The Daughter

MAKE ME CHOOSE MEME | @lady-corrine asked - Hürrem & Suleyman or Kösem & Ahmed

Robb x Reader

Requested by Anon

“Are you nervous?” Jon asked as he caught up with Robb and fell into step with him.

“No, why would I be?” Robb snapped back, clearly nervous and trying to hide it.

“Because tomorrow you’re married off to a Lannister.” Jon said with a light laugh. As he looked towards the castle. “I suppose, at least you’re marrying one of the nice ones.”

Seguir leyendo

Aurelia Targaryen the bastard princess Pt.3

. Oftentimes, Aurelia finds that the only place she finds true solitude in, is her own chambers. Countless tapestries lining the walls, ornate boxes filled with sewing materials and threads. Small tapestries and embroidery linens, ranging from messily woven threads and clumsy stitches, all from her youth in the castle- you can see the progression throughout her entrapment in the castle. Stitches become tighter and neater, the images more skilled and visible, and the quality of thread becomes dearer and dearer. Her fingers are still often pricked with needle marks, even now.

Her room is the only territory she has free reign in. The sheets upon her bed, the shelves of childhood toys- glass dragons and dolls lining the carved wooden compartments, and her creations of thread that depict all that she wants. Soaring dragons, still pictures of nature, and even an attempted portrait of her mother after coming to the conclusion one day that she has forgotten what her face looked like. They all bring bitter sweet memories, recalling how she'd smooth her little fingers over the glossy spine of the little glass dragon whenever she was upset at the dinner table, fiddling with it to keep her tears at bay. They often collect dust now, her past leering at her as dancing shadows in the light of the burning fireplace. Fire crackling and sizzling, the sound of rain pelting hard against the window panes as the sky grows darker.

. Every evening gets a little easier when it is time to dine with her 'family'. As a child she would be squished between her two brothers, Jace and Luke, to keep her docile and well-fed whenever she grew tired of eating and decided to strop instead. With age, she grew more resilient and patient. No longer pulling long faces towards her father, or curious glances towards the king and his wife. Now she likes to sit quietly and contemplate, moving her food around with her fork as she listens to cutlery and goblets clink, murmured discussions amongst the dinner table, and occasionally speaking or dancing with Helaena whenever her mood grows less lethargic.

. Seated close to Heleana, her gown of cream and gold contrasting with Helaenas' dress of forget me not blue and silver, she inspects the little beetle figure between her fingertips- smoothing over the intricacies as Heleana softly utters little enamoured comments about it. Sharing little smiles amongst themselves, before her concentration fizzles at the feeling of being watched. Aurelia peers up for a split second, and is met with Aemond's heavy stare. Even as she acknowledges him, he doesn't break the eye contact- he simply taps his thumb against the table like a ticking clock. She cannot find a name for how she feels- frightened? Confused? Concerned?

. Music fills the room as musicians start to play, and the talk amongst the table turns sweet and merry. Gathering her skirts of gold in a fist, she offers her hand to Heleana, who sweetly accepts it. Aemond's stare was beginning to make her skin itch.

The two princesses begin to dance, their families watching with gracious smiles and joyous laughter. Their palms ghost upon one another, held high towards the candle-lit ceiling, as they circle slowly in a soft rhythm of swaying skirts of sunlight and rain, their long pale hair glittering in gold candlelight.

Viserys watches on happily, almost relieved at the sight of the two princesses dancing. His family is whole and content.

Aegon claps to the music, tipsy and flushed in the face from his mouthfuls of wine.

Alicent smiles and sips her wine, fingers clasped together in rejoicing at the sight of her daughter getting along with Daemon's child.

Otto claps to the music, only not intoxicated, and much more on beat. For once he smiles openly at the two princesses, even he was not an exemption to the contagious joy in the room.

Daemon is relaxed in his seat, watching his daughter have fun and smile. A sight not often bestowed to him.

Aemond simply watches the two princesses dance like an owl, his chair moved to an angle so that he can fold his hands upon his knee that is propped upon his other leg. Like a perched raven.

Jace and Luke, Baela and rhaena, all eat and chat. Feeling calm and full from the food.

. Not all dinners are as nice as this, so everyone relishes in the moment.

a father’s love

synopsis: a character study of emperor geta and his dearest daughter (1.6k)

pairings: emperor geta & his daughter: julia domna & her granddaughter

contents: attempted infanticide, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, geta is doing his best to be a father! the daughter is never explicitly named in this work, but im sure in future works she'll be named! a/n: also, I'm slightly tweaking the years of geta and caracalla's rule, but that doesn't matter much other than they're ruling much longer than they realistically did. ientaculum is a form of breakfast!! it's a meal romans used to eat right after they woke up! it's nothing lavish! (also peep the marie antoinette movie reference)

divider by: @saradika !!

masterlist!!

ten years prior

the woman tries to hush the small baby, ignoring how soft hands putter against her arm in a pitiful attempt to escape. 

her baby is no older than three weeks, yet the woman has already let her live too long. there is no telling what the emperors would do if they learned of her child.

she had let the baby live out of pure selfishness, knowing her freedom from the emperors was only temporary until the conflict with a neighboring country ended.

she had selfishly ridden out her pregnancy, fooling herself into the belief that the emperor would cherish this child, and then it ended up being a little girl.

then she knew the child was doomed to death if she was caught.

so, with a gentle kiss goodbye, the woman wraps an old robe around the baby’s face, crying as she wails and twists underneath the material, trying to evade death.

-

the doors to the concubine quarters are slammed open, splintering off the wall as guards rush in, spears and swords brandished into the dark room. the woman splutters with shock as she pushes down harder on the wailing child, trying to fight the stronger hands pulling her back. 

she only surrenders when the tip of a sword meets her exposed neck, a slight gush of blood welling up to the cut, and a guard unwraps the baby’s face, the reddish skin slightly cooling as the night wind blows in through the windows. 

for a minute, she prays that the gods take mercy on her child and that the guards are only here to finish what she had started. but when the familiar smell of cinnamon and opobalsam fills the air, she knows her prayers weren’t answered. 

from the corner of her eye, a pale hand wraps around her baby, engulfing her child in a blur of golden rings and pale skin.

she knows that her prayers weren’t answered when imperator geta leans down to study her baby, lips twisted into a cruel scowl. 

she knows her prayers weren’t answered when imperator geta leaves with her baby, and a sword is plunged into her neck. 

-

rome, 211 ad

the moon seemed to cast a shadow on the entirety of palatine hill. there was little sound, besides the gentle whispering of the wind ruffling leaves and grasses, accompanied by the occasional animal noise.

if one strained their ears, they would hear the gentle pitter-patter of bare feet on the floors, accompanied by the minuscule shushing of julia domna.

the former empress leads the redheaded child through the halls of palatine hill, ignoring the multiple guards bowing their heads in respect as they whisk through the halls.

before they reach the main atrium, julia soothes down a curl on the girl's head before she lifts her veil, "neptis, this is where we part".

the child's lips quirk down into a frown before she smiles once more, the promise of being with her father soon. after their nighttime walks through the halls of palatine, julia always stopped before entering geta's section of palatine. she wasn't sure if it was out of respect or out of fear of her son.

at times, she wished she was like her granddaughter, fearless and full of love for the emperors. whilst the child was always stuck firmly on her father's side, she had indulged in caracalla's occasional affection for his niece.

on the occasion, when geta allows the child to accompany them outside of palatine to the occasional gladiator fight, julia could pretend her children weren't at each other's throats for full control of rome, and that her family had more concerns than a throne.

but for now, julia is content with watching the child hurry off into the dimly lit hallways leading to her son's chambers, getting intercepted by one of his personal guards after a few seconds.

she will see the child tomorrow, hiding in her father's shadow as they loom over the citizens of rome.

-

geta stalks the halls, waiting for the familiar sound of his child's poorly hidden laughter. she adored circling the guard as they walked through the halls, easily entertained by the sway of the guard's cape.

with a loud laugh, his child rushes into his hallway, grinning back at the guard, illuminated by the dim torches. perhaps if his child paid more attention, she would've been alerted to his rapidly approaching figure, closing in on her. he watches as the guard backs away, disappearing into the shadows of the halls as he reaches his child.

striking like a snake, geta collects his child in his arms, laughing at the terror that paralyzes the smaller body, stiffening in shock. however, once gathered in her father’s arms, resting her cheek against exposed skin where his armor ends, the child soothes, growing boneless as she slumps against him.

for a minute, he indulges in her childishness before they walk once more, striding through the heavily guarded halls as they near their chambers. the child keeps her hand firmly clasped around the material of his cloak, rubbing it between her fingers.

the sound of his armor and her breathing seemed nonexistent as they walked together, her eyes drooping with fatigue as the halls stretched on.

selfishly, geta tugs her impossibly closer before picking her up, allowing her to curl up against the chilled gold of his armor, tugging his cloak to the side, covering her upper body as they walked.

it was moments like these when geta was content with having a daughter. a son would be the child of rome, the future imperator. a boy whose only purpose in life was to lead rome.

but a daughter? a daughter would be his.

alas, this child is his. while his citizens adored seeing his child and celebrated her birth with the same festivities, feasts, and ceremonies that he and caracalla had, there was nothing that could harm his child. her every move wasn't analyzed and scoured with harsh eyes, instead, she was celebrated as an offering of peace, a soothing balm to the tensions within his empire.

even though rome hadn't been born an heir, geta had been blessed by the gods with an endlessly smart child, sweet and unharmed by the lurking horrors that hid within their empire.

even if she wasn't a boy, geta selfishly loved his child. he should've sent her to the vestal virgins, she could've been loved and treasured by the priestesses and the vestals, learning the duties of a roman matron and being safe within holy walls.

but he couldn't seem to let her go far.

when she had first been born, geta had grown obsessive over finding her and her mother. he and caracalla had both banished their concubines and servants alike, paranoid about a potential traditor during their conflict with the neighboring countries.

caracalla had learned of her life first from a drunken concubine who had seen the child, who had been present for her birth. the concubine had seemingly talked for hours, continuing on and on with her story before the news had reached geta.

they had found her in his mother's old concubine quarters, being smothered to death by a robe.

he can still remember the wailing of her mother as his guards yanked the woman away, peeling the robe off his baby's reddened face. he was quick to move through the room, ignoring the woman who screamed and kicked at his guards, spluttering curses and begs alike.

he had leaned down to look at the pitiful child, breathing rapidly, but not a sound escaped her. she had laid there silently, helpless and struggling for breath as they looked at each other.

he remembered the burning heat of her skin as he collected her in his hands, wide eyes blinking up at him as her breathing eventually evened out, still silent as she slept against his chest. perhaps it was the trust that likened him to the child so much, a curious presence, uncaring about his brutality as she grew.

it was a weakness that could be easily exploited, a child too weak to overthrow a potential assailant, a child that would succumb to even the smallest ounce of poison slipped into her chalice. whilst caracalla was constantly paranoid over assassination attempts on his own life, geta worried for his child.

she brought nothing to his reign, no comfort in knowing he had a successor to carry on his legacy. she had no claim to the throne, but geta held claim over her, and she held a claim over him.

she was worryingly loyal, even as unrest between the emperors grew and roman citizens grew hostile. she was blissfully unaware of the unrest, of potential wars and conflicts burning their way closer to rome.

she held no expectations of him. there was no need to continue being an emperor once he was inside his side of palatine hill, hidden away from the eyes of his brother and guards alike. inside his chambers, all he needed to be was a father.

so, for now, geta will keep her locked away in palatine, and perhaps one day she will grow to hate it, to hate her father, and perhaps her loyalty will shift to caracalla.

perhaps she will stare out of the windows and down to the streets of rome, endlessly enviable to the children roaming the streets, and grow to hate the stiffness of palatine hill.

but for now, his child is content to curl up and sleep, uncaring of anything outside of her father and what cheese she will have for ientaculum tomorrow.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen-Velaryon!Reader. Yes, this is targcest!! Mostly centered around Everyone x Reader, tho. Set in HOTD S1x7: Driftmark.

Traits/Features: i usually keep the readers descriptions ambiguous/unspecific but for obvious reasons, reader is mixed (though, her skin color - as well as her eye color -- isn't mentioned, it's heavily implied) and she has the traditional Targ/Velaryon white hair.

Warnings: Includes the use of Y/n. As it says above, this contains TARG-CEST, arranged by marriage!!! You have been warned. Twice. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Though, unlike other fics, I don't find it necessary to point out how they're related (if that makes sense). Brief mention of a major character death!! (Aka Laena's death). As this is set in the episode Aemond's eye was taken, his mutilation is also included (nothing too graphic tho). Despite all these warnings, the fic as a whole is more on the fluffy/general side.

Disclaimer: I dont own ASOIAF/HOTD or it's characters, nor do I claim to own them. Nor do I own the dividers/images used. All credits goes to their respective owners.

Targ Divider Credits: @/dingusfreakhxrrington.

Inspo for this chapter: [X] | Click this Link to see more Velaryon!Reader works.

Imagine... Being Rhaenyra and Laenor's trueborn daughter and earning the title, 'The Realm's Light'.

Or... In which, everyone witnesses the first acts of diplomacy, displayed by the makings of a future Queen.

To say, you were the last bit of light to grace the stone walls of Driftmark and its peoples, was an understatement.

The fight that broke out between the two Targaryen houses, was enough to test anyone's patience, but with the death of their only daughter - and unborn grandchild - still fresh in their hearts, Corlys and Rhaenys had little energy to fight back with, much less, to attempt at settling a score that had long-sinced been brewing.

But it's with the collective gasps of shock, emitting from those closest to the entrance of the halls' double doors, did everyone evert their eyes from the damage Viserys' ignorance and his daughter's entitlement was gonna ensue, in favor of looking upon the beauty, whose sleep was just rudely interrupted by her families' quarreling.

A gasp of her own, leaving her lips. "What's going on here?!"

There, at the center of all the chaos, came an angel in the form of Rhaenyra and Laenor's only true born daughter, and rightful heir, Y/n Velaryon.

The array of candles that lined the walls of the great hall, lit the path behind her, and formed a halo-like glow around the silver of her hair -- the sight akin to that of a dragon hatching from the flames, of its incubation chamber.

This dragon, however - although young and just a girl - was one many adored, and favored the most, over her siblings, not just because she was the only legitimate child of the Princess and her Lord Husband, but for her compassion and devotion to those who needed it.

Her betrothed, especially, being the one of many to be graced with such kindness.

Though, it had been a union, cultivated by King Viserys, purely on the bases that his crumbling and dying house be better fortified, it wasn't until now, did people - and Aemond, more importantly -, realize that initial kindness you paid the king's second son, wasn't out of obligation but out of the kindness of your heart.

The level of protectiveness and empathy you had shown the mutilated boy, and even better, the diplomacy you'd shown your brothers and cousins, and your good mother, Queen Alicent, in letting them each speak their truth - as the adults had lacked to do - in getting to the root of the problem, having turned every ill thought, Otto had engraved into Alicent's mind - and by extension, into Aemond's - about Rhaenyra and her brood being 'entitled little pricks', completely on its head.

The events that followed the infighting at Driftmark, having convinced everyone well enough, that the true Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, lie not with Rhaenyra, or even the kings firstborn son, Aegon ll, but with you.

The Realms Light.

A/N: Sorry for the month long wait (wait-- A MONTH?!! HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN, lol?!), I was in the middle of moving. More chapters will be out soon.

(This fic was written and posted by ©️noonesgoneuntiltheyregone, between: 28/05-27/06/23).

Please don't copy, claim or repost my works!! You may like and reblog my works tho!!

Empty/Sus blogs will be blocked upon interaction!!

Being the daughter of Laena Velarion

Laena Velarion x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader is the daughter of Laena and Daemon

-Laena will instantly love you. She had always wanted a girl and she would end up with three! From the moment you are born she is desperate to hold you. You grandparents will be nearby to see the baby, their first grandchild to have their blood. Now there is Daemon. Daemon clearly has expectation he wants his kids to live up to. Unfortunately if you are not living up to those expectations then his attention will mostly be on Baela. In this case Laena will mostly be the one to step in.

You and your sister Rhaena were both curled up on your mothers lap, listening to the crackle of the fire. Baela and your father were in the next room reading some rare ancient Valyrian scroll. Although Daemon Targaryen was not an absent father it was clear Baela was the main source of his attention. She was a scholar, warrior, orator of articulate words and a dragonrider. Rhaena and yourself could claim no such titles. Laena hummed some old tune from her childhood. You caught some of the words, your Valarian was lacking. Laena's fingers ran through your braids. Eyes closed and you allowed yourself to be lulled into a deep sleep.

-Laena's idea of a good time is a nice long walk on the beach and a picnic, especially on visits to Driftmark. But as much as she loves some quiet the festivals taking place in the market place at Pentos are what bring her the most joy. The entire family will head out to the market and revel in the festivities. Your childhood is filled with lots of traveling and adventures. Laena loves to dance with you, leading you by your little hands.

The sun hammered down on the busy crowd below. Music drifted through the heir as colourful silks fluttered amongst the hectic to-and-fro. In the centre was a mother and her daughter dancing to the music. Laena took the lead, twirling her little girl about. Laena picked her daughter in into the air. Y/n sqealed with delight as the salty air tickled her skin. People stopped to stair, watching some of the last Valarians dancing about.

-On days were no one feels like going out Laena loves to to sit by the fire and drink a warm drink her mother use to make. Pillows and blankets will be set up. As the rain pitter-patters on the ground you stay safely inside. It feels nice be protected by the elements. Laena will wrap an arm around your body as you curl up next to her. The five of you (including Daemon and your sisters) will sit around and listen to his stories about Old Valyria.

"Daenys Targaryen recived a vision from the Valyrian Gods, our Gods. And in that dream she saw Valyria in flames. Smoke choked the life of entire bloodlines, dragons fell from the sky and the worlds greatest civilization ended. Except house Targaryen. Aenar Targaryen chose to leave his home and all he knew, with the last dragons of Old Valyria. And there they stayed on their island. Until Aegon the Conqueror." Baela was already asleep in her fathers arms. You and Rhaena were leaning on your mother, moments from sleep. As your fathers soft voice and mothers warmth surrounded you, sleep came over.

Yan!Parents Alicent and Viserys Headcannons (Platonic)

(Forgive me for any mistakes this is my first time)

Mention of death, suicide, obsessive, possessive behavior, manipulation, unhealthy father, force pregnancy, and not good writing.

Pairing: Platonic Alicent and Viserys × female reader

To be honest Alicent was looking forward to the arrival of her first child well Viserys was excited. She was still young to have a child but hoped it was a boy for Viserys duty.

When she first gave birth to you and hold you...she felt like she was at the end of the world. Childbirth hurted is what she always said but when she get to see you put in her arms she couldn't help to smile in joy.

Viserys wasn't mad that she gave birth to a girl but he was happy to hold you in his arms. He looked up at your lilac eyes, a combination of his white hair and Alicent brown hair he just couldn't help to cry a bit.

They both swear to themselves to always protect you and your innocence. They turn extremely protective when you grown up close to your marriagable age. Alicent wouldn't let nobody have you. You are HER child and nobody is going to take you away from her even if she have to manipulate you in the process.

Viserys wouldn't let NOBODY Absolute NOBODY disrespect you not even Rhaenrya or any of his family. He feels like he own you, like he's entitle to you since of his inner dragon (per Viserys saying). He would get rid of anybody that do wrong to you, he would even have his guards kill someone if you demand it.

Alicent wants to do as she says. She wants to control you (kinda like how her father did) and not really follow in her footsteps but for you to have a better life then her. She would go a little mad if you get her depending on how mildly it is. If it's a paper cut you'll get caring Alicent if you are seriously injured then you get crazy mad Alicent.

If you want any suitors then they would go through serious questions about them and their house and many other things. If you really like your suitor then they let you marry them only on one rule and that's to kill him if he hurt you in any way.

They would go thick and thin to do anything for you and I mean EVERYTHING. You want this? You can have it! You would get spoiled anytime they can get stuff. Now your suitor on the other hand....

They are just like your mother and father. Another hand to deal with but maybe a less crazy one. Oop nevermind he tried to kill Aegon and Aemond because they was kinda plotting on stealing you away.

He did forcefully get you pregnant and when he heard he was SO happy about it....a little. His plan kinda backfire now you are just giving your baby more time then giving him time with you.

Jealous Boi until you actually give him time in which they just melt in your hand.

Your parents on the other way is happy to have a grandchild despite Alicent having Aegon marry our Helaena and having children. Alicent and Helaena like to make things for them and Viserys just loves playing toys with them. Your brothers are jealous that they don't have their sister love anymore.

When the war started Alicent hid you away and wanted to protect you even if it cost her life. She would do anything to make sure you're safe.

Request for big sister reader please with platonic yanderes Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond where reader is the one who has cared for them since young so they absolutely adore her. However, Rhaenyra wants to take her full sister with her to Dragonstone. The three do whatever it takes to make sure reader stays with them.

You were only a few years younger than Rhaenyra. Old enough to grieve your mother, who you loved greatly but not old enough to feel the same injustice your sister did when your father remarried and decided to take Lady Alicent as his wife.

In the months between Alicent becoming queen and up until Aegon's birth, Rhaenyra became increasingly more at your side, shooting Alicent a distasteful glare whenever she got close to you, even doing so when it was your father who came near you.

You were her sister, her flesh and blood, you both mourned, you were vulnerable, she wouldn't let anyone take advantage of you in this state.

But she couldn't deny the jealousy eating at her when you happily started to carry Aegon around, beaming and happily chatting about your new baby sibling to anyone who would listen.

You loved Aegon, of course, he was loud and sticky and stinky, like all babies were but he was your baby brother! You were his big sister, so you'd always love him and look out for him.

"Do you like your new brother, dearest?" Your father asked you one day, running his hair softly through your hair and you nodded happily, beaming up at him.

"Yes! I like Aegon a lot, I'm his big sister! So, I'll take care of him." You were happy at the touch of affection from your father.

Viserys, Alicent, and Otto all smiled at the answer which only incensed Rhaenyra more. You were her sister! Not that... that stupid baby's! He had only been born but he was stealing you and her rightful place as the next ruler from her. Her father had promised and sworn but he had the son he wanted now, so what would happen now?

Nothing, as she found out, she was still the next ruler, as the King's first born child. The revelations calmed her fears, as did the happiness on your face when you congratulated her.

She could always count on you. Her lovely sister.

Just as you adored Aegon, you love Helaena just as much. You had a little sister! Your very own little sister! She was such a quiet thing, but just as lovely!

Her quietness made her no less lovely to you. You carried her around, bringing her flowers to show her and little bugs in small jar before letting them go.

"If you love something, let them go. If they love you, they'll come back. That is why I'll always be by your side, lovely Aegon, sweet Helaena." You cooed at the three year old Aegon and eight months old Helaena.

"Sister." Aegon babbled, clinging close to you. He hated being away from you.

only about six months late, came baby Aemond and Rhaenyra hated how doting you were.

But things were peaceful for a while, things were still good. you spent most of your time with Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Taking walks with them, reading to them, playing with them.

Rhaenyra remained distant from them but not from you, she was as close as ever with you. She wanted to bring you to dragonstone. it was hers. as the heir, it was hers but you didn't want to leave while your younger siblings were still growing up.

She didn't want to leave you, so she let it be.

You were so happy for your sister when she got married, happy for your cousin Laenor too. You were even happier when both Alicent and your sister announced their pregnancies to you.

"Oh! Rhaenyra! I'm so happy for you!" You held her hands in yours, a beaming smile on your face. "Oh! I wonder if it'll be a girl or a boy!" You beamed happily before turning to your stemother.

"I'm so happy for your too! I'll be a big sister again! Oh, i wonder if Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond will be happy too." It'll Aemond's first time being a younger brother! You're overjoyed for him.

Alicent and Rhaenyra glared at each other when you weren't looking and you were oblivious as you were sucked in your joy.

You didn't get much time with Daeron but you were overjoyed by him, always trying to be there for him but Jace.

Oh sweet Jace, you adored your nephew. You coddled him endlessly, which Rhaenyra was happy about and your younger siblings weren't. Their nephew was jjust a bastard child, what did he have that they didn't?

It only became worse with luke's birth. They hated them both.

When Rhaenyra decided to leave for Dragonstone, she begged you to come with her.

"Oh, sister. Our younger siblings needs me here," You didn't want to make your sister feel bad but your siblings were still so young! Aemond was such a fragile child, as was Helaena and Aegon.

Rhaenyra held your hands in hers, her face twisted into a saddened expression. "I need you as well, sister. I am..." There was one more thing she could try to convince you with. "I am frightened, sister. All these baseless rumors. They all sneer at my children, I can't take it anymore. Jace and Luke, Joffrey too, I don't want them to bear the consequences of the ill rumors." It wasn't manipulation, she was indeed scared but if this took you aware from her siblings who sneered at her children and from her stepmother who openly questioned her children's legitimacy, then so be it.

Your face fell and you were quick to try and soothe your sister. "Oh! Oh, sister, do not fret." You whispered softly, hugging her softly, "Those awful people with nothing better to do! Jace is a prince, your heir, and luke will be the heir of driftmark one day, I am certain of it. How dare they!" Your sister shouldn't have to suffer such things.

"All I need is you by my side, please come with me." Rhaenyra pleaded with you.

"Oh, of course, I'll come with you. I shouldn't be away too long though." You fretted softly and Rhaenyra softly smiled at you.

You'd be too content to worry about coming back, she'd make sure of it.

As you left to dragonstone with Rhaenyra and her family, Rhaenyra waved at the watching trio while you weren't watching, only angering them further.

'I win.' she smiled as you.

𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

Daemon targaryen X reader Daughter (Father and daughter relationship)

Word Count:1719

Warning: just daddy issues I guess

You never had the close relationship others might expect between a father and his daughter. The memories of your childhood, especially the first five years of your life, are marked more by the absence of that paternal figure. It was just you and your mother, living a life you knew well, without the presence of a man whose existence you barely imagined.

The first time you saw Daemon Targaryen was when you turned five. You vividly remember a tall man with silver hair and violet eyes, who lifted you into his arms with a mix of curiosity and distance. He took you outside, where an imposing dragon awaited. Although the encounter left you confused, you couldn't help but wonder who this stranger was who suddenly seemed interested in you. You didn’t recognize him as your father until you heard him call you his daughter.

Despite the surprise, there was a spark of excitement in that moment, especially when you descended the skies together. From that visit on, Daemon began to appear more frequently in your life. On one occasion, he arrived with a gift that left you breathless: a dragon egg, in delicate shades of pink and blue, which you held in awe in your small hands.

But life has cruel ways of changing the course of things. The sudden death of your mother marked a turning point. It was then that you were told that your father would now take care of you. You remember clinging to your grandfather’s cloak, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with him not to let you go with that man who, although your father, still seemed like a stranger.

The cold and gloomy stone walls of Dragonstone never ceased to intimidate you. The imposing statues of dragons carved into every column and wall seemed to watch you with their empty eyes, always managing to scare you. There was no possible comparison between Dragonstone and Runestone, the home in the Vale where you had been raised. There, the air was lighter, the colors more vivid, and the mountains and forests offered a sense of protection that you never felt in this dark fortress.

Daemon, aware of your distress, did everything he could to provide you with comforts. He gave you the finest clothes, feasts that rivaled royal banquets, exquisite toys, and dazzling jewels, all in an attempt to make you feel at home. However, none of those luxuries managed to dispel the sense of loneliness that enveloped you. Each passing day, you felt more distant, more trapped in a place that was not your home and never would be.

You always insisted that Daemon allow you to return to Runestone, to complete your education in the home you so longed for. Every time you mentioned the possibility, his response was the same: "You are a dragon; you must be among dragons." Those words, repeated with a mix of firmness and conviction, seemed like an increasingly untenable excuse. Deep down, you knew you did not share the same lineage as the Targaryens in such a visible way. You did not have the distinctive silver hair or violet eyes that marked the royal family. Even your dragon egg, the symbol of your heritage, remained inert, a silent reminder of the distance between you and them.

The news of his marriage to Laena Velaryon took you by surprise. You had assumed that if he ever decided to settle down, he would do so with one of the dubious women he frequented in the darker corners of King’s Landing. The idea that Daemon, always unpredictable and volatile, would opt for such a strategic and respectable alliance as Laena Velaryon seemed inconceivable.

When your new sisters, Baela and Rhaena, were born, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. The girls were everything you were not: beautiful, with silver hair and an unbreakable bond with the blood of the dragon. Every time you looked at them, the difference between them and you became more evident, like a chasm that kept growing.

It’s not that you hated them, not at all. Laena Velaryon, always kind and affectionate, treated you like one of her own daughters, and the twins looked at you with the same devotion they would a big sister. However, despite all the affection they offered, there was something deep-rooted that kept you separate from the rest, an invisible but unbreakable barrier.

The birth of the twins awakened a paternal side in Daemon that you had seen only distantly before. With Baela and Rhaena, he was attentive and dedicated; he spent hours teaching them High Valyrian, telling them ancestral stories, and making sure each night they were well tucked in before sleep. However, with you, that tenderness and dedication never manifested in the same way. He never came to your room to give you a goodnight kiss or took the time to share with you the secrets of the tongue of his ancestors.

You tried to ignore the void that Daemon’s absence left in your life. Every time you saw him diligently care for Baela and Rhaena, you told yourself that you didn’t need him. You didn’t need his stories, his affection, or his teachings. You had learned to be self-sufficient, to find solace in your own strength. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel the chill of his indifference.

Laena’s death affected you more than you would have liked to admit. She had been a kind figure, a link that connected you in some way to a family that had always seemed distant. Her passing left a void in Dragonstone that felt like a heavy shadow over everyone. The twins, devastated by the loss of their mother, sought support from you that Daemon no longer seemed capable of providing. You tried to be strong for them, even though sadness also enveloped you.

Daemon, for his part, fell into a silent grief, transformed by the tragedy into an even more distant figure. But just when you thought that sorrow had consumed him completely, he made an announcement that left you stunned: his engagement to Rhaenyra Targaryen. For you, it was yet another of your father’s madnesses, another impulsive decision that defied the norms and expectations of the world around him.

The news filled you with a confusion that quickly turned into indignation. You had barely begun to come to terms with the painful loss of Laena, and now Daemon, in what seemed like an absolute display of insensitivity, announced his intention to marry again, this time to Rhaenyra Targaryen, his niece and the future Queen. You couldn’t help but bitterly think about how quickly he had moved on.

How could he, having just lost his wife, dive so quickly into another engagement? The idea that Daemon, with his unpredictable and defiant nature, would make such a controversial decision at such a delicate time seemed to you like another display of his recklessness. You were surprised that he hadn’t even taken the time to honor Laena’s memory before plunging into what seemed like yet another of his craziness.

The wind whipped at your face, cold and biting, as it often did on Dragonstone. Your hands, numb from the island’s relentless climate, clutched your cloak as you watched Valarr fly in the distance, his pale pink scales glowing softly in the sunset light. The roar of Caraxes, resonant and powerful, made you turn your head. Daemon approached the dragon with a look of anger etched on his face.

Seeing you, he stopped for a moment, clearly surprised. "Y/N," he said, his tone more controlled than his expression suggested. He hadn’t expected to find you there.

Daemon cast you a brief but piercing glance before answering, as if weighing how much he should reveal. "To Harrenhal," he finally said, with a bluntness that only fueled your suspicions.

You were not satisfied. "Does the Queen know?" you insisted, searching his face for any sign that would confirm your fears.

Daemon avoided your gaze, focusing on preparing Caraxes, as if simply ignoring the question could dissipate the growing tension between you. But you were not willing to let it go.

"Was it you, then?" The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. "Was it you who ordered the death of Prince Jaehaerys?”

Daemon stared at you, his eyes as dark as a stormy sea. "It was an accident," he replied brusquely.

"How can that be an accident?" you retorted, disbelief and anger mingling in your voice. "I don’t have time for questions," Daemon snapped, his tone sharp and cutting, clearly expecting you to be silent and drop the subject.

Despite his command, you stood firm, crossing your arms and challenging the silence that had settled between you. The tension was palpable, each unspoken word carrying an imposing weight in the air. Daemon watched you, his expression initially hardened, but after a long moment of silence, his eyes revealed a glimmer of something deeper, something he had been hiding. He sighed, resigned. "Y/N, some things are better left as they are. There aren’t always answers you want to hear.”

Your thoughts remained unsatisfied, but before you could respond, Daemon took a step toward you. The unexpected warmth of his hand on your shoulder was a stark contrast to his usual coldness. His demeanor, though still somber, softened with a note of fatigue and concern.

"Take care of your sisters," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "They will need you now more than ever.”

With those words, he leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead, a gesture that, although brief, was surprisingly tender and protective. It was a moment of vulnerability that sharply contrasted with his usual hardness.

Daemon quickly pulled away, his face hardening again as if the act of tenderness had been a slip he could not afford. Without another word, he turned and mounted Caraxes. The dragon soared into the sky with a roar that echoed through the cloudy heavens, taking your father away into the distance, disappearing among the gray clouds of the sunset.

Costumes designed for Marie Antoinette (2006)