Imagine that Aerion accidentally summons you, an ancient sorceress from Old Valyria, one who was cursed with a nature similar to his and one of the few who managed to survive the kind of magic he keeps dreaming about.
He keeps you his little secret. Introducing you as a priestess from his latest exile travel, and you let it because, as much as you feel like a kindred spirit with the foolish boy, he was not the reason you answered his call.
You feel a pull towards someone else. Someone who carries his immeasurable strength with quiet dignity, someone who would be honourable enough to fight for a lowly knight against his own kin because it was the right thing to do. And you might call him a fool for it too, but you don't get to curse anyone but yourself when you run away from the crowd, let the flames consume you, and you step in to save Baelor from the cruel, untimely death that you have just witnessed in a flame a few minutes before it would come true.
And now they all know, for the first time in a long time, there's a living, breathing dragon in Westeros. Fortunately, no one but the mad prince knows it's you.
Summary - Perhaps in another life you and Daemon are destined to be together.
Warnings - Angst, Break up, Hurt/No comfort
A/N - A fic that I found sitting in my drafts that I figured I'd share since I still like it. Note about the Reader: Reader is of Valyrian descent, but is NOT related to either House Targaryen or House Velaryon. As always there is no description of the Reader's appearance so that she is as inclusive as possible. Enjoy!
Word Count - 980
You must have dozed off because when you next open your eyes, the sunlight in your room has changed, your head is resting upon a pillow rather than Daemon's chest and one of the silk sheets is covering you. As you slowly come to your senses, the smell of food fills your nose. Good. You’re starving. You roll onto your back and sit up, letting the covers pool into your lap.
Daemon is by the table already, wearing his shirt and pants, and he’s pouring you both goblets of summer wine. You get up from the bed, the sheet fully falling away now and leaving your naked body exposed once more. It’s hot here in Essos and you see no point in clothes if he’s just going to rip them off of you again. You cross the room, from the bed to the table, and without him looking over his shoulder, he holds your goblet out for you to take it. You bring it to your lips and take a deep drink, humming at the taste. He always chooses the best wines.
You sit down to eat, but he doesn’t join you. You frown as you look up at him. You can feel it now. A change in the air. A tension that wasn’t there before. You’re sure you already know why before he even opens his mouth.
“I must return to Westeros,” he tells you. He’s avoiding looking at you.
“So soon?” you ask. “You’ve barely been here a day.”
“I know, but I cannot leave my brother alone with those Hightower cunts.” Venom drips from his voice and the mood in the room has definitely changed. His anger coming off of him in waves. From outside you can hear Caraxes shrill roar fill the silence.
You understand. You always understand. His brother means a lot to him and he has told you before about those in Westeros who are desperate to marry into House Targaryen so that their children may have a chance at the Iron Throne. You’re disappointed, like you always are when he leaves, but you won’t make him feel anymore guilty than you know he does. So you hide your true feelings and give him a small smile.
“I’ll just have to look forward to next time then.”
He shakes his head. “There doesn’t need to be a next time. You should come to Westeros with me.”
It’s your turn to shake your head, and laugh softly. “Westeros doesn’t like me and I don’t like Westeros,” you say before taking a bite of your meal. It’s true. The people of Westeros, nobles especially, don’t trust a foreigner and you have a very strong distrust of the people there, the maesters being those you distrust the most. There is also the matter of your dragon and her hatred for the dragonpit. After being free for the entirety of her life, she is not interested in being chained and you cannot blame her for that for you feel exactly the same.
“There’s Dragonstone, it’s sat empty for years,” he tells you. “We could go there.”
You frown. While he hasn’t said it yet, you can see what all of this is. Daemon has brought it up before, making whatever this thing between you is more official to the world. You don’t like it. Too many times people have already tried to cage you and can’t help, but, despite your feelings for him, feel like this is similar. Already you feel your walls going back up. Distantly you can hear your dragon roar. You take a deep breath as you set your fork down.
“No. I’m not coming to Westeros with you, whether we stay at Dragonstone or not.” you meet his gaze, expression serious. “I’ve already made a life here in Essos. I won’t leave it just because you ask me to. There’s nothing for me in Westeros.”
You know you’re words are harsh, but they’re supposed to be. This argument has played out before and you already know how it will end so you might as well skip to the ending, saving both of you time and energy. He huffs, his jaw set and his face emotionless. He knows it’s over before it’s even started. You get up from the table and excuse yourself, grabbing a robe from a nearby chair and leaving the room as you pull it on.
You wander the hallways until you come to a balcony on the other side from where your room is located. You rest your weight on the stone railing and take a shaky breath. Of all the people in this world you just happen to fall for him, didn’t you? They call him The Rogue Prince, but you think it inaccurate. He’s loyal to his family to a fault while all you want is freedom. No ties to hold you down.
A shrill roar and a shadow passing over catches your attention and you look up to see Caraxes flying off, heading for the coast, back to Westeros. You hear your dragon’s melancholy roar at the departure, echoing the feeling sitting heavy in your chest.
You sigh. You have known since you first met him that it will end like this. No matter how good the sex is, how well it seems you fit together, you know that the two of you are driven by different things. His focus is Westeros, his family and protecting them. While your focus is on your freedom and making sure no one tries to clip your wings ever again. You’ve cut many ties to ensure that, your own family included, and Daemon, unfortunately, is now joining them. This one hurts more than any of the other ones however. Making your heart ache and tears run down your face.
All you can think is that maybe in another life the two of you might have actually stood a chance.
A/N - (This was posted on AO3 awhile ago, now finally being posted on here.) Note about the Reader: Reader is of Valyrian descent, but is NOT related to either House Targaryen or House Velaryon. As always there is no description of the Reader's appearance so that she is as inclusive as possible. Enjoy!
Word Count - 2.1k
Daemon’s all over you. His lips, his hands, his body. Not an inch of you has been left untouched by him as he thrusts into you. Your nails dig into the muscle of his back as moans spill from your lips. Each thrust stealing the air right out of your lungs. It wasn’t the typical hard fuck you have come accustomed to whenever the two of you come together. It’s slow and passionate. Like he’s determined to show you how much you mean to him.
His mouth claims yours again, muffling your noises as his tongue slips into your mouth. He snapped his hips against yours harder and faster, his body grinding against your clit. The pleasure building up inside of you was becoming almost unbearable. You feel like you are on fire, your body quickly being consumed by the flames with each thrust.
You break the kiss, crying out his name for anyone who is listening to hear…
You wake up with a gasp, your heart hammering against your ribcage. For a few moments you just lay there, the dream continuing to linger on in your mind. You can still feel his phantom hands all over your body and you reach out for him, trying to find the man those hands belong to. Only to find that you’re alone in the bed.
You frown looking at the empty space. Daemon had already left you? Or had you actually been dreaming? Perhaps you had conjured up some fantasy after one too many goblets of Dornish wine. It wouldn’t be the first time. But if that’s the case, why are you naked? The silken covers are also on the floor, leaving you completely exposed to anyone who enters your room. And there’s that distinct smell of smoke mixed with riding leathers and metal that clings to the remaining bedding that only he ever leaves behind.
Your dream wasn’t just a dream, but that doesn’t change the fact that Daemon has seemingly left you. Not even a note to explain his disappearance. Typical, is all you can think. The way he leaves you to deal with yourself after your subconscious has worked you back up. You sit up in bed, looking around the room, seeing if you can confirm he has left completely. That’s when you spy Dark Sister, his favoured blade, still resting against the table that still has wine goblets and an empty bottle of wine on it. He wouldn’t leave that behind so he’s definitely returning to you. The only conclusion you can come to as to why you’ve woken up alone is that he has left to check on Caraxes.
Flopping back onto the bed, you close your eyes bringing your dream back to the forefront of your mind. You can’t be bothered to wait for his return. You trace your body with your hands, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples, rolling them between your pointer finger and thumb. You’re doing your best to mimic his touch, the way he likes to tease you. Not that it will ever actually compare to the real thing. You slide your hands down your body, fingers sliding across your thigh, as if to tease yourself, but in the end you can’t wait.
Your fingertips brush against your clit, the smallest gasps leaving you as you slowly apply some pressure, circling it. You slide your fingers through your folds and repeat your previous motions. You imagine that Daemon is laying next to you, whispering sweet nothing into your ear, as his hand teases you.
“Just couldn’t wait for me to return, hmm?” Daemon’s voice makes you jump. Your eyes flying open as you sit up and stop touching yourself. You don’t do anything to try and cover yourself up though. Nudity has never bothered you and you love the way that his eyes run down your body, stopping at your cunt. He’s smirking as he crosses the room, stopping at the foot of the bed.
“You shouldn’t have left me all alone then,” you reply, looking up at him through your eyelashes, pouting.
He chuckles and nods before leaning down to kiss you. You kiss him back eagerly, your hand coming to fist his shirt. You whine when he pulls away.
“I want you to keep touching yourself,” he tells you, voice low. “And you’re not to stop until I tell you to.”
You nod as he stands back up and moves away from the bed. You spread your legs nice and wide so he has a perfect view of your already glistening cunt. You start to touch yourself again, sighing softly. Daemon watches you with hungry eyes as you slide your fingers through your folds, parting them so that he can see your entrance before sliding your fingers inside.
He’s slow as he starts undressing himself in front of you. First goes his loose linen shirt, revealing his muscular and scarred chest, quickly followed by his boots and trousers. The sight of his half hard cock as you biting your bottom lip. He strokes himself to full hardness as he comes back to the bed, still watching intently as you finger fuck yourself. You expect him to slot himself between your spread legs, but instead he walks to the side of the bed and climbs onto it.
“Lay back and open your mouth.”
You comply with his demand, laying back against the bed and opening your mouth wide. Daemon slides his cock into your mouth and, without him asking you to, you start to suck, making him groan.
“Good girl,” he praises you. You love it when he talks to you like this. It always makes you feel so warm and bubbly inside. Which is funny, you think, as outside of this little love nest the two of you have built, much like your dragon, you listen to no one. Always going your own way and often doing the opposite of what people want you to do. The difference, that you have come to realise, is that you truly love Daemon and you want to make him happy.
You alternate between fingering yourself and playing with your clit as he slowly thrusts his cock in and out of your mouth. Meanwhile you’re using your free hand to play with your nipples. You moan around him, moving your hips as you grind against your hand. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag around him, tears brimming in your eyes. He wipes away the tears that start to trail down your face with his thumb, continuing to praise you in High Valyrian.
Your orgasm takes you by surprise and you come with a muffled cry. You fuck yourself through your orgasm and keep going, remembering how you’re not allowed to stop until he tells you to. Even after just one orgasm, you’re now super sensitive that it’s almost painful to keep touching yourself, but that pain soon gives way to more pleasure.
“That’s it, keep going,” he encourages you. His lilac irises are almost completely swallowed by his pupils as they flick between how his cock disappears inside of your mouth and how you’re playing with yourself. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tonguing the slit each time he pulls out. Daemon groans low and quietly, his eyes closing, head falling back. “Ñuha jorrāelagon,” he mutters under his breath. My love.
He never stops praising you. He keeps telling you what a good girl you are. How good you look taking his cock like this while playing with your pretty cunt. His words go straight to your aching sex. What you would give for him to stay here and keep talking to you like this.
Your second orgasm is stronger than your first. You pull away from him as it rocks through you, moaning his name loudly. He strokes himself as he thoroughly enjoys the sight of you coming. You are quick to lose count how many times you come after that. All of them blurring into one until you’re shaking from overstimulation.
“I”– you swallow thickly as you remove your hand from your pussy, –”I can’t,” you gasp. He shushes you softly as he pulls away and lays next to you. His hand comes to rest underneath your chin and directs you to look at him before he kisses you deeply. As he kisses you, Daemon gets you to move onto your side, bringing one of your legs over his hip. The feeling of his still hard cock bumping against your puffy lips has you gasping. It’s also a reminder that he hasn’t come yet and you know his preferred place for his seed. It’s his favourite way of claiming you as his.
“You’ve done so well for me,” he says, tracing random patterns on your skin before carefully playing with your nipples, gauging how sensitive you are there. “Just one more?” he requests. “Just one more for me? So I may feel that pretty little cunt squeezing my cock while I fill you up?”
You nod, eagerly. You’re unsure if you can actually come again, your body is completely exhausted, but you’ll try. Even if you don’t, at least the feeling of you wrapped around him, working your muscles so that he feels amazing. He hikes your leg up a little higher, opening you up to him more before taking hold of his cock and pressing the head of it up against your entrance. You hiss as he slowly starts to push inside of you, your overstimulated pussy protesting at the intrusion. Noticing, he kisses you to try and distract you. It works and he keeps kissing you, staying still once he bottoms out so that you can adjust to him. You moan into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his silver locks, your tongues sliding into each other’s mouths.
When Daemon finally starts to move he sets a slow pace, each inch of his cock, each vein, dragging against your walls and rubbing against that spot deep inside of you that has your breathing stutter.
“Daemon,” you moan, breaking the kiss. His lips are immediately on your neck, but he’s careful not to leave any marks. You both know better than that with how Westerosi politics are.
He pushes you onto your back, his hands coming to rest either side of your head as his thrusts get harder. Each thrust has you moving up the bed a little and makes your breasts bounce. You grip the covers above your head while his lips attack your breasts and nipples. He’s careful not to touch your clit, knowing that doing so will bring about more pain than any pleasure. His groans are deep and throaty as he picks up the pace. Pumping his cock in and out of you as he focuses solely on his own pleasure rather than trying to get you orgasm again. You squeeze your inner muscles around him, working his cock. There is a telltale stutter in his rhythm, so you do it again and again. Enjoying the noises that it forces out of Daemon. His groans and moans music to your ears.
There are times when he is extremely vocal while he fucks you. Every dirty word, both in the common tongue and High Valyrian, that spills from his lips as he takes you, reminding you that he’s the only one who gets to have you like this. Then there are times like now, where you have to work to get those noises out of him because he’s so focused on his actions rather than his words. Both times always leave you both sated and aching for even more. This morning has been the latter.
He chokes out your name as he buries himself as deep as he can as he does as he promised and fills you up with his seed. He then pulls out and rolls off of you, flopping next to you on the bed, breathing heavily.
Both of you lay there for a moment, soaking in that after bliss. You’re the first to move as you want to cuddle up against him, like you always do afterwards. You’re really starting to feel how tired and sore your body is now. The oversensitivity of your pussy makes you grimace a little. As does the feeling of his seed dripping out of you and onto the inside of your thighs. You rest your head on his chest, draping your arm over him. Daemon wraps his arm around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
