed ice into your veins. Daenerys' fingers trailed your body, leaving trails of fire, then you reached up and groped her tit, reveling in her moans.

"Sit on the table." You said quietly, suddenly standing, and Daenerys eyed you with a small grin, doing as you asked, knees against your hips. "Anyone can walk in." She said, glancing back at the door, but you shook your head, "once they hear you, they won't."

With one fluid motion, you pulled her trousers off, setting them on the chair beside you. There was a thick bout of icy colored hair on her cunt, and when she opened her legs wider, you smirked, "try not to be too loud."

Daenerys rolled her eyes, "you're quite full of yourself, Princess—" as soon as you pressed your tongue to her clit she paused, neck slacking as she stuttered out a moan, "fuck!" She spat, and you chuckled against her, grabbing her thighs and pushing her knees against her chest.

Licking a long stripe up her cunt, your tongue flicked her clit, nose stuffed into the base of her cunt, eyes watching her face erupt into pleasure.

Daenerys grabbed the base of your hair and tugged it, gripping tight, but you continued your flicking, her arousal covering your chin. She smelled like everything sweet in the world, but the fraction of fire on her was intoxicating.

Slipping one finger inside Daenerys, she let out a loud moan, mouth agape, back arching as her thighs trembled, "I'm about to cum," she muttered, lips red from biting.

Thrusting your finger in and out of her cunt, you pulled your mouth off of her and added pressure to her clit with your thumb, leaning up to kiss her. Daenerys' tongue blended with yours, a stream of saliva connecting the two of you, and she grabbed your tits, squeezing your nipples, watching your eyebrows furrow with pleasure.

"Why did you avoid me after that night?" You questioned, pulling your shirt up so she could get a better angle at your tits. Daenerys didn't answer at first, mouth latching onto your nipple, but then she said, "because I was scared. I didn't know what in the world we were, nor if it was good. But now I know it's good."

After inserting another finger inside Daenerys, her words halted entirely, and she stared at you as she came, cunt covered in moisture and cum alike, cheeks red and radiating heat.

When she came down from her high, she pulled off her shirt and pushed you gently onto the floor, the stone starkly cold against your skin, then she tugged off your pants.

"I don't want to see anyone else but you for the rest of the day." She said, exasperated, weaving her legs between yours, grip heavy on your thigh. As soon as her cunt pressed against yours, you moaned, eyes rolling closed as you relaxed against the floor, already feeling pressure from her clit.

"Just like that, Dany." You moaned out, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging it gently. Daenerys rutted her hips, rocking back and forth against you, your arousal mixing with hers, friction accumulating from your cunt against hers.

Your stomach pulsed as your climax built, stars bursting in your eyes, "I'm almost there." You called, reaching over to grip the shelf nearby, lifting up so you could rock your hips against Daenerys. She nodded in agreement, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing, nails digging into your skin sharply.

With a tandem moan, you and Daenerys came, both of your arousal slicked between your cunts, both your faces exasperated and blushing.

There was a knock on the door, and both of you paused, Daenerys staring at you with wide eyes, but you shook your head.

"Your Khaleesi? Are you in there?" Jorah called, knocking once more, and Daenerys continued rutting against you, chin resting against your knee, "I'm busy!"

[vorsdany]

— 𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙘𝙮

Daenerys Targaryen x reader

words: ±3.9k

summary: Daenerys battles her inner demons. You battle the external ones for her.

warning(s): graphic descriptions of violence, blood, severed limbs, self-doubt.

They started small.

Impudent words fluttering around the Kingdom, carried by the floundering mouths through cramped alleyways and narrow markets before eventually reaching her ears. She was made aware of it by her court, their tone concerned and bearings slithering behind a feigned sincerity.

Her origins were corrupted, undoubtedly – yet, wasn’t it her whose sovereignty ended a tyrant’s rule, and hadn’t it been her reign that had brought prosperity upon the lands?

Daenerys had learned to live with it. The fact did not cease the sorrow taking root in her heart, neither did it purge the scathing flames those gossips ignited.

“Your Grace,”

The woman they called Khaleesi had given her blood and flesh, her blazing fire, even her life – all, to be called names unbefitting of a Queen of her stand: the Mad Queen, the traitor, the Targaryen child unfit to rule. Every so often, Daenerys was at her wit’s end regarding the truth laced behind their demeaning words.

“Khaleesi?”

Picking at her fingertips, Daenerys swallowed the bitterness on her tongue, burying her doubts in the deepest pit of her heart and willing her heartache to subside. Perhaps she was never meant to sit on that forsaken throne, and her life had been cursed from the beginning. Perhaps –

“Daenerys.”

The fog in her mind cleared.

Her children’s roars – Viserion’s being the loudest – could be heard in the distance, the softest whiff of the sea flowing through the air, reminding her of her home in Dragonstone. Your calls, once muffled and obstructed by her inner turmoil, was now crystal clear. Daenerys acknowledged you with slow blinks, though not dignifying it with an answer.

Instead, the Khaleesi reached out a hand to caress your cheek.

Your jaw tightened at her emboldened advance, your posture fixed with an immense tension as you surrendered yourself to her whims, utterly coiled with nerves and the stifled tenderness she held in the palm of her hand. The violet shadowing her irises glimmered in the sun, and if you drowned yourself in them, you could see yourself reflected through her intense gaze. “You called for me?”

Daenerys allowed a small smile to grace her lips.

Drawing back her hand, she folded them in front of her stomach, gesturing to the poorly wrapped weapon-sized gift resting on the windowsill. “Do I always need a reason to see you?”

You tilted your head, “I am hardly worth a summon just to have tea with you, Your Grace.”

“You should hold yourself higher, if you wished to be worthy of this title.” The silver-haired Queen exhaled, her dignity splintered by how little regard you possessed for yourself.

“… Title?” Your bewilderment only riled her up further – her palpable efforts in granting you a title had been declined repeatedly, causing a visible dent in her pride.

Accepting defeat, Daenerys stomped her feet and shoved the custom-made sword into your unexpecting arms, the ghost of a pout slithering its way onto her features. With her arms crossed, she glared at the sky, wishing she was anywhere else but here, for she desperately require this invigorating, dizzying spell in her chest to be dispersed before it consumed her alive.

Still, she could not help herself from painting an image in her mind; you, dressed in black and red armour, a long sword strapped to your waist, her emblem pinned to your chest, determination shining in your eyes. Daenerys had offered you the position countless times – with the ingenuity half her court exuded, their choice of the recommended personal Queensguard had been turned down as tactfully as she could afford.

She had yet to hear the sweet answer of affirmation she desired from the person she was betting her entire life on.

In truth, you’d known her steadfast pursue on this matter was what brought on her persistent summons upon your presence. Unwrapping the brown paper meticulously concealing the blade inside, you observed the perfectly honed sword, testing the edge on your finger to disentangle the sound and origin of the weapon – what could possibly be threatening enough to warrant a hand-made, special sword ordered by the Queen herself?

“Is this…” You hesitantly wondered, “Are you sending me away to guard another city?”

Flipping over the long blade and acclimating the grips to both your hands, a crimson embroidering caught your eye. Coated with a black, shiny cord that provided a firm and secure grip, a rose-coloured three headed dragon was etched into the pommel, with threads of fiery red that weaved across the hilt. Your mouth parted with awe.

Daenerys felt a sense of pride pivoting past her carefully maintained veneer, a furtive laugh sneaking past her defense and slipping past her lips as she shook her head in amusement, exasperated at your deliberate deflection. Every single soul in the Seven Kingdoms were aware of your dexterity – Daenerys not exempt from the list. The battle for the throne she now occupied was won primarily by your contribution, therefore, anyone would be a fool to view you as anything other than extraordinary.

Except only she knew how gullible you could be when it came to fragile sentiments such as affections or emotions of love.

“No,” She deadpanned. “It is so you could raise your sword at me and betray the Throne.”

Your eyebrows furrowed even further, and your grip on the offending weapon faltered before it tumbled to the ground with a clank. Daenerys stared at the abandoned sword to your empty hands, then her attention strayed to your widened eyes, riddled with confusion and tangled in uncertainty. She sighed.

“Blood of my blood,” Daenerys picked up the sword and faced you, “Whatever journey you take, allow me to aid you.”

Such unprecedented confession rendered you speechless. What was it to the ruler of the Kingdoms that your battles were fought with her support?

“If not in presence, then have me in your soul.” Guiding you to hold the hilt, wrapping her own hand above yours, Daenerys ensured your grip was secured without a shred of qualm, tethering you with her words and the weight of it.

“I…” cannot accept this. Yet the refusal merely sat on the tip of your tongue, only to hide behind your teeth and dodge the chance to turn your back. “Am I deserving of such a thing?”

Your robes were flawless, dipped in black with only the tails shadowed with white – the spot above your chest looked unbearably empty, and Daenerys brushed off some imaginary dust by patting it lightly, her gaze lighting up with a slow mirth. “My devotion?”

Hesitation clouded your features.

The distance between you dissipated as Daenerys leaned in, her breath sweeping against your neck and her lips dangerously close to your ear. “My love?”

You choked on the frizzling air in your lungs, finding the curls on her silver hair more interesting than the faint smirk she was suppressing. If she were to move an inch closer, your survival in this matter couldn’t be guaranteed – with a reputation that called her the Mad Queen,Daenerys was much too mischievous towards you. Perhaps even childish, at times.

For a mere warrior with no title nor status to adorn your name, her fixation on courting pestering you was worrisome. For the sake of the nation and for your sanity.

Her touch was electrifying, and a simple graze of her skin against yours was enough to startle you from the daze she’d kept you locked under. No matter how breath-taking she looked, how unreal her existence was, you’d vowed to maintain an arm’s length when it came to proximity. Though, Daenerys had never allowed herself to be stopped short by some measly principles – especially ones as easily-shaken as yours.

Perseverance would lift her up toward success, she convinced herself.

Dramatically defeated by your insistent walls of rejection once more, Daenerys pursed her lips as she rummaged through her mind for a feasible idea.

“Care for a stroll?”

Good job, Daenerys.

Your eyes narrowed. “It is time for my daily patrol.”

Mission failed.

Crushed as her hope was, her dejection did not slip past the cracks of her flawlessly curated façade. “I shall monitor, then.”

Confusion bled into your features, as if she’d just asked you to climb her dragons and command them instead of requesting to accompany you on your duty. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” reluctance gnawed at your throat, “you’re asking… to do labour with me?”

Daenerys nodded her head enthusiastically, before waving her hand in a dismissive manner – it was best not to be too obvious, though she was aware that your willingness to bend to her impulsive nature were done with purpose and not out of mere obligation. With renewed vigour, the Khaleesi inhaled a long breath to restrain the bounce of her feet. “Let us not waste anymore time. The streets won’t inspect itself!”

Faking a cough to cover up your laugh, you clutched the sword in one hand as you trailed after her fluttering robes, hoping this day would pass without a hitch in its gloomy path.

Scouting a new corner of the city always meant the discovery of a fresh explosion of crimes hidden beneath stale breaths and charred clothes. There was a hollow niche on the far southeast of King’s Landing, and to reach it was to crawl your way through the possibility of getting illegally trafficked, witness or become the victim of defamation, pick-pocketed, or shot at. If you were particularly unlucky, stabbed and beaten into oblivion by incompetent morons. You had thought the rumours wrong, until it was your turn to fall prey into the nets they’d set out – and caught the fish, they did; not only the favoured guard of the Queen’s, but also their doom.

Daenerys hadn’t heard of such insolent acts of her subjects yet, solely for her mind to stay sound, and your preference that she was not notified of your inadequacy in handling simple matters. How you were assigned specifically to this area for weeks, was beyond your jurisdiction.

Far from the docks and trades to smother the streets, humid air from the direct sun bit down on your scalp, sweltering winds, as scarce as they were, did little to soothe your steaming skin. Daenerys’ cheeks had turned a bright shade of pink; one would assume she would melt into a puddle if you hadn’t nestled underneath a canopy in front of a bakery.

The road wasn’t deserted, though it wasn’t bustling as the inner parts of the city. Several food shops were opened with people floundering about from one place to another, a few merchants laid a quilt on the pavement before hollering about brilliant offers and goods, and some bandits picking up a fight for absolutely no reason.

Glancing at Daenerys, who stood rigid, quiet and observing, you wondered if she had anticipated this weather, and if she had imagined her rule would bring enough prosperity for people to thrive without incessant worry on living to see tomorrow. Her eyes were jumping from one corner to another, her undivided attention perched upon nonsensical murmurs as girls gossiped on their walk, and men grumbled on their jobs. None of them heeded her presence – Daenerys was an ordinary woman as any flower to a fluttering butterfly, her silver hair nothing but a feature of beauty and not the harbinger of chaos and war.

“It wasn’t as peaceful here before, you know.” You mumbled, stealing a glimpse of her preoccupied daze and admiring the sight of her infatuation towards mundane activities.

Daenerys bit the insides of her cheek. If she had obliterated King’s Landing in her harsh judgment during the war for the throne, these people would’ve been ashes, and the land would lay barren of any life, its foundation scorched to the ground. Her reluctance to comment on your insinuation told you enough of the doubts growing in her heart. “It is not –”

A shout interrupted her attempt to decline any sort of compliment you wrapped within your words. “Bitch! I’ll fucking kill ya! Stop stealing my shares!”

Sparing her a look, you rushed toward the source, your shadow gradually fading and slipping between shoulders and buildings towering over you. Daenerys was left alone, her heart in her throat and a flare of uncertainty squeezing her lungs in a death grip.

Shouts resounded from the distance, murmurs from the crowd of people gravitating toward the commotion overlapping with the mean slash of swords clashing.

A voice, childlike and panicked, screamed at her to scramble after you, fright dripping in her tone – it sounded suspiciously like her own, only the innocent girl she could hardly remember anymore. Though desperation was flowing through her veins, Daenerys found herself rooted to her original spot, unable to move a muscle even as the street fell quiet.

“Stay safe.” You’d told her before forsaking your own safety for her.

If someone came barrelling into her wielding a weapon and the intention to kill, what could she possibly do? It was no secret that her subjects still despised her – for bearing a name she was born with, for carrying the blood of her ancestors. For simply being. What else could she hold onto, if not herself, if not her children, if not you?

Her court had turned their backs on her, Daenerys was no fool. Leisure in their duties, notorious in their efforts to bombard her with demands to flawlessly rule the Kingdoms in her age of twenty years and two. Her Missandei was no older than her, and you were not much younger. What would become of a Queen who could not hold firm security upon her closest confidants? Of her beloved friends, of her lover?

As her thoughts drifted, Daenerys found herself wandering through the marketplace, past the glowering buildings that provided shade from the sun, and into crooked alleyways that looked abandoned. The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was no more an ordinary girl now, lost on her adventure and alone in her inadvertent wandering.

Naturally, she should have nothing to fear. Logically, she had everything to beware of.

“Aye. The white-haired usurper? Nothin’ but a bitch who killed to have the throne.”

“Didn’t she also execute Jon of the North? Gods forbid she meets men who refuses to sleep with her!”

Boisterous laughs grated against her ears. Their insults were basic, at best, yet they were enough to send an arrow through her heart, searing the doubt deeper inside it. These were the thoughts of insolent men – people who were worth not an ounce of her caution, men with brains so small and skull too thick to comprehend a single word in a book. And Daenerys was a Targaryen; quick-witted and sharp-tongued, with a battle-honed mind beaten into perfection, for she wouldn’t survive her hardships otherwise.

“And what have you large men contributed to the country,” Her commanding voice echoed, unbroken and sharpened to slice open their unfiltered arrogance for her to see. “Other than enslaving our women and providing poorly for your household?” As she stepped into the light, their laughter died down, shock overtaking their faces – several women and children were scattered around them, some tending to chores, the rest sitting still as a stool.

One out of the three climbed to his feet, stomping toward her with a smirk too smug for someone whose life hung in the balance. “And what right do you have to question me, eh?” With a lopsided grin, he eyed her from head to toe, not the least intimidated by her violet eyes and silver hair.

Her venturing had left her vulnerable – but Daenerys had faced greater calamities, compared to challenging three uncultured men with their head up their ass.

Another one stepped closer, and a whiff of cigar entered her nostrils that she had to scrunch her nose at the invasion. “What? A beggar needs a place to stay? We can squeeze in another, if only…” Eyes filled with lust raked down her body, the predatory stare causing shivers to crawl up her spine.

His hand lifted to touch her face, and inches before filthy fingers could make contact with her skin, a splash of colour brightened up her vision.

Red.

An undignified scream tore through the man’s throat, his eyes wide and oh, so delightfully lightened up with fright. With one hand, he clutched his arm, exposed flesh angrily pouring red onto the ground, his hand missing from its place – freshly slashed off in a perfect cut from the wrist, the tip of your sword dripping the same shade of crimson as his blood.

Stools and plates cluttered into a heap on soil sullied with blood, fear flashing in eyes much too innocent to witness such a scene.

You were not much younger when you saw murder with your own eyes, her mind unhelpfully supplied.

“Would you like his tongue, Your Grace?”

During their panicked escape, you’d shielded her with your body, your sword poised in front of you as defense – though, it could severe a head off cleanly within a breath, if only Daenerys ordered it.

From her position, she could only see your back; straight, overly cautious and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Your head was held upright, and she could imagine your fiery gaze shining with murderous intent, challenging those who dared stand against her.

Retreating would’ve meant she was lenient towards treacherous mouths, and withdrawing your sword would hint that your languid decision to severe his limb was vain and wrong. For a second, Daenerys was five again, clutching her brother’s robes and shielding her face in his back when kids stepped on her shoes.

“Step back.”

Your stance faltered, but your sword was still pointed at the man’s neck. “He committed a grave offense. It is law that –”

“That’s enough. He will face justice under the Court’s judgment.” Daenerys declared through her teeth, the glint in her eyes sharp and her words much too benevolent to your likings. Her hand curled around your arm, nudging it down with a warning – “Not this way,” she mumbled into your back, quietly chiding your insistence.

Glaring daggers into the cowering man on the ground as if you wished it could procure arrows to dig into his chest, you clenched your jaw, willing the tightness in your heart to wane away.

As stationed guards nearby flocked to arrest him, you turned on your heels, huffing a breath of incredulity.

Disrespectful. The way her footsteps chased after you, her sweet, tentative voice wrapping around the sound of your name – gone was the imposing air she carried around her; Daenerys was but a woman trying to ease her lover’s thundering anger, grovelling on her feet like she had not just decreed a death sentence over a man who spoke two words too much.

It was disrespectful, for you to pretend she was not currently deliberately taking large steps to catch the end of your sleeve, for you to ignore her pleas to justify her act to discipline you in public. You were not enraged by her choice to stop you – it was your own lack of self-control that had irritated you, and the thrum in your veins, that flicker of satisfaction flowing in your chest was what had frightened you.

Was this how Daenerys had felt when she rode on Drogon, ruling the skies and the power to scorch everything to the grounds in her hands?

The new sword – now tainted with blood and dirt – was thrown onto the table with a deafening clink. Daenerys closed the door to your chamber, mentally rummaging through her knowledgeable mind for words to express her gratitude for your protection, and then some to convey her fury upon your selfish act.

Her once formidable cloak of impartiality sled off her body, replaced by only a delicate surface that served the contents of her heart on a silver platter. To her surprise, the words on her tongue remained to be uttered when your knees slammed into the stone-cold ground, your head bowed and shoulders slumped.

“I’ve committed an atrocity. Please grant me your punishment, Khaleesi.”

A chuckle emitted from her mouth as your stomach churned with regret. This sight – your downturned lips, the permanent furrow between your brows – left Daenerys dumbstruck. Your knuckles were displayed on your lap, raw and bleeding, no doubt from fighting off bandits before coming to her rescue. You’d stormed in to defend her honour, heroic and reckless, all for your efforts to be seen as an act of injustice.

Audacious.

Her polished sandals were replaced by white robes as Daenerys joined you on the floor, her feet carefully folded underneath to support her weight.

“It’s not wrong to defend me.” Her thumb brushed over your bruised knuckles, your skin twitching beneath her featherlight touch, yet you were unflinching still. Small bouts of pain were not worth crying over, and Daenerys mourned the perspective you’d unwillingly learned to survive. “But neither is it right to penalize a wrongdoing yet to be investigated.”

Meeting her eye-level alleviated the storm waging inside you, silver strands framing her features in a lighting you’d condemned yourself for admiring. Was it normal, for a Queen to be so inexplicably enthralled with a warrior of her own, for a soldier to be so familiar with the Queen that she was everything that consumed your soul? Would you be charged for treason, if you acted in the best interest of Daenerys Targaryen, and not the Seven Kingdoms?

“It is a misjudgement of mine.”

Daenerys hummed. “Yes, indeed.”

Her words were reaffirming your plead of being guilty, yet she did nothing to quench your irretrievable shame for losing your composure – costing you a subject’s limb, no less.

“Violence is not always the answer.” This time, she reached for your clothing, undoing the strings tangled with your undergarments, fretting over the smudges littering it. Your protests came out strained and startled, heat crawling up your neck at her unabashedly raised eyebrows.

“I– Your Grace,” you stuttered, unwilling to meet her scrutinizing gaze. “This is inappropriate.”

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, a smile threatening to break her otherwise serious face. “Weren’t you begging for punishment?”

Shaking your head vigorously before catching yourself in the act, thinking you had to refuse her wish, to hold your ground against her – you visibly swallowed. “Violence is the only answer I know,” you disrupted her advances, warily taking her wrist in your grasp, “It is how I live,” a daring kiss tasted the inside of her wrist, “It is how I will serve you, Khaleesi.”

Stopped in her tracks by your stunt, Daenerys fumbled around to clasp the flutters in her stomach, to stop the bleeding in her heart for your devout loyalty. Was it your responsibility, pure and unstained by treacherous affections she could sense blooming in her heart? Was she not deserving of even a grain of fondness from you? Was she selfish, for wishing for a sliver of your love, the one you buried and sealed away, because your duties had prohibited you from experiencing them?

Daenerys steered those vile thoughts away, and anchored herself with the warmth emanating from your skin, finding it irresistible despite the heat in the atmosphere.

With you, entrapped in her embrace, Daenerys patted your back in practiced motions – though it had felt like knocking on a block of wood with how rigid you were sitting, she vowed that it would dissolve with time.

“Then, allow me to teach you another way.”

Resuming her ministrations, her face almost glued to the crook of your neck, Daenerys smiled in triumph when your own hand crawled up her back to mimic her soothing actions.

[godjustkys]

Hii can I request stark!male reader x daenerys targaryen? With breeding kink and reader being utterly in love with her XD

SYNOPSIS: you’d do anything to show daenerys how much you love her.

CHARACTER: stark!male reader x daenerys targaryen

NOTE: my gorgeous girl. she’s so AHDIAGDKWKD

WC: 1,0k

WARNING: INTENSE breeding kink,, praise,, light worship,, p in v,, unprotected sex,, oral (f receiving),, deep penetration,, mild overstimulation,, multiple rounds,, dirty talk,, intense emotional attachment (LOL),, pet names,, possessive!reader,,

the flap of the queen’s tent falls shut behind you, and with it, the world outside vanishes — no unsullied, no dothraki, not even her dragons. only her.

daenerys targaryen.

she stands barefoot on a thick myrish rug, wearing nothing but a sheer shift that does little to hide the curves beneath. her silver hair spills loose over her shoulders like molten moonlight, and her golden eyes pin you in place.

“you’re staring again, wolf,” she murmurs, voice low and amused. “do all northern men look at their queens like starving beasts?”

“only when their queen looks like you,” you say hoarsely.

you step closer, your boots silent on the rug, and daenerys doesn’t move away. instead, she tilts her chin up, a soft, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “and if i told you to crawl to me?” she asks. “would the proud son of winterfell obey?” your answer is to sink to your knees without hesitation, the cold pride of your house melting away as heat coils low in your belly. “i’d crawl through fire if you asked it,” you say, your voice rough. “i’d burn. i’d bleed. i’d let the whole world see me beg for you.” that earns you a small, approving hum.

“a wolf, tamed by a dragon,” she muses, threading her fingers into your hair. “perhaps i should keep you on your knees.”

“perhaps you should,” you agree, pressing a kiss to her thigh through the thin fabric of her shift. “but let me worship you properly first.”

—————

your hands glide up her legs as you push the shift higher, baring inch after inch of smooth, pale skin. she’s already wet — you can smell her, sweet and intoxicating — and the sight of her bare folds makes your mouth water.

“look at you,” you murmur, kissing the crease of her hip as you spread her legs wider. “dripping for me already. did you think about this today? about me putting my tongue here?”

“yes,” she admits with a sharp intake of breath as you run your tongue up her slit in one slow, deliberate stroke. “gods, yes. i thought of nothing else.”

“good.”

you lap at her slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, letting her feel every flick and curl of your tongue. her fingers tighten in your hair as you suck gently on her clit, earning a soft whimper.

“seven hells,” she gasps, hips jerking. “you’re… better than anyone i’ve ever known.”

“because i love you,” you murmur against her slick folds. “because i want to ruin you for any other man. i want you so swollen with my seed you can’t even think of anyone else.” her moan at those words sends a spike of heat straight to your cock. “you want to breed me, wolf?” she taunts, though her voice is already breaking. “you want to see the last dragon round and full of your pups?”

“yes,” you snarl, sucking harder on her clit. “gods, yes. i’ll fuck you every night until it takes. until everyone can see you’re mine.” her thighs tremble around your head as you slide two fingers into her tight heat, curling them perfectly as your tongue works faster. “then do it,” she pants, her voice high and breathless. “breed me, stark. give me your heirs.” her walls flutter around your fingers as her climax rips through her, her cry sharp and beautiful as she gushes into your mouth. you drink her down greedily, not stopping until she’s whimpering and tugging you up by your hair.

—————

you don’t give her a moment to recover.

daenerys lies back on the bed, her silver hair spread like a halo on the dark silk sheets. you crawl over her, kissing your way up her body — her thighs, her belly, her breasts — before claiming her mouth in a hungry, possessive kiss. “gods, i need you,” you growl against her lips. “i can’t wait any longer.”

“then don’t,” she whispers. “take me, wolf.”

you guide your cock to her entrance and push in slowly, groaning as her tight heat swallows you inch by inch.

“seven hells,” you pant, burying yourself to the hilt. “you’re perfect. so fucking perfect.”

“move,” she demands, her nails raking down your back. “i want to feel you fill me.” you set a brutal pace, hips snapping against hers with wet, obscene sounds as the head of your cock kisses her cervix again and again. “you feel that?” you snarl, leaning down to bite at her throat. “that’s me— claiming you. filling you. no man will ever fuck you like this.”

“no one else,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “only you, my wolf. only you.”

“you’re mine,” you growl. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” she cries, her legs locking around your waist. “yours to love. yours to breed. yours to do with as you please.” the words tip you over the edge. you thrust deep one final time and spill hot inside her, pulse after pulse of thick seed flooding her womb.

—————

you don’t stop.

even as you soften slightly, you stay buried in her, grinding your hips to keep your cum deep inside.

“you’ll be carrying my child,” you whisper, almost in awe, as you press your hand flat to her belly. “i’ll keep you full until you are.”

“then don’t stop,” she says wickedly, her golden eyes dark with lust. “breed me again, wolf. i can take it.” and you do — again and again, until her voice is hoarse from screaming your name, until her inner thighs are sticky with your seed, until all either of you can think about is the thought of her womb cradling your child.

when you finally collapse beside her, spent and shaking, you pull her close, pressing your lips to her temple.

“i’ll love you until my last breath,” you murmur. “and even then, i’ll find you in whatever comes after.” she smiles softly, stroking your jaw with a trembling hand.

“then fill me one more time, wolf,” she whispers. “for good measure.”

[madefor-softerskies]

🦁Lannister Incest🦁:

Viewer’s Reaction:

🐉Targaryen Incest🐉:

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[fraisedragon]

ALSO ON AO3 MASTERLIST LACE MDNI DRAGONS

𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷

SUMMARY: VISERYS PROMISED A BETTER FUTURE WHERE HE WOULD BE KING, A TITLE HE CLAIMED WAS RIGHTFULLY HIS. DESPITE YOUR REQUEST NOT TO, VISERYS INSISTED THAT DAENERYS MARRY KHAL DROGO. YET THINGS DON'T SEEM TO BE GOING RIGHT FOR HIM EVEN AFTER DAENERYS AND DROGO'S UNION. IF THE DOTHRAKI ARE NOT HOME, WHAT COULD BE?

WORDS: 3219

RATING: 18+

CONTENT: WLW RELATIONSHIP, TARGARYEN!READER, READER IS THE SISTER OF DAENERYS AND VISERYS, MARRIAGE WUTB DROGO/JON IN DRAGONSTONE TYPE OF SKIP TIME, ORAL, FINGERING, GRINDING, NIPPLE PLAY, MULTIPLE ORGASM, DRY HUMPING

WARNINGS: NON-CON ELEMENTS FROM VISERYS THOUGH NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, SIBLINGS!TARGCEST, VISERYS IS A WARNING

You didn't like the life you led with your brother and sister. You had never known anything other than running away and surviving. Viserys had told you several times that one day everything would change, that he would go on the Iron Throne to be the King, his rightful title.

However, you weren't sure you wanted to go there, to live in King's Landing. Royalty seemed strange to you when he talked about it. You preferred to live in a pretty cottage in the Free Cities, rather than a big city where everyone is just hypocritical. Why would you go somewhere where no one is fighting to have a Targaryen on the throne, even if your brother is supposed to be the rightful heir to the throne? So Viserys kept repeating to you over and over again that you had to be patient, but that day would come.

The situation had changed one day, when he decided that Daenerys would marry Khal Drogo. He explained to you that it was a necessary measure when you said it was unfair to your sister. He needed an army, and the Dothraki would be there for that purpose. You didn't like it, using Daenerys by offering her up like a mare to that Khal.

The Dothraki had a strange reputation, with traditions described as violent and barbaric. How could Viserys give them Daenerys? Wasn't he afraid she would be hurt and humiliated? It was eating you up inside.

Yet Viserys didn't care. You had done everything to make him annul the union between Daenerys and the Khal, but his future army was far more important to him than your sister's safety.

You were sitting in a corner with Viserys and Illyrio on the day of Daenerys' wedding. Your eyes never left her. Even the curious marriage traditions of the Dothraki didn't attract enough attention for you to take your eyes off your sister.

“You should avoid looking at the princess like that.”

You turned your head toward Illyrio, finally snapping out of your thoughts.

“The Khal would not appreciate his wife being admired in this way,” he added.

“How could he know? He doesn’t pay any attention to her, he doesn’t notice that she’s uncomfortable,” you replied with some annoyance.

“You never know when he might notice you.”

“I don’t care if he catches me red-handed. I’m only worried about my sister.”

“Avoid that. I don’t want you to ruin everything just because you can’t keep your eyes somewhere else,” Viserys murmured, frowning.

You nodded slightly, finally looking away. Daenerys knew that too; it was never a good idea to wake the dragon. This was something Viserys had established since you were children. You quickly learned that defying him was a bad idea. So you obeyed and, even though the desire to look at her was eating you up inside, you didn't glance at your sister again.

This ceremony was terrible and oppressive for you. You had only one desire, and that was to leave. But Viserys wouldn't let you do such a thing, and Illyrio wouldn't advise it either.

But Gods, when Daenerys was taken away on horseback with her new husband, you wanted to run after her and take her away from Drogo. You didn't want to stay anymore. Daenerys wasn't even here anymore, nor was the Khal. You had no one to show respect to with your presence now.

Your wish was soon granted, Viserys excusing yourselves to Illyrio before taking you to Illyrio's manse. Of course, you weren't expecting a good meal followed by a long nap. If Viserys took you away from the others, it was for Valyrian tradition. Well, that's what he had called it the first time, so you had kept that name.

The bed creaked under his movements, Viserys' breath was warm in the crook of your neck as his torso was pressed against your chest. You could hear him grunt and say your name, his hands gripping your thighs tightly.

He didn't seem to care about your current state. You said nothing, did nothing. You took him the way he regularly asked you to. You weren't really there, anyway. Your hands were on his back, the way he liked it. But your eyes were fixed on the ceiling, your mind wandering to Daenerys. You wondered what was happening on her end. She had left with the Khal, alone. Was she alright? Even if you couldn't do anything, you would hate yourself if anything happened to your sister.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you heard your older brother let out a louder grunt. You blinked several times, as if you were coming out of a trance. Viserys let out a long sigh, catching his breath as he sat down next to you.

“Don’t look so sad. Soon we’ll be able to do this freely because I’ll be the king and I’ll be able to do what I want,” he said, slowly stroking your hair. “I can’t wait for that day to come. The day you will be my queen.”

You hated it when he said that; it made you shudder with disgust and sometimes even feel nauseous. You didn't want to be his queen, you didn't even want to be Queen. You just wanted to live a quiet and peaceful life with Daenerys.

As time went on, Viserys grew increasingly impatient to reclaim his place on the throne. He was frustrated and he didn't hesitate to let you know. You felt like each time, a new part of your heart was breaking.

Inside the Khal's tent, the revelry could be heard from outside. You didn't feel like joining in the festivities. You didn't feel like you belonged there. Your brother really wasn't paying attention to your well-being anymore, and your sister seemed to be absorbed in her life as the Khaleesi. Did she still care about you? You wanted to go home, no matter where home was.

After seeing your brother running back and forth in every possible direction, you saw him stagger towards the tent. It was clear that he was drunk and that his mind was therefore even more unstable than usual.

You stood up to go towards him, putting up your arm to stop him before he could enter Drogo's tent. You had a very bad feeling.

“You shouldn’t go, brother,” you said, your face worried.

Viserys scoffed before pushing you away, frowning as he looked you up and down with disdain.

“Who do you think you are? You’re going to give me orders, you too?” he groaned.

“No… I’m giving you some advice. I don’t think things will end well if you enter the tent in this state,” you replied, grabbing his arm once again. “You should have realized by now that the Dothraki are hot-blooded. One wrong word and they’ll make you pay.”

“A dragon doesn't fear heat…”

Viserys growled as he pushed you away again. He then entered the tent without heeding your warnings. Your heart began to beat faster as you followed him inside.

Obviously, as you had imagined, things quickly escalated. You had walked towards Daenerys anxiously, watching your brother being firmly held by two Dothraki.

Daenerys did not appear to hesitate when Drogo gave her a simple look, asking for validation of his action. While you shook like a leaf, Daenerys stood straight, her eyes fixed on your brother.

Drogo carried the pot, which now contained molten gold, and approached your kneeling brother. No pleas would stop Drogo or Daenerys now. Viserys' fate was sealed.

"A crown for a king."

At Drogo's words, as you saw him begin to turn the pot to pour its contents, you immediately took refuge against Daenerys. Your face in the crook of her neck, shivers run through your body at the sound of Viserys' cries of pain.

Your eyes were firmly closed, even though in that position you couldn't see what was happening anyway. You heard a metallic noise, but didn't dare see what it could be. The noise came after your brother had fallen silent, so you suspected he was the source.

With her eyes fixed on your brother's body, her expression impassive, Daenerys gently took you in her arms, her hand softly caressing your back to reassure you.

“He was no dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon,” she said without hesitation.

Your hands circled her back, your nails digging lightly into her skin. You let out a long, trembling sigh, feeling a weight lift from your entire being. You were free now.

After Viserys' death, things seemed easier. You no longer had to submit to your brother's whims, nor obey him. You were almost certain that Daenerys had her full attention on you again. Who else but her would have ordered the death of one of the Dothraki who wanted to take advantage of your solitude?

The Dothraki weren't exactly your home, but it was nicer than before. In the end, maybe you were better received now. You were enjoying this new life, in a way.

But as always, good things never lasted for you. The death of Drogo and Daenerys' unborn son had changed everything. Gods, somehow, she even had hatched three dragon eggs!

Many journeys had been made across the Free Cities, freeing slaves and forming her own army. The dragons seemed to grow visibly larger, becoming increasingly menacing. Daenerys' goal of reaching the Iron Throne was drawing ever closer.

The day you reached Dragonstone arrived. The place seemed suitable. Since your birth, it was the closest thing you'd ever felt to a home. Your ancestors used to live here, perhaps that's why it felt like home. You wouldn't say no to staying here, but it wasn't part of your sister's plan.

Daenerys had noticed that you weren't as enthusiastic as usual. One night, she came to your chambers. She had a smile on her lips as she sat down next to you on your bed.

“Hello,” she said tenderly.

“Hello…”

She remained silent for a few seconds, before placing a hand on your shoulder, caressing it with her thumb.

“What’s wrong? You seem even more troubled than before,” she finally asked.

“I don’t like this new life…” you replied in a low voice. “I don’t want you fighting for an iron throne, probably uncomfortable because it’s made of swords,” you added, giving her a look.

Daenerys chuckled and nodded, amused by the way you described the throne.

“I suppose it’s not as comfortable as the chairs here, indeed,” she confirmed.

“So what’s the point? Nobody cares about a Targaryen on the throne. Let’s stay here, I never want to leave again.”

“We’re almost there. Soon, King’s Landing will be our real home,” she said tenderly before kissing your temple.

Even if you nodded in understanding, Daenerys could see that something was still bothering you.

“What else is bothering you?”

You looked at her for a moment, a slight grimace on your face. You didn't really want to say it out loud, but you couldn't lie to Daenerys.

“This Jon Snow… I have a bad feeling about him.”

“Why is that?”

“Before he arrived, my nightmares intensified. And now that he’s here, I always feel like there’s an invisible presence pulling me down,” you explained.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine. I thought about all of this carefully before agreeing to help him.”

“No, Daenerys… it’s a feeling rooted deep within my gut,” you insisted. “He’s going to hurt you, one way or another, in the near or distant future. But it’s going to happen, he’ll betray you.”

Daenerys sighed before lying down on your bed, pulling you with her to take you in her arms. Without hesitation, you snuggled up to her, as you had been doing for some time now.

“Is that what you saw in a nightmare again?” she asked curiously.

“Not just that… it’s… really something I can’t explain.”

“I promise you I’ll be on my guard. He’ll never be able to hurt me.”

You raised your head towards her, a worried look on your face. You knew Daenerys was a strong woman, but you couldn't help but doubt him.

“I’m scared…” you whispered.

“Don’t be,” she whispered back. “I’ll never leave you alone, all right?”

You nodded, a smile on your face, albeit a hesitant one. She leaned forward slowly until her lips were close to yours. After a few seconds, your eyes closed and your lips met hers. She sighed, pulling you closer to her, and immediately kissed you back.

She moved back for a moment, just so she could lie down on you, before resuming the exchange of kisses. Your hands went to her back, gently caressing it with your fingertips, as she settled between your legs.

Your breathing quickened as she left your lips to kiss your neck. Her teeth scraped your skin, beginning to rub her clothed crotch against yours. You squealed at the sensation, your fingers immediately moving up to grab her hair.

She knelt so she could easily undress you, although her movements were hasty. When you were completely naked, she devoured you with her eyes. She then leaned down to suckle at your nipples, her hands resting on your ribs.

“Daenerys…” you moaned, your eyes closed.

Her tongue played with your peaks, teasing them between suckles. You moaned a little more as she nibbled on a nipple.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked doubtfully.

“No, it was good.”

She smiled with relief before going back to what she was doing. She sighed, opening her mouth a little wider to take a little more of your breast into her mouth. Since her mouth was focused on one breast, a hand left your ribs to knead the breast that was being neglected. You felt your pussy begin to clench around nothing as she stimulated your breasts so well.

“My cunt… now…” you moaned.

Daenerys moaned as she gave your breast one last suck and your nipple one last pinch, before pulling her face back.

“What do you want? I didn’t understand…” she teased.

“Please, sister… play with my cunt…”

Daenerys kissed your sternum before slowly moving down to your crotch in a chain of kisses. When she reached your mound, she sighed, properly spreading your thighs. She licked her lips before burying her face in your pussy. You moaned, holding her hair tightly, feeling her tongue now playing with your clitoris.

You felt yourself getting wetter than you'd ever been. Even when you were alone, fingering yourself while thinking about her in all sorts of positions, you weren't this wet. Daenerys moaned, savoring the taste of your pussy. She'd fantasized about it a lot lately. And now, she was plunging her tongue into your hole. It was even better than in her wet dreams.

You had both been dreaming about it for a while now. You were in paradise now, being so intimate with each other. Daenerys frowned, holding your thighs firmly, pushing her face as close as possible to your pussy. Her tongue went everywhere, from your hole to your clitoris, paying attention to your entire slit.

She finally released one thigh to thrust two fingers into you at once, her tongue now focusing on your clitoris. You moaned again, feeling her fingers move quickly inside your hole.

“Seven hell, Daenerys!” you moaned loudly, before biting your lower lip to stop yourself from being too loud.

Daenerys was breathing faster as she slid a third finger inside you, making you feel fuller. Your hips began to move to feel even more of her, your chest rising and falling at a frantic pace.

When Daenerys bent her fingers to touch your G-spot repeatedly, your back arched abruptly and your pussy tightened. You squealed as you came on her fingers. Daenerys slowed her movements, until she pulled out her fingers and pulled her face back. She licked her lips to clean them of your juice, before sitting up to undress in turn.

You were still breathless when you pulled her close, one hand caressing her back and the other her ass. You started to kiss each other, tasting your own juices in the process. Daenerys' hand landed on your breast, kneading it while you slipped a hand between her legs, vigorously playing with her clitoris.

“Fuck…” she murmured, rubbing her hips against your fingers.

She lowered herself onto you, guiding her hips so your fingers were inside her. She moved them herself, fucking herself on your fingers. Your breath was trembling as you felt her pussy go up and down on your fingers. You gulped, keeping your free hand on the small of her back. She quickened the pace of her movements, her lips against your neck and one of her hands still on your breast, her thumb playing with your nipple.

She whimpered silently as she climaxed, closing her eyes at the same time. Then she slowly lifted her hips to remove your fingers. She then grasped your hand and guided it to your lips.

“Clean them.”

You obeyed immediately and sucked your fingers, cleaning all traces of your juice off your own fingers. When you had finished, she sat up, her hands wandering along your body.

“You are so beautiful…” she said softly.

You tried to sit up to reach her, but she pressed down on your stomach, forcing you to stay lying down. She put her hair back in place before settling her pussy against yours. She placed a hand on each side of your head before starting to move, rubbing her wet pussy against your equally wet one. Without waiting, you moved your hips in rhythm with hers.

You moaned in unison, your hands on her hips to hold her close and rub harder. It was so hard for you to hold back your moans. You wish things were simpler, and that you could moan at will without anyone judging you. You would like everyone to know that you loved each other, and that no one else could do as much good for the other. You belonged to Daenerys, and Daenerys belonged to you.

Your fingers sank into her hips, while a warm sensation spread through your pussy. However, you did not slow down; quite the opposite, you went faster.

Daenerys lowered her body on top of you, biting her lower lip to keep from alerting the other people present in Dragonstone. As if you were connected, you simultaneously sank your teeth into each other's shoulders, the powerful orgasm hitting you full force. Your hips gradually stopped moving until they were completely still.

Daenerys reluctantly lay down next to you, pulling you close. As usual, you snuggled comfortably against her. You both had smiles on your faces, enjoying each other's presence.

“I love you… more than anything in the world…” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“I love you too… I will protect you for the rest of my life…” she whispered back. “And when I have the throne, I will make you my queen…”

Without worrying about what might happen, you fell asleep in that position. It was the most wonderful night you've ever had. And, for the first time in your life, being called the future Queen seemed right to you without causing you an ounce of disgust.