#old work

Daenerys Targaryen x fem reader

summary: You and Daenerys are in love. You warn her Jon Snow is a traitor. She doesn't listen so you take it upon yourself to save her

warning(s): established relationship, violence, blood, attempted murder, character death, power dynamics, sexual content / making out

wc: 3.6k

(this is literally sooo old and i feel like it’s all over the place but 😭😭 might as well still share it)

The firelight cast dancing shadows across the stone walls of Daenerys's private chambers at Dragonstone, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold sea winds howling outside. You stood by the window, watching the waves crash against the cliffs below, your mind troubled despite the peaceful setting. Behind you, you could hear the rustle of fabric as Daenerys moved about the room, preparing for bed after another long day of strategy meetings and political maneuvering.

"You're quiet tonight," she observed, her voice carrying that melodic quality that had first captivated you years ago. "Come away from that window. The sea will still be there in the morning."

You turned to face her, drinking in the sight of her silver hair loose around her shoulders, her violet eyes reflecting the firelight. She wore a simple silk robe, the formal armor and elaborate gowns of the day discarded. Here, in the privacy of your shared chambers, she was simply Daenerys. Not the Mother of Dragons, not the Breaker of Chains, but the woman you loved with every fiber of your being.

"I can't stop thinking," you admitted, crossing the room to stand before her. You reached out, tucking a strand of that silver hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering against the softness of her cheek. "About everything that's happening. About the throne, about the alliances we're building."

Daenerys caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "We've come so far together. The throne is within reach now. Soon, everything we've fought for will be ours." She pulled you closer, her arms encircling your waist. "Why do you look so worried, my love?"

You wanted to lose yourself in her embrace, to forget the gnawing unease that had been building in your chest for weeks. But you couldn't. Not when her safety might be at stake. You'd been by her side through fire and blood, through triumph and loss. You'd learned to trust your instincts, and right now, every instinct was screaming that something was wrong.

"It's Jon Snow," you said finally, feeling her stiffen slightly in your arms. "Daenerys, I don't trust him."

She pulled back just enough to look at your face, her expression shifting from soft affection to something more guarded. "We've discussed this before. Jon has bent the knee. He's pledged himself to our cause."

"Has he?" You couldn't keep the edge from your voice. "Or has he simply said the words you wanted to hear? Dany, I've watched him. The way he looks at the throne when he thinks no one is observing. The conversations he has with his advisors that stop the moment anyone else approaches. There's ambition there, ambition he's hiding behind that honorable Northern facade."

Daenerys stepped away from you, her posture becoming more rigid, more queenly. "You're seeing threats where there are none. Jon Snow is many things, but he's not a schemer. He's proven his loyalty time and again."

"Has he?" you pressed, following her across the room. "Or has he simply been careful? Daenerys, please, just listen to me. I've noticed things. The way Ser Davos watches you, calculating. The whispered meetings. Jon's questions about your dragons, about your armies, about the loyalty of your followers. These aren't the questions of a devoted bannerman. They're the questions of someone planning something."

She whirled to face you, her eyes flashing with anger now. "And what would you have me do? Cast aside one of my most important allies based on your feelings? Jon commands the North. Without him, we lose half the realm before we even begin."

"I would have you be careful," you said, trying to keep your voice calm even as fear clawed at your chest. "I would have you not meet with him alone. I would have you remember that the throne has made brothers kill brothers, fathers betray sons. Power does things to people, even good people."

"You think I don't know that?" Daenerys's voice rose, frustration evident in every word. "I've seen what the pursuit of power does. I've watched it destroy my own family. But I've also learned to judge character, to know who I can trust. And I trust Jon Snow."

"You trust him because you want to trust him," you countered, your own frustration mounting. "Because he reminds you of something, someone. Because he has that Stark honor that everyone speaks of. But Daenerys, honor doesn't mean someone won't betray you if they believe they're doing it for the right reasons. If Jon thinks he has a better claim, if he thinks he would be a better ruler, that honor might compel him to act against you."

"Enough." The word cracked through the air like a whip. Daenerys drew herself up to her full height, every inch the queen. "I won't hear any more of this. You're being overprotective, seeing enemies in shadows. Perhaps..." she paused, and you saw something flicker in her eyes, something that made your heart sink. "Perhaps you're jealous."

The word hit you like a physical blow. "Jealous? You think this is about jealousy?"

"Isn't it?" Daenerys challenged. "Jon is young, handsome, of Targaryen blood. People whisper about a potential marriage alliance. Perhaps you fear I'll set you aside for a more politically advantageous match."

You stared at her, hurt and anger warring in your chest. "After everything we've been through, after everything I've sacrificed for you, you think I'm motivated by petty jealousy? Daenerys, I love you. Everything I do, everything I am, is devoted to keeping you safe. If you want to marry Jon Snow for political advantage, if that's what it takes to secure your throne, I'll stand beside you and support that decision. But I won't stand silent while I watch you walk into danger."

Some of the anger faded from Daenerys's face, replaced by weariness. "I know you love me. I know you would do anything for me. But you have to trust my judgment. I need Jon's support, and I need him to know I trust him. Suspicion and paranoia will only drive away the allies we need."

You wanted to argue further, to make her see reason, but you could see the set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes. When Daenerys made up her mind, moving her was like trying to redirect a dragon in flight. Still, you had to try one more time.

"Please," you said softly, reaching for her hand. "At least promise me you won't meet with him alone. Let me be there, or Grey Worm, or Missandei. Someone you trust absolutely."

She squeezed your hand, her expression softening slightly. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But I can handle Jon Snow. Now come to bed. We both need rest."

You allowed her to lead you to the bed, but sleep was a long time coming. You lay awake, listening to Daenerys's breathing even out beside you, your mind racing with possibilities and fears. You'd learned long ago to trust your instincts, and every instinct was screaming that Jon Snow was a threat. But how could you protect someone who refused to see the danger?

The next morning brought your worst fears to life. You were in the war room, studying maps of King's Landing, when Daenerys entered with several of her advisors. She looked regal in a gown of deep red, her hair braided in an intricate style, every inch the conquering queen.

"I have an announcement," she said, her voice carrying clearly through the chamber. "I've agreed to meet with Jon Snow this afternoon to discuss our final strategy for taking King's Landing. He's requested a private audience to share some sensitive information about Cersei's defenses."

Your head snapped up, dread flooding through you. "A private audience? Daenerys, no."

Her eyes met yours, and you saw the warning there. "It's already arranged. Jon has information that could save countless lives. Information he'll only share in confidence."

You crossed the room quickly, lowering your voice so only she could hear. "This is exactly what I warned you about. Why does he need privacy? Why can't he share this information with your full council? Daenerys, please, this feels wrong."

"Your objection is noted," she said coolly, her public persona firmly in place. "But my decision is made. Jon has proven himself in battle. He's earned this trust."

"At least let me accompany you," you pleaded, not caring that others might overhear. "Or take Grey Worm. Someone."

"No." The word was final. "Jon specifically requested that we speak alone. He's concerned about spies, about information reaching Cersei. I will not insult him by suggesting I need protection from him."

You felt panic rising in your throat. "Daenerys, I'm begging you. Don't do this. My instincts have never been wrong before. Please, just this once, listen to me."

For a moment, you thought you saw her waver. But then her expression hardened. "I've made my decision. I expect you to respect it, as you've always respected my choices before. Now, I have preparations to make."

She swept from the room, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding with fear and frustration. The other advisors avoided your gaze, uncomfortable with the tension they'd witnessed. You didn't care. All you could think about was Daenerys walking into danger, and your inability to stop her.

The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness. You tried to occupy yourself with preparations, with strategy, with anything that might distract you from the growing sense of dread. But nothing worked. Finally, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, you could stand it no longer.

You'd learned long ago where the secret passages of Dragonstone led, had made it your business to know every hidden corner of any place Daenerys called home. If she wouldn't let you accompany her openly, you'd follow in secret. You'd rather face her anger than live with the consequences of ignoring your instincts.

The secluded chamber Jon had chosen for the meeting was in an older part of the fortress, away from the main halls and guard posts. That alone set off every alarm in your mind. You made your way through the narrow passages, your heart hammering, your hand on the dagger at your belt.

You heard voices as you approached, Jon's deep tones and Daenerys's melodic responses. They were discussing troop movements, supply lines, the usual strategic matters. You began to wonder if perhaps you'd been wrong, if your protective instincts had led you astray this time.

Then Jon's tone changed.

"There's something else we need to discuss, Your Grace. Something about the succession."

"The succession?" Daenerys sounded puzzled. "That can wait until after we've taken the throne."

"Can it?" Jon's voice had gone cold, hard in a way you'd never heard before. "You see, I've been thinking about what's best for the realm. About who should truly sit on the Iron Throne."

"Jon, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I have the better claim. I'm saying that the realm will never fully accept you, a foreign queen with dragons and a foreign army. But they would accept me. Rhaegar Targaryen’s only born son. The rightful heir."

"You bent the knee." Daenerys's voice was sharp now, alarmed. "You swore fealty."

"I did what I had to do to survive, to gain your trust. But I can't let you take that throne, Daenerys. I can't let you burn cities and rule through fear. The realm needs someone better. It needs me."

You heard the sound of steel being drawn, and your blood turned to ice. You burst through the hidden door without thought, without plan, driven only by the desperate need to reach her.

The scene before you confirmed your worst nightmares. Jon had drawn a dagger, and Daenerys was backing away, shock and betrayal written across her face. She'd been so certain of his loyalty, so sure of her judgment, and now that certainty had become a deadly trap.

"Get away from her!" Your voice rang out like a bell, and Jon's head whipped toward you, his eyes widening in surprise.

That moment of distraction was all you needed. You'd been trained by some of the finest warriors in Essos, had fought beside Daenerys through countless battles. Your body moved on instinct, closing the distance between you and Jon with deadly speed.

He tried to turn, to bring his blade to bear against you, but you were faster. Your dagger found the gap in his defenses, and you drove it home with all the strength of your fear and fury. Jon's eyes went wide with shock, his own blade clattering to the stone floor.

"You should have stayed loyal," you hissed in his ear as he fell. "You should never have threatened her."

He crumpled to the ground, and you let him fall, already turning to Daenerys. She stood frozen, her face pale, trembling slightly as the reality of what had almost happened crashed over her.

"Dany," you breathed, crossing to her and pulling her into your arms. She came willingly, burying her face against your shoulder, her body shaking. "I've got you. You're safe. I've got you."

"You were right," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Gods, you were right, and I wouldn't listen. He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come..."

"But I did come," you said fiercely, pulling back to cup her face in your hands. "I will always come for you. Always. Do you understand? I don't care if you order me to stay away, I don't care if you're angry with me. I will always protect you."

She kissed you then, desperate and grateful, her hands fisting in your tunic as if she could anchor herself to you. You kissed her back with equal fervor, relief and love and residual fear all pouring into the embrace.

When you finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against hers. "We need to secure the area. Make sure Jon didn't have accomplices."

Daenerys nodded, her composure slowly returning. "Grey Worm. We'll summon Grey Worm and the Unsullied. They'll search every corner of this fortress."

"And then?" you asked softly.

Her eyes met yours, and you saw the steel return to them, the dragon waking. "And then we finish this. We take King's Landing. We take the throne. And we make sure no one ever threatens us again."

The next weeks passed in a blur of battle and strategy. With Jon's betrayal exposed, his Northern forces fractured, some returning home, others pledging themselves to Daenerys once they understood what their king had attempted. The taking of King's Landing was brutal but decisive. Cersei's forces crumbled before the combined might of dragons and Unsullied, and the city fell.

Now, you stood in the throne room of the Red Keep, watching as Daenerys approached the Iron Throne for the first time as its rightful occupant. The twisted metal seat rose before her, forged from the swords of the conquered, a symbol of absolute power.

The room had been cleared of all but a handful of trusted advisors. This moment was too important, too personal, to share with the masses. That would come later, the public coronation, the grand ceremony. But this, this first moment, belonged to those who had fought and bled to make it possible.

Daenerys climbed the steps slowly, her red and black gown trailing behind her, her silver hair gleaming in the light that streamed through the high windows. She reached the throne and paused, her hand resting on one of the twisted blades.

Then she turned and sat, and the sight took your breath away. She looked like she'd been born to sit there, like the throne had been waiting for her all along. Power radiated from her, the Mother of Dragons finally home.

But then she did something unexpected. She rose from the throne and looked directly at you, her hand extending in invitation.

"Come here," she said softly.

You climbed the steps slowly, aware of every eye upon you, confused by her intent. When you reached her, she took both your hands in hers.

"You've stood beside me through everything," she said, her voice carrying through the silent hall. "You've protected me, advised me, loved me without condition or reservation. You saw the danger when I was blind to it. You saved my life when I refused to save myself."

"Daenerys," you began, but she shook her head.

"This throne, this power, it means nothing without you. So I want you to understand something." She guided you to turn, to sit upon the Iron Throne yourself. The metal was cold beneath you, the seat uncomfortable, the weight of it almost overwhelming.

Before you could speak, before you could protest, Daenerys gathered her skirts and settled herself onto your lap, her arms draping around your neck. The position was intimate, almost scandalous, the queen sitting in her lover's lap upon the throne itself.

"This is how it should be," she murmured, her face inches from yours. "Not me alone on this throne, isolated by power. But us, together, sharing everything."

Your hands came up to rest on her waist, holding her close. "The realm won't understand."

"The realm will learn," she said firmly. "I didn't break the wheel just to play by the old rules. I make my own rules now. And my first rule is that I choose who I love, who I trust, who I share my power with. And I choose you. Always you."

She kissed you then, and it was nothing like the desperate kiss in the chamber where Jon had fallen. This was a kiss of victory, of passion, of promise. Her lips moved against yours with practiced familiarity, knowing exactly how to make you respond. Your hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, and she made a soft sound of pleasure against your mouth.

The kiss deepened, became more heated. Her fingers tangled in your hair, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart against your chest. When she pulled back slightly, her eyes were dark with desire, her lips swollen from the kiss.

"I love you," she breathed. "My protector, my conscience, my heart. I love you more than any throne, more than any crown."

"I love you too," you replied, your voice rough with emotion. "My queen, my dragon, my everything."

She kissed you again, softer this time but no less passionate. Around you, you were dimly aware of the advisors quietly filing out, giving you privacy for this moment. But you barely noticed. All that mattered was Daenerys in your arms, safe and whole and finally, finally home.

When you broke apart again, she rested her head against your shoulder, and you held her close, your hand stroking through her silver hair. The Iron Throne was uncomfortable beneath you, the blades pressing through your clothes, but you didn't care. You would sit on a throne of actual fire if it meant holding her like this.

"What happens now?" you asked softly.

Daenerys lifted her head, a smile playing at her lips. "Now? Now we rule. Together. We build the world we've dreamed of, where the strong don't prey on the weak, where justice isn't just for the rich and powerful. We break the wheel, just as I promised."

"Together," you agreed, sealing the word with another kiss.

Outside, you could hear the sounds of the city, the bells beginning to ring, announcing the new era. But here, in this moment, it was just the two of you. The dragon queen and her devoted protector, sharing a throne and a kiss and a future that you'd fought so hard to secure.

Daenerys shifted in your lap, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. "For not giving up on me, even when I wouldn't listen. For trusting your instincts. For saving me."

"Always," you promised. "I will always save you, always protect you, always love you. That's my vow, more binding than any oath of fealty."

She smiled, that radiant smile that had first captured your heart, and kissed you once more. The Iron Throne, symbol of power and conquest, became something else in that moment. It became a seat of love, of partnership, of two souls who had found each other against all odds and refused to let anything tear them apart.

The realm would have its public coronation, its grand ceremonies and formal oaths. But this, this private moment of passion and promise, this was the real coronation. This was the moment when Daenerys Targaryen truly became queen, not through conquest or birthright, but through the love and loyalty of the one person who knew her best.

And as you held her close, as you kissed her with all the passion and devotion in your heart, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. The dragon and her protector, the queen and her heart, ruling not from a place of isolation and fear, but from a throne built on love.