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Whispers Through Time: {~Secrets in the Shadows~}

A/N: Omg, I am sooo happy that you guys are enjoying the series so far! I honestly was not expecting it but I am so happy! Here is Chapter 2 and I will be constantly putting out these chapters so you guys don't have to wait! Enjoy!!!!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1107

Chapter 2 --- Chapter 3

The days since your arrival in the Red Keep passed in a blur of whispered conversations and cautious glances. Though you had gained entry to the castle by claiming to be a skilled midwife, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed to do more if you were to truly alter the course of events as you remembered them. As you moved quietly through the halls of the Keep, your mind raced with thoughts of how to intervene without revealing too much of what you knew—or worse, revealing who you truly were.

You had managed to secure a small, modest room in the servants' quarters, far removed from the nobility. There, you spent your nights pondering the timeline, thinking about the key events that led to the Targaryens' fall, trying to remember details from history and lore that would be valuable in the days to come. Your knowledge of Westeros was fragmented at best—flashes of future events mixed with the uncertainties of living in this medieval world—but you were determined to find a way to help Rhaenyra, and perhaps, by extension, yourself.

As the wind howled outside your window one night, a sense of urgency crept over you. It was time to act. You needed to warn Rhaenyra about the threats that loomed within her own walls. But approaching her directly was far too dangerous—there were too many eyes, too much risk of exposure. You would have to find another way to communicate.

Sitting by the dim light of your candle, you pulled a scrap of parchment from the small desk and began to write:

"Princess Rhaenyra,""There are those close to you who hide their true intentions. Be wary of whom you trust, for some who smile to your face will one day seek to destroy you."

"A Friend."

You stared at the note for a long moment, rereading the words. It wasn’t enough—too vague, too cryptic—but it was all you could offer without putting yourself at risk. Folding the parchment carefully, you tucked it into your pocket. Now came the hardest part: delivering it without being caught.

The castle was quiet that night, the torches flickering dimly in the halls as the staff retired to their quarters. You moved through the shadows, your heart pounding as you neared Rhaenyra’s chambers. You had scouted the area earlier and noticed that servants would occasionally leave messages or small gifts in a niche near the entrance—just out of sight from the guards stationed at her door.

That would be your opportunity.

Keeping to the edges of the corridor, you made your way toward the alcove. The guards were still at their posts, but they seemed to be deep in conversation, their attention focused elsewhere. Silently, you slipped the note into the niche, ensuring it was partially visible so that whoever was meant to find it would do so.

As you turned to leave, you froze. A shadow moved at the far end of the hall. You ducked quickly behind a column, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the figure draw nearer. It was Daemon Targaryen.

Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking him. His presence was unmistakable—commanding, dangerous. You had heard the whispers about him, the rogue prince, the man who walked a fine line between loyalty and rebellion. The last person you wanted to cross paths with.

Daemon’s steps were slow, deliberate. He wasn’t headed for Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he was close enough that you couldn’t risk moving until he was out of sight. You stayed hidden, heart racing, as he passed by, his face unreadable in the flickering torchlight. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, always aware.

When he finally disappeared around the corner, you let out a slow breath. You had come dangerously close to being caught. Without wasting another second, you slipped back into the shadows, retreating toward the servants’ quarters.

The next morning, the castle was buzzing with its usual activity. Servants bustled through the corridors, nobles conversed in hushed tones, and the guards maintained their ever-watchful presence. But there was an undercurrent of tension—a subtle shift in the atmosphere that hadn’t been there before.

As you went about your duties, you overheard snippets of conversation, mentions of a note that had been discovered outside Rhaenyra’s chambers. No one knew who had left it, and the guards were tight-lipped about the situation, but the news had spread quickly among the servants. There was speculation, of course, but no solid leads. Whoever had left the message had done so without being seen.

You kept your head down, focusing on your work, but your mind was racing. The note had reached Rhaenyra, but what would she do with the information? Would she take it seriously? Or would she dismiss it as a prank or a ploy?

Later in the day, as you moved through one of the upper corridors, you saw her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was standing by a window, her back to you, deep in conversation with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in her posture, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was angry—no, more than that. She was disturbed.

The note had hit its mark.

You dared not linger, moving quickly past her chambers and back into the lower halls. The note had worked, but it also meant that you were now part of something far more dangerous. If anyone suspected that you were the one feeding Rhaenyra this information, your life could be at risk. And with Daemon’s ever-watchful eyes lurking in the shadows, you couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

That evening, as you returned to your room, you found yourself pacing, your mind turning over the events of the day. Daemon’s presence haunted you. Though he hadn’t seen you, you felt as though his gaze had lingered on you long after he passed. You knew you had to be careful, more careful than ever before. But as the days went on, Rhaenyra would come to rely on the warnings, and sooner or later, someone would begin asking questions.

You sat at your desk, quill in hand, staring at the blank parchment before you. Another note would need to be sent—this time, with more detail. But the risks were growing with each passing day. How long could you continue before someone discovered the truth?

As you dipped the quill into the ink, you pushed the fear aside. There was no turning back now. The game had begun, and you were determined to see it through.

Whispers Through Time: {~Meeting Daemon~}

A/N: I am so sorry I have not posted chapter 3, I have been really busy with school and had to catch up with all my work since I was really sick last week and missed a bunch of work!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1243

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 3 --- Chapter 4

Days had passed since you left the first note for Rhaenyra, and the subtle shift in her demeanor was unmistakable. While she had yet to confront anyone publicly, you could sense her wariness in the way she interacted with those around her. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and though you were relieved that your warning had reached her, the constant danger of being discovered hung over you like a storm cloud.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra’s growing caution that concerned you. Daemon Targaryen’s presence had become more frequent, and wherever he went, he seemed to move with a purpose that unnerved you. You had caught glimpses of him here and there—always watching, always listening. It was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again.

And then, one day, it happened.

You had been sent on an errand to deliver herbs to the maester’s chambers, a mundane task that took you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. Your mind was preoccupied with the next note you intended to leave for Rhaenyra—one that would warn her of a more immediate threat from within her inner circle. As you turned a corner, lost in thought, you nearly collided with someone coming in the opposite direction.

Startled, you looked up—and your breath caught in your throat.

It was Daemon.

The Rogue Prince stood before you, his silver hair catching the light of the nearby torches. His violet eyes regarded you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken questions. His gaze swept over you, as though he were trying to read your every thought, your every secret.

“Apologies, my lord,” you stammered, quickly stepping back and bowing your head to avoid his piercing stare. Your heart hammered in your chest as you prayed he would simply move on and forget the encounter.

But Daemon was not one to let things go so easily.

“You’re the midwife, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp, something dangerous.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “I was sent to deliver these herbs to the maester.”

He nodded, though his eyes never left you. “I’ve heard you’ve been quite useful since your arrival.” His words were casual, but you sensed the underlying suspicion. “Unusual for someone to earn such favor so quickly.”

“I only do what I can to be of service,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

Daemon smirked, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Modest, too. How very noble of you.” He took a step closer, and you instinctively tensed. “And yet, you’ve managed to find yourself in quite a few interesting places around the Keep, haven’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. Did he know? Had someone seen you near Rhaenyra’s chambers? You forced yourself to remain calm, to hold his gaze without faltering. “I go where I am needed, my lord. Nothing more.”

His smirk widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. You’re just a humble midwife, after all.”

The way he said it made it sound like a lie, like he knew there was more to your story than you were letting on. But you couldn’t afford to let him push you. Not here. Not now.

“I should be going,” you said, shifting the basket of herbs in your arms as an excuse to leave. “The maester is waiting.”

Daemon stepped aside, though his gaze followed you as you passed. “Take care,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement. “The Red Keep can be… unpredictable.”

You didn’t respond, quickening your pace as you made your way down the hall. Only when you were far enough away did you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

That night, as you sat alone in your room, the weight of the encounter with Daemon settled heavily on your shoulders. He knew something—maybe not everything, but enough to make him suspicious. And if there was one thing you knew about Daemon Targaryen, it was that he didn’t let things go easily. His curiosity was as dangerous as his sword, and now, it was fixed on you.

You had to be more careful.

But even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew that avoiding Daemon’s scrutiny wasn’t your only problem. You still had to deliver the next note to Rhaenyra. And this time, it would be even riskier.

The following day, the Keep was buzzing with activity as preparations for an upcoming feast were underway. Servants rushed through the halls, carrying linens, food, and other supplies, while the nobles discussed matters of the court. It was the perfect distraction.

You had written the second note the night before, the words carefully chosen to warn Rhaenyra of an impending plot by one of her closest allies. Slipping the note into the same alcove near her chambers would be tricky, especially with Daemon’s increased presence around the Keep. But you didn’t have a choice.

As you moved through the crowded halls, your mind raced with thoughts of how to avoid detection. The feast provided some cover, but there were more guards than usual stationed near Rhaenyra’s quarters. You would have to be quick.

When you finally reached the corridor leading to her chambers, you were relieved to see that the guards were distracted by a group of visiting nobles. Seizing the opportunity, you hurried toward the alcove and slipped the note into place, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Just as you turned to leave, you heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through you as you ducked into the shadows of a nearby column, your heart pounding in your chest.

Daemon.

He appeared at the far end of the hall, his expression unreadable as he spoke to one of the guards. You held your breath, praying that he wouldn’t notice the note—or worse, see you hiding. For what felt like an eternity, you stayed perfectly still, watching as Daemon scanned the corridor.

But then, as if by some stroke of luck, he turned and walked away.

You didn’t wait to see where he went. As soon as the coast was clear, you slipped out of the shadows and made your way back to the servants' quarters, your heart still racing. You had managed to leave the note without being caught—but just barely.

Later that evening, you found yourself on edge as you worked, your thoughts consumed by the possibility that Daemon was still watching. You had been careful, but how long could you keep this up before he—or someone else—figured out what you were doing?

As you went about your duties, you noticed Rhaenyra in the distance, speaking with one of her advisors. From where you stood, you couldn’t hear their conversation, but you could see the way her hand clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, the tension in her posture unmistakable.

She had found the second note.

For a brief moment, her gaze flickered in your direction, but there was no recognition in her eyes. You were still a stranger to her, just another face among the many who served in the Red Keep. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, in time, she would come to depend on your warnings more than she realized.

But for now, your secret was safe.

At least, you hoped it was.

Whispers Through Time: {~Whispers of Warning~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1376

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 4 --- Chapter 5

The stillness of the Red Keep in the early morning was almost deceptive, as if the palace itself was holding its breath in anticipation. After narrowly avoiding Daemon's gaze the night before, you had returned to your chambers, trying to calm your racing mind. But no matter how hard you tried, the thought of how close you had come to being caught lingered in your thoughts.

You had been careful—perhaps not careful enough. It seemed inevitable that the danger would only grow the longer you continued this charade. But you had no other choice; Rhaenyra needed to know. The storm brewing within the kingdom wasn’t something you could stand by and watch unfold.

The second note had been delivered without issue, and although you had not yet seen Rhaenyra's reaction, the tension you had observed in her movements the day before told you everything. She had read it. She believed it. A slight relief washed over you, but it didn’t last long.

The warnings you had provided in your notes—minor events that, when pieced together, painted a dark and treacherous path—would soon start to play out. But the biggest danger, the real storm that would tear the kingdom apart, was still ahead. You could only hope Rhaenyra would heed your words before it was too late.

As you prepared for another day, you glanced at the parchment before you. The third note lay waiting, its message even more urgent than the last. This one, you knew, could not fall into the wrong hands. It was too specific. Too dangerous. If Daemon—or anyone else—got hold of it, your ruse would be exposed.

You spent most of the day carefully watching, waiting for the right moment. The castle was always buzzing with activity, and today was no different. Rhaenyra had been meeting with her councilors for hours, and Daemon had been conspicuously absent for much of the day, something that both relieved and unsettled you.

As you walked through the halls, your mind wandered to the contents of the note. It was a warning of a conversation you knew would soon take place—one that would push the already fragile relationships within the court to the breaking point. The details were vague enough not to raise too much suspicion but precise enough to send a clear message: a storm was coming, and only those who were prepared would survive it.

Late in the afternoon, you finally spotted Rhaenyra, standing alone on a balcony overlooking the Blackwater Bay. Her figure was tense, her expression hard as she gazed out at the horizon. You could see the weight of the world pressing down on her, her mind no doubt filled with thoughts of her uncertain future.

It was the perfect moment.

Quietly, you approached the alcove near her chambers, the same place you had left the previous notes. Your hand trembled slightly as you placed the folded parchment in the hollow behind the wall, making sure it was well hidden but easy enough for Rhaenyra to find if she looked carefully.

Just as you were about to leave, footsteps echoed behind you. You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, you turned, half-expecting to see Daemon’s shadowy figure emerging from the darkness.

But it wasn’t Daemon.

It was Ser Harwin Strong.

The tall, broad-shouldered knight was making his way down the corridor, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if on guard. You quickly lowered your gaze and moved aside, pretending to busy yourself with some imaginary task. Your mind raced, wondering if he had seen anything.

“Good day,” he greeted as he passed, his voice polite but his tone indifferent.

You nodded and mumbled a quick response, keeping your head down until he was out of sight. As soon as you were sure he was gone, you let out a breath of relief. But the danger hadn’t passed. Harwin Strong was a loyal protector of Rhaenyra, and though his demeanor was kind, you knew he wasn’t to be underestimated. If anyone was capable of figuring out your intentions, it would be him.

You had to be more careful.

Later that night, as you moved through the Keep on yet another task, you saw a familiar figure at the end of the hall. Rhaenyra was walking, her face pensive and her steps slow. Your heart raced as you realized she must have found the latest note. From the way her brows were furrowed, you could tell she was deep in thought, grappling with the weight of your warnings.

She turned a corner, disappearing from sight, but not before you saw her glance back once—just once—as if expecting someone to be watching her. But there was no suspicion in her eyes, only a growing sense of realization.

Your messages were reaching her.

The following days were tense. Daemon had returned to the Keep, his presence as sharp and unsettling as ever. You could feel his eyes on you more than once, though he never approached or questioned you directly. It was as if he were waiting for you to slip up, to make one wrong move that would confirm his suspicions. You went about your tasks as normal, avoiding his gaze whenever possible.

But it wasn’t Daemon’s scrutiny that kept you awake at night.

It was Rhaenyra.

You could sense her growing trust in you, even though she didn’t know who you were. The notes had been a lifeline for her—an anonymous ally in a world filled with enemies. Each day, she seemed more confident, more assured in her actions, and you knew your warnings were playing a role in that. But with trust came danger.

The closer she came to believing your words, the more precarious your position became. You had gained her trust, but trust was fragile, and you were walking a tightrope between helping her and exposing yourself.

One evening, as you prepared to write yet another note, there was a knock at your door. Your heart skipped a beat as you opened it to find one of Rhaenyra’s attendants standing there.

“The princess requests your presence,” she said simply, her expression unreadable.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. Had something gone wrong? Had Rhaenyra discovered something that pointed to you? With the notes fresh in your mind, every possibility raced through your head as you followed the attendant through the corridors of the Keep.

When you reached Rhaenyra’s chambers, she was seated at a large oak table, her back to the door, her long, silver hair cascading over her shoulders. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the stone walls.

“Leave us,” she said softly, and the attendant quickly departed, leaving you alone with the princess.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood near the door, waiting for her to address you. Finally, Rhaenyra turned in her chair, her eyes locking onto yours. There was something different about her gaze—a sharpness, a clarity that hadn’t been there before.

“You’ve been a great help since your arrival,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “The maesters speak highly of you.”

“I only wish to be of service, princess,” you replied carefully.

She studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, she stood and walked toward you, her steps slow and deliberate.

“There are whispers in the court,” she said, stopping just a few feet away. “Whispers of danger, of betrayal. But I have found myself… well-prepared for certain things.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Was she testing you? Did she suspect that you were the source of those warnings?

“I’m grateful that you have been kept safe, my princess,” you said, bowing your head slightly to hide the fear in your eyes.

Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Safe. Yes.” She paused, her gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before turning away. “That will be all.”

You quickly bowed and left the room, your heart still racing. Rhaenyra hadn’t confronted you, but her words had left you shaken. She knew something—perhaps not everything, but enough to suspect that someone was helping her from the shadows.

The storm was closer than ever.

Whispers Through Time: {~Unexpected Encounters~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1521

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 5 --- Chapter 6

The days following your tense encounter with Rhaenyra passed with agonizing slowness. You worked diligently, keeping to your tasks, always mindful of the eyes that followed you through the halls. Daemon’s scrutiny had intensified, though he still hadn’t confronted you directly. His gaze was like a shadow—constant, unnerving.

Rhaenyra, on the other hand, had become more aloof. You had noticed her lingering looks, her growing hesitance in conversation. It was clear she was piecing things together, but how much did she truly know? The tension between you and the princess was palpable, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra who weighed on your mind.

Daemon was always watching, always lurking. You could feel it—his presence, his curiosity—and it unnerved you more than anything else. Though your interactions had been brief and polite, his growing suspicion was impossible to ignore.

Still, the warnings had to continue. You couldn’t stop now. You had already set events into motion, and there was no turning back. The next warning would be the most dangerous yet, and you knew it had to be delivered soon.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself in one of the less frequented wings of the Keep. The hallways were quiet, the only sound your soft footsteps on the cold stone floors. You were on your way to check on supplies, something you had become well-versed in since assuming your fabricated role as a midwife. It was a simple task, one that allowed you the time to plan your next move.

As you turned a corner, you came face to face with Rhaenyra.

You froze, startled by the sudden encounter. Rhaenyra looked equally surprised but quickly composed herself, her expression unreadable.

“Y/N,” she greeted, her voice calm, though there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place.

You bowed your head slightly in response, trying to steady your racing heart. “Princess.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. You could see the questions in her eyes, the subtle curiosity, the cautious distance she had begun to keep.

“How do you find your work here in the Keep?” she asked, her tone conversational, but you sensed there was more behind her words.

“It has been fulfilling, my princess,” you replied carefully. “I am grateful for the opportunity to serve.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze lingered on you, as if weighing your words. She took a small step closer, her presence commanding despite the calmness of the exchange.

“There are many in this court who believe they know what’s best for the realm,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. “But few are as prepared as they think.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was she testing you again? Did she suspect that you were the one leaving the notes?

“I hope that those in power will continue to act with wisdom,” you replied, keeping your voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up your spine.

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it was fleeting. Her gaze sharpened, and for a brief moment, you wondered if she was about to confront you then and there. But instead, she merely nodded.

“Wisdom is a rare gift,” she said, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “I hope you are as wise as you seem.”

With that, she turned and continued down the corridor, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering in your chest. The encounter had been brief, but the weight of it lingered long after Rhaenyra had disappeared from view.

She knew something. But how much?

That night, you couldn’t shake the memory of your conversation with Rhaenyra. You had been careful, but it was clear that she was starting to grow suspicious. The danger was becoming more tangible with each passing day.

And then there was Daemon.

The man was an enigma, his unpredictability making him all the more dangerous. You had avoided him as best you could, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again. And when they did, you had to be prepared.

The encounter came sooner than expected.

You had just finished tending to a patient—a young woman recovering from childbirth—and were making your way back to your chambers when you spotted Daemon standing at the end of the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched you approach.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no avoiding him now.

“Lord Daemon,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady as you bowed your head in respect.

Daemon didn’t move from his position, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always seemed to carry an air of danger.

“You’ve been busy,” he remarked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that set you on high alert.

“I do what is asked of me,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

Daemon pushed off the wall, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, filling the narrow hallway with a sense of menace that made your pulse quicken.

“And what exactly is it that you’ve been asked to do?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Your heart raced, but you kept your expression neutral. “I am here to tend to the needs of the people, as always.”

Daemon chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in the sound. “Tending to the needs of the people,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “An admirable role.”

He took another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “But you’ve always struck me as someone who… knows more than they let on.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was this it? Had Daemon figured out your role in the warnings?

“I am but a humble servant, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone calm despite the panic rising in your chest.

Daemon studied you for a long moment, his smirk never faltering. Then, without warning, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper.

“Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, Daemon straightened and walked past you, his smirk still in place as he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing there with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had left you on edge. You had managed to avoid suspicion for the most part, but it was clear that both of them were beginning to question your role. The tension was becoming unbearable, and you knew it was only a matter of time before something—or someone—gave.

But the most dangerous part of your mission was still ahead. The next note, the one you were planning to deliver in secret, held information that could change everything. You had to be more careful than ever, especially with Daemon’s growing curiosity and Rhaenyra’s watchful eyes.

And then, just as you were beginning to plan your next move, the unexpected happened.It was late one evening when you found yourself in the corridors of the Keep once more, a new warning written and ready to be delivered. You had chosen a time when the halls were quiet, hoping to slip unnoticed into the shadows.

But as you approached the alcove where you usually left the notes, you froze.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were there—together.

They stood in the dim light of the corridor, their voices low, but the tension between them was palpable. You could hear the tail end of their conversation, something about strategy and alliances, but the words barely registered as your heart raced.

This was not part of the plan.

You quickly turned to leave, hoping to retreat before they noticed you, but it was too late.

“Y/N!” Rhaenyra’s voice called out, stopping you in your tracks.

You slowly turned, your heart pounding in your chest as both Rhaenyra and Daemon fixed their gazes on you. There was no escaping this.

“Out for a walk at this hour?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone curious but sharp. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied your face.

Daemon, on the other hand, remained silent, his expression unreadable as he watched you with that same unnerving intensity.

You forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “I was merely… clearing my head, princess.”

Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of their suspicion pressing down on you. They didn’t trust you. Not fully. Not yet.

But you had to play your part.

“I did not mean to intrude,” you said quickly, taking a step back. “I will leave you to your discussion.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she finally nodded, though there was something unreadable in her gaze. “Of course.”

You bowed your head and quickly retreated, your heart still racing as you disappeared into the shadows of the Keep. You had avoided confrontation this time, but the tension was growing. And soon, something would have to give.

Whispers Through Time: {~Shadows of Suspicion~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1383

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 6 --- Chapter 7

The tension in King’s Landing was mounting.

You could feel the shift in the air every time you walked through the castle’s halls. Eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, hushed whispers followed your movements, and the weight of suspicion grew heavier with each passing day. The silent game of intrigue you had started was becoming more dangerous than you ever anticipated.

Daemon’s words haunted you. Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.

He had known. Or at least, suspected. And Rhaenyra—there was no doubt in your mind that she had already started connecting the dots. The princess had become colder in your presence, her once friendly demeanor replaced by something much more calculating.

You had managed to keep your secrets for this long, but how much longer could you maintain the facade?

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, a piece of parchment laid before you. The next warning was written carefully, the ink still drying as you watched the words you had

crafted to change the course of history. Each note you left was like a ripple in the timeline, spreading outward and impacting events in ways you could never fully control.

The next message was vital—one that would steer Rhaenyra’s decisions in a crucial way, altering the fragile balance of power.

But this time, you hesitated.

The previous close encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had shaken you more than you cared to admit. Your heart still pounded at the memory of Daemon’s smirk, his quiet threat, and Rhaenyra’s piercing gaze as she subtly questioned your every move. One wrong step, and it could all come crashing down.

Yet you couldn’t stop. Too much was at stake now. You had already planted the seeds, and now they had to be watered. Carefully, delicately, you folded the note, preparing to deliver it when the time was right.

You hadn’t seen Daemon in the last few days, and part of you had hoped that perhaps his interest had waned. But when you least expected it, he made his presence known.

It was late in the evening when you found yourself outside in the garden courtyard, seeking solace in the cool night air. The stars above twinkled faintly, and the quiet hum of the distant city offered a rare sense of peace.

“Out enjoying the evening, are we?” a familiar voice drawled from behind you.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned to see Daemon standing just a few paces away, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

“I needed some air,” you replied evenly, your heart racing despite your calm tone.

Daemon stepped closer, his hands casually resting at his sides, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. He studied you for a long moment, his gaze sharp and probing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low and dangerously smooth, “about you.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “About me, my lord?”

Daemon took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you? Appearing out of nowhere, earning the favor of the princess, slipping through the cracks like a shadow.”

Your mind raced, searching for a response that would divert his attention without raising further suspicion. “I serve the realm, as any loyal subject should,” you said carefully, avoiding his direct challenge.

His smirk deepened. “Do you, though?”

Before you could reply, Daemon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Everyone here has a role to play. I wonder—what’s yours?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at you to run. Daemon was no fool. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far he could go before you broke.

But you couldn’t break. Not now.

“I am but a healer, my lord,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Nothing more.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might press further. But then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, it dissipated. He straightened, his smirk returning to its usual playful expression.

“We’ll see,” he said cryptically before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there in the dark garden, your heart still racing from the encounter.

You had passed his test this time, but how much longer could you keep this up?

The following morning, the air in the castle was buzzing with anticipation. A high-ranking visitor had arrived at court, though the details were being kept under wraps. You could hear the servants whispering about it in the corridors, speculating on who it could be and what their business might entail.

You knew better than to ask questions openly, but your curiosity burned all the same. The arrival of someone important always shifted the balance of power in subtle ways, and you couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

As the day wore on, you noticed the increased activity within the Red Keep. Servants rushed about, preparing for what you assumed would be a private meeting between the royal family and their guest. It was clear that whatever business was being conducted, it was meant to stay behind closed doors.

But then, by sheer chance, you overheard a conversation between two courtiers that set your mind spinning.

“It is him, isn’t it?” one of the courtiers whispered, glancing around nervously.

The other nodded, lowering their voice. “Yes. The Prince of Dorne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Prince of Dorne? Here?

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of intrigue. The presence of Dorne in King’s Landing meant there were discussions of alliances—or, worse yet, potential conflict. This was information that could change everything if used wisely.

And it was information that Rhaenyra needed to know. But how?

The weight of the folded parchment felt heavier in your hands than ever before as you made your way through the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. You had to be even more careful now, knowing that Daemon’s eyes were on you and Rhaenyra’s suspicions had grown.

The Prince of Dorne’s arrival was significant. You couldn’t ignore it. But you also couldn’t deliver the note in the usual place—not after your recent encounters. You needed to be smarter, more careful.

You made your way to the hidden alcove in a part of the Keep that was seldom used. The old stone walls loomed around you, the only sound the soft echo of your footsteps. You checked your surroundings carefully, ensuring that no one had followed you.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting in the silence, you slipped the folded note into the small crevice in the stone. It was a new hiding spot—one you had discovered by chance—but it was discreet enough that only someone who knew where to look would ever find it.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. The warning was delivered. Now, all you could do was wait and hope that it reached the right hands.

But as you turned to leave, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught your eye.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

Someone had been watching you.

You could feel the blood drain from your face as you stood there, paralyzed with fear. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as you tried to process what had just happened. Someone had been following you. But who?

Had Daemon sent someone to spy on you? Had Rhaenyra finally figured out that you were the one leaving the notes?

Your mind raced, but there was no time to think. You had to move—now.

Without looking back, you quickly made your way down the corridor, your footsteps soft but swift. You couldn’t let them catch you. You couldn’t let them know that you had seen them. Whoever it was, they had been careful, staying in the shadows, watching from a distance. But their presence had been undeniable.

You didn’t stop until you reached the safety of your chambers, your heart still pounding in your chest. Whoever was following you knew something—and that knowledge could be your undoing.

You were running out of time. The game of shadows and secrets had just become much more dangerous.

Whispers Through Time: {~Revealing the Truth~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1106

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 7 --- Chapter 8

The candlelight flickered over the faces of the trio, casting long shadows that danced across the cold stone walls. The weight of the moment settled thickly in the room, silence punctuated only by the soft crackle of the fire and the distant clatter of footsteps outside. The air between them felt charged, every breath heavy with anticipation.

Rhaenyra stood near the hearth, her hands clasped in front of her as she studied the reader with careful eyes. There was warmth in her gaze, but it was edged with something harder—uncertainty, perhaps even suspicion. Daemon lingered closer to the door, his presence as commanding as ever, though his expression was more relaxed. The subtle tilt of his lips suggested he found the situation amusing, though beneath the surface, he was every bit as alert.

The reader, caught between them both, felt the gravity of the moment. She had been careful, incredibly so, but now, the game was up. They had found her notes, pieced together the warnings and advice that had seemed to appear from nowhere. Rhaenyra had demanded this meeting, and Daemon, loyal to his wife, had come with her. Now, they wanted answers.

“You've been leaving us... these,” Rhaenyra started, holding out the parchment that contained the most recent warning, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Your words have proven to be true so far, but you’ve been hiding your intentions.”

The reader swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She had expected this moment to come eventually, but not like this—so sudden, with both of them confronting her. She tried to keep her face neutral, though she could feel her pulse quicken under Rhaenyra’s sharp gaze.

“I had to be cautious,” the reader said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “You would not have believed me otherwise.”

Daemon moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, though his tone was teasing. “Oh, we’re well past the point of disbelief. You’ve proven yourself far too knowledgeable for a simple midwife.” He tilted his head slightly. “What exactly are you?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to Daemon briefly before settling back on the reader. “You claim to be a seer,” she said, her tone careful. “But your warnings, they seem almost too precise. Almost as if…” She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

The reader took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. She had to choose her words carefully. “I never said I was a seer,” she corrected gently. “That is what you assumed.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened. “Then what are you? How do you know what’s coming?”

There was no easy answer. The reader had thought long and hard about this moment, about what she could say if they ever confronted her. She couldn’t reveal the truth—that she was from a world far beyond theirs, that she knew their history because it had already been written in her own world. It would make her sound mad. So, she offered them the best version of the truth she could manage.

“I have dreams,” the reader said softly, her eyes locking with Rhaenyra’s. “Dreams of things that have not yet come to pass. They are vague, fragmented, but I see enough to understand that some events... can be prevented.”

Rhaenyra seemed to consider this for a moment, her brows furrowing. “So you dream of the future,” she said slowly. “And you’ve used that knowledge to warn us?”

The reader nodded, feeling the tension between them ease slightly. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice calm and measured. “I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “And why help us? What do you gain from this?”

The reader hesitated. She couldn’t tell them the real reason—that she was trying to survive in a world that wasn’t her own, that she had no choice but to align herself with them because they were her best chance at safety. Instead, she chose the safest explanation.

“Because I believe in your cause,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I believe that you are the rightful rulers of Westeros. And I believe that the Seven Kingdoms will suffer if your enemies succeed.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, though there was still wariness in her gaze. “You could have come to me,” she said quietly. “You could have told me the truth from the beginning.”

The reader dropped her gaze to the floor, guilt gnawing at her. “I didn’t know if you would trust me,” she admitted. “I thought... if I could prove my knowledge first, if I could show you I was telling the truth...”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”

The reader’s heart ached with the weight of her lies. She had never meant to deceive them, not really. She had only wanted to protect them from the terrible fates that awaited them if they followed the path history had laid out. But now, standing here in front of them, she realized how tangled things had become.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her expression softening as she placed a hand on the reader’s arm. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But if we are to trust you, there can be no more secrets between us.”

The reader nodded, meeting her gaze. “No more secrets.”

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, finally pushed off the table and moved to stand beside Rhaenyra. “You’ve earned our trust,” he said, his voice low. “But make no mistake—we will be watching you closely.”

The reader felt a shiver run down her spine at the weight of his words. She had gained their trust, but it was fragile, precarious. One misstep, and it could all come crumbling down.

Rhaenyra’s hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before she stepped back, her gaze still intent. “You will stay by my side,” she said firmly. “I want to know more about these dreams of yours.”

“And I,” Daemon added, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “We will unravel your mystery, one way or another.”

The reader nodded, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with danger. But for now, she had bought herself time. Time to figure out what to do next. Time to find a way to prevent the future from unraveling before her very eyes.

As she left the room with them, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their trust—and the danger that came with it—pressing down on her like a cloak of iron. There was no turning back now.

Whispers Through Time: {~Trials of the Heart~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1436

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 8 ---

The flickering firelight cast long shadows across the stone walls, as if the castle itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The reader sat by the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared out into the distance. Despite the view of the restless sea below, her mind was elsewhere—wrapped in thoughts she had been avoiding for far too long.

She hadn’t come to Dragonstone with any intention of staying—let alone forming bonds as dangerous as these. She had come with one purpose: to navigate this strange world with as little disruption as possible, to leave no trace of her presence beyond her carefully placed warnings. The risk of changing the course of events weighed heavily on her every decision, and yet...

“Are you troubled?” Rhaenyra’s soft voice broke through the silence, pulling the reader from her spiraling thoughts.

She turned to find Rhaenyra standing behind her, a small, curious smile on her face. There was something so disarming about her—a warmth that radiated even in moments of tension. It was that warmth, that strength, that had made it so difficult for the reader to keep her distance.

But she had to.

“I’m fine,” the reader replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer, her gaze never leaving the reader’s face. “You don’t seem fine.” She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You’ve been distant lately. Is something troubling you?”

The reader forced a smile, though her heart ached at the concern in Rhaenyra’s eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just... thinking about everything that’s happening. The war, the Greens, the uncertainty.”

Rhaenyra studied her for a moment, her expression softening with understanding. “I understand. It weighs on us all.” She reached out, gently placing her hand on the reader’s. “But you’re not alone in this.”

The reader’s breath caught in her throat at the touch, her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. She wasn’t alone—not anymore. And that was exactly the problem.

She had tried to keep herself detached from Rhaenyra, from Daemon, from everything. But how could she? Rhaenyra’s kindness, her fierce loyalty, her vulnerability... it had drawn the reader in, just as Daemon’s intensity, his sharp wit, and his protectiveness

had. They were both so different, yet both had managed to break through the walls the reader had built around herself.

But she couldn’t afford to let herself get involved, not like this. She had seen too much, knew too much of what was to come. If she changed anything—if she became too close to them, let her emotions take over—it could alter the course of everything.

“I... I can’t,” the reader whispered, pulling her hand away from Rhaenyra’s.

Rhaenyra frowned, her confusion evident. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t—” The reader swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “I can’t do this. I can’t be... close to you. To either of you.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. “What do you mean?”

The reader stood abruptly, turning her back to Rhaenyra as she tried to compose

herself. “I never intended to stay here, Rhaenyra. I never intended to get involved in any of this. I’m not supposed to.”

“You’ve already helped me so much,” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft but firm. “Your advice, your warnings—they’ve saved lives. You’ve become a part of this, whether you wanted to or not.”

The reader closed her eyes, feeling the weight of Rhaenyra’s words settle heavily on her. It was true—she had become involved. But that was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. Her presence here, her influence, was already affecting things. She couldn’t afford to let herself fall deeper into this world, not when the consequences could be disastrous.

“I don’t belong here,” the reader said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her hand gently resting on the reader’s shoulder. “You do,” she insisted, her voice filled with quiet determination. “You belong here with us.”

The reader shook her head, stepping out of Rhaenyra’s reach. “No, I don’t. You don’t understand—I could ruin everything. I could change things in ways none of us can foresee.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, her eyes searching the reader’s face for answers. “What are you afraid of?”

The reader swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. “I’m afraid of changing your future. Of changing everything.”

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the reader’s words. “Is that why you’ve been keeping your distance? Why you’re so hesitant with me? With Daemon?”

The reader hesitated, her heart pounding. “Yes. I... I’ve already changed things by being here. If I let myself get closer to you—if I let my feelings take over—I don’t know what will happen. And I can’t risk that.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened with understanding, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “I see.” She took a step closer, her voice gentle. “I don’t know what brought you here, or what burdens you carry, but I do know one thing—you’ve already changed our lives. And I don’t believe that’s a bad thing.”

The reader’s heart clenched at the sincerity in Rhaenyra’s voice. She wanted to believe that, wanted to believe that she could stay, that she could have a place here with Rhaenyra and Daemon. But the weight of the unknown hung over her like a dark cloud, reminding her of the dangers of tampering with the future.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and Daemon strode into the room, his eyes immediately narrowing as he sensed the tension between the two women.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion as his gaze flicked between them.

Rhaenyra glanced at the reader, her expression conflicted. “We were just talking.”

Daemon’s sharp eyes lingered on the reader for a moment before he turned to Rhaenyra. “About what?”

The reader’s stomach twisted with unease as Daemon’s attention shifted back to her. His presence always seemed to fill the room, his intensity making it difficult to hide anything from him.

“About my place here,” the reader said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “Still convinced you don’t belong with us?”

The reader’s breath hitched at his words. Daemon had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things, and it unnerved her how easily he could see through her defenses.

“I’m not convinced of anything,” the reader replied, trying to keep her voice calm. “I’m just trying to figure out how to navigate all of this without making things worse.”

Daemon stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You’re not going to make anything worse. If anything, you’ve made things better.”

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, her expression soft as she looked at the reader. “Daemon’s right. You’ve become a part of this—of us. You don’t need to keep holding yourself back.”

The reader’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she looked between the two of them. Their words were kind, sincere, but the fear of the unknown gnawed at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she let herself fall too deeply into this, something terrible would happen.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” the reader whispered, her voice barely audible.

Daemon’s smirk faded, replaced by a rare look of concern. “Why not?”

The reader met his gaze, her resolve wavering. “Because I’m afraid of what I might change.”

For a moment, the room was filled with silence, the weight of the reader’s confession hanging between them. But then, Daemon stepped forward, his expression softening as he reached out to gently cup the reader’s cheek.

“You’re not going to change anything that wasn’t meant to be changed,” Daemon said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “And if you do, then we’ll face it together.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward as well, her hand resting on the reader’s arm. “Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone. We’re in this together.”

The reader’s heart clenched, the warmth of their words tugging at the walls she had built around herself. Despite everything, despite her fears, she felt the pull toward them both—the undeniable connection that had grown between the three of them. And in that moment, the reader realized that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t keep running from it forever.

But even as she allowed herself to soften toward them, the fear still lingered in the back of her mind. The trials of the heart were far from over, and the consequences of her choices had yet to unfold.

Compensation | Aemond Targaryen

masterlist

Summary: Your husbands brother takes over.

Warnings: Smut, dub-con??, reader doesnt know its Aemond, cheating, fingering, oral f!receiving, valyrian (translated), fun times!

Pairings: Aemond x f!reader, Aegon x f!reader (not rlly lol)

AN: sorry for disappearing, thought I'd give you guys a little sumn to rectify it.

You do not know how you got here. You felt as if the marriage between you and Aegon had gone stale. He had returned to his ways of whoring- you were certain of it. But you didn’t have the heart to confront him, how could you? His sweet and dutiful wife, he would surely strike you where you stand.

Yet as the morning air circulated through the chambers you and Aegon shared, there was a warm tongue lapping at your aching core. In your drowsy state, your hand gripped the cold sheets beside you, unable to process that if Aegon were there, the sheets would’ve been warm.

Too lost in the throes of pleasure to realise the hair in between your nimble fingers was not curly. Head falling back against the pillow, a thick and throaty moan spilled from your lips. Oh, it had been so long since your body had felt pleasure. You were beginning to forget how it felt.

His tongue trailed from your aching hole up to your clit, which twitches as the feeling of release builds up within your belly. God, had it been so long that you were going to peak as fast? Or is Aegon just more skilful nowadays? You did not get the chance to think any further, his tongue stiffening to attack your clitoris with a newfound pressure, slowly licking it, as if to prohibit your release.

Your teeth bite at the skin of your bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut as a desperate moan escape once your teeth relent. Tears begin forming, the pleasure hurling to you at an intensity you swear was ungodly.

“Oh, fuck!” Your voice comes out ragged, immediately following it a slow whine, with that whine, the stress of the last month left with it. The peak sent electricity up your spine, washing over you extraordinarily, your head feeling fuzzy and euphoric as your husbands’ tongue continues its assault on your clit, until he knows you are well and truly finished.

“Did your husband not teach you its unladylike to swear?” A voice came, and your heartbeat impossibly fast as your body pulled away, sitting up against your headboard, away from the warm body.

“Aemond?” A hum elicited from his mouth, the same mouth that had just engorged your pussy as if it was his last meal. “Aegon told me that he wasn’t going to bother pleasing you anymore,” Aemond spoke sternly, now moving up so you could see his face, the barely still lit candle illuminating the detailing on his eyepatch, and the scar that peaked from above it.

“So, I didn’t think he would mind if I did the job for him,” he added, and you could not deny how your pussy pulsed once more, a new wetness gathering in between your thighs. “A-Aemond.” You began, but he cut you off once more. “And by the sounds of it, I did the job better than he did.”

“You don’t know that.” You sputtered, and he gave you an incredulous look.

“Oh, ñuha doru-borto riña. ao gīmigon bona nyke kostilus ao sȳrkta than ziry mirre gōntan.” Aemonds rough voice that was somehow so smooth at the same time cut through the air like ice. Yet it was not in your mother tongue, you understood it all the same. ‘Stupid girl... you know that I please you better than he ever did.’

Your mouth dried out. “Aemond.” Your voice a warning, to both him and to yourself, why did him speaking Valyrian have to make your cunt flutter so?

“Tepagon isse, byka mēre.” Give in, little one. Aemond leant over your body, which was pressed against the headboard, his eyes dart down to your lips, which a red, on the border of bleeding from earlier. His tongue darts out to wet his own lips, and the sight makes your body weaken, alongside your resolve. “Tepagon isse,” give in.

Your wide, conflicted eyes bore into his one remaining lilac eye, which seemed to know your thoughts, your very being. You let yourself be distracted by his face- even for just a second. Yet that lead to your lips being pressed harshly against his, hand wrapping into the silver gold hair that you admired so much even before tonight. His hand moved and groped at your tits, while your free one moved to his trousers, unlacing them with little to no struggle.

Aemond sat up on his knees, letting you work on the laces, meanwhile he stripped himself of the leather cloak on his shoulders and the shirt gone with it.

“Please, take me before I change my mind.” You mutter, ridding him of the trousers as he pulled them from his legs. “Ask politely, in Valyrian.” His voice was nothing short of a demand, and you decided to swallow your pride, just this once.

“Gūrogon nyke, kostilus.” Take me, please. Your stumbly voice came out, unsure of your pronunciation still, but its good enough for him. His long and slender finger made its way to trace your slit, pushing its way into your pussy, ensuring its wet enough for him.

Once he decided it was, he began stroking his cock leisurely. It was long, unlike Aegon’s. Aemonds tip was a pink that contrasted the pale skin of his shaft, which looked strained, veins visible. Your mouth watered at the sight, your hand replacing his as you jerked him, leading him towards your entrance as you did so, pushing the tip of him in.

You slowly slid so he got further inside, your head falling back on the pillow, the pleasure laced pain was almost too much for you already. Aemonds hair fell by the sides of his face, as he waits for the nod you give him, and he begins thrusting. His one visible eye is hooded with pleasure as he snaps his hips tentatively. With each movement, he hit the spot inside of you that made your moans become slowly more shameless, the sight of him in pleasure gave you an immeasurable amount back.

“Qogralbar nyke alike iā live.” Fuck me alike a whore. The words are all the confirmation Aemond needs to lose control, his thrusts growing quicker and more forceful, his large hand moving to grab your throat, kissing you as he pounded you. Your moans emptied into his mouth, one of your hands going downwards to circle your clit, determined to reach your release.

He pulls back, putting both his hands on the headboard, the abrupt movements of his hips getting faster, his cheeks flushed and mouth ajar he groans softly. Your moans become more wanton as you get closer to your peak, and he is approaching his too.

“Māzigon lēda nyke.” Come with me. He didn’t have to say it twice as you tumbled over into your release, your nails scraping up his back with a long, drawn-out moan followed by whimpered swears. He came with you, his weight coming down on you but not fully as his thrusts slowed, his warm spend nestling itself within your womb.

As the minutes after your orgasm continued, you wandered what to do next, the only thoughts plaguing your mind were your good brother, and how he was infinitely a better lay than your husband.

"The Hunt" - Cregan Stark x Velaryon!Reader

A/N: man im actually kinda proud of this damn

Summary: Your mother sends you, her eldest child and heir, North to garner support for the Blacks.

TW: profanity, innuendo, uses female pronouns and AFAB description, NSFW NSFW NSFW P IN V SEX, breeding kink, primal kink, lots of sluttiness, mentions of luke's death, mentions of prior incestuous relationship, very slutty times idk, unprotected sex wrap it before you tap it kids

Word Count: 3,679 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

HOTD Taglist (BOLD means it did not allow me to tag you): @jamespotterismydaddy @ietss @michaelcliffordbrokeintomyhouse @daenerysapologist @hopelesswritergall @fairysluna @champomiel @poppyreader

When your mother sent you as an envoy to Winterfell, you know she did so hoping to earn Cregan Stark’s loyalty with a marriage pact. A marriage to bind the Wolf in the North to you, her beloved daughter. While you always thought you’d be betrothed to your beloved twin, Jace, the light of your life, circumstances made it imperative that he marry Baela, to secure Princess Rhaenys’s support in Luke’s claim to Driftmark. Jace and you mourned the loss of your love before it began, but swore to do your duty, setting all dreams of being together aside for the good of the Realm.

Then, Aegon usurped your mother’s crown and the time came for alliances to be made. Luke was sent to Storm’s End, Jace to the Vale, and you to Winterfell. Being your mother’s eldest child, the Princess of Dragonstone now, you were to go the furthest distance. The strongest of her children. The bravest.

As you and your two younger brothers readied to mount your dragons, you quickly ran over and embraced them both, as tightly as you could. First, you turned to Luke and gave him an almost motherly kiss on the forehead, urging him to be careful. Then, you turned to Jace and shared a kiss. Just one. It was chaste and it said a thousand words, and it was over before it began.

As you and your brothers took to the skies, you had a sinking feeling in your heart, and you didn’t understand why. You’re not a dreamer like Helaena. You don’t know the future. You just knew… Something was going to happen. A feeling in the pit of your stomach.

When you reached Winterfell, your suspicions were soon proved correct. When you landed your mighty beasts at the gates of Winterfell, Lord Cregan Stark and his retainers are there to greet you. The young Lord Stark’s handsome features were the first thing you noticed. Those piercing gray eyes that seemed to see right through you and knew all your secrets. His mouth was set into a grim line as you hopped off of your dragon.

“Lord Stark,” you spoke calmly, “What has happened?”

“Your brother, my princess. Prince Lucerys… He is dead.”

Such awful words had never been said from such a beautiful mouth. You felt as though your whole world had come crashing down on you. But, you managed to calm yourself, taking a sharp breath.

“Thank you for telling me, Lord Stark,” you said quietly, giving him a polite and what you hoped to be kindsmile, “I’m sure it must have been very difficult for you.”

The first few days you were at Winterfell, you hardly emerged from your guest chambers. You sobbed and sobbed, wanting nothing more than to be reunited with your little brother. Your precious Luke. The first baby you ever held, the one who you took for his first dragon ride. The ache in your heart was unbearable.

On the fifth day of your stay, you finally emerged, feeling slightly more like yourself. Cregan approached you.

“My princess, would you mind very much if I showed you my favorite place in Winterfell?”

You looked up at him, eyes still red from the oceans of tears you’d cried, “Yes, Lord Stark, please lead the way.”

And Cregan Stark smiled at you. From all the rumors you’ve heard, he’s a gruff and serious man, his life tainted by tragedies no one should have to suffer at such a young age. But he gave you the kindest, most beautiful smile you thought you’d ever seen. He led you to the Godswood, telling you that is where he went when his beloved younger brother died. And his father. Cregan, it seemed, had suffered much as you had.

And so, the two of you were drawn together, constantly spending time together. He took you through the worst of your grief.

And he fell in love with you. So deeply that it terrified him. The Wolf in the North wasn’t used to this feeling that overtook him when he was around you. This warmth in his chest. The quickening of his breath and rapid beating of his heart. But, he knew. It was love. He was in love with you. And judging by the way you snuck glances at him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking, he was quite sure you felt the same.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met before. Certainly, Northern ladies had their own charm. Honest and hardworking, kind and strong. But there was a playfulness about you, a certain mischievousness that he found entirely irresistible. He found himself adoring every moment he spent with you, craving your presence like a starving man in the desert craves water to quench his thirst. And of course, his thoughts did not remain entirely free of more… Unmentionable desires for long.

The way your dresses seemed to be fitted a bit more than the ones he’d seen Northern girls wear. The way your hips swayed when you walked, effortlessly enticing him. Your sweet scent, your voice. Everything.

Cregan read your mother’s letter the day you had arrived, but chose not to mention it quite yet, wanting you to take your time to grieve. The letter proposed a marital alliance, joining the houses of Stark and Targaryen by wedding the two of you. The Lord of Winterfell and the rightful Princess of Dragonstone. Cregan was not opposed to the idea, of course, rather he supported the notion wholeheartedly. He simply wanted to wait for the right moment to broach the subject.

That moment comes this night, the night of a feast to celebrate your twin’s success in garnering alliances for the Blacks. Hearing news of Jace’s endeavors warms your heart, the news that he remains safe and out of harms way, away from the vengeful wrath of your uncles.

Tonight, it is a full moon. And despite the feasting and celebration, there is a heaviness in the air. At least there is when your gaze meets Cregan’s from across the table. You aren’t a fool. You know he desires you. Just as you desire him. But tonight, it seems to go beyond that. Those gray Stark eyes are filled with something deeper than lust when he looks at you.

This is no mere man. This is a wolf and his only desire is to devour you whole.

After the feasting is done, you wander out to the Godswood, sitting on a bench in front of the Heart Tree, in hopes that he follows you. And like a moth to the flame, he does. He comes and gives you a low bow, taking a seat beside you.

“My princess,” his voice is a low rumble in your ear that sends a thrill up your spine, “I am glad you are finding Winterfell to your liking.”

You nod, moving to sit even closer to him, not really giving a damn about the danger to your reputation. There is something so intoxicating about his presence. Ever since you came to Winterfell, any moment you have spent not in his company has felt downright torturous.

“I certainly am, Lord Stark, your home is beautiful,” you give him what you hope is a normal enough smile that doesn’t betray your absolutely depraved thoughts about the man standing next to you.

“Princess, how many times must I ask you to call me Cregan?” he gives you what you might have thought to be a soft smile, if you didn’t see the dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“As many times as it takes for you to remember to call me by my name, Lord Stark,” you retort.

Cregan chuckles, his eyes traveling the expanse of your body, taking in your form-fitting dress, “Might I say, Princess, that you look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

A lesser woman would be terrified, sitting in the company of a man who is so imposing, with that much hunger in his gaze. But you? You are a dragon. You’re quite sure your eyes must betray your intentions as well. And so you smile and take his extended arm.

“You are very kind, Cregan.”

Cregan has to hold himself back from pushing you down against the stone bench and taking you right then and there at the mere sound of you speaking his name. Just a little longer, he thinks to himself, Just a little bit longer.

“Walk with me, Princess?” he asks, standing up and extending a hand to you.

When you smile and stand to take his hand, he can’t help but think how much smaller your hand is than his. How different it would feel to have the smooth, soft skin of your hand running up and down the length of his cock. His mouth nearly waters at the thought, but he’s soon snapped back to reality when you break the silence between the two of you as you stroll through the Godswood.

“You’re quite tall, you know,” the words sound stupid coming out of your mouth the moment you say them.

Cregan gives you a smile you can only describe as one a starved predator may give before advancing on its prey, “Yes, it’s a trait with us Northerners. Though, it certainly has its advantages.”

“I can imagine,” you laugh, squeezing his hand gently.

His breath catches in his throat at the feeling. No one has ever made him feel this… Out of control before. No one can drive him as crazy as you do. The two of you walk for a while longer, under the light of the full moon. Then, you let go of his hand, disappointing him for but a minute, to go lean against one of the trees.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you comment, turning your eyes to the sky.

Cregan stares at you unabashedly, because in this moment, you look like some fallen deity come to earth. The moonlight illuminates your skin in a way that makes you look almost ethereal. He takes a deep breath and takes his first step. He stands directly in front of you, towering over you, as he rests one hand on the tree behind you, effectively caging you in.

He moves his other hand to hold your chin, running his thumb across your bottom lip, admiring how soft it feels against his skin, “You’re beautiful. You know that?”

You gaze up at him, “Thank you, Lord Stark. You aren’t so bad to look at yourself.”

His laugh isn’t really a laugh. It’s more of a bark of laughter. Something like a wolf howling. The way he gazes at you, with those hooded gray eyes, makes you wonder…

Does the honorable Lord Stark intend to let his inner wolf run free tonight? Seven hells, you hope so.

For his part, Cregan wants it noted for posterity that he really has tried everything not to turn into a wild beast tonight. He tried to keep a respectable distance, which didn’t go according to plan. He tried not to stare at how the curves of your body were perfectly accentuated by your dress, but failed miserably. He tried not to let out a low growl of appreciation when he felt the bare skin of your hand touch his.

And now, with you leaning against a tree in the Godswood, not a soul in sight save for the two of you…

He wonders just how far you’re willing to indulge his… Animal instinct.

“What are your thoughts on the alliance my mother proposed?” you ask curiously.

Cregan can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face at the fact that you’re the one who brought up the subject first, “I find it to be an excellent idea. And you, Princess? I know you Southerners find us to be quite different.”

He moves his hand from your chin to run down your neck, caressing it. The further to the curve of your waist. Cregan pulls you flush up against him and smirks at the quiet yelp of surprise you let out.

“Are you alright, little one?” he smirks, “Are you too delicate for this Northerner?”

You scoff, “Cregan Stark, I am the blood of the dragon. The blood of Old Valyria. I assure you that I can handle anything you throw my way.”

“Oh, can you?” Cregan chuckles under his breath, leaning in toward you, his nose nearly brushing against yours as he whispers hoarsely, “Do you desire me, little dragon? Do you yearn for me the way I yearn for you?”

You look up at him through half-lidded eyes. Perhaps it’s the magic of the full moon or the spirits in the Godswood, but you don’t think you can resist this man much longer, nor your desire for him. The Starks value honor and honesty. So you admit it to him.

“Yes, my lord, I do desire you,” you murmur, biting your lower lip.

His eyes follow your actions and he shakes his head, “No, little dragon,” he gently presses his thumb against your lower lip, making you stop the action, “Don’t bite that pretty lip. That’s my job now.”

And then his mouth descends upon yours. He tangles one hand in your hair as he presses your body up against the tree, using his other to hike one of your legs up onto his hip. His lips are chapped from the bitter cold of Winterfell, but the passion, the desire, the hunger with which he kisses you makes you forget that entirely. He tugs on your hair, making you moan into his mouth.

His voice is gravelly with desire as he speaks, angling your face so you meet his stormy gray eyes, “Do you fear me, little dragon? Do you fear your wolf?”

“Dragons have nothing to fear from wolves, my lord,” you tease.

He peppers kisses along your jawline, down to your neck, where he nips at your sensitive skin, “But what if this wolf were to bite?”

“I think you’re all bark and no bite,” you goad him on, running a hand through his hair, “All talk and no-”

You let out an audible gasp when he bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, leaving what is sure to be a sizable bite mark. He laves attention on the mark with his tongue and lips, soothing you after that brief moment of both pleasure and pain.

“You’ve been claimed by a wolf, little dragon,” Cregan presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “How do you feel about that?”

“I’d hardly call a little nip from a wolf pup claiming,” you retort.

He pulls back and gives you a devious grin, “Oh? How would you suggest I claim my pretty dragon then?”

You give him a coy grin in return and speak, lowering your voice, “Why, by hunting me down in these woods and claiming me properly.”

His pupils are blown so wide you can hardly see the gray of his eyes. His lips pull back in something halfway between a snarl and a smile.

“You wish me to hunt you, Princess?” he grips your jaw in one of admittedly large hands, “I’ll hunt you down and claim what is mine if that is what you desire.”

“It is,” you whisper.

He nods, his body almost trembling with excitement, “I shall give you a head start then, my sweet princess. You’d best get to running and hiding. I know these woods like the back of my hand. Wherever you go, I promise you, I will find you.”

You step away from the tree and give him a cheeky smile before darting off deeper into the woods as he counts to twenty. You can hear his low baritone, almost taunting you as he calls out the numbers. You continue running, your cheeks flushing from excitement and exertion all at once.

Then, he reaches the number twenty and he begins chasing after you. You hear his footsteps and break into a sprint, dodging branches and jumping over tree roots. The chase is exhilarating for him and you both.

Cregan watches as your figure weaves between the trees. He licks his lips. He can almost taste you on his tongue as he chases after you. Just barely out of his reach.

You duck behind a tree, watching him run past, holding back a laugh at having so easily bested him. But you also feel slightly disappointed that now he won’t find you and thereby won’t claim you as he said he would. You step back out only to be shoved up against the very tree you hid behind.

“Found you,” he growls before his mouth descends on yours again.

You wrap yourself around him, wanting to feel him as close to you as you possibly can. Your hands are in his hair, legs wrapped against his wait as you grind yourself against him, craving whatever friction he can provide. He sets you down for a moment.

“Get that fucking dress off, little dragon.”

It’s not a request, it’s a command. And one you’re happy to oblige. Your fingers shake as you begin to undo the bodice of your dress. But apparently, you’re going a bit too slow for his liking. He lets out a quiet snarl, pushes your hands away, and rips the bodice of your dress in half. You stare up at him in shock.

“I…”

He quickly tears the rest of the dress off of you, leaving you in only your small clothes. He makes quick work of your shift, ripping that as well. You absently wonder how in the world you’re going to sneak back into the castle without any clothes. You’re now only in your underwear and corset.

“Never understood why people wear these,” Cregan’s breath is a low hiss when he tears the corset open, licking his lips when your breasts spill free.

Immediately, he’s pushing you down to the forest floor, his mouth on your neck, your breasts, anything he can test. He mouths at one of your nipples while his rough hand squeezes the other, making you whimper slightly.

“Fuck, Cregan…”

He pulls back slightly, tossing his cloak aside and making quick work of his own clothes. Before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, bare. The sight of his already hard, weeping cock makes you rub your thighs together in anticipation. He leans back over you again, his body more than covering yours. His hand moves to stroke you between your legs. He chuckles darkly.

“It seems you won’t need much preparing, little dragon. You’re already soaked for me.”

And with one thrust, he sheathes all of himself inside of you. You let out a choked gasp, surprised at just how good he feels inside of you. He fills you so completely that you wonder why you even bothered trying to resist this feeling for so long.

“When I get started,” he breathes sharply, “I’m not going to stop. Do you want this?”

You nod.

He shakes his head, gripping your chin in his hand, “I need you to speak plainly, my love. Do you want this?”

“Yes, Cregan.”

He gives you a devilish grin and picks up your legs, wrapping them around him as he begins pounding into you without abandon. You bury your face in his neck, mewling little whines that sound vaguely like his name. But your thoughts are incoherent. All you can think of his long, thick cock that’s filling you up so perfectly, driving deeper and deeper into you with every powerful thrust.

He hits a certain spot inside of you that makes you arch your back up off the ground and let out a loud squeal of his name, “Fuck, Cregan, yes, right there!”

He nips at your throat and continues fucking into you harder. He feels you squeezing around him tighter and tighter with every movement, your warm wet walls gripping him like a vice to the point where he thinks he can barely move until he feels your arousal coat his cock. He glances up to meet your eyes and grins, picking you up off the ground and shoving you against the tree, fucking into you with a renewed vigor. It’s almost too much for you as you babble incoherently, begging him to go harder, faster, as he continues his efforts.

You feel him spill his seed inside you, coating your walls as you reach your peak for the second time that night. His lips meet yours in a lazier, less hungry but just as passionate kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, “And I want you to be my wife. To bear my children. To be the one I share my life with.”

“I want that too,” you whisper back as you feel him grow hard against your leg, “Seven hells, Cregan, you are insatiable.”

He kisses you and turns you around so your bare chest is pressed against the tree. He leans forward to kiss your neck before whispering in your ear.

“You’ve set this insatiable wolf free, my dragon. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

You let out a loud moan of his name as he takes you from behind, the angle feeling different but just as pleasurable as both ways he took you before.

“I’m going to spill my seed inside you again,” he growls into your ear as he fucks into you, “Watch your belly swell with my babe.”

“Yes, fuck, Cregan,” you whine as he squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling out and slamming himself back into you.

When the two of you have finally become so exhausted that you simply must sleep, Cregan wraps his cloak around you and carries you back to the castle. You’re half asleep, simply gazing up at him, while he smiles down at you.

He takes you to his chambers and has a warm bath drawn for you.

Then, his maester comes to him.

A visitor has just arrived and wishes to speak with both Cregan and you.

Prince Jacaerys is in Winterfell.

So, you remember that fic that I was looking a few days ago? I FUCKING FOUND IT, here it is for anyone who would like to give it a try.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗪𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗦

༻Scarlet Witch!reader x House of The Dragons༺

✔︎synopsis:

During a fight in one of their mission, you were sent to another universe, a reality, that was completely different from yours.

You don't know anything about the world or the person who sent you there but all you knew was that you needed to get back to your world to save your friends who might be in danger.

But you can't exactly do that when you have no idea how to get back and there wasn't any book or anyone that could help you.

And perhaps, it was also because you got attached to the mysterious world you land in, no matter how hard you tried, you can't seem to leave.

pronouns used: she / her

pov - 2nd pov ( you / your )

✓disclaimer:

This is merely an idea I got from a Jujutsu Kaisen fanfic I read here on tumblr. I do not own any of the House of The Dragons characters, credits to HBO.

I don't own the Scarlet Witch and her storyline, huge credits to Marvel and Stan Lee for that.

But the storyline and plot of this story along with the characters that I made up are mine.

This fanfic won't follow the plot of the series because I made my plot. But, I will be putting references from events in the episodes to some chapters. I made it kind of like an au where there is no war, Viserys is still alive and he’s the king and the family is okay-ish. Also I don’t write smuts so if you don’t like stories without smut then get the hell out of here.

English is NOT my first language, please remember that. And with that, grammar and spelling errors are often seen in chapters, I do apologise for that. I use grammarly to help me with my grammar.

✓warnings/tags:

major character death, mention of blood, wounds, gore and violence, crossover, reader-insert, misogynistic, reference character death, mental health issues, incest ( of course ), everyone is alive

༆ chapters

× prologue - see you on the other side

× chapter one - what heavy storm brings

× chapter two - sneaking in a castle

× chapter three -

Rip Brandon Stark you would have loved bouldering halls 😔🙏🏻🧗🏻‍♀️

I love it when men look sad 😔

It just has something special, like I just want to hug them 😔 I love miserable men

Thinking about Tyrion Lennister and the young boy he once was with dreams about dragons. And how he was treated by his father and sister, and that Jaime was the only one who was a bit nice to him. And that he forgives Jamie for his mistakes because he was nice to him. I mean that is so sad if you think about it.

What do you mean I have to wait 2 years to watch the next season hotd? 🤠

Okay but him , like his accent is so hot it's stuck in my mind🤭

What magic do I have to use to have hair like this , just look at it. Hair goals.

Hot take: Can we acknowledge for a second that aemond probably wouldn't have turned out like this if it wasn't for the people around him. In general I think everyone would have turned out different if it wasn't for other people.

I mean he was just a sad boy , who was picked on. He only wanted some friends, and found a friend in his dragon . But in finding a companion he lost his eye , and didn't really get justice. I know it doesn't excuse his behavior, but I think if there had been justice to a degree certain things wouldn't have happened.

Hot take:

Okay so, I don't really understand the Sansa slander, especially in the first few seasons. Beauces my girl is a child, can you blame a child for being scared of the queen and the king. Can you blame a child for having a crush and wanting said crush to like them back? I don't think so. The whole Arya is better,oh Sansa is so bad thing ,I don't understand. Both of these characters are great in my opinion and you can't really compare them.

Arya just likes swords and stuff like that, and Sansa likes embroidery and stuff. And I think they have a relatively normal sibling dynamic, cause I remember I was like that with my older sister.

Since it was five years ago for me when I watched the show and I now finished the first book, I can't really understand the dislike for Sansa.

Like she went through shit , in the show. Like watching her father die, getting humiliated as a child, getting married as a humiliation, getting married to a psycho and abused from him.

And one thing I once read in a comment section was "well we don't like her because she didn't trust Daenerys." Well why should she trust someone she doesn't know from the beginning.

I get people disliking characters, but Sansa is just a character I don't really understand why.

Can someone explain to me, because every explanation has been I've seen especially on tiktok, kinda sexist and biased, no offense.

When my lord husband is not in the next season hotd I will lose it

- anon

i saw your introduction and that you were happy to take requests/asks and i know you did preface that you weren't used to writing smut and that's a–okay i just have an idea which is stuck in my head about Aemond Targaryen

fem!reader (not !niece/cousin/aunt/sister dynamic) giving Aemond a handjob, can be set in his quarters or the council table and she's spreading his legs, parting his knees and thighs, palming him from outside his clothes, thumbing his tip, tracing the vein under, and squeezing the base when he's about to come! maybe some overstim and edging? and he's not a full sub? like he's allowing reader to be 'on top'/domming him but he can switch it around with a snap of his fingers x also him digging his fingers into the arm–rest/bed sheets (depending on what setting you choose!) and he's letting out short gasps and choked grunts, panting here and there, breathing heavily through his nose etc...

sorry for the long request, i just prefer adding detail so writers, like you, know exactly what to write because i understand how annoying writers block is, also please don't be pressured to do my request – if you don't like it and don't wish to write it that's 100% valid x

Thank you for your request anon!! I hope this is to your liking. it’s a bit short and not particularly good but yeah as I said I'm not entirely used to writing smut lol.

𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖞, 𝖁.𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖓

𝔖𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔣

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Betrothed! Reader

warnings: Smut, porn no plot, Handjobs, not proofread.

The days at the red keep were oft gloomy now, the war looming over everyone's head. It had seemingly taken quite the toll on your betrothed, the prince regent Aemond Targaryen, the stress in his eye was evident every time you saw him.

In the past few days, you had seen him very little, a rough comparison of the time you often spent together in the libraries of the red keep. Perhaps that prompted you to visit his chambers this evening, though you surely would not admit that you had missed his presence.

It was late when you snuck into his chambers, dressed in only your nightgown. The fireplace was lit and your eyes found him sitting in an armchair near it. you could sense the stress in the air and wishing to help you made your way over to him, sitting down between his legs.

“My prince, I did not mean to disturb you, tis only that I have missed your presence as of late” you speak with a gentle tone.

He does not respond only humming at your words, his eyes scan over your form for a brief moment.

“I have noticed you are stressed, perhaps I could help,” you say

“And how might you be able to help me?” he questions with a cold and low voice. You tense up at the way he speaks.

“If I may speak plainly, my prince, I could pleasure you..with my hand perhaps,” you say, your voice becoming quiet. you had read of this act earlier in the day, knowing well it would be highly improper of you to give him your maidenhead before you are wed. His eye widens with both surprise and lust as you speak, he contemplates your offer for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll allow it,” he says, his tone still cold. He spreads his legs slightly as your hand moves upward, beginning to palm him through his breeches. His mouth falls open slightly a small moan coming from his lips.

His cock is quick to harden as you reach to unlace his breeches, pulling them down to reveal his leaking length. You wrap your hand around his cock with a firm grip, gently swiping your thumb over the slit in his tip a few times spreading the precum around his length. Your free hand moves to spread his legs further apart as moans and curses fall from his lips, you gently squeeze his length your thumb tracing over the veins that travel along his cock.

“Fuck…” he groans, he leans his head back letting soft moans fall from his lips. his fingers dig into the leather of the armchair and his back arches ever so slightly. you hear his breath become heavier as you fasten the pace at which you stroke his cock. feeling his cock throb heavier than before you pull your hand away for a moment watching his eyebrows furrow, you then return your hand to his length stroking him eagerly as the moans and grunts begin to fall from his lips again.

after a few minutes you begin to feel him throb in your hand, a signal that he is about to cum, you continue with your current pace swiping your thumb over his tip every few seconds. he lets out a broken grunt as ropes of cum shoot from his tip into your palm.

it takes him a few minutes to come down from his high, tucking himself back into his breeches. he smiles at you for a moment.

“I am thankful to you for this, my lady,” he says, his previous cold tone no longer present.

You smile at his statement, “I’m glad to be of service, your grace, I shall make my way back to my chambers now” you say, raising to your feet and giving him a small nod before you turn to leave.

you are surely thankful that your wedding day is fast approaching you think to yourself as you walk through the hallway of the red keep.