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𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧/𝙤𝙘

𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

Warning: Vulgur language, sexual moments (no actual sex)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Maricelle Hightower was born a regal lady, bred to be perfect, obedient, and pliant.

Born from the same womb as her twin sister Alicent Hightower, the two girls were meant for high class living, meant to be royal wombs to any high class lord, or king.

Alicent Hightower had always been deemed the oldest, the most quiet between the two sisters. Due to her submissive behaviour, she had bore the brunt of their fathers actions.

Otto Hightower had tried to bend and fold Maricelle to his whims, but he had been met with consistent hostility and resistance.

In his hold Alicent felt like dough, elastic but agreeable when met with enough pressure and force. Maricelle felt like molten glass, permanent burns and scars would be the punishment for attempting to change her mold.

…

Once Otto had tried to be physical with her, grabbing her wrists so harsh it would leave bruises. Pulling her hair to ensure her conformity.

Maricelle had shown no reaction, and after dismissing her he kept hearing terrible tales from maids and working men alike, they’d whisper how terrible, and cruel the Hightower family would treat their lovable and kind Lady.

It had gotten worse throughout many moons, that other men of higher class had been known to discuss the hot topic.

Otto had asked Maricelle to stop what she was starting.

He was met with a coy face and her bandaged wrists.

“Father, I’m not sure why your listening to the common men so immensely”

…

During Maricelles first engagement with a neighboring Lord, a large event was hosted, which lasted 2 days and 2 nights. On the final night the Lord was said to have excused himself from the celebration and had asked for Maricelles assistance to his bedchambers.

The next day the man was found dead on his plush feathered bed.

No blood, no coughing, no struggle.

Maricelle was seen during that time. Their had been many accounts of her leaving the Lords chambers as soon as she tucked him into bed.

…

Shortly after she was sent home. Her guards and handmaids had been worried for her health, what if this supposed killer had somehow managed itself into the castles kitchen, and would poison their beloved lady.

Otto could recall asking his daughter about the events that occurred that night.

She replied with a familiar coy smile and asked him if he suspected it was her.

To which he replied with a gruff no.

“We all have a time and place father. Lord Alaric has just met his” Maricelle then bowed her head and excused herself from the council room.

Otto swore to himself then and their that he would make sure whomever Maricelle would marry, could handle her tendency’s.

His wishes would come true in the form of a rogue prince.

—

“Has he truly gone mad?” Maricelle uttered to her sister. “What does father want to achieve by marrying me off the Prince Daemon” she scoffed.

The carriage had shook and swayed from side to side.

“Sister” Alicent put her hand over Maricelles gloved ones. “If it is any condolence, Prince Daemon is young and he is always flying to diffrent nations on his dragon. After the marriage consummation, ‘tis certain that you will no longer need to see him”

Maricelle held onto her sisters hand, gripping it tighter. “I suppose. I just hope that I do not see my end like Lady Rhea Royce” she whispered softly.

The people of Kings Landing had known Maricelle as the perfect daughter, kind in every way, mesmerizing in every way. She liked the attention, craved it even. She made it apperant to herself that she would always keep a shark eye and an even sharper ear to hear comments people would whisper about her throughout the cold halls of the Red Keep.

Her father was not opposed to the vision either.

—

“Lady Maricelle” King Viserys had spoken. His voice slightly hoarse, echoing throughout the cold hall of the throne room.

“Your grace” she bowed and held her poise.

“Otto has done his job well with you and your sister. You are both well refined young women, and he aught to be nothing but proud”

She had to stop herself from scoffing.

—

The first time Daemon Targaryen layed eyes on the Hightower women was when he saw her sitting alone on a stone seat near the blossoming flora.

From his spot behind a pillar, his eyes roamed her figure.

Whoever this women was, she was well endowed in all the right areas, the square neckline outlined in intricate embroidery only highlights the swell of her bosom.

Suddenly his mouth seemed dry, and his feet had grown a mind of it’s own. Walking towards the entrancing women, and taking the rest of him with it.

He stood in front of (the still unknown) women.

“The Red Keep gardens are wonderful this time around” Daemon plucked one if the stray petals that had gotten trapped in her hair. “Aren’t they?”

Maricelle slowly fluttered her eyes open, and blinked, being met with the legs of a stranger in front of her. Averting her gaze she was met with the unmistakable likeness that was Daemon Targaryen.

“Prince Daemon”

He hummed, and sat beside her. Making eye contact with while she looked up at him, was to difficult.

Even for a seasonal women wooer like himself.

It was especially difficult when he had a clear view of her plunging neckline, exposing the obvious softness of her tits.

He was a simple man.

“Seems I’m quite well known” He laughed, more so coughed, trying to stop the foreign heat of his ears due to his own thoughts.

She chuckled, and he had started getting dizzy.

“How could one not know of the Rogue Prince”

“I suppose my title precedes me” He mustered to look her in the eyes.

Now close enough, he could confirm that this women had to be a siren. A mermaid maybe. She’d somehow grown legs and had come to taunt him.

Idiot.

He scolded.

Her eyes were umber, with slight glimpses of green when the light hit them just right. If he kept looking maybe he would’ve noticed the similarities between her and her sister, but before he looked strange he had to force his eyes to peel away from her face. Instead he took in her attire.

A verdant green.

If he was in the right state of mind he might’ve put two and two together, but it seems this women was to tempting to think about anything else.

…

The two had chatted the noon away.

Sitting on the stone bench, almost knee to knee, only a whisper parted them, to engrossed in their conversation to separate.

He had enjoyed making her laugh, and while she was in a fit of giggles she had noticed that the sun was no longer high above her, but was now setting atop a hill.

She faced Daemon and had hurriedly said her goodbyes.

Their she left him, high (hard) and dry.

Only the soft billowing of her dress was all he could see as she ran as elegantly as she could away from him.

Daemon sighed. The spell she put him under had started to slowly go away.

It was when he started to walk away from the garden that he realized he has no name to label the maiden that entranced him.

—

The event that night was brimming with Lords and Ladies from around Westeros.

Some had become intoxicated as soon as they entered the great hall.

From her position near her sister and father, Maricelle kept a keen eye upon any figure that entered the room.

Her brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower had been canoodling with the ladies on the dance floor. It was not a sight she wanted to behold.

Finding the party dull, she made her way out of the festivities and found herself back at the stone bench she spent all afternoon at.

She hesitated to sit, but her instincts took over.

Maricelle could feel the cold and sturdy seat even through the many layers of her proper attire. Their was no sound except for the drowing noise of chatter and loot music from the hall just across the way.

Their was no sign of movement, not even servants were seen scattering about.

It seemed like it was just her.

Before she could fully relax, two callused and rough hands gently made contact with her eyes, covering her sight.

“To what do I owe the pleasure” Maricelle laughed softly. Placing her own hands near the ones covering her eyes, clinging onto the man’s wrists

“It’s not every day that I see a dame all by herself, rare in especially beautiful maidens” The man’s voice was tainted in tease.

“Why don’t you reveal yourself”

“As the lady wishes”

Daemon retracted his hands, and quickly held both of her own that were attached to his wrists. He initiated her to rise from her seated position by lifting her hands into the air.

She twirled around and craned her head upwards to face Daemon.

Their hands still holding each others sank between the two, acting like a bridge.

Their faces were to close to be considered polite, and the stone bench parted them by their knees.

“How may I help you Prince Daemon?”

Maybe it was the darkness of the night playing tricks on him, but Daemon swore he could feel her leaning towards him.

“Having you here now is all I need”

She scoffed slightly, “Is this how you charm all women”

“Only lonely pretty ones in gardens”

“So I am lonely?”

“Not anymore”

—

Daemon had unknowingly escaped from the festivities meant for his betrothed to Maricelle Hightower, but he could care less now that a pretty women was running and following him through the castle corridors, all while laughing.

Maricelle held up her dress as Daemon led her by a stretched arm. His other hand was secured on her waist.

The dashed and stumbled through the dimly lit halls, giggling like children.

Maricelle had thought him immature, a barbarian, a beast, and everything under the bright Westeros sun. She still felt that way but even she could admit, he was very fun.

She had also neglected to tell him her full name, wanting to see his reaction at a later date. Which would be inevitable.

…

The two found themselves in the library. Dusty, but most importantly, empty.

Daemon waited no longer, and started to attack her neck. He leaned her on a wooden table, so her ass was pressed against his pelvis, while she faced away from him.

The room was filled with feverish moans and whimpers.

Maricelle’s neckline had been pushed down, along with its many layers. Revealing her plush breasts.

Daemon makes quick work of the clean slate of her skin and littered her with marks of light purple and red bruises.

Daemon on the other was anything but untouched, his hair was being gripped by her right hand, while she had made her own marks on his neck, and jaw. They were much more pronounced.

Daemon had wanted to progress more, kissing her was incredible, but he was sure she was hiding something magical underneath all this fabric. He lifted her skirt and clothing, reaching for her small cloths. His hands caressing her exposed thighs.

Before anything to dishonourable happened, a loud banging was heard from the front door.

“Lady Maricelle? We have urgent orders from your father. A guardsman had seen you entering this room”

It was the nightly watch.

Had her father really been prone to incredibly terrible timing.

I was just about to have the time of my life. Maricelle huffed, disappointed greatly.

“Lady Maricelle, may I enter?” The night watch asked.

Daemon and Maricelle looked at each other with worried looks. If Viserys was to find that he was about to defile a young women who seemed important due to the guard reference of ‘Lady’, he would not be able to avert that kind of crisis.

Otto would be incredibly furious. Maricelle would most definitely be locked up in her room again.

“Uh…please, wait a moment” Maricelle uttered.

“Of course Lady Maricelle”

Daemons head flicked back and forth to his surroundings. Under the table? No. Behind the shelf? No. Behind the door? Stupid.

He then looked at the flustered women before him, all red and blushing with desire. She had pulled those delightful breasts back into their cage, and had tried to hide the marks of desire on her neck with her hair.

His gaze then looked further down, he was still holding onto her skirt.

Under the dress of a beautiful women? Yes.

Maricelle let out a small shriek as Daemon lifted her skirt further up and crawled underneath the large mass of fabric.

Maricelle blushed even harder.

She could feel the way his body was positioned under her dress. His arms had wrapped themselves on her right leg, and he was just hiding on the edge of her skirt.

“Lady Maricelle?”

She twisted her head to the door, and dusted away any remaining evidence on her clothes and made sure to lightly smack Daemons head to let him know that someone was now entering.

“Come in”

The night watch was a fairly old man, suited in the common silver armour, a torch in his left hand, and a spear in his left.

“Lady Maricelle, your father has summoned you to his private chambers, along with your sister”

“Alright, thank you for informing me, you may go”

The man stared and blinked at her. “Um, my Lady, do you not want any company to escort you?”

She tsked quietly, and she could feel Daemons shaking. Most likely laughing at her.

“No need, I will go myself”

“It would be improper of me to leave you to your own defences, especially at nigh-”

“I will go see my father myself” she hurriedly interrupted him, stern in her words.

The man had hesitated to act, but with a sigh he had bowed and wished her good night.

As soon as the doors had closed, Maricelle quickly tried to kick Daemon out of her dress.

“Prince Daemon! I must go!” She spoke quietly through gritted teeth, while holding up her skirt.

He laughed and continued to hold onto her waist now that he was standing straight.

“Alas you must”

He sneakily pecked her lips and whispered a goodnight before watching her scramble away, and out of the room. Leaving him only with the memory of her smooth silk legs, warmth, and another hard on.

Daemon groaned and looked down at his trousers. They were stretched to their limits as his bulge had been trying its best to escape its confinements.

“Hand it is” he sighed.

nagi seishiro ! add me !

alternatively... nagi gets a new seatmate, and a new gaming buddy (and maybe secretly a crush??) content... wc 1k, fluff, literally only fluff message... uhh i didn't know what I was doing when i wrote this u can probably tell lmao

He never really cared about how he acted in class. He much rather play video games on his phone, read manga, or even sleep, than focus on whatever teacher was in the front lecturing.

People thought he was odd for it though. How did a guy like him who would rather be at home doing anything else get into one of the smarter classes? How did someone who never paid attention to what anyone was saying have grades like his? People thought he was even weirder when they found out about his natural talent for football. Nagi ruffles his hair annoyed, not at what people thought but for dying in his game, sighed, and adjusted to lay down on his desk.

Halfway through the year, you sat next to him, with the seating chart being adjusted for a change of pace. Normally you would have been somewhere behind him on the opposite side of the classroom, but since the seating chart was left up to chance by drawing slips of paper, you instead sat at the other desk connected to his.

Sliding into your new seat, you smiled at him, and he just looked back deadpan and then turned around to play his game. After a while, you tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned back around, he's almost distracted by the closeness of the two of you. You smell like lemons and sugar, and your eyes are really pretty from how they peer up at him. He's distracted even further by the way your lips move, forming so sweetly around sounds and syllables.

Nagi's surprised that he even notices something like that, and he vaguely registers the game-over sound coming from the phone propped up on his textbook.

"Hey, um? Are you okay?" you ask him concerned. "It's fine if not, I can ask someone else."

Oh. You asked him something. But he was so preoccupied with tracing your features that he wasn't even listening. "What?" he responds dumbly, not helping your care for the wellbeing of the boy.

"Can we share your book? I forgot mine."

"Uh, sure." he slides the textbook halfway between your desks, grabbing his phone, and moving it back to his side. He hopes you didn't see what he was doing, slacking off and playing a game instead of studying.

You gasp at the sight, his heart drops, "You play that game too?!" and promptly starts beating again even harder. "Dude, I've been trying to beat the event for ages, but I always die! I thought I was at a high enough level but maybe not."

He stares at you the way people would always stare at him when questions about his grades or football came up.

"What level are you?" he asks quietly.

You tell him, and he stares even harder. You're a higher level than he is.

"What server are-"

"Everyone!" the teacher says from the front of the room. "I know you're all excited about your new seats but we have a test right now! Put everything away except your textbook and a pencil."

You give him a small smile. "Let's play later," you whisper, as you turn to the front and pull out your supplies. He would have already fallen asleep or pulled out the manga from his desk to do anything but take the test, but since he's sharing his textbook with you, there's no hiding from the teacher's sight.

The test paper is passed out and he scribbles down whatever answers he thinks are right. He's always hated taking tests, especially with a deskmate because he was seen more than he would normally like to be. It always goes like that. He finishes his test as soon as he gets it and when they switch papers for peer revision, whoever is grading his paper is always envious. Either way, they won't leave Nagi alone, and he has to deal with someone in his ear for the rest of the seating chart.

But the faster he finishes, the faster he can look at you as discreetly as he can. Or what he thinks is discreet because the teacher comes up to him a couple minutes after he finishes the test and hits Nagi on the head with a notebook, telling him not to stare.

The embarrassed look you have on your face, makes him go right back to staring after the teacher leaves.

He hears the teacher call for everyone to stop, and switch papers, which he does. He lazily marks the answers written on the board on your test, which he never does when he has someone else's paper, preferring for them to do it themselves. He spares a glance at you and sees that you're staring at him, eyes wide, open mouth. He's already ready for the sly remarks and backhanded compliments.

"What?" he asks, hope for the one good seatmate already diminished.

"You're... really smart! All of your answers are right, and you finished it in like two minutes! Did you study earlier?"

"No, 'm guessing."

You look even more amazed. "That's so impressive! You should be in an even higher class! Being this smart and good at football, and still have time to play games?! You're too cool Nagi Seishiro, too cool!" the starry-eyed look you give him is different from the nasty looks he would normally get. You're different, he thinks.

The bell rings for the end of the day before he even has a chance to respond.

"Add me," you tell him grabbing your pen and his wrist. You slide his jacket up his arm and write your name, your username for the game, and your number below it. He watches you draw a little smiley face, before watching you turn around and pack up your belongings.

When you stand up, you push your chair in and tap him on the head. "I'm glad I get to sit next to you for the rest of the year! Let's have lots of fun!" the smile you give him prevents him from saying anything in response.

Nagi watches you leave, and he's not sure why he's staring at your pretty handwriting on his arm. He's not quite sure why he feels like he needs to put in a little more effort for the rest of the year but he's sure it has something to do with you.

He can't help but smile as he looks out the window. He's excited for tomorrow.

neneism 2024. do not copy, change, or translate my works.

𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 & 𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧/𝙤𝙘

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯?

Warning: targcest, (niece and uncle) 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

one: ✶ two: ✶

It was in the wee mornings on a warm day that Prince Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City, had been forced to partake in breaking fast with his family.

Consisting of his father Prince Baelon the Brave, his mother Alyssa Targaryen, his elder brother Prince Viserys, and his lady-wife, Aemma Arryn.

For a young prince of merely 16 name days old, Daemons world was small, and only consisted of his family, sword fighting, and Caraxes. His thoughts of marriage and husbandly duties were of no importance to him, and held no precedence in his mind.

Daemon walked the bustling halls of the Red Keep, his head held high as the servants, guards, and common men alike showed respect by bowing slightly to the young boy.

Reaching the dining room, he was welcomed with the smell of warm food, his mother calling out to him and patting the seat next to her.

Daemon quickly situated himself, readying his stomach for the food and quickly pounced on the meat pies across the table, slightly splashing Viserys’ beige tunic.

—

The day seemed to drag on for far to long. It was late into the afternoon that Daemon was made aware that he was now an uncle to two Targaryen babes.

The news had him running to the birthing chambers, where his brother and his wife sat, cooing at the whining twin girls.

Feeling awkward, Daemon stood rigid near the entrance of the large room.

“Brother, come. Would you like to see them” Viserys had hollered. If Daemon didn’t know any better he would have guessed that Viserys himself birthed the babes, he looked even more elated than Aemma did, which was hard to achieve.

Daemon shuffled quietly near the couple, and peered down at the babes. He couldn’t help but poke the cheek of the one in Viserys’ arms.

“Be gentle Daemon” Viserys somewhat scolded him.

Before Daemon could retreat his finger, the babe had grasped it with both her tiny hands, babbling quietly.

When Daemon broke free from her grasp, she started to wail, and wail she did. So he quickly extended his finger to satiate the crying newborn.

Viserys and Aemma let out a shared chuckle, before offering the babe for Daemon to hold.

“What if I drop it” He whispered.

“It is not an ‘it’ brother, her name will be Rhaella” Viserys stated while softly stroking the girls head, “and the youngest will be Rhaenyra”

Daemon reluctantly held the babe awkwardly in his arms, adjusting to fit to the curve of the squirming girl.

Once settled Rhaella quickly found comfort in her uncles arms, and fell asleep, chest slowly falling up and down. Daemon kept his eyes on her, and his gaze never faltered. He wasn’t much for babies and children, but he knew he’d adore his new niece.

Aemma giggled from her position of the bed, “Rhaella seems to be quite fond of her uncle already” she rocked the sleeping Rhaenyra calmly. “Let’s hope young Rhaenyra will feel the same way”

—

“Rhaella, come out!” A man’s voice had echoed in the gardens of the Red Keep, situated behind the throne room.

Daemon was now 1 and 20, while his darling niece was only a mere 5 name days old. She was currently playing with him by hiding in the palace bushes, that littered the gardens of the Red Keep.

“I’m coming to get you…” Daemon said tauntingly, knowing that Rhaella can hear him well thanks to her frenzied giggles, that bounced off the stone walls.

Daemon slowly stalked deeper into the garden, while his eyes followed a girl shaped shadow that darted from bush to bush.

He sighed and stopped in the middle of the grassy area, hands on his hips. “Where is that little girl? When I find her I'm going to gobble her up” he dramatically stated to himself, making sure he’s heard.

Rhaella had wanted to move to the bush to his far right but before she could leave her spot she was caught and lifted into the air.

“I got you now!” Daemon declared, lifting her by her arms and bringing her closer to his chest while he pretend to eat her dramatically like a dragon.

Rhaella’s giggles and laughter could be heard all throughout the halls of the Keep, as she flailed her arms and legs out, trying to escape the dragons grasp. “Not fair uncle” she whined, when Daemon finally settled her on his arms.

He grinned and laughed slightly, brushing parts of Rhaella’s hair away from her face. “Don’t you think your uncle is mighty and clever enough to find you wherever you are?”

Rhaella huffed and flopped into Daemons chest admitting defeat.

Daemon laughed louder as he held onto her tightly, bundling her up in his arms even as she giggled and squirmed.

𝘿𝙖𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 & 𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧/𝙤𝙘

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 11𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.

Warning: targcest, (niece and uncle) 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

one: ✶ two: ✶

Prince Daemon Targaryen, Lord of Flea Bottom, as he was now deemed in hushed tones had nothing on his mind except his marriage with Lady Rhea Royce.

He had thrown quite the fit when it was announced, his own brother had agreed with the marriage, which lead to the eventual ceremony.

Daemons own grandmother, Alysanne, had arranged the two to wed, others in the council nodded at the offer. The Royce’s were the second most powerful house in Vale, on paper it was a good match for a prince who was second born and wasn’t sent to inherit anything.

But the others had neglected one crucial detail. Daemon Targaryen was vicious, and only marched to the beat of his drum.

Having been wed to an intolerably plain women that bored him was terrible, not being able to return to Kings Landing whenever to visit with his sweet niece had irked him, Runestone felt like exile.

Above all else his bride was not of Valaryen descent, even if Rhea bore children, it’s likely that they would never become dragon riders. To Daemon being wed to a women of brown hair, akin to horse shit, dark emotionless eyes, and that dull bronze armour, had to be the most humiliating action that had ever been done to him.

—

Daemon had finally been able to return to Kings Landing, where they would celebrate his nieces 11th name day.

Rhaella had written to him non-stop. Their were times where he had just finished his reply before another one of her letters had come again.

It’s sure that she has grown into a lovely girl, a flower with no thorns. The girl was gentle to even the roughest thugs for goodness sake.

Daemon had not held back and gotten her more things than any child should own, but it was his wonderful niece. She was no ordinary child.

—

“Kepa!” Fathers Brother

As soon as Caraxes had situated himself on the the ground, Daemon slid off his the wyrms wings and had leaned down, opening his arms towards his niece.

The young girl was dressed in frills and lace, she looked like a cake. Rhaella jumped into his arms and tried to embrace his neck.

“Lēkianna” Child of the older brother

Daemon embraced the girl in his end, tensing and crossing his arms across her back, as if she’d fly away as soon as he relaxed. He untucked her from his chest and pecked her forehead.

“Eman missed ao tolī olvie” I have missed you to much

He whispered in her hair, and slowly caressed the now messy silver locks.

Soft. Her scent had mixed with that of the Dragons den, like smoke, citrus and flowers, and something else he cannot name.

Rhaella squirmed into the crook of his neck and giggled. “You’ve gotten larger uncle. Mayhaps Caraxes will have a harder time riding with you”

He chuckled back, moving his arms to end at her waist, tickling her in the process.

Rhaella laughed uncontrollably while flailing in her uncles hold.

“You’ve gotten cheekier with no one to test you I see”

Rhaella didn’t listen and continued to climb all over his chest, finding herself on his shoulders, with Daemon having a strong hold on her legs.

—

Rhaella’s name day celebration was well underway, many lords of the area had attended and brought gifts, ranging from jewel encrusted jewelry, to soft animal shaped pilwe.

The young lady of the hour had last been seen with her twin sister talking to other young maidens from distinguished houses.

Currently she was no where to be found.

On a grassy hillside, the pair of Daemon and Rhaella had escaped the roaring festivities. Viserys had always liked his feasts.

Rhaella had come up to Daemon and requested for him to take her away from the all the ‘scary people’, as she put it.

He had taken Caraxes out of his den and flew to a small grassy Island littered with wild flowers.

Rhaella had been entertaining herself by sticking flowers of all shapes and sizes into Daemons hair. The silver locks now filled with blues and yellows. His back was facing her as he lounged on the grass.

“You look prettier like this Kepa” Rhaella muttered in a hushed tone, her fingers desperately trying to keep the red flower from falling off his head.

“Are you saying your uncle is not attractive?”

“Noo” Rhaella gasped and encircled her small arms around his neck once more.

Daemon chuckled and slowly stood from his spot, dragging Rhaella up in the process.

“We should return, the people would be devastated if the young princess was to run away with her uncle” He carried her, pressing her small body into his tuniced chest.

“I refuse!” She grumbled into his clothes, gripping onto the maroon leather.

“You mustn’t sweetling”

“But I should”

“Stop it” Daemon taunted, reaching Caraxes who was enjoying the sun.

Rhaella sighed for the seemingly thousandth time, and continued to bury herself into her uncles body. “If I must you must also stay”

Daemon peered down at the young girl, her ears were red with embarrassment, and warm to the touch.

“As the young princess wishes of me” He laughed, earning smacks from the girl.

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