Note: Do you guys know just how much 174 is??? Wow. The last poll I did barely had 8 votes. I just want to disclaim that I think people thought sharing in a more NSFW way, and that's not really what I write, so I'm sorry in advance. I will try to give what you want, but don't do in this wanting the most explicite of Smut ever, you might be disappointed...
Warning: Mention of character’s death, mention of depression, mention of polyamory (not polygamy), weird dragon shit. No use of (Y|N), G!N Reader.
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In my headcanon, the only option that makes sense for Rhaenyra and Daemon to share a lover would either be because they had the same preference for a same member of the close relation Rhaenyra had as a child (friend or guard, you know the drill). Or Rhaenyra has taken Laenor’s lover as her own after Laenor’s death and Daemon follow suit because of some weird dragon shit that happens in their brain because dragon magic biology!
To Daemon, his mating to Rhaenyra made sense. Caraxes and Syrax spirits had an affinity to each other since Syrax’s eclosion. But since Viserys wanted to be stingy, Daemon had no choice but to stay away. He had to watch as his niece, his soulmate, marrying Laenor, her second cousin. Not a bad man, in himself, but the boy was already mated- though the information had been kept very quiet. Laenor was -also- Daemon’s brother-in-law. Since the exiled prince had been made to marry Laena, his own cousin once removed, or was it his third cousin, Daemon couldn’t truly care to keep up at this point.
The whole thing made for bizarre family banquets, in any case. Daemon and Rhaenyra, mates unmated facing each other at the table, the other husband and wife sitting next to them. Children scattered around on the chairs surrounding them, guards and ladies-in-waiting standing near the exit of the room and Laenor’s mate sitting at the far end of the table, managing Rhaenyra and -allegedly- Laenor’s children every now and then, rather than engaging in the conversations flying around them.
And whilst Caraxes used to be angry, envious and betrayed for Syrax, as the dragon spirit and its shifter were, in the other dragon’s opinion, taken for granted, he didn’t want to bite Laenor’s precious pearl’s head off. Maybe it was because of the soft smile Rhaenyra had on her lips when she watched Laenor’s pearl interact with her small and rowdy children, or even how they interacted with his own daughters. Daemon would have to question Caraxes about it later, but for now, the dragon had lowered his angrily guarded walls.
To Rhaenyra, sharing her space with a man unavailable to her such as her husband was had been a harsh reality to adapt to. Seeing him enjoy the company of another had been hard to accept, until she learn to let you in, too. You’d always been polite, kind, never forcing yourself to be in her presence, nor wanting to overstep. She was a princess after all. You had learned, since you first mating with Laenor, that your position was to stay secret, discreet. She, on the other hand, was raised to flash her relationship, and you understood where that could bring conflict within your, admittedly weird, household.
It happens quite naturally, with Rhaenyra. It already was somewhat of a grey zone between the two of you when Laenor was still alive. Not romantic, strictly speaking, but not planotic either. There was an affection, that’s for sure. But the bound becomes something more after Laenor’s death. The excruciating pain Rhaenyra feels when you retract to yourself, the loneliness that she feels when you spend the weeks following your mate’s disappearance cloistered in bed, barely living makes Syrax act more than Rhaenyra.
Dragons are weird, and pity can be powerful. It’s Syrax that start nesting around you after a while, wanting you to feel better, wanting to see you smile again. Caraxes would follow in Syrax’ path days afterwards, to help its mate. And I firmly believe that Rhaenyra would follow Syrax instincts wholly, but Daemon would be more difficult. He would come around it in the end.
Imagine time!!
It was warm. Too warm. Dragonstone was not a warm kind of place. Murky chilly, heavy, humid, stifling, clammy, and so on, but never too warm. You stirred, under the heaviness of the blankets covering you, battling with it as it stayed unmovable. Something was stopping you from finding a breeze. You grunted, an ache in the small of your back throbbing through your spine.
“Lua ziry bē, azantys, se nyke pendagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon īlva va.” Rumbled a gravelly voice, quite in the otherwise silent darkness of your mind. Something snaked around you bringing your back against something firm, and definitely the source of the warmth you were subjected too. Another huff escaped your lips as you tried to open your eyes and face the morning.
“I–I have no idea of what you said.” You admitted grumpily, letting Daemon nuzzle into the crook of you neck. Your admission made him laugh quietly.
On your other side the bed dipped under a weight that your blurry vision could only analyse as a woman, dressed in dark red and black, with long white hair.
“Ivestragī zirȳ sagon, mōrītubis istan qopsa.” Rhaenyra chuckled, an arm passing over your head as she pushed Daemon’s head away from your neck, where he’d started to leave a trail of kisses and small bites.
Mind still fuzzy with sleep and the overwhelming warmth, your reactions felt sluggish and your coordination wasn’t to its maximum. Yet, you still leaned into Daemon’s chest and let Rhaenyra’s deft fingers run through your hair soothingly. The ache in your lower back brought memories of the night before.
Kisses exchanged between Rhaenyra and yourself, neck craned as she pressed against your back. Daemon, doing what Daemon did best, his length deep in your warmth, his mouth kissing every inch of your chest as he did. One of your hands on his shoulder, the other keeping rhaenyra’s face close to keep kissing her, like she was the oxygen you needed.
“Stay with us, Darling.” Your queen chuckled softly, lips replacing her finger on the crown of your head.
You hummed an answer, nonsensical as it was, lifting your head to smile up at Rhaenyra. Daemon huffed, throwing himself back on his side of the bed, dramatically. This made you chuckle. “Everyone can get kisses, you big fire-pup.”
“Fire-pup, that is an original name you’ve found me.” Grunted the prince, grabbing Rhaenyra’s hand to kiss it. You shrugged at him, snuggling into the duvet once more.
“I have to call you something, you all have your nicknames.” Perfect and sole logic. Nobody could argue with it. You moved toward a colder spot on the bed, making your spine throb once more.
Daemon laughed, head thrown back, and Rhaenyra giggled with him. “Of course, Darling.”
A Dragon!Hybrid!Rhaenyra x Introvert!GN!Reader imagine
Note: Based on the song I Should've stayed at home, by Ryan Mack.
Warning: Kinda angsty, Introvert-ish reader, Ellusive comments about Rhaenyra's children and even more ellusive comments about what Reader's place in this mess is. GN!Reader, but is very soft.
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There was something… hideous, to watch people drink away the fakeness of it all. A birthday celebration. Had you not an image to uphold, you would have scoffed, out loud. On one side, Rhaenyra was talking with her father, little Joffrey rocking softly in her arms. Laenor stood behind her, but still included in the hushed conversation. On the other side, of Viserys was sitting Alicent who was silently murdering the last of her poor potatoes with her fork as she tried to fake amity, was failing. One last feast before you all left for Dragonstone.
It made you want to throw up the very nice, rich, dinner you all shared together. The clenching in your belly had not relaxed, nor permitted you to eat much, mind you. It had been a miracle that Viserys invited you to his table. No thanks to Alicent who’d tried to shut down the invite as soon as it left the sickly king’s lips.
Bitch.
You schooled your face, so as to not let the scowl show, raising your still-full cup to your lips in an attempt give yourself the grace of being alcoholized, might you slip up. You would never understand how a girl as sweet as Alicent, in her time, could turn so hateful toward one she once considered a friend.
Gazing over at the rest of your lady’s children, you met Luke’s eyes, pleading, as they were, to… what exactly? You couldn’t truly stage an emergency, or get out of the room quietly. Even less with the quieter of the children present in the room. The private celebration was too intimate to permit you a timely exit with Luke to seek the quiet of the gardens before the last of the sunset.
You took another gulp of wine to soften the blow this realization gave to your moral.
Your eyes drifted back to the head of the table, catching Laenor’s gaze already on you. Tilting your head to the side, lowering your cup and presenting him the fakest smile ever mustered in front of royalty, you ought to feel bad. Ashamed even. But nothing of the sort twisted your stomach as Laenor raised his eyebrows in return and shook his head before whispering something to Rhaenyra’s hears.
A true gentleman, Laenor was.
“Darling,” Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the weak chatter in the room, effectively bringing silence and making you raise the head you had lowered once more to meet her purple eyes. “Would you please get Joff and Luke to bed?”
Her tone was syrupy sweet, and her eyes kind, the small crinkle at the corner of her eyes of amusement, you’d learn to discern with time, present. Yet you could only feel as if you’d somehow failed at something. But you plastered a smile on your face, mirroring her, already raising from your seat.
“Of course, my lady.” Your voice, thankfully, didn’t crack as you spoke, but you cleared your throat nonetheless afterward. An evening of silence, though usually delightfull, had its disadvantages.
You when to collect baby Joffrey from your lady’s arms, making sure to support it’s little head as you did. Rhaenyra’s hand found your arm under the baby’s blanket and she squeezed softly. The fire burning in her eyes now had not real bite, if not an amused one. A promise. You responded to her gaze with a small smile, hidden in the bow of the exchange.
“How come Jace gets to stay?” Exclaimed Luke, who’d also diligently got out of his seat to follow suit behind you.
At five years old, Luke had a strong sense of justice that was currently being challenged, so you choose to answer with an easy, yet factual statement as you led both boys away to their room. “Jace is older, little prince.”
And Luke’s whiny sigh was the only thing the grown royals heard as the doors of the dining room closed behind you.
*
It wasn’t much later when Rhaenyra crept into your room from a door hidden behind a tapestry. You’d already retreated to your bedroom, having put both Luke to bed, and Joffrey to the nursemaid. You’d figured that Rhaenyra had already too much on her plate for you to wait in her room. So, after having put Luke to sleep with a small story, you’d retreated to your room, hiding under the covers that kept you too warm during the summers, and smelled like older times, simpler times, now.
The sheets withdrew from your figure for a moment, as the bed dipped under your lady’s weight, and one of her arm circled your hips, pulling you flush against her body.
"You left early again." She murmured against the shell of your ear, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. with a shift, you turned to face the princess, whose eyes still held the amused light in them, a soft smile gracing her lips.
It broke your heart having to be frank with her. Adding to the weight she was already carrying. But Rhaenyra had never liked when you, out of all people, concealed things from her. "I cannot stand having to fake gratefulness when you are thus treated, my lady."
Barely above a whisper, as if the absence of loudness could soften the blow of your truth, it couldn’t, yet there was no point in creating an argument tonight. That’s not how you wanted this night to end. In the dark, it was harder to see if Rhaenyra emotion had changed.
"Is that how you feel, Beloved?"
You grumbled a little, her tone was still soft, but her eyes had begun to shine different, Syrax’s probably prowling closer in her mind now.
"Today I thought that had I stayed at home, when you summoned me again all those years ago, I wouldn’t have to fake smiles to Alicent and her father now. Then I thought it was cruel, but decided that I didn't truly care." You elaborated, turning back toward the ceiling of your room, not wanting to see how her eyes fill with hurt because of your words. It was cowardly, and you knew as much, but you can’t bring yourself to reap what you’ve just sowed.
You felt Rhaenyra raising, next to you. Her head now overlooking your form, but you kept your gaze obstinately to the ceiling. "You should have told me, if that’s how you truly felt… Something would have been done."
You scoffed, head turning to look at her. Rhaenyra, you lady, your love, was many, many, wonderful things, but aware of your true feeling, de deeper, scarier one, was not one of them. Not often, anyway.
"Nyra, please. I can talk to you, I can talk to Laenor. But outside of here," You gestured to the room around you. "I’m nothing more than a glorified servant."
A sound, squeak maybe, insulted, in any case, escaped your lady’s lips and the scales on her neck reached her chin and now covered her ears completely. Syrax was definitely involved in the conversation now.
"That is absolutely not true!"
"I beg to differ." You countered easily. " Alicent is making me do things had never have to do before. They are not as careful with me as they are to you about the rumours. And I love the children. I truly do. I would give my life for them. But it hurts. Nyra. The looks, the whispers, it hurts." You shook your head, with a sight. "I should’ve just kept quiet."
Your words made Rhaenyra withdrew liked you'd just burned her. A hiss, then the sound of something flapping, then the wind that usually came with wings. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. "There’s nothing for you to do. And we’re already leaving, aren’t we?"
Silence answered you. And for a while, you felt Rhaenyra’s presence only because you could feel her gaze burning through you, setting fire on your soul. "We are." She finally agreed, a low rumble deepening her tone, as she settled next to you again. A kiss against your shoulder, trailing slowly un your jaw. Wordless excuses.
You leaned against her front more, accepting them.
I will follow (A Dragon!Hybrid!Rhaenyra x Reader blurb)
Note: Here's a little something I had in mind for a little while. Hope you like it.
Warning: Season one scene. *Fluff* among Angst, I guess. OOC.
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Panic. That’s what you felt, hugging Luke to you, watching in horror as Alicent scrambled for a knife and lunged at the little boy. Your hand rose to protect yourself as you pulled the little boy with still bloodied hands behind you, but Rhaenyra was quicker. A roar echoing through the rock chamber like thunder as she caught Alicent’s attack before it could reach any of you.
Daemon, a snarl etched on his face tried to make his way toward the princess, but ser Criston blocked his path, and he retreated towards you, pulling you and Luke farther away, fussing over the small child, one hand keeping you from fumbling to the ground. The debacle lasted a couple of second, maybe a minute, at most, but it seemed like an eternity to you.
You looked at the gaggle of children surrounding you, Baela and Rhaena, whose mother had died only a couple of months prior, Jace, Luke and little Joffrey, whose father had only just died. And now, seemingly, this gruesome spectacle had started because of Aemond wanting to prove himself. How did a dragon shifter became one, you did not know. And after tonight, you pledge to never want to know, either. To have a child maim another, in self-defense or not, was terrible thing, whatever the reason behind it. And yet, to want reparation afterward, as an adult, toward that same child, was nothing if not sickening.
Feeling faint, you chanceled, and without Daemon’s hands as support, you would’ve let the situation best you. A hiss made you look toward the two women, once friends, that still struggled together, now surrounded by knights. Words that you couldn't make out were exchanged before Rhaenyra was pushed away from Alicent, clutching her arm. Drips of blood splattered to the ground. Silence fell on the room for a moment before Aemond spoke, but him too, you tuned out.
Rhaenyra, supported by Corlys, her tail now swaying gently behind her, let you fuss over the wood, trying to keep the blood to a minimum while someone -anyone- fetched for a maester.
“I am fine, Jorrāelagon.” She assured you, quietly, hugging her sons close to herself. You sent her a glare. Not truly biting, more worried than anything else, but just enough to show how ridiculous she sounded. But you choose peace over the fight your spirit demanded.
“The children should be examined and put to bed.” You mumbled, still pressing at the gaping, open wound her Rhaenyra’s forearm. You tried not to think about the warmth of her blood, nor the wetness of the fabric under your fingers. Nausea still made the world swirl like the sea would a boat.
“They shall. And so will you.” She added, looking into your eyes with a seriousness that you started to see in her more often.
Although you were not examined, you had been put to bed with the children. More exactly, the children had come to burry themselves in your bed, with you. Except for Luke, who’d been kept with Rhaenyra for the night, all of the others were pulling up against you, for some comfort, or warmth, or security (yours or theirs, it wasn’t quite clear.) And it was thus that Rhaenyra found you in the earlier hours of the morning.
Buried under a pile of scally and too-warm children covers thrown over your head. It was the feeling of a hand running over your head that pulled you away from the dream of a very warm fire place.
“Wasswrong?” You mumbled groggily, one eyes half opened, and struggling to sit up on your bed.
“Nothing, Sweetling.” She cooed, sitting down on the bed, carefully so to not disrupt the children. “How are you?”
A grumble was your answer, as you passed a hand over your face, letting Rhaena snuggle closer to your side without surprise. “What shall we do now?” You asked her. You knew Rhaenyra well enough by now to know this incident would not stay unanswered.
She sighed, running a hand through over your head once more. Her face looked sullen, tired. Like she hadn't had much sleep recently. You took her hand and pressed a kiss against it. “I will follow wherever you need to go.”
The assurance at least removed the concerned frown over her face.
On the topic of spoiling their mates/lovers, I feel like Rhaenyra and Syrax would be just like Jace and Vermax! A scenario i thought of is perhaps reader is a wetnurse for Rhaenyra, helping take care of the children when Rhaenyra is busy. To people of the court, Rhaenyra spoils this wetnurse so she continues her good work, but in reality, Rhaenyra is trying to court the wetnurse.
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Hello Anon🌞!! I don't really give a role to Beloved so that they could fit everyone's preferences, but I liked your thought, and wanted to expend a little bit on it !
I think that to the untrained eyes of the court, i.e: those not close enough to be privy to Dragon!culture, Rhaenyra would be spoiling her Beloved. Especially more now that she has children and that Beloved is taking care of them, too.
But it wouldn’t have been new, just more present.
The princess coming back from a flying session, to King’s Landing town or some other close by, and bringing back a present to offer you. Not caring of the eyes trained on the both of you when she does.
“I thought of you,” she’d say, watching as you opened her little gift. A beautiful little circlet made out of gold, on which glimmered your birthstone in multiple places. And the things Rhaenyra would do to get to see your smile… It would only add to the whispers, of course:
‘Buying her help with present, how pitiful.’
Or- or!! :
She’d be having you with her all the time, clearly showing her favouritism, either because you are (one of) her sworn knight, or one of her ladies. Following behind her for every activities Rhaenyra has to show up for. Dressed to the nines and having you match her outfit with a piece of your armour, or the colour of your own clothes.
But as far as courting goes, Rhaenyra doesn’t see the little gift she gives or the time you two spend together as ‘courting’ per se. She will be very direct into telling you what she wants, and how she wants it, even if you have to be discreet about it, she is married… But I see her giving you little ornate bells, to be able to hear you wherever you are. Dragonshifters have a very good sense of hearing (of everything, but specifically hearing here). So the rubies incrusted brass bells tinting at your waist\hair\arm\hand\ankle\wherever would be more of a reminder for others that she is focused on you at all times (it's a threat).
Note: I wanted to write a little angst about Beloved and Rhaenyra, prompted by the lovely @lady-dragon-rider. So this explains a little bit of what Beloved lived through before this imagine. (Suffer now, MOUAHAHAHA!!)
Warning: It’s very descriptive, not a lot of dialogue, you’ve been warned. It’s before I should’ve stayed at home, but could be read as a standalone…
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After Alicent married Viserys was when everything truly started.
The whispers.
“I heard the princess invited them in her room last night…”
“Isn't it weird to spend so much time with someone? Day and night, those two are attached at the hip…’’
Like bees buzzing in the shadows of the halls, floating to your ears through the wind, days after they’d started circulating. Rumours of little consequences, really, but annoying nonetheless.
You let them slide, at first. Your duties where to Rhaenyra, not to some gossip spreading throughout the help, even if it spread like wildfire. You forced yourself not to listen. You already knew that your lady was showing preference to you, and the rest, well, it was for you and her to truly know. So you were more than happy to let the help wonder about the true extend of this preferential relationship.
Bold questions came next, when the help, or other workers of the court could manage to find you alone. Salacious or simply downright nosy, all you could do was clench your fists and answer like your lady would’ve wanted you to : with less details possible.
“Is it true, are dragons truly warmer than us?”
“Have you gotten a bite taken out of you, yet?”
“Are her wings something she uses often?”
The last one had been followed by a very telling raise of eyebrows, the knight asking was known to be very interested by anything that wore dresses. You hadn't felt bad to report him to your lady, that very same night.
Sometimes, you were left out, sure. Rhaenyra preferred you, out of everyone else at court, but she preferred her uncle over you, a thousand times over. This you knew also. You couldn’t say it didn’t sting a little bit, but dragons where not beings to be controlled. You were lucky enough as it was. And you kept telling yourself so. You were aware that she would have to marry someone of her own standing.
Your family was known, yes, but not renown. Just lucky enough to have a child be kept as the princess favourite plaything. Sometimes, the cruelty didn’t come directly from the court, but from inside the house. And your family just loved to remind you of your standing at court.
‘Dear little fawn of mine..’ Liked to write your mother in her letters. ‘Scandalous words have echoed oto us, about the dragon princess and yourself.’ But usually, her moralizing letters always ended the same honeyed way. ‘Do be a dear, and keep letting the princess make use of you as she wishes, the Targaryens are powerful allies.’
Reflecting back, you think it`s because of Alicent that you were sent back home when Rhaenyra left for her tour. The husband-hunting trip, she called it, rolling her eyes and shaking her head on your laps as you both lazed under her favourite tree in the gardens. Hidden from view just enough to keep the maester teaching her roaming aimlessly searching for you, but not enough to miss the show. Maybe her little escapade with her uncle to the prostitute was the reason king Viserys used, but you knew that Alicent had worked far longer in the shadows to have you sent away.
At the very least, since you came back with the bloody princess, the head of the white deer behind you, pulled by many a knight once they’d found you. You would never be able to forget the hate that burned in Alicent pretty eyes when your locked with the sea-blue orbs. For a moment, you`d wondered if she, too, had dragon blood in her vein.
Far from court, the silent was haunting. Quiet, cold and void. Peace, if peace could be boring. At times, you wondered if it was because of heartily feeling you felt so… sad. Alone in your tower, far from the lady you had been made to serve. The lady that you loved for so long. You even received letters from Alicent (gods forbid) much nicer than what you’d grown used to. Yes, now free of the heaviness of rumours and burdens of secrets, you still found yourself bound to the filial shackles only marriage could free you from. Or a life devoted to religion, you supposed.
Being called back, after it was decided that she would marry Laenor, posed a choice on you. The dreaded black and red wax seal that you dreaded but yearn for now felt like a bitter-sweet poison seeping from the parchmen to your veins. Going back, or staying and obliging to the every whims of your family. At least the prospect of being Rhaenyra’s little pet, as your mother once so kindly put it, left you with a little more freedom. So you went back.
Back to your lady.
Now, that’s when court truly begin to show it’s dark sides.
From whispers to giggles behind your back, then directly to your face. And the barely hidden innuendos in their comments. You fought hard to ignore them.
“Running to your master, again?”
“I hope she gives you satisfaction in exchange of all of your hard work…”
The smirks and knowing looks started to bother you more when Rhaenyra started to show. Her pregnant belly put forward by the dresses she wore. Dragons where of a mysterious specie, and the help always had egregious rumours about how they worked. Childmaking was no different. And even if it could be true, even if it was, they had no right to wonder about it, wonder about the heir of king Viserys. You knew the ins and outs of Laenor and Rhaenyra’s relationship. You knew of their troubles in bed also, you never even thought of asking your lady about the father of her children. Because it wasn’t your concern, nor was it ser Harwin Strong’s. The king’s heir was about to have an heir. That was the important part.
And such lovely heir it was. And the whispers became worst.
Jace became the Strong heir, the Beloved heir. And just for that last one, you knew that Alicent was behind it. Noone but her, who’d been close to Rhaenyra enough to hear her call you Beloved in the most intimate of setting. Dinner parties where family only was conveyed, and such.
“A most enjoyable party with our most Beloved of our circles.” She’d toast, once, her gaze going from Rhaenyra to you, and landing on Laenor last. The warmth of her tone lost , contrasting the freezing gaze she wore. Her smile not reaching her eyes, never when Rhaenyra or you were in the room, or even mentioned, you heard.
You helped your lady with her new baby as much as you could. So much that Alicent had started to refer to you as the child’s third parent, in public. Her tone suggested playfulness, but her eyes seemed to search you for a reaction.
By the time Luke was born she wasn’t making any efforts to hide her suspicions. So much that even her children started making comments about it. You were used to the pet comments, the masters innuendos, but when it was about your lady’s boys, your boys, it stung more than you even imagined it could.
The Queen consort had requested that Luke be brought to her as soon as possible, and as Rhaenyra was still recovering from the whole ordeal of birth, you went. Laenor had been called to the bedside of his wife, it was only logical. Alicent face scrunched up as if smelling something foul when you entered the room, bundled baby in your arms.
“I expected Rhaenyra.” She told you, flatly, not even doing you the grace of raising from her seat, making you kneel next to her to show the baby.
“My lady was in no shape to make the travel.” Words soft, meaning clear. A jab at your once-friend hypocrisie. She too had fresh memories of birthing weakness. Her youngest not being old of a full year yet. Alicent narrowed her eyes at you, her finger moving the blanket from the baby’s head, uncovering a tuff of black-brown hair.
“He has the princess’s complexion.” And not Laenor’s. That you knew. But you knew also that it was better they were still Rhaenyra’s children. And so you only smiled politely.
“Her beauty, too.” Another jab, just for the fun.
With a hand, Alicent sent you back to your feet. “The child seems healthy. I shall not keep you longer, lest I worry the princess.” But as you left, you hear her grumbles, probably because she wanted you to hear them: “A kingdom ruled by mutts and bastards…”
If my lady takes it. You thought, swallowing the bill and inflammatory words that rested on your tongue. I shall take it too.
Hii, I got read your dragon hybrid posts and I'm loving the idea. Question though.. since dragons are reptiles do the hybrids have like a preening time where you see scales loosening up. I can see the reader picking loose scales in areas they can't reach
Always yours ✨ anon
Note: Hi anon 🙋🏻♀️!!! I had so much fun thinking about this, honestly, you really made my day, thank you so much !! Please send some others like this anytime !
Warning: None, maybe OOC, but I really don't care, it's my head canon! Maybe false information about snakes and other types of reptiles, cause by ignorance. All my informations about reptiles was fed to me by google. Sorry in advance.
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I’m cackling.
Can you imagine Daemon/Caraxes just having to peel their skin like snakes? Like, it’s weird enough on a reptile, and encombrant, but on a human ??? Disgusting. Honestly, Daemon is happy that he got his spurt of growth as a young teenager. Now, the shedding happens mostly once* a year, or every other year, if he’s really lucky and not stressed during that time. Stress only adds wrinkles and wrinkles means shedding. Most definitely, Daemon would not ask for help when he sheds, but Caraxes might very well lean his big-ass neck to you, or have you scratch at his back to help.
Dry brushes and gentle hands is what Caraxes likes most, and Darmon will act all cocky, but he rather likes being massaged with the scented oils you have afterwards. « There all gifts from me anyway, so, aren’t they a little bit mine, too? »
I don’t think that Helaena and Aegon have spent enough time as dragons for the preening to affect their human form, I do think that, while they love t fly, they are more resorbed about their dragon form.They do have loose scale coming out sometimes, but way less often then, say Aemond, and even Aemond has less then Jace and Baela. I’ve read somewhere that it happens more when the reptiles are in a good, stable environment (correct me if I’m wrong, I know nothing of reptiles). Seeing how… unhappy Alicent’s children are, I’ll take a wild guess and say that they are not in a good and stable, and so, it does affect their preening period(s).
I do feel like Love (Aegon’s) would keep one yellow-golden scale, gifted to them as a necklace by Aegon one time. Helaena’s (Y\N) will not receive anything, and they’re lucky to even find a scale. Helaena would somewhat feel ashamed about having loose scales, as if she wasn’t different enough already. Maybe the reader could change her mind, who knows 🤷🏻♀️.
With Jace, I feel like Jewel would also be gifted a scale… once a season has passed. He keeps them updated in fresh scales. And yes, maybe Jewel is stuck cleaning up looses scales from their bed some mornings.
Baela sheds, like her father. She would ask Rider to help, but mostly because of the intimacy, and not because she truly needs help. She does try not to let loose skin laying around because Rider may or may not have freaked because of it, once…
Aemond… Would take some times before asking for help. Qelos would have to prove themself to him for a while… but then, he would even go as far as too request their help only to take care of his problem (his words). It’s like a massage, done in the covers of the baldaquins and shadows of candlelights. Will not let them keep the scales, however.
To Rhaenyra, all of this is natural. She’s not bothered by it at all. Oh, she left some scales behind after waking up this morning ? “Sorry, Beloved, let me ask the help to clean it up.” Would be kinda weirded out if Beloved asks to keep some scaled. To her, it’s like asking to keep her fallen hair. So like, sure? But why tho?
Laenor would trip over himself trying to explain the process to his Pearl. Probably tries to hide the fact that his scales are loose by keeping his distance (which is excruciating and he hates it, and he hates the sad look you give him, and he hates himself…) He does not want his Pearl to freak out and cause another We’re courting incident. If his Pearl was to ask to keep one of his scales, though, he would take SO LONG choosing the perfect one to gift them…
*I’ve read that snakes shed 4 to 6 times a year, and I’d imagine that it was true when Daemon and Caraxes were a child, but not as much since he’s grown.
