Nova

targaryen men fanfiction marathon characters @studyofasoiaf

— 𝔞𝔡𝔡𝔞𝔪 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫

playing by the shore with addam and alyn

loyalty — discontinued for now — story of boy’s loyalty

— 𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔯𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔯, 𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔦

imagine aegon i being interested in you

aelora the ambitious — discountinued for now —targaryens have been marrying their brothers and sisters for centuries. most found it disgusting, marriage between siblings, but who else is worthy for a dragon expect one of their own

aegon reacting to you declaring your love for them

the dragonless sister (coming soon)

— 𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔲𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔢𝔯, 𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔦

feather touch — as another stressful day passes, queen alicent asks for your company once again. she has become really fond of your presence since she got to know you. it should be like every other day you pour her wine and listen to her troubles, except it isn't.

pressing at the entrance — feeling intensive feelings for his younger sister has been a burden aegon has been dealing with for years. one night he decided to visit her chambers finally getting her

— 𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

kinslayer — you see aemond after the death of your nephew, lucerys, and your mother, princess rhaenys at rook's rest

the sweetest betrayal — aemond got too involved with y/n, she was just an innocent flirt. now things are different, she was his enemy but they are already too in love to stop themselves from seeing each other, even if it was behind their families’ backs.

the sweetest betrayal ii — the meeting at the red keep regarding the blacks

the sweetest betrayal iii — aemond makes his decision on what he wants to do, what he really wants, more than anything.

protecting the sacred (coming soon)

— 𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔰 𝔦

black beauty — discountined for now — aenys falls in love with his baratheon cousin

— 𝔞𝔩𝔶𝔫 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫

playing by the shore with addam and alyn

— 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔫𝔢

knight — being in a secret relationship with a knight of the kingsguard is a hard secret to be kept under a lock

dawned frustration — too much has passed and the bothering sting that has been pitching him is going to be pulled out only by action, his reaction to your flirtation with another man

— 𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔦 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯

imagine cersei questioning your loyalty

cersei taking one of margaery's ladies-in-waiting as a lover

tasting the ripeness of wine — cersei invited you to her chambers, to be her cupbearer and to hear more about the arbor wine she so much adores

— 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔨

cregan taking care of his son, rickon, with the help of his sister-in-law

— 𝔡𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

imagine prince daemon asking you for a dance

imagine daemon naming your child after you

the pleasure of victory — the targaryen prince was well enough old to be married if only he would give in to his father’s pleas and marry any girl he wished, however, daemon would much rather take a shorter stroll to his sister’s chambers.

daemon comforting his wife after her dragon dies in the war

jealous!daemon targaryen headcanons

deadly desires (coming soon)

— 𝔡𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

imagine conquerning westeros with daenerys

— 𝔧𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫

jacaerys playing a kissing game with his velaryon cousin

silver star (coming soon)

— 𝔧𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯

imagine finding out how jaime died

jealousy — jaime gets jealous of a knight flirting with you

— 𝔧𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔫𝔬𝔴

imagine jon and yourself keeping each other warm

— 𝔪𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

prince maegor living happily on dragonstone with his wife and daughters

— 𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔟𝔬𝔩𝔱𝔬𝔫

bolton bride — ramsay visits the rills and kidnaps you from your family

bolton bride ii — after forcefully being separated from your home, you are taken to Winterfell, to finally become the bolton bride

ramsay fucking you outside his father’s chambers

— 𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

honourable maiden — discontinued for now — daughter of honor, falls for the prince and commits sin

— 𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔰 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔫

rhaenys reacting to you declaring your love for her

rhaenys taking you as her lady-in-waiting but you become her lover

— 𝔯𝔬𝔟𝔟 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔨

imagine being robb's secret lover

imagine trying to calm robb down

robb marrying an arryn!cousin headcanons

red wedding — robb stark attends his uncle's wedding, unknowingly spending his last living moments, surrounded by enemies with fake smiles and evil intentions

robb stark marrying a female!joffrey headcanons

telling robb stark you are pregnant

— 𝔯𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔱 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔬𝔫

not the same — your family visits king's landing, and you finally reunite with a man who once held your heart

calming a wild stag — grief-stricken robert is seething with anger after witnessing the death of his parents, shattering training swords and refusing to speak about his loss

— 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔞 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔨

being a bolton bastard and sansa's king or queen

sansa being married to a lannister headcanons

— 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔶𝔧𝔬𝔶

imagine greeting theon when he returnes home

girl from essos — theon was forced to marry a girl he was caught with, only it happens to be a girl whose family is a mystery coming from essos.

— 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔞 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

visneya reacting to you declaring your love for her

visenya's hidden secret — as aegon lives in king's landing and visenya on dragonstone, it means the queen can easily hide her lover away from the enemies and closer to her heart.

visenya taking you as her lady-in-waiting but you become her lover

— 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫 • 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔦𝔦

imagine viserys complimenting you

prince viserys visiting his sister’s chambers night before they marry

— 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔶𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔩

imagine meeting willas tyrell for the first time

“ We find ourselves ahead an unfamiliar path, little dragon. “ Your older brother stroked your hair, leaning it to touch your cheek. He was looking at you so gently, so softly. Cherishing what his eyes have taken a hold to.

“ I know it seems so foreign, but we are to do what our ancestors have done. What has brought you and me life. “ His steady breathing and comforting manner stilled your nerves. Viserys had been very glad you two would marry, he celebrated it by praise of tradition many times. At first you hadn’t shared his enthusiasm, not truly knowing what marriage is completely about. Over the years you have come to understand the meaning of sacred union between a man and a woman, realising you wouldn’t mind the least bit to marry Viserys.

Currently he was the most at ease he has ever been while taking about you marrying each other. You imagined that many of your nights will be just like this, together in bed, able to cool off the tense court appearances. Just you two.

“ Y/n. “ He called your name, loosening the connection to your cheek. “ I have loved you, always. “ with a gentle hand his touch traces down your neck to the collarbones. “ You have no idea how hard it is to keep my mind calm. “

His fingers took little trips down your collarbone, making soothing line back and forth. “ Tomorrow we will no longer be limited. “ His eyes met yours and while he looked at you, a sheepish smile gleamed at your half-look, the exhaustion of the day overtaking you.

- I really don’t like how little I have written for Targaryens, so I decided to make myself try and write something for each one (x reader)

- if you have any suggestions, please don’t shy away from suggesting, everyone is included, I meant on Targaryens after the Conquest, but I honestly wouldn’t mind if there were requests for preconquest ones

- for a reminder there are most of Targaryen men on my list of characters if you scroll all the way to house Targaryen

- I will be taking requests until I don’t finish all the fics, which is going to be for a while, at least the whole summer

- all the ones I will write for them will be found on this post and my masterlist

— viserys targaryen • son of aerys

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x sister!reader

Summary: Feeling intensive feelings for his younger sister has been a burden Aegon has been dealing with for years. One night he decided to visit her chambers finally getting her.

Warnings: brother-sister incest, dirty talk, swearing, losing of virginity, oral, penetration

The hall outside your chamber was soundless, save for the muffled sound of boots against stone, deliberate and familiar. You knew that walk. You’d heard it your whole life.

When your door creaked open, your pulse quickened. Aegon, your older brother, stood there in the shadows, before stepping forward, hair tousled, eyes heavy-lidded and burning. The fine tunic hung open at his chest, exposing pale skin. He said nothing at first. Just looked.

“Do you know how late it is?” you whispered, sitting upright in your bed. The silk sheets shifted over your thighs, feeling yourself heat up at his presence.

His smile was crooked. “It’s never late enough to not visit my little sister..”

He crossed the room without invitation. You could sense lust overtaking him, your hands clenched the silk on your legs. His movements were reaching you with the extensive hunger. Hunger for you.

He stopped at the edge of your bed, gaze flicking down to where the sheets hugged your body. You could feel it, thick and crackling tension in the air.

His fingers brushing the curve of your ankle beneath the covers. You inhaled sharply when his hand slid higher, slowly, pushing the covers back inch by inch until your bare legs were exposed.

“This is wrong,” you breathed, but your voice wavered. “ Aegon. “ He knelt at the edge of the bed, his mouth close to your thigh, looking up at you when you said his name. “Darling, nothing is wrong in me give you some attention.” His lips met your skin, warm and possessive. You didn’t stop him, truly you didn’t want to.

Your head tipped back against the pillows as his hands pressed your knees apart, baring you to the cool air. His breath ghosted over your entrance, not touching yet, lingering above your sex.

“Aegon,” your voice slightly raised. He looked up at you again, eyes going dark, waiting. “Tell me to stop, Y/n.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you arched into him, legs parting further in silent invitation. He growled low in his throat and then his mouth was on you, hot and wicked, tongue flicking across your folds with growing desperation. One hand pinned your hip while the other slid upward, splaying across your stomach as your muscles tensed under his touch.

You gasped as he circled your clit, in a maddeningly slow touches, then sucked and stars bloomed in front of your eyes.

He devoured you like starved man. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to have you tasted.

Your body was trembling. “Aegon, gods—”

He pulled back, lips wet, eyes glazed with lust. “You’re so wet,” he said hoarsely. “Do you know what that does to me?”

He rose up over you, and for the first time you felt it, him, thick and hard against your thigh as he climbed between your legs. He kissed you, tasting of your own slick and ground against you, not yet inside, just pressing. His cock slid between your legs, rubbing against your entrance, the head catching on you every time he rocked forward.

It was exhilarating.

He hovered there, swollen tip teasing the place where you ached most. Pressing at your entrance.

“Please,” you whispered, unable to bear it.

He smirked. “You want it, don’t you Y/n?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, gasping as he pressed again, harder this time, almost—

But he stopped. Right there, still not entering you, the head of his cock rested against your entrance, hot and throbbing, poised to breach you.

“One last chance, sweet sister,” he whispered against your lips. “Tell me no.” Your body lifted into his, seeking him push himself into you. To feel him fill.

“Don’t stop Aegon,” you whispered back in that sweet voice he so much loved.

And then he did it.

He pressed in.

His hips shifted forward, relentless until the thick head of his cock breached your entrance. You gasped, hips arching instinctively, but he caught them in place with both hands.

“Still,” he growled, voice husky. “You’re tight enough, ah, mmhm tight.” Hands grabbed at you to be closer, letting him hit his cock into your walls.

You whimpered, blinking up at him. “Aegon—”

“Shh. Let me,” he muttered, staring down between your bodies as inch by inch, he fed himself into you, stretching you, forcing your body to open for him, to take all of him.

Pain laced through the pleasure, raw and sharp, your first time, your body untrained for the stretch. He was thick and insistent, with no patience, no gentleness. You cried out.

“I know,” he rasped, voice rough as gravel. “I know it hurts. But fuck—gods, you feel divine.”

He withdrew slightly, then slammed forward, sheathing another inch. You yelped, tears stinging your eyes, fingers clawing at his back.

“Look at me,” he said, catching your chin. “Look at me while I ruin you, sweet Y/n.”

Your gaze locked with his and he looked mad with excitement.

“You think I’ve waited this long just to be gentle?” Aegon hissed. “I’ve imagined this a hundred times, all the time I am near you, or alone or something neither. Your legs shaking, your cunt bleeding around me, your voice crying my name.”

With one brutal thrust, he pushed all the way in bottoming out inside you with a filthy groan. You sobbed, half in pain, half in stunned pleasure, body trembling under his weight.

“That’s it,” he snarled, fucking into you hard and fast. “You’re mine. My perfect little sister. So tight, untouched. Mm fuck!”

His cock drove into you mercilessly, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene in the quiet chamber. You gripped the sheets, mouth open in a wordless shock, legs wrapped high around his waist as he used your body like it was owed by him.

“Tell me,” he demanded, breath ragged. “Tell me who’s inside you.”

“You,” you gasped. “Aegon—oh gods, you!”

“That’s right.” He bit at your shoulder. “Only me. Always me.”

He reached between you, thumb circling your clit with practiced cruelty. Your hips bucked involuntarily, thighs shaking.

“Aegon, I— I can’t—!”

“You can,” he snapped, voice thick with lust. “You’ll come for me, like a good girl. Like a good sister you are.”

His cock slammed into the deepest part of you, and the pain twisted into pleasure, sharp and overwhelming. Your body clenched around him, and you shattered.

You screamed his name, your first orgasm ripping through you like a storm, slick soaking the base of his cock. He groaned deep in his chest.

“Fuck. You’re squeezing me so tight—shit—”

He fucked you through it, relentless, chasing his own climax. When it hit him, he slammed in one final time, burying himself to the hilt and emptying inside you with a raw, broken moan.

His seed spilled deep, flooding your womb with nothing but sin.

For a long moment, he just lay there, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours, cock still twitching inside you.

Your thighs trembled. You felt the slow trickle of his spend already beginning to leak from your ruined cunt.

“…Did you mean to finish in me?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.

He lifted his head, smirked, and cupped your cheek.

“I meant everything.”!He pulled out slow, watching your body shudder around the loss. You whimpered at the emptiness.

His fingers dragged through your folds, spreading the wet mess he left behind. “Look at that. Ruined. Just as I promised.”

You flushed. “What if I—”

“If you’re with child?” Aegon interrupted, voice dark and pleased, almost creating a laugh. “Then the realm will learn what they should’ve known all along.”

He leaned close, dragging a finger down your face, stopping it at your lips.

Lord Stark stood awkward as ever with the child bundled in his great arms. Rickon was fussing now, little fists batting at nothing, small mouth open in a cry.

You brew a small smile on your lips. “He takes a while to settle.” Cregan sighed, nodding in your direction, trying his best to position his son in his hands.

You held out your arms. “May I?”

Cregan hesitated only a moment before relinquishing the babe. As you cradled Rickon, you pressed your cheek to his light brow, swaying slightly as his cries began to fade.

Cregan watched you as if from another world. Now having a relieved movement, no longer overwhelmed with the placement of his touch. “He sleeps easier with you,” he said after a moment.

“Because I know how to swaddle him,” you teased, smoothing Rickon’s wrappings with practiced hands. “You hold him like he’s made of dragon-glass.”

“I’m afraid I’ll drop him,” he admitted, his voice so low you barely caught it. “He’s so small. And I… I’m not good at softness.”

You glanced at him, his broad shoulders cloaked in grey fur, hair damp from the snow, eyes rimmed with quiet sorrow. He looked so very tired. You wanted to reach for his hand, but you didn’t.

“You don’t have to worry too much, soon he will grow to be strong and big like you,” you said, resting on a chair, sweetly gazing at your little nephew, already calmed.

Cregan sat beside you then, closer than he normally dared. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the fire as Rickon sighed in his sleep.

A silence stretched between you, long and comfortable. Flames cracked against wood, letting you feel the warmth which must have helped Rickon come at ease.

Then, quietly, Cregan said, “I don’t know how to raise him without Arra.” Sudden sadness pledged his voice as he spoke your sister’s name, his late wife. “It was so quick, he came and she left.”

You turned to him, one hand grappling his arm gently. “You won’t have to.”

He looked at you. His grey eyes lingered on your face, then on the baby nestled against your chest.

- characters from a song of ice and fire books, game of thrones show, house of the dragon show, I am willing to write for, suggestions are allowed but this is mainly it

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔫

Daemon Sand

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔶𝔫

Rodrik Arryn

Aemma Arryn

Jon Arryn

Robin Arryn

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥

Petyr Baelish

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔬𝔫

Orys Baratheon

Rogar Baratheon

Boremund Baratheon

Jocelyn Baratheon

Borros Baratheon

Cassandra Baratheon

Maris Baratheon

Ellyn Baratheon

Floris Baratheon

Lyonel Baratheon

Ormund Baratheon

Steffon Baratheon

Robert I Baratheon

Stannis Baratheon

Joffrey Baratheon

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔶

Braxton Beesbury

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔣𝔶𝔯𝔢

Daemon I Blackfyre

Aegon Blackfyre

Aemon Blackfyre

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡

Benjicot Blackwood

Alysanne Blackwood

Davos Blackwood

Melissa Blackwood

Brynden Rivers

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔩𝔱𝔬𝔫

Roose Bolton

Domeric Bolton

Ramsay Bolton

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔫

Aeron Bracken

Barba Bracken

Bethany Bracken

Aegor Rivers

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔶𝔩𝔩

Arryk Cargyll

Erryk Cargyll

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔢

Criston Cole

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔬𝔫

Jon Connington

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔶𝔫𝔢

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔫𝔢

Arthur Dayne

Ashara Dayne

Allyria Dayne

Gerold Dayne

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔶𝔧𝔬𝔶

Dalton Greyjoy

Theon Greyjoy

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔶𝔫𝔤

Harrold Hardyng

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔶

Alys Harroway

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

Ceryse Hightower

Otto Hightower

Alicent Hightower

Gwayne Hightower

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯

Jason Lannister

Tyland Lannister

Tion Lannister

Tywin Lannister

Kevan Lannister

Gerion Lannister

Cersei Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Lancel Lannister

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩

Maron Martell

Doran Martell

Elia Martell

Oberyn Martell

Arianne Martell

Quentyn Martell

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔞𝔨𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

Arys Oakheart

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔶𝔫𝔢

Roger Reyne

Ellyn Reyne

Reynard Reyne

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔶𝔠𝔢

Waymar Royce

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔪𝔶

Barristan Selmy

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔨

Torrhen Stark

Cregan Stark

Brandon Stark, son of Rickard

Eddard Stark

Lyanna Stark

Benjen Stark

Robb Stark

Sansa Stark

Jon Snow

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤

Harwin Strong

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫

Visenya Targaryen

Aegon I Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen

Aenys I Targaryen

Maegor I Targaryen

Rhaena Targaryen

Aegon the Uncrowned

Jaehaerys I Targaryen

Alysanne Targaryen

Aemon Targaryen, son of Jaehaerys I

Baelon Targaryen, son of Jaehaerys I

Alyssa Targaryen

Daella Targaryen

Saera Targaryen

Gael Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was

Viserys I Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon III Targaryen

Viserys II Targaryen

Daeron I Targaryen

Baelor I Targaryen

Daella the Defiant

Elaena Targaryen

Aegon IV Targaryen

Aemon the Dragonknight

Daeron II Targaryen

Daenerys Targaryen, daughter of Aegon IV

Baelor Targaryen, son of Daeron II

Aerys I Targaryen

Rhaegel Targaryen

Maekar I Targaryen

Valarr Targaryen

Aelor Targaryen

Aelora Targaryen

Daenora Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen, son of Maekar I

Aerion Targaryen, the Brightflame

Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar I

Daella Targaryen, daughter of Maekar I

Aegon V Targaryen

Duncan Targaryen

Jaehaerys II Targaryen

Aerys II Targaryen

Rhaegar Targaryen

Viserys Targaryen, son of Aerys II

Daenerys Targaryen

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶

Samwell Tarly

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔶

Elmo Tully

Kermit Tully

Oscar Tully

Catelyn Tully

Edmure Tully

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔶𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔩

Willas Tyrell

Garlan Tyrell

Loras Tyrell

Margaery Tyrell

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫

Corlys Velaryon

Laena Velaryon

Laenor Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon

Aurane Waters

— 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡

The sound of laughter echoed through the island, a melody that never failed to bring a rare smile to Maegor’s lips. His youngest daughter, Maera, was perched on his shoulders, her tiny hands clutching his silver hair as if it were the reins of a dragon.

"Faster, Kepa!" she squealed, kicking her little legs.

Maegor obliged, striding across the courtyard with exaggerated steps, making her shriek with delight. You watched from the arched doorway, a fond smile playing on your lips as your husband, the fearsome warrior, the stern Prince of Dragonstone, played the role of a doting father with ease.

"Careful, my love," you called out teasingly. "You’ll spoil her rotten. She might start treating you as her pet when she gets older. "

Maegor turned, his violet eyes alight with warmth as they met yours. "Taking lesson from your teaching I presume?" he rumbled, carefully lifting Vaella down and setting her on her feet. She immediately darted off to join her older sisters, Visenya and Viserra, who were chasing each other vigorously.

You stepped closer, smoothing a hand over his broad chest. "Not at all," you murmured. "I never thought I’d see the day when Maegor would be bested by three little girls."

He huffed, but there was no real annoyance in it. Instead, his arm curled around your waist, pulling you against him. "They are smaller versions of you, gods’ sake, Y/n," he admitted gruffly. " You always get what you want from me, how could they not? "

You laughed, leaning into his embrace. " Must be your fate."

Maegor pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and sincere. "A blessed one, which I will cherish until I turn to ash. "

pairing: Robert Baratheon x Estermont!female!cousin

summary: Grief-stricken Robert is seething with anger after witnessing the death of his parents, shattering training swords and refusing to speak about his loss.

Robert has already broken three practice swords, the splintered wood scattered across the training yard. The master-at-arms had wisely stopped offering replacements. Everyone wisely left the training yard, for the new Lord to steady himself.

The man has just witnessed the death of his parents. They were mere minutes away from returning from their trip, so close. But the storm hit and took the lives of all in cruel laughter as it struck over the sky.

Robert didn’t want to talk.

He wanted to hit something.

You found him like that, shoulders heaving, fists clenched, looking for something else to destroy. You didn’t flinch. Just leaned against the fence and watched him.

You had been staying with your Baratheon cousins, it was a family reunion since Robert returned from Eyrie. You watched as your aunt and uncle’s ship got weakened by the clash of sea and storm. You couldn’t watch the scene happen as you immediately looked to Robert. Despite his strength, which you greatly admired, the look on his face was of frightening horror.

What could he do? Nothing. They were taken, quickly and without mercy, as death is.

Little Renly, held by your arms cried at the whips of thunder, poor boy didn’t understand a thing.

Stannis also had a visual reaction, which he hid by turning away. He unlike Robert understood it was the end for them. After a shocking crash, Robert rushed to the shore, in hopes of getting to his parents, finding them injured, drenched…alive.

They were, however dead. And he had to face the new responsibility that laid at his feet, that of a Lord.

"You’re going to run out of things to break," you said, standing at a good distance from him. Your mother managed to get your family dressed, now styled in black, symbolising your grief.

Robert wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Plenty left."

You hummed. “ I figured you would say that. “ Then, without another word, you turned and walked away. Robert scowled. He hadn’t expected tears or soft words, you weren’t such a woman, but even for you, this was cold.

Then you stopped at the edge of the yard, looked back over your shoulder, "Well? You coming or not?"

"To?"

"To do something that actually takes the edge off." Robert wasn’t sure wha you were planning, wasn’t even sure if he should go anywhere, knowing at each moment he might be trigger by a storming anger draped in him But you had a way of making things sound like a challenge, and Robert had never been one to back down, especially when he desperately needed one.

You led him to the stables, saddled a horse and nodded at the reins to a chestnut courser, one of the wild-tempered ones that needed a firm hand. The same courser used to give Robert a hard time when he would come home through the years, but by the time he was ten and two, the horse learned to not defy him.

As he settled a top the horse you, rode by him. "We’re riding."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" You yelled, already galloping away. Robert exhaled through his nose, jerking the horse to follow after you.

You rode hard, the wind whipping past you, the thunder of hooves drowning out thought. Robert pushed the horse faster and faster, until his muscles burned and his lungs ached. You kept pace beside him, grinning like as you saw his face relax and breath in peace.

When they finally reined in, the horses lathered and heaving, Robert realized his hands weren’t shaking to break something anymore.

You dismounted, patting her your horse’s sweat-darkened neck. "Better?"

Robert rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension bleed away. "Could’ve used a fight."

You snorted. "Next time, I’ll punch you. See how that goes for you." He almost laughed, letting a smirk linger on his rough lips.

He held your shoulder, giving an approving nudge of his head in respect to you. You gave him one back. When you thought he was going to leave, Robert looked into your eyes heavily, you saw the weight in them. The struggle, the hidden pain. He kissed your forehead, holding you by him as he let it last. You stood in support, you knew it meant a lot to him even if he won’t say it. He gave you a last look and left, you knew this time he will go to bed, at least a little bit less disturbed.

jealous!daemon headcanons

Daemon likes to enforce ownership, to him you are as much his as are Dark Sister and Caraxes

He isn't afraid he might lose you to someone, but hates that someone dares to even try winning you over

Firm believer in Targaryen superiority, no one is above him, no knight, no lord, no foreign prince, so every attempt to take something of his is taken as an insult

He is possessive so even an extended glance is a move too far

He enjoys fighting for you to an extant, it allows him to remind everyone, including yourself, who you belong to

If nothing major is going on, he will just observe, smirking and start throwing small jabs at his rival, insulting them or embrassing indirectly

If he believes the message did not come across, he will become more touchy, kissing your cheek or neck or shoulder, gripping your waist, pulling you really close, or even in his lap

He will do anything for things to esclated if it means getting your attention

If he is rageful, he will duel with the man, at least until he is bloodied

The rival might disappear even if it needed be

Daemon will take his frustruation out on you, rough kisses, biting your neck, harsh pulls and tuggs

Challenge him, he will claim you harder, it's like he is conquering you, which makes him alive

Willas stood near the central perch, leaning on his cane, a russet-hooded hawk perched on his gloved hand. His leg, stiff and slightly twisted beneath dark riding trousers, was braced with a subtle iron rod. Yet there was no trace of discomfort in his bearing, only the quiet pride of a man in command of the skies.

“She’s a second-generation crossbreed,” he said without looking at you. “Northern gyrfalcon mixed with an Andal goshawk. Strong shoulders, sharper instincts.”

He extended the bird slightly. “Her name is Redwing.”

Redwing blinked once, head tilting, hood hiding her killer’s eyes.

You stepped forward slowly, drawn by the energy, the twitching wings, the living pulse of creatures who freed themselves with their flights.

Willas led you down the line of perches. He has become an excellent breeder of hawks, you remember Lord Rowan, praising his birds at your grandmother’s last name day. Of how well-trained and graceful they are. By every moment you more and more believed his words were true.

“That one,” he said, gesturing to a gray-laced female with eyes like dusk, “was a gift from Oldtown’s Citadel. Their best healer bred her from near extinction. I call her Septa. She has the demeanour of one.” You glanced at the bird, who only watched you two peacefully.

He stopped before a white-and-gold hawk with a proud tilt to her head. “And her,” he said, a rare smile playing at his lips, “her name is Flow, for she is very quick. She once flew from here to Cider Hall and back, arriving before supper. ”

“How many do you have?” you asked, softly, looking around, being met with many different feathers.

Willas gave a breath of a laugh. “ My grandmother says I breed them as most lords breed bastards. The rest of my family agrees. ” you laughed lightly. From briefly meeting, the Queen of Thorns, you didn’t have a doubt in your mind she said it to him.

“Perhaps I should judge myself if you do own too many birds for my liking. “ he smiled at your eagerness, a kind brush of a light gracing his lips.

“ You would if you had to indulge in my activities every day. “ he lowered his gloved hand slightly as the hawk spread her wings in preparation, until it flew upward.

“If I were Lady of Highgarden, I might be more merciful to you, Ser Willas.” You winked at him, holding onto his free hand. A small blush creeped out below his eyes. He turned to his hawk, letting a cheering grin reveal.

Dawned Frustration

pairing: arthur dayne x female!reader

summary: too much has passed and the bothering sting that has been pitching him is going to be pulled out only by action, his reaction to your flirtation with another man

warnings: jealous!arthur, smut

He has been watching you. Not like a knight assessing a threat, or a prince’s guard ensuring safety, but something else. Something closer to hunger, cloaked in the guise of formality.

And tonight, you knew you were pushing it.

You laughed too easily with Ser Oswell, allowed your fingers to rest on his forearm just a moment too long, played your part like a court maiden in a castle. You could feel Arthur’s eyes on you the whole time, storming from across the hall.

When you finally retired, your heart skipped at the heavy steps behind you. You turned just in time to see him at your chamber door, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

“Ser Arthur,” you said softly, opening the chamber door. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“You enjoy playing games, don’t you?” he asked, voice lowering to your level.

“Games?” You walked in, trying to predict how this conversation will go. He was very confrontational, unusual for him, it must then mean he is really bothered.

“With Oswell. With your smiles and your touches and your little glances.” He stepped inside, uninvited, and closed the door behind him. “Do you find it amusing?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

His voice was a growl now. “It would matter to me.”

Carefully a silence evolved around you. Has your behaviour got to him? Has it made him jealous?

“Why?” you asked. You wanted to make him say it. Wanted him to admit it. You’d waited too long.

His hand was suddenly at your waist, the other tilting your chin up. His restraint frayed like a threadbare cloak.

“Because I want you,” he admitted, the words dragged from him. “Seven hells, seeing you with him—”

You didn’t let him finish. He needn’t.

Your hands were in his hair, pulling him down to you. The kiss was fierce, born of weeks of tension and unspoken desire. He lifted you without effort, your legs wrapping around him as he pressed you back against the stone wall of your chamber.

“Arthur,” you whispered against his neck, as his armor started playing a melody as each piece dropped to the ground.

He rested his sword, against the wall, now only in light clothing he continued to kiss you.

Your back was pressed against the wall, your chest rising and falling fast beneath the fabric of your gown. His mouth was on yours, slower, but no less desperate. His hands traced your sides, thumbs teasing just beneath your ribs.

“You do things to my mind I shouldn’t be thinking,” he murmured between kisses, breath warm as his lips moved along your jaw to your throat. “Do you know that?”

You nodded, but the words caught in your throat when he nipped lightly at your collarbone, his hand sliding up to your bodice. His fingers hovered, waiting for permission. When you guided his hand yourself, to pull at the fabric, making contact with your skin even more, he groaned, a sound you’d never heard from him before. Like something had finally broken loose.

Clothes came undone in a tangle of linen. Your dress slipped to your waist, exposing your bare skin to the cool air and his heated touch. He looked down at you like a man seeing a star fall from the sky just for him.

“Gods, you’re…” he didn’t finish. His mouth found your breast, tongue flicking soft and slow before his lips wrapped around your nipple. One hand cupped your waist, the other sliding lower, finding the edge of your smallclothes and slipping beneath.

You gasped, head falling back against the stone wall, your fingers knotting in his dark hair. “Arthur…”

That broke him completely.

He lifted you again, as a man overwhelmed. You clung to him, your body wrapped around his, lips brushing, teeth scraping, hands frantic. He walked you to the bed and laid you down like you were precious. His forehead rested to yours as he undressed the rest of you, letting his knuckles trail fire down your thighs.

“Tell me this isn’t just lust,” he whispered, hovering over you.

You looked up, chest bare, body aching for him, and said the only thing that mattered.

“ No. I wish more than that. ”

The rest was a blur of sensation, his mouth on your skin, your body arching to meet him, the feel of him pressing against your entrance, slow and maddening as he finally slid inside you with a groan so deep it made your heart stutter.

He moved gently at first, savoring every inch like a soldier afraid he might wake from a dream. But you were very real, the way you gasped his name, the way your nails dragged along his back, the way your legs trembled around him. And when you pulled him closer, whispering “harder,” the knight obeyed.

The rhythm deepened. His hips rocked into you, his breath warm against your ear, his body fully flush with yours, skin to skin.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he breathed. “ That I would break my oath before I let another man have you.”

And as your body shattered beneath him, you whispered his name, feeling yourself tire. He followed soon after, buried in you, lips on your temple, heart thundering against your chest.

Visenya Targaryen

You began as her quiet companion, loyal and fearless, admiring her with deep curiosity

Despite letting you come close, she would still know to test you, making sure you were as fiercy to her as you claimed to be

The two of you would dress in light armour and duel, without aggression, it was training, but that did mean she went easy on you

One night after a duel, she handed you her sword, Dark Sister, to clean it, as you did she shared memories before Conquest, of her claiming Vhagar, of her parents and siblings

She allows you to see her practice magic, intriguing you 

When you do share a kiss it’s dominating, but only suprisingly deep

You begin mornings early, before the sun graces the sky, mostly it’s in silence, sipping herb tea for an easier head, she might stand behind you and braid your hair

You polish your armour, tending to each other if you get a wound

She will read you in high valyrian, in a much softer tone than how her voice usually is

at nights, you sit together before the fire, she will let you lay for head in her lap, caressing your face and hair

after Maegor is born, you both raise him

You try to teach him of empathy, which would balance Visenya’s harsher discipline

When he defies you, she steps in and demands he respects you as he does her, showing how much she values you, even if she doesn’t say it directly

Visenya is into power play, likes to be the one in the control, she might restrain you in silk restraints if it pleases her

Soft spots: back of her neck and inner thigh

secret fantasy, lets call it “ sitting on the iron throne together ” iykyk

she doesn’t speak much during intimate moments, if you get a groan or moan out of her, that is an acomplisment

Rhaenys Targaryen

You became Rhaenys’s lady-in-waiting because you related to her easily, through music, dance and poetry

She invites you to read with her, then asks you to sing with her, as you probably wake someone in the keep

Her kisses are delicate and soft, but they linger on your skin long after you are done

She lets you sleep in her bed, cuddled at your side

Your mornings are long, staying in bed for hours, tangled together, her fingers trace paths on your skin as she tells you watch she dreamt

You stroll the gardens, listen to a musician playing your favourite songs

She wishes you two tour the free cities, saying it would be a lot of fun

Flies you on Meraxes, getting both of you drenched in wind

Likes to fill up your hair with flowers, she is happy when you do the same

You bathe together, she often kisses you during it

When Aenys is born, you literally become his second mother

You both dote on him, reading and singing to him, when he has harsh nights and can’t sleep you let him sleep with you

Rhaenys loves watching you raise Aenys, often impliying it would be perfect if you had a daughter which you two could raise just as you did Aenys

You help him with his confidence and kidness, balancing the two

Rhaenys is touch-starved, she loves teasing, playfully dragging her fingers on your body, she lives for praise and fun

soft spots: spine and belly

secret fantasy: waking up the whole red keep from how loud you two get

she isn’t just about getting her way, she also likes to give, worshiping, complimenting you 

pairing: cersei lannister x redwyne!female!reader

summary: Cersei invited you to her chambers, to be her cupbearer and to hear more about the Arbor wine she so much adores

The atmosphere was warm with candlelight, perfumed with beeswax. Cersei Lannister reclined on her cushioned chair in a gown of crimson velvet so deep it looked black in the shadow of the darkness. Gold lion clasps fastened her sleeves, and a torque of rubies burned at her throat.

You stood still as a statue, hands folded before her. Your gown was vinework trim of burgundy and gold, modest, proper. No jewels. Only a hairpin of polished mother-of-pearl in the shape of a grape cluster.

You have been summoned by Cersei. A quite unusal invite, considering you are Margaery's cousin and as of recent, also her lady-in-waiting. Being close as you are, you knew Cersei wasn't fond of your cousin. But, that was the whole point. She wanted something from you. And she is going to put you in a position in which she will be able to drag it out.

“A cupbearer’s task is simple,” said Cersei, voicing your task, voice like silk brushed against steel. “You pour, you listen, and if I’m generous, you may even speak.”

“As you command, Your Grace.” You bowed simply, moving with graceful precision, taking the decanter from the polished sideboard. Cersei let you pour, the golden wine catching light as it flowed into the lion-carved goblet. The wine was of your house, which has bulit it's wealth on the Arbor Reds and Golds.

You were very familiar with it, often serving as an unoffical cupbearer to your father, uncle, grandfather and grandmother when you were acting too childlish and whiny. It would a punishment which you would have to endure instead of playing or messing about.

“A fine hand,” Cersei commented, her piercing emeralds tracing your hands. “Tell me, Y/n, how fares your cousin in King’s Landing? ” She swirled her wine smoothly.

“She is well,” you replied carefully. “Gracious, as ever. The people love her.”

Cersei sipped. Of course they do, she thought bitterly. “Graciousness is a weak weapon.” She turned to the side, letting herself sink deeper into her chair. “Does she complain of the court? Does she long for Highgarden’s gardens?”

“Lady Margaery keeps such thoughts to herself.” Your tone was level, but respectful. You knew this wouldn’t please her.

Cersei watched you through the rim of the goblet. You have been warned of her. Of what she will try to get from you. “Too well trained to speak against your family. Hm.”

When no further answer came, Cersei leaned forward. “Then drink.”

You blinked. “Your Grace?”

“If you’re to pour Arbor Gold in my presence, I expect you to know it. It’s of your house. Drink.” You hesitated, for only a flicker, a pause at the edge of obedience and then poured a second goblet and took a sip.

“Well?” Cersei asked, her eyes sharply focused on you. “Speak of it. Tell me what your house has taught you.”

You straightened. “The vintage is from the eastern slope vineyards of the Arbor, year 284. The grapes are sun-swollen, harvested late. Fermented in golden-oak casks, aged in dry cellars beneath Old Redwyne Hall. A mellow sweetness first, then the minerality, what the vintners call the tongue’s edge.”

“And what would a girl like you know of a tongue’s edge?” Cersei murmured, setting her goblet down with a soft click. Your lips parted, but no words jousting out.

“Come now,” Cersei went on, rising. She moved like a cat, silent, regal. “I asked you about tasting. The first step is a sip. And the second?”

You swallowed. “You hold it on the tongue. And...you roll it.”

Cersei stepped close, and with deliberate slowness, she reached for your goblet. Your fingers brushed, shivering at the touch. “Show me.” A breath passed between you as you progressed her words, nodding obediently.

You lifted the cup again, tilting your head back just enough to let the wine touch your lips. You closed your eyes, held it, then rolled it with expert care, lips parted slightly. Your throat moved as you swallowed. The queen’s gazed crossed over your features, taking in all the expressions you made, all the movements of lips and throat.

Cersei’s voice was low, calculated. “And now? What do you taste?”

You opened your eyes, seeing the queen in your closeness. “Ripe stonefruit. Summer heat.”

The wine hadn’t dulled the edge in Cersei’s voice, if anything, it had sharpened it. She circled around you, like a lion circling something smaller, gentler. Still holding the her goblet, she took another sip and let it sit on her tongue before swallowing slowly, deliberately.

You stood frozen, your cheeks flushed, seeing her follow your words.

Cersei’s gaze slid down her, noticing the your stare.“It’s not just the tongue, is it? One must use every sense to appreciate a true vintage. The scent. The body. The warmth.”

She stepped closer again, until only a hand’s span separated them. “ You must taste it on someone else’s lips.”

Her goblet was passed between you, then slowly, Cersei set it aside. She lifted a single finger to the your chin, tilting your head up.

“Tell me, Y/n,” she said, voice soft but dangerous, “how would your cousin react if she knew you were in the queen dowager’s chambers, alone, after dark, wine on your breath and my hand on your skin?”

Your opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Her lashes fluttered. “She… she trusts me.”

“Foolish girl. Trust has no place in court.”

Cersei’s hand slid from your chin to her jaw, then tucked a loose curl behind your ear. Her fingers lingered, moved lower, to the delicate pearl-grape pin nestled in your hair.

She plucked it free, as you gasped. With the hairpin still in hand, she leaned in and kissed you. Not sweet. Not soft. A claiming.

You made a sound, a surprise, but you didn’t wish to protest. You didn’t know what to do, should you pull her close as you wanted to, or would it be too bold. The kiss deepened, heat blooming, like wine being poured into the heavy flames. She was aggressively meddling your lips together. It excited you, non surprisingly. Cersei was insanely appealing, and any girl would have prayed for the looks she had. But now you didn’t want her looks to be yours, you only wanted whatever this was, whatever she was going to give you, you were going to accept.

When Cersei finally pulled back, she did so slowly, watching the dazed flush on the your cheeks light up.

“I can still feel the wine in my mouth as if I drank it directly out of your mouth.” She turned away as if bored. “I’ll call for you again. For another tasting.”

" Why here Ramsay? " You whined at the current place of your meeting. When he told you to meet him here, the idea of what was going to happen wasn't even remotely wild, as to what you were doing now.

He stood, body bare of clothing, holding your equally naked body above his own, somehow managing to rhytmically push his cock inside you. His nails bit into your cheeks, making scratches which mostly likely will soon start leaking with smears of blood.

" Because I want to fuck you here Y/n. " The position, new and unexperienced, already had your mind spinning, head bouncing off your neck, your hands trying to hold onto him.

“ Oh Ramsayyy…your father will… “ your breath was crashing, collapsing.

“ My father will what? “ His movements stopped, his right hand grabbing your face. “ What will he do? “

“ Hear. “ Your initially words were going to warn him how he might punish you, or may even him. Torture to shame. But you decided to be more decent than that.

Ramsay grinned at you, immediately starting to fuck you up the air, holding your legs on each side of him. Sweat dripped down your body, more because of a fear you will get caught then of the activity you were doing.

Then when he stopped you looked down, only to shut your eyes as your back hit the door of Lord Bolton’s chambers. His cock began fucking you with an immense hardness, as he could have firmer hold of you now. The door squeaked at the movements, in you rose both fear and orgasam.

“ No, Ramsay he might… “ You couldn’t even speak properly, something in you, besides Ramsay’s manhood, was telling you to shut up and enjoy.

“ Oh, he will hear, and you now what he will do? “ Your eyes met his, which were too calm for a man who is creating such a scene. “ He will do nothing. “

To you this seemed impossible. Roose Bolton would not let anyone offend him like this, not even his son, was he his heir or not.

“ He will stay in his please as should you. “ Your hips were in his hands, getting marking presses and squeezes. Groans floated out of him, merging at your chest as his teeth towered over your skin.

“ tsk…this is better than how he usually do it… “ he blissfully proclaims, watching your face melt at his treatment. “ Makes me wanna put a bastard in you. “ A shivering yelp stung your throat, marching through your voice, creating an opening which made you moan louder.

pre-conquest!aegon i x sister!reader

The ashes heavily lingered in the air. Once they had flown together, the wind at their backs, the thundering roars of their dragons echoing across the clouds. Now, only Caraxes remained. And you stood, silent, in the scorched clearing where your dragon had fallen.

Your shoulders trembled and he moved to your side. “You should come away,” he murmured, voice low. “There’s nothing left here but smoke.”

You didn’t look at him. Your eyes were on the injured body vast, blackened, still steaming in places. The charred ruins of wings stretched across the scorched earth like broken sails. And the head… gods, the head, with its maw agape in a final cry that never reached the skies.

“She called for me, and I couldn’t— I couldn’t get there.” Your voice couldn’t help but crack in pain. Daemon looked at your hands. They were clenched, nails biting into her palms.

He reached out, at first just to steady you. A hand at her arm. A soldier’s touch. But you flinched like you had been struck, seeing concern in him, you let the stillness seep into you, only slightly.

“I felt her die,” she said, still staring at the ruin of her once glorious flying companion. “It was like… a part of me was torn out. ”

Daemon exhaled, and this time it came from a deeper place than his lungs. He stepped in front of you, not to block the sight. Just to have more of your attention. Caraxes was raging above them, since she seen your dragon’s fall, she hasn’t let herself be at peace.

“But this,” you whispered, “was more than that. She was with me before I bled. Before I even understood what it meant to be Targaryen.”

Daemon didn’t speak. He only reached up and touched your face, gently. With warmth. Thumb brushing over your cheek, making sure you feel he is there for you.

He leaned forward, pressing his brow to hers. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. Feeling your grief plunge out and pump harder your heart.

“You can hate the war for this,” he added, voice rough. “ But don’t hate yourself. Don’t blame yourself, Y/n. She knew you loved her. She died fighting for you. You know it, love. “

For the first time, your hand lifted, hesitating, shaking, before resting lightly at his chest. Your fingers curled in the fabric.

“I will never fly again,” your words admitted out loud, “

Daemon feared you wouldn’t. Not soon. Maybe not ever. Dragonriders, if they ever outlive their dragons, never take to sky again, with another dragon or with someone else.

He pulled you close and held you tightly. One arm around her shoulders, one hand at the back of her head. And for a long time, they just stood there in the scorched ash and wind.