Eternal Harmony: {~Forever Bound~}

Whispers Through Time: {~A New Arrival~}

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: 1293

Chapter 1 --- Chapter 2

The biting chill of the wind gnawed at your skin as you stumbled through an unfamiliar landscape, its vastness stretching out before you. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the world around you had shifted, but the change was undeniable. Your memory still clung to the familiar buzz of the modern world—the sound of car engines, the hum of streetlights, and the constant tap of your shoes on concrete. But now, all that was gone, replaced by a stark silence that only heightened your disorientation. The horizon before you seemed endless, filled with tall hills covered in thick mist, and in the distance, a looming structure—a castle—stood proudly, its towers piercing the dreary sky.

This couldn’t be real. It felt too surreal, like a dream pulled from the pages of some historical fantasy novel. You had always been fascinated by the medieval period and Westeros in particular, but that fascination never prepared you for this. And yet, everything felt too vivid to be a dream—the sharpness of the cold, the heavy scent of damp earth, the distant call of gulls swooping down from the cliffs nearby.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a familiar panic began to rise. You could almost feel your heart pounding, each beat growing louder in your ears. Logic screamed that this couldn’t be happening. You were walking home after a long day, when—there! That light. The blinding flash that enveloped you and carried you here. You clenched your hands into fists, grounding yourself, and let the question form properly: Where am I?

Slowly, as you took in your surroundings, the faintest flicker of recognition sparked. That castle, those towers—it looked eerily familiar. The realization hit you hard, and your knees weakened. This was not just any castle, but one you had seen countless times in books, on screens. Westeros. You had somehow, impossibly, been transported to the world of the Targaryens, Velaryons, and the Seven Kingdoms.

"Gods…" you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were calling to them or cursing them. How could this be possible?

Panic began to bubble up in your chest, but you bit it down. Now wasn’t the time to lose your head. Whatever force had brought you here, it clearly didn’t care about your confusion. You were stranded in a world you had no right to be in, with no clear path home. But you were nothing if not resourceful, and survival instinct kicked in fast. First things first: you needed a cover story.

You looked down at your clothing—your jacket, jeans, and shoes entirely inappropriate for this world. You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you didn’t do something, and quickly. And then, as if fate wanted to test you immediately, you noticed a figure making their way toward you—a villager, maybe, wrapped in furs, their weathered face twisted in confusion at the sight of you.

Without hesitation, you pulled the hood of your jacket up, hiding as much of your appearance as possible, and let an idea form. You needed to be someone important, someone with a skill that would grant you entry into the castle ahead. You thought of the people in this world—superstitious, often lacking in medical knowledge, and prone to reverence for those who claimed to possess sight beyond the ordinary.

A midwife. A seer.

That was the way in. You straightened up, quickly rehearsing a story in your head. You could remember enough of the history of this time—enough about the impending conflicts and players involved—to convince someone of your abilities. And if you could do that, you might just survive.

The villager had reached you by now, his eyes flicking over your strange attire, suspicion evident in his gaze.

"You… you lost, stranger?" His accent was thick, the words harsh against the wind. He looked you up and down, frowning deeper as he noticed your modern shoes.

Clearing your throat, you adopted the air of someone who belonged here, someone important. "I’ve come from far away," you began, your voice steady, "I am a midwife, and a gifted seer. I’ve been summoned—by fate itself—to serve the realm."

His eyes narrowed. "A seer, eh? And who exactly called ye?"

You squared your shoulders. "Not who. What." You let the pause linger, allowing the weight of your words to sink in. "There are things at play in this world that go beyond your understanding. I see them—glimpses of what’s to come. And I’ve come to ensure the safety of those in power, to warn them of the dangers that await if they do not heed my counsel."

The villager hesitated, doubt still clouding his expression, but he seemed unsure now, weighing your words. Superstition held great power in this world, and the idea of turning away someone who claimed to have foresight was a dangerous gamble. Finally, with a curt nod, he motioned to the road leading toward the castle. "You’ll want to speak to the men at the gates, then. They'll decide if yer needed."

You gave a small nod in return, keeping your expression controlled, though relief washed over you. You began to walk, your thoughts racing. You had taken the first step, but getting into the castle was just the beginning. Once there, you would need to convince people far more powerful and skeptical than a simple villager. Rhaenyra, Daemon, the Velaryons… the very people who would shape the future of Westeros.

As you approached the castle’s towering gates, the sheer size of the fortress became overwhelming. The walls stretched upward, casting long shadows over the ground. Your breath quickened as the guards came into view—men clad in armor, their hands resting on swords as they watched you approach. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

One of the guards stepped forward, his face stern beneath his helmet. "State your business," he demanded, his voice rough and authoritative.

"I am a midwife," you repeated, keeping your voice steady. "A seer. I have been sent here to serve the realm, to offer counsel to those in power." You met his gaze directly, hoping to convey confidence. "I see things—glimpses of what’s to come. And I know that there are dangers on the horizon. I must speak with those who rule, for their own safety."

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "A seer, eh? You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word at face value. We get all kinds at these gates."

You expected resistance, and you had your response ready. "I understand your doubt, but let me offer you this—" You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "There will be an attempt on the life of someone in power here soon. It will come from within, not without. If I am wrong, you may throw me to the wolves. But if I am right, you will have failed in your duty to protect this castle."

The guard’s expression faltered for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passing across his features. He glanced at his fellow guards, then back at you. Finally, with a curt nod, he stepped aside. "I’ll let the master-at-arms know. If you’re lucky, you’ll get your audience."

You stepped through the gates, your pulse quickening. Inside, the castle was a maze of stone corridors, each more imposing than the last. Servants moved quickly through the halls, and you kept your head down, trying to appear as if you belonged.

Your mind raced with the enormity of what lay ahead. You needed to get close to the right people—people who would believe your story. And the first name that came to mind was Rhaenyra Targaryen. The heir to the Iron Throne, a woman of strength and ambition. If you could win her trust, you’d have a chance.

{~ Charmed Masterlist~}

{~NON READER STORIES~}

[Series]

Chris Identity Revealed

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter10

[One-Shots]

Chris Halliwell:

-Secrets in the Halliwell Manor

Hiii, may I be added to ur tag list for secrets whispered through time? 💘

Yess, of course. Sorry for the late reply! :( I have been really busy.

Ethereal Bonds: {~Facing the Ultimate Evil~}

Summary: Y/N is transported into the show's world, joining forces with the Winchesters to face a cosmic threat. Together, they navigate interdimensional challenges, decipher prophecies, and confront an entity aiming to merge realities. The fanfic explores the blurring of fiction and reality, emphasizing the enduring bonds formed amidst the supernatural chaos.

Characters: Sam & Dean

Pairing: No Pairing

Warnings: No Warnings

Word Count: 624

Masterlist

The ritual reached its climax as the symbols on the ground illuminated the night. The ethereal glow of the amulet intensified, pushing back against the forces of convergence. The air crackled with an energy that was both awe-inspiring and foreboding.

As the trio chanted the final verses, a shadowy figure materialized in the periphery. The entity, a swirling mass of darkness and malevolence, sneered at their efforts.

"So, you think you can stop the inevitable?" it hissed, its voice echoing through the night.

Dean stood firm, shotgun in hand. "We've faced worse than you, pal. This convergence won't happen on our watch."

The entity chuckled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down their spines. "Your defiance is amusing, but you cannot comprehend the magnitude of this cosmic shift. Embrace the chaos, for it is unstoppable."

Y/N, feeling the weight of the amulet in their hand, looked at Sam and Dean. "We've come too far to back down now. Let's finish this."

With renewed determination, the trio continued the ritual, their voices resonating with an almost celestial harmony. The amulet's glow intensified, pushing back against the encroaching darkness. The entity writhed, its form contorting in agony.

But as the ritual neared completion, the entity unleashed a surge of power, causing the very ground to tremble. Shadows twisted and merged, threatening to swallow them whole.

Sam gritted his teeth. "We need to hold on! Just a little longer!"

The entity, realizing its imminent defeat, unleashed a final, desperate attack. Dark tendrils lashed out, threatening to extinguish the ethereal light of the amulet.

Y/N, caught in the midst of the cosmic struggle, felt a surge of strength. "Guys, I can't hold it much longer! We need to—"

Before they could finish, a blinding burst of light enveloped the entire area. The force of the convergence pushed against them, threatening to tear the very fabric of reality.

When the light finally faded, Y/N, Sam, and Dean found themselves standing in a familiar but altered landscape. The town, once shrouded in mist, now basked in a surreal, otherworldly glow.

"We did it," Sam breathed, glancing around in awe.

Dean smirked, slapping Y/N on the back. "Not bad for a first-timer, huh?"

As they surveyed the transformed town, a voice echoed from the shadows. The entity, weakened but not defeated, hissed, "You may have delayed the inevitable, but the convergence is still underway. You cannot escape the chaos I've unleashed."

Y/N, filled with a newfound confidence, retorted, "Maybe not, but we won't stop fighting. You underestimate the power of the Ethereal Key and the bonds that defy even the darkest of prophecies."

The entity recoiled, its form dissipating into the shadows. "This is not over, interlopers. The cosmic dance has just begun."

With the threat momentarily abated, Y/N turned to Sam and Dean. "What now?"

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. "Now, we keep on hunting. There might be more cosmic weirdness out there, and I don't know about you, but I'm not one to back down from a good fight."

Sam nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and curiosity. "We'll figure it out together. And who knows, maybe we'll find a way to send you back home."

As the trio walked into the surreal glow of the transformed town, the echoes of the cosmic encounter lingered. Y/N, now an integral part of the Winchester team, couldn't help but marvel at the unpredictability of their journey.

Little did they know, that the bonds forged across dimensions would continue to defy fate, transcending the boundaries of reality and fiction. As they ventured into the unknown, the lines between worlds blurred, leaving them to face a future filled with cosmic mysteries and supernatural adventures.

Whispers Through Time: {~Unveiling Fate~}

A/N: Hey guysss! I just want to apologize for literally not updating this story for WEEKSSS! I had been really busy with school and then I had gotten sick and had chest problems. I really hope you guys enjoy these last 2 chapters of "Whispers Through Time"

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: 1254

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 9 --- Chapter 10

The reader stood in the dimly lit chambers, her mind racing from the events of the last few hours. Rhaenyra’s accusations still rang in her ears, and Daemon’s intense gaze seemed to burn into her soul even now. They had almost discovered her secret, the notes she had been leaving, warning them about potential threats and dangerous outcomes. She had narrowly avoided the truth being exposed, but the lingering sense of tension was palpable.

She paced the room, feeling the weight of the looming decision ahead. She didn’t know how long she could keep hiding her identity—or the fact that she was behind the warnings. A part of her wanted to reveal everything, but the risk of altering the course of history still loomed large. She couldn’t be sure what telling them would do.

The door creaked open, and the reader’s heart jumped into her throat. She turned, her pulse quickening, to see Rhaenyra stepping into the room, her violet eyes filled with curiosity—and something deeper.

“I’ve had enough of these games,” Rhaenyra said softly, stepping toward the reader with quiet grace. “You’re hiding something. And you’re going to tell me what it is.”

The reader took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. She couldn’t let this be the moment they discovered her truth. Not yet.

“I’ve told you, Rhaenyra, I’m not hiding anything,” the reader said, though even she could hear the tremor in her voice. She hoped the room's shadows concealed it from Rhaenyra’s sharp perception.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re lying,” she said, her tone calm but unwavering. “Daemon and I can feel it. You’ve been distant, withholding from us—especially after you stopped those letters from arriving.”

The reader swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. She had intercepted a critical letter meant for Rhaenyra only hours before—one that could have revealed too much about the future and her warnings. If they had seen it, her entire ruse would have unraveled.

“I... I was trying to protect you,” the reader admitted quietly, stepping closer to the edge of the truth without crossing the line. “There are things I know—things that could put your lives in danger. I’ve been trying to prevent that.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, but her expression remained guarded. “What things?” she asked quietly.

The reader hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t lie outright, but she also couldn’t reveal the full truth. “I’ve seen things,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Visions, maybe. I don’t know how, but... I’ve been trying to keep the future from falling apart.”

The admission felt heavy on her tongue, and she watched Rhaenyra’s face carefully, waiting for her reaction. The princess studied her for a long moment, and the silence between them stretched until it was almost unbearable.

Finally, Rhaenyra sighed softly. “You’ve been playing with fate,” she murmured. “And you didn’t trust us to know?”

“It wasn’t about trust,” the reader replied, her voice filled with quiet desperation. “It was about protecting you. I don’t know what changing things will do.”

Rhaenyra stepped even closer, her presence overwhelming. “You can’t protect us from everything,” she said softly. “You’ve already put yourself at risk. Daemon and I—”

“Daemon and you?” the reader interrupted before she could stop herself, her own turmoil spilling out. “This is exactly why I pulled away. I can’t—”

She stopped herself, biting her lip as she turned away, but Rhaenyra’s hand caught her arm, stopping her retreat. “You can’t what?”

The room felt too small. The truth that had been clawing at the reader’s mind for days was on the verge of breaking free, and she didn’t know how to stop it. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t let myself... care too much. If I do, I could change everything. Your future, your children—everything I know about this world.”

Rhaenyra’s grip on her arm tightened. “You’re afraid of loving us,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The reader turned back to her, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m afraid of what loving you—and Daemon—would do. I’ve already changed so much just by being here. If I let myself give in... what happens then?”

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, her eyes searching the reader’s face. Then, slowly, she let go of the reader’s arm and stepped back. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “You’ve already changed things. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

The reader frowned. “What?”

“You don’t get to decide what our future looks like,” Rhaenyra said, her voice firm. “That’s for us to determine. Not you.”

Before the reader could respond, the door creaked open again. Daemon stepped inside, his face shadowed with concern. He glanced between the two women, sensing the tension in the room. “What’s going on?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked to Daemon, then back to the reader. “It’s time we stop hiding from each other,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “All of us.”

Daemon’s gaze shifted to the reader, his expression unreadable. “She’s right,” he said after a long pause. “We can’t keep playing this game. If we’re to trust you, we need the full truth.”

The reader’s heart sank. This was it—the moment she had feared for so long. She looked between Rhaenyra and Daemon, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out, a way to keep her secret without losing their trust entirely.

“I’m not from here,” she said finally, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Rhaenyra and Daemon both stared at her, their expressions frozen in shock.

“I’m not... from this world,” the reader continued, her voice trembling. “I don’t know how I got here, but... I know things. Things about your future, about what’s coming. And I’ve been trying to stop it from happening.”

Daemon stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve known about the future this entire time?”

The reader nodded, her breath hitching. “Yes. I’ve known. And I’ve been trying to help without... without changing too much. But it’s getting harder.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened, but there was still an edge of caution in her voice. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was afraid,” the reader admitted. “Afraid of what would happen if I changed too much. Afraid of... of getting too close to you.”

Daemon’s gaze was piercing, but there was no anger in his eyes. “And now?”

The reader swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. “Now, I’m afraid I already have.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The silence was thick, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Finally, Rhaenyra stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll face whatever comes—together.”

The reader’s heart ached with the warmth of Rhaenyra’s words, but deep down, the fear remained. The future was unraveling before her eyes, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it from falling apart.

Shadows and Starlight: {~Allies in War~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund and Peter

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Bit of angst

Word Count: 1529

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 4 —

The sky was dark, the sun barely visible through the thick clouds that had gathered on the horizon. The tension had been building for days, both within the camps and between them. But no one had anticipated the attack. It came swiftly, without warning, a surprise assault from a third faction that neither Narnia nor your people had expected.

It started with the unmistakable sound of horns—shrill and urgent, cutting through the air like a blade. The camp erupted into chaos as soldiers scrambled to arm themselves, shouting orders and gathering into defensive formations. Edmund was among the first to draw his sword, his instincts kicking in as he barked commands to the Narnians.

You were already in the midst of the confusion, your own people mobilizing with the same urgency. It was as if the tenuous peace between your forces and Narnia had dissolved in an instant, replaced by the brutal reality of survival.

And then the enemy came.

They poured over the hills, armored and armed, a wave of dark figures that moved with ruthless precision. Arrows whistled through the air, striking down anyone too slow to react, and the sound of clashing steel filled the camp as the battle began.

You and Edmund found each other in the thick of it, your eyes meeting across the battlefield for a brief moment before the fighting consumed you both. There was no time for words, no time for hesitation. You moved as one, your swords cutting through the enemy with practiced ease, each of you watching the other’s back as you fought side by side.

Edmund’s focus had never been sharper, but as the battle raged on, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. Despite the chaos, despite the blood and violence that surrounded you, there was an undeniable connection—a trust that had grown between you over the course of these long, difficult weeks. Every movement you made was instinctive, as though you had fought together for years.

An enemy soldier lunged toward you, his spear aimed for your side, but Edmund was faster. He deflected the blow with a quick strike of his sword, knocking the soldier off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Careful!” he shouted over the roar of the battle, his voice edged with concern.

You barely had time to nod your thanks before you were engaged with another opponent, your blade flashing in the dim light as you parried and struck with lethal precision. But even in the midst of the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced whenever Edmund was close—the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The battle was fierce, with neither side willing to give an inch. But as the fighting dragged on, the enemy began to close in, their numbers overwhelming the defenders. You and Edmund were forced back toward the center of the camp, where the wounded were being tended to and the remaining soldiers regrouped.

At one point, you found yourself pressed up against a barricade, panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Edmund was beside you, his face smeared with dirt and blood, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He glanced at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“We need to hold this line,” Edmund said, his voice rough but determined.

You nodded, gripping your sword tightly. “I’m with you.”

And then the fighting resumed.

Together, you and Edmund held the line, fending off wave after wave of attackers. There were moments when it seemed hopeless, when the sheer number of enemies threatened to overwhelm you. But each time, you found strength in the other, an unspoken understanding that neither of you would fall while the other still stood.

As the battle dragged on, something changed. The enemy’s attack began to falter, their forces scattering as the Narnians and your people fought back with renewed vigor. Soon, the attackers were in full retreat, disappearing over the hills as quickly as they had come.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing and the distant cries of the wounded. The battle was over, but the cost had been high. Bodies littered the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke.

Edmund sheathed his sword, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken that made your heart clench.

“We did it,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Edmund nodded, but there was no relief in his gaze. “For now.”

Later, when the camp had begun to settle, Edmund found himself face-to-face with Peter. His older brother had been watching him closely throughout the battle, and now, with the fighting over, the questions could no longer be avoided.

“Edmund,” Peter’s voice was sharp as he approached, his blue eyes hard with suspicion. “We need to talk.”

Edmund tensed, knowing what was coming. He could see the concern in Peter’s eyes, the way his brother’s gaze flicked toward you, even as you stood on the other side of the camp, talking with your soldiers.

Peter’s words were low, but laced with accusation. “You’ve been reckless. Distracted.”

“I’ve been doing my job,” Edmund replied coolly, though his pulse quickened.

“Is that what this is?” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Because it seems to me like your focus is elsewhere.”

Edmund clenched his jaw, refusing to meet Peter’s gaze. He had expected this confrontation for days now—had known it was inevitable. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m focused on the battle. On Narnia,” Edmund said, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

Peter didn’t let up. “Are you? Or are you too busy looking out for her?”

The accusation hit harder than Edmund had expected, and for a moment, he faltered. But then his anger flared, and he turned to face Peter fully, his expression hardening.

“She’s not our enemy,” Edmund said, his voice low but fierce. “Not anymore.”

Peter’s gaze sharpened. “And what happens when she turns on you? What happens when this fragile truce falls apart, and you’re too blinded by whatever this is to see it coming?”

Edmund’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand.”

“No,” Peter snapped, his voice rising. “I don’t. I don’t understand why you’re risking everything for someone who might betray us the moment it’s convenient.”

Edmund’s temper flared, and before he could stop himself, the words were out. “Because she’s different, Peter. She’s not like the others.”

Peter stared at him, his expression unreadable. “You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment, Edmund. We can’t afford that right now.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick and heavy. Then, Peter’s voice softened, though the worry in his eyes remained.

“You’re my brother,” he said quietly. “I can’t lose you again.”

Edmund’s anger ebbed, replaced by a dull ache in his chest. He knew Peter was only trying to protect him, to keep him from making a mistake. But the problem was, it was already too late. He had let you in—had let his guard down—and now, there was no turning back.

The aftermath of the attack had left your people shaken. The sudden assault had forced your forces to fight alongside the Narnians, and while it had been a necessary alliance, it left many of your soldiers uneasy.

In the command tent, your most trusted advisors were gathered, their faces grim as they discussed the events of the day. The question on everyone’s mind was the same: Could they trust Narnia after what had happened?

“We were caught off guard,” one of your commanders said, his voice heavy with frustration. “We can’t afford to let that happen again.”

You nodded, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn’t stop thinking about Edmund—about the way he had fought beside you, the way he had protected you without hesitation. There was a bond between you now, something deeper than just a shared battle. But how could you reconcile that with the distrust your people felt toward Narnia?

“We need to be careful,” another advisor said. “The Narnians may have helped us today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t turn on us tomorrow.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, and you felt the weight of your position more acutely than ever. You were their leader, the one they looked to for guidance. But how could you lead them when you weren’t even sure where your own loyalties lay?

“I trust Edmund,” you said finally, the words escaping before you could fully think them through.

Your advisors exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke. The truth was, they had seen the way Edmund had fought for you today. They had seen the way the two of you worked together, how you moved in sync, almost as if you had been allies from the start. But trust was fragile, and with war looming on the horizon, any misstep could be disastrous.

{~House of the Dragon Masterlist~}

[Series]

{~Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon~}

Whispers Through Time

A New Arrival

Secrets in the Shadows

Meeting Daemon

Whispers of Warning

Unexpected Encounters

Shadows of Suspicion

Revealing the Truth

Trials of the Heart

Unveiling Fate

Whispers of Destiny

[One-Shots]

Shadows and Starlight: {~ The Fragile Truce Word ~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight fluff

Word Count: 1697

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 2 —

The camp was quiet, save for the low murmur of soldiers gathered around fires, their faces lit by the flickering glow. The war had taken its toll on everyone—physically and mentally—and tonight, even the most hardened fighters seemed subdued. The ceasefire had been called, but there was a tension in the air that was impossible to ignore. Everyone knew this truce was temporary. Fragile. And yet, as you stood at the edge of your camp, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more dangerous than battle lay ahead.

The source of your unease stood just beyond the perimeter, his presence unmistakable. Edmund Pevensie had come to your camp under the pretense of negotiations—discussing terms, strategies, anything to maintain the fragile peace that had been brokered after your last encounter. But you knew better. Edmund wasn’t here for political reasons. He was here because, like you, he couldn’t let go of whatever was growing between you, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

You watched as he dismounted from his horse, his movements fluid and purposeful, his face unreadable. The tension between you had shifted since that fateful day on the battlefield, when he had offered you his hand instead of striking you down. It was as if the very nature of your rivalry had changed, morphing into something neither of you could fully understand or control.

“Edmund,” you greeted him, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. You tried to keep your tone neutral, but there was no denying the undercurrent of something deeper.

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your greeting as his eyes met yours. For a brief moment, it was just the two of you, standing on opposite sides of a fragile line that neither dared to cross, yet both seemed drawn toward. But then, the moment passed, and Edmund’s expression hardened.

“I’m here to discuss the terms of the truce,” he said, his voice formal, though you could hear the strain beneath it. “We need to ensure this ceasefire holds.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you toward the central tent where the negotiations would take place. The camp buzzed with quiet energy as you led him through the rows of soldiers and tents, but no one dared approach. Your people regarded Edmund with wary eyes, their distrust of the Narnians evident in the way they tensed at his presence.

Once inside the tent, the two of you stood opposite each other, the low light casting long shadows on the canvas walls. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence thick with unspoken words.

“So,” Edmund began, his tone clipped as he tried to steer the conversation back to politics, “your side has been pushing for control of the northern borders. We can’t allow that to happen.”

You folded your arms across your chest, feigning indifference even as your heart pounded in your ears. “And what would you suggest, Pevensie? We give up territory in exchange for your goodwill?”

His jaw clenched, his irritation evident, though he was doing his best to keep his emotions in check. “You know as well as I do that this isn’t about goodwill. It’s about survival.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. This was supposed to be a negotiation—a purely diplomatic meeting to maintain peace—but it felt like something far more personal. Every word exchanged was a battle in its own right, each of you testing the other’s resolve.

Before you could respond, the tent flap opened, and a tall figure entered—one of your most trusted advisors, a man who had been at your side since the beginning of the war. He was charming, sharp-witted, and far too friendly for Edmund’s liking. You could see the change in Edmund’s posture immediately, the way his shoulders stiffened as your advisor greeted you with a warm smile.

“My apologies for the interruption,” your advisor said smoothly, his eyes flicking to Edmund with only the briefest hint of disdain before returning to you. “I wanted to ensure everything was in order for the negotiations.”

You offered him a polite smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “Of course. We were just discussing the terms of the truce.”

As you spoke, your advisor stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder in what might have been a gesture of support—but to Edmund, it was something far more irritating. His eyes darkened as he watched the interaction, his jaw clenching so hard you thought you heard his teeth grind.

Edmund’s voice was cold when he finally spoke. “I assume you’ve been kept informed of the negotiations thus far,” he said, addressing your advisor with a pointed glare. “It would be a shame for any misunderstandings to arise at this stage.”

The tension in the tent thickened as the two men locked eyes, neither willing to back down. You could feel the heat of Edmund’s jealousy simmering just beneath the surface, though he did his best to mask it behind a veneer of professionalism. Still, you knew him well enough to recognize the signs—the slight tightening of his grip on his sword hilt, the way his gaze never quite left your advisor.

Before things could escalate, you cleared your throat, stepping between them to defuse the situation. “Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand,” you suggested, your voice firm but calm. “We’re here to discuss peace, after all.”

Your advisor nodded, though you could sense the underlying tension in his posture. “Of course,” he agreed, his tone smooth. “We all want what’s best for our people.”

Edmund didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you resumed the discussion, the charged silence between you more telling than any words he could have said. As the negotiations continued, you couldn’t help but notice the way Edmund’s mood darkened whenever your advisor spoke, his irritation growing with each passing moment. It was as if the very idea of someone else standing at your side, advising you, grated on him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

By the time the meeting was over, the atmosphere in the tent had grown stifling. Your advisor left with a respectful nod, but the moment he was gone, you turned to face Edmund, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now that you were alone with him.

Edmund’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, you thought he might deflect your question. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted, his voice low. “He’s too... familiar with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his bluntness. “And why does that bother you?”

For a moment, Edmund seemed at a loss for words. His gaze met yours, and you saw the conflict there—the battle between his duty as a leader and the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than you had ever heard it.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he confessed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “And I don’t trust that he has your best interests at heart.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the raw honesty in his voice. This was not the Edmund you had fought against for so long—the hardened, calculating king who never let his guard down. This was something else, something far more dangerous. Because it wasn’t just concern in his eyes—it was something deeper, something that neither of you had acknowledged but both of you felt.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there in the dimly lit tent, the weight of his confession hanging heavily between you. It would have been so easy to push him away, to retreat behind the walls you had built around yourself. But something in the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the world that mattered—made it impossible.

“I can take care of myself,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “But thank you... for worrying.”

Edmund’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he was looking for something he couldn’t quite name. The tension between you was almost unbearable now, the air thick with the unspoken connection that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Edmund stepped back, his expression once again guarded. “We should continue this discussion later,” he said, his voice a little too formal, as if he was trying to regain control of himself.

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but feel the loss of the moment that had just slipped away. “Later,” you agreed, your heart still racing as you watched him leave the tent, disappearing into the night.

The campfire crackled softly as you sat with your soldiers later that evening, the warmth from the flames doing little to chase away the cold that had settled in your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about Edmund—about the way he had looked at you, the way his words had lingered in the air between you like a question neither of you were ready to answer.

Your people, however, were less conflicted. They had seen Edmund in your camp, had watched the way the two of you interacted, and now, whispers of doubt and suspicion were beginning to spread.

“You’ve changed since the truce began,” one of your most trusted soldiers said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of accusation. “People are starting to wonder if your loyalties are still with us.”

You stiffened, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. “My loyalties have never wavered,” you replied firmly,

though even you could hear the hesitation in your voice. “I’m doing what I must for our people.”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression skeptical. “Just be careful. The Pevensies are not to be trusted. They have a way of getting inside your head... making you question things.”

You didn’t respond, but his words hit closer to the truth than you were willing to admit.

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.

Charmed: Chris' Identity is Discovered {~Chapter 3~}

Summary: The Phoenix Clan is after Chris, and the sisters are trying to help. But there are many questions that they need answering. How long can Chris keep his identity a secret? [Before Chris-Crossed]

Characters: Charmed Ones, Bianca, Chris, Leo

Pairing: No Pairing

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak

Word Count: 862

Masterlist

Chris was still wondering, who could be after him? Could it be Wyatt? Could Wyatt have sent an assassin after him. Well, he has done worse. Chris winced as he remembered the memories that have scarred him for life, literally.

“Hey Chris,” Piper Appeared by the playpen in the attic. Chris jumped slightly. Piper smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. I was just a little distracted, I didn’t see you come up.” He admitted.

“Any progress?” She asked.

“Not really. I mean, I have made a few strong vanquishing potions, but what’s the point?”

“Chris, they are after you! Don’t say ‘what’s the point’!” She exclaimed, shocked at his words.

“I mean, even if we vanquish the Phoenix who is after me, they will just send more. We need to find out why they are after me. And it says in the book, someone hires them. Who? Who is after me? There is just a lot to figure out. And we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Wow, I guess I never thought of that.” Piper admits.

“Piper, I will just go to P3. I don’t want to endanger you or Wyatt.” 

“They aren’t here yet.” She reminded him.

“But they will be…” He added.

“Way to kill the mood.” She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He smiled at her. She sat on her grandmother’s couch once she was certain her son was okay.

“Did Leo orb down at all while I was having my nap?” She asked.

“No. Sorry Piper.” 

“It’s fine.” She smiled, but the smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“You know what. You shouldn’t have to suffer through this. It’s Leo’s loss. Not yours. You have your sisters at your side, your safe son, a bitchy white lighter to help babysit whenever your amazing and successful job. Plus, all the magical powers you could ever ask for. Please, Pipe, don’t let Leo put you down. You deserve better. I mean, right now, he is probably in a room full of Elders wearing robes acting all serious. And, you know what, they say they are good people. But you guys, here on Earth, are the ones who are fighting and putting yourself in danger for the greater good. What do they do? Come down and heal us every once in a while.

And they say, THEY do the most. They aren’t worth it Piper. Please, don’t feel like that.” She looked stunned.

“Wow. That’s one hell of a speech you got there. How long have you been practicing that one?” She asked. He smiled.

“Well, in case you haven’t figured out by now, Elders aren’t exactly my favorite people.”

“Lucky for you, I have been observant. I have noticed that. Why? I mean,  I have a ton of reasons, as you know. But, I am curious as to why you don’t like them.” 

“You want the list?” He asked. She nodded.

“If you want to tell me.”

“I do. Well, when I was a teenager, my mother. Um…my mother was hurt so I called an Elder or a whitelighter down. And well, they were too late. And she died. AndI asked why they didn’t come sooner. And they said they didn’t think it was important. They never care about anyone else apart from themselves. And when I became a whitelighter they think they can dictate who I have a relationship with. And what I do with my time. And that isn’t right. They have too much power. I mean sure, they are the ‘good’ guys. But, they take witches for granted. They take everyone for granted. And as long as they are happy and safe, nothing else matters.” He looked down, not wanting Piper to see him like this. He said too much.

“I am sorry you had to go though that. Were you there when your mother died?” She asked. He nodded. Not wanting to say anything.

“I’m sorry. Was your mother a witch then?” Again, he nodded.

“Okay Chris, I have to ask. You seem to know a lot about us. Phoebe, Paige, Wyatt, and me. How? I mean, the other day you struggled to open the drawer in the sunroom, and you tapped it in the exact right place for it to open well. No one knows stuff like that if you don’t know the people. Do we know you? Are we going to know you? Do we know your family?” He moved his gaze up to meet hers finally.

“Piper, I know you are sick of me saying this. But, I can’t really tell you anything about myself. Future consequences. But I promise, you will know everything there is to know about me. And soon.” 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me that about yourself.” She said,

“It’s okay. I am going to go into the Underworld, to see if anyone knows who has hired the Phoenix to come after me.”

“Okay. Phoebe messaged me. She will be home in a few minutes. Go on, be safe.”

“I will.” He smiled warmly at his mother and orbed away to the Underworld to see if he could get any answers.