#witch!dany

[arielchelby]

Mayfair Witches AU

This is my submission for for Day 3 (Prompt: Witching Hour) of the Jonerys Falling for You event hosted by @iceandfirejonerysdiscord!

My belated birthday gift to @moondancer71 ! A fall gift for a summer birthday 🥳 All she had to do was make me a gorgeous moodboard and beta read! 😊 Thank you, Moon!

Thank you also to @evax3 for beta reading! They both have a thing for demons and romance which was very helpful! 😘

Summary: For generations, Targaryen women were known as powerful witches – at least until Dany’s mother died and left her in the care of her brother, Viserys. Jealous of her magic and possessive of her inheritance, he kept Dany locked away and ignorant of the secrets of her foremothers. 

Dany had long accepted her fate and that Targaryen magic would die with her. But then, as her 25th birthday approaches, a man half hidden in shadow begins invading her dreams. He’s devastatingly handsome and assuredly not human. Perhaps she should be afraid, but she finds herself intoxicated by his promises of freedom and everything she desires.

A figure stood by the window, masked in darkness, with her window curtain billowing behind his silhouette in the breeze. Drawing her knees to her chest, she clutched at her covers and cast a sideways glance at her phone on the nightstand.  It was just out of her reach.  “You won’t need that,” he said. His voice was low and his accent strange. “I’d never hurt you.”  Dany felt herself start to shake from fear while contemplating if she should run for the door. She sat up and tried to make herself sound strong. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”  “Good evening, witch,” the shadow man answered. The way he said witch almost sounded like an endearment. “I’ve called this house my home for a long time.”  “I’m not a witch,” she answered, swallowing a lump in her throat. “You must be mistaking me for my mother.” His voice was deep and soothing. “I make no mistake.”

Read complete fic on A03

Ice and Fire Jonerys Discord Server

[arielchelby]

Inner Demons | Mayfair Witches AU

Happy birthday, @moondancer71! You are my best friend, and honestly, this place would suck without you. 

Your talented creations and imaginative ideas are a gift to our fandom, and there couldn’t be a more fun, supportive and thoughtful person for those of us lucky enough to call you friend. 

Writing fic with you is such an effortless blast (well, as effortless as writing can be) and it’s beyond cool that our ideas jive so well together.

So 🥂 to you and the supernatural fics you bless us with along with a sprinkling of your “good girl agenda.” I hope you have a joyful day and a year full of joyful days to follow. 

P.S. I hope you like this fic (you know, once I finish it) and I know you’ll appreciate Jon being the loyal, sex demon I think we both were hoping Lasher would be 🔥

For generations, Targaryen women were known as powerful witches – at least until Dany’s mother died and left her in the care of her brother, Viserys. Jealous of her magic and possessive of her inheritance, he kept Dany locked away and ignorant of the secrets of her foremothers. 

Dany had long accepted her fate and that Targaryen magic would die with her. But then, as her 25th birthday approaches, a man half hidden in shadow begins invading her dreams. He’s devastatingly handsome and assuredly not human. Perhaps she should be afraid, but she finds herself intoxicated by his promises of freedom and everything she desires.

Ice and Fire Jonerys Discord Server 

[fierypen37]

Look Upon Me and Tremble

@thescarletgarden1990 prompted: Jonerys (duh): she's a forest witch, he gets lost in the woods. :D 

Not quite the exact prompt, but thanks for the ask my friend! This made me stretch my writing muscles.

 The men of the North weren’t fanciful by nature. The Andalish to the south had their tales of grumpkins and snarks, their haunted castles and shades wandering the seven hells. The North, where the blood of the First Men ran deep, knew that the Children still lived. The old gods listened, though not in the way a man wished. Still, whispers around Winter Town spoke of a fortune teller, a witch, a seer who lived in the wolfswood. Uncle Benjen was due any day now to guide him to the Wall, and the brotherhood that awaited him. The questions burning in his gut would lurk unanswered if he didn’t act now.

Jon urged his mount west down the deer track that passed as a road through the wood. Hand clenched around his swordhilt, Jon dragged in shallow breaths through his nose. Night fell swiftly in the wood. Gauzy mist clung to mossy tree trunks, leafless branches rattling like bones in the wind. Ghost had slipped away sometime after noonday, and Jon hadn’t seen or sensed him since. Unfamiliar bird calls rang out, shrill and shrieking in the growing night. Sweat dewed on his brow, he squinted into the middle distance, finding the glow of a fire. Jon heeled his horse into a jerky trot. Branches whacked and scraped at him with thin, gnarled fingers, the scent of loam rose up fetid and moist beneath castle-shod hooves.

The fire-glow was in fact a bonfire laid in a clearing. A female voice sang in a slippery language Jon didn’t understand.

“Hello, the house! Is someone there?” Jon shouted, congratulating himself on the even tone. The singing stopped, and Jon almost mourned the loss of that smoky voice and haunting words.

“I am, though green boys should speak with respect,” a woman said, almost in his ear.

Jon and the horse both shied hard, skittering away. Jon reined his mount under control with a curse. Jon rankled at the insult, glaring at the woman. She was scarcely older than he, though striking. Mikken hadn’t told Jon that she was beautiful. Washed in golden firelight, Jon admired the flash of her eyes, the tilt of her chin, the sweet curve of her mouth. A mane of silver hair fell nearly to her waist, strands woven with ribbons. Blue tattoos curled sinuous as smoke up her bare arms. Despite the chill, she stood in a silken skirt belted at the waist, the leather vest barely covering the jut of her nipples. Heat shot through him and he averted his eyes quickly. She could hex his bollocks off if he displeased her.

“Who are you?” Jon asked, swinging down from his horse. The woman was a tiny thing. He could tuck her under his shirt.

“The witch you seek. Called Stormborn. And who are you, green summer boy?”

“Jon Snow.” Her head cocked like a bird’s. A smile curved her lips, mysterious and beautiful.

“No, you’re not.” Jon scowled, fists curling at his sides.

“Do you name me a liar, milady?” he spat the words through clenched teeth. Stormborn’s smile showed white teeth. Smooth and lovely, like the rest of her. The tales of her ghoulishness were greatly exaggerated. Murmuring a string of lilting words under her breath, the fire roared, rising twice their height at a gesture from her.

“No, Jon Snow. Let us see what the dragon bones will sing to you tonight.”