I Know I've Said It Before But Every Rewatch I Do Cements This Thought Further - Elijah Wood's Performance

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part III)

a/n: hi hi hi! once again, I'm so in my feels and absolutely blown away by all the love on this series! I definitely plan to continue this well into the reader's adulthood, I'm just enjoying the baby/pregnancy stuff so much! I got a little carried away again, so you get lots of daemon/wife goodness in this one, too! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for future parts!

Part I / Part II

summary: Daemon has always gone to any lengths to protect you, even before you were born. And oh, what gifts he will bestow...

cw: I actually don't think there are any warnings for this one! Daemon threatens violence?? other than that, it's just fluff. inspired by the scene in ep8.

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A Dragon's Custom

-In the very heart of Dragonmont, amidst sulfur and brimstone, Daemon Targaryen felt a true hero as he retrieved the dragon egg that would soon rest in his child's cradle.

-The day of your birth drawing ever nearer, your mother's belly greatly swelled. Growing larger by the day, he had teased, a comment which had been received by his lady wife with both a chuckle and a threat of violence upon his person. He expected no less from such a woman, his eyes sparkling as he knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her stomach as he whispered to you.

-"You must be brave, little one. I will soon need you to defend me from your mother's temper."

-His words earned him what was, admittedly, a rather playful slap to the back of the head. "You truly are a scoundrel, dear husband," she sighed, weaving her fingers through his silver hair.

-He merely smiled as he kissed her belly, her hands, her wrists, finally rising to meet her lips. "Your scoundrel, my love."

-She melted in the arms of her dragon, who murmured sweet nothings into her hair as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her spine, soothing her aches with his warm touch. She all but whined when he pulled away with a gentle farewell.

-"Must you go?"

-"Aye," he mumbled, lips against hers in one final kiss, "but I promise you'll be happier for it."

-"I disagree. I'd much prefer you by my side."

-"As would I, my love, but our child deserves a gift only I can bestow, and I daren't wait any longer to retrieve it." Her brows furrowed at his words, uncertain of their meaning as he caressed her belly with the back of his hand. "The child of the Rogue Prince deserves a dragon egg, do they not?"

-Your mother's eyes filled with tears. She was, of course, familiar with the Targaryen customs and had dearly hoped they would be passed to you, but she had worried, as of late, whether such a thing would be encouraged.

-Though cherished by many, not all in Viserys' court approved of your mother. The Hightowers, in particular, had been averse to the match, for while her bloodline was undeniably strong, she herself could not be considered a tame woman.

-She was well-versed in the graces, it was true, and a delight to all she entertained. In such matters, the nobles could not find an ill word to speak against her, but nor could they deny the indocility, even rakishness cast in her shadow. She had not known Daemon a fortnight when the King's own Hand had discovered them in the Dragonpit, having just returned from a moonlit ride atop Caraxes, and in the midst of acts unbefitting a woman of her station.

-Ser Otto, in fairness, was not wrong in his judgement. In their youth, your mother did little to quell Daemon's chaos. If anything, she encouraged it, thriving alongside him in his adventures. He had pleaded with the King to deny the marriage, and Viserys had half a mind to listen until he saw his brother's smile. As one, they seemed something out of Valyria itself, in all its glory, and he could not bring himself to tear them apart. He gladly consented to their union, going so far as to allow a Valyrian ceremony with only a handful of guests and the stars standing witness.

-In the months that followed, they retreated to your father's ancestral seat at Dragonstone, preferring to avoid the politics and scheming of King's Landing at all possible costs. The gods, it seemed, were not so easily satisfied.

-A raven was flown to the Red Keep shortly after your mother fell pregnant, and the news was met with no small amount of excitement. Your father's first marriage had left him without an heir, and many had presumed the Rogue Prince had little interest in furthering the line. Viserys requested his presence at court, if only to determine his brother's true thoughts about the babe.

-Daemon arrived on dragonback a few days later, descending with the impish smile well-known to him, and something warm, almost kind stirring in his eyes. There was no doubt of his happiness, a great relief to his elder brother.

-Viserys was, indeed, gladdened by the fact that they had found peace on Dragonstone, but he was eager to see them return to the Red Keep before your mother gave birth. This much, the King had insisted upon, for the Maesters and midwives of the great castle were said to be the most skillful in the realm. Daemon could deny many things, but his brother's summons was not among them.

-"We shall return, brother," he had said with a cold smile. "Upon your command, my child will be born in this nest of vipers, but never will I allow a single drop of venom to so much as graze their skin."

-"Daemon, you needn't-"

-Your father would not hear it, paying no mind that interrupting his King was easily a punishable offense. "They will have a dragon of mine own choosing," he declared, "and shall be raised as their mother and I see fit, in accordance with the customs of our ancestors."

-"As is your right." Viserys maintained the stoicism expected of him as King, but a genuine joy shone through the façade. "Your child shall want for nothing," he promised.

-"Nor shall my wife." Daemon's eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, ensuring that none but his brother would hear his solemn vow. "Should any in your court speak so much as a word against either of them, I shall gladly cut out their tongue." Without thought, he found his fingers dancing upon the hilt of Dark Sister, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "If your dear Hand is anything less than welcoming, I will take great pleasure in relieving him of his duties by way of beheading."

-Were it anyone else, such a threat would have been followed by severe consequence, but Viserys had a soft spot for his younger brother, whose fire so much reminded him of their mother. Daemon climbed atop Caraxes, returned to Dragonstone, and no more was said on the matter.

-He did not tell your mother what was spoken, nor did she wish to hear of it. She knew well what your father's temper could do, coupled with his unyielding loyalty. Upon his heated word, you would have a dragon. She did not care for anything else. She brought his hands to her lips, kissing each knuckle before releasing him to his task, wondering which egg he would choose. In his mind, however, there was no question.

-His cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, had recently departed with her children after an extended stay on Dragonstone. Her own dragon, Meleys, had accompanied them and laid a clutch of eggs in the island's volcano, Dragonmont. It seemed the greatest of all omens, for years before his cousin had claimed Meleys, when he himself was just a babe, Daemon's mother was her dragonrider.

-Though he could scarcely remember her, he had been told by all that he was, undoubtedly, his mother's son. In her arms, to the dismay of the Maesters, she had taken him upon the back of her dragon for his first flight not a fortnight after his birth. A creature of scarlet scales and copper claws, she was one of the swiftest dragons in the realm, even after so many years of comfort. He could not think of a better gift for you than an egg from his own mother's dragon.

-The descent was not an easy one. Many had tried and failed, the slightest misstep resulting in the most fatal fall, but your father was not afraid. He relished in the danger of it. He was not halfway to the bottom when he felt the mass shift, crumbling under his boot and echoing throughout the volcano as hunks of rock hit the ground. Any other man might catch his breath or clutch his heart. Your father only chuckled as he continued to maneuver himself masterfully. Going to such lengths for a child not yet born to him, smirking in the face of risk and finding no fear in his heart, it made him feel a good man. He did not know if his talents were well-suited to fatherhood, but of this, he was certain: you would always be protected.

-Leaping to the ground, he imagined spending the rest of his days defending you, willing at every moment to vanquish any enemy with a single stroke of his sword. Though your mother was a rogue in her own right in her earlier years, she had, as of late, preferred comfort and calm to the uncertainty she had once craved. Of course, he hoped your life would be peaceful, but he wondered if that's truly what you would want, or if you would take after him, forever trying to satisfy your own impulsivity.

-There were seven eggs in Meleys' clutch. Seven eggs for seven kingdoms, Daemon could not help but think, smiling as he gathered them with care. Each were unique unto themselves, though they bore the mark of their mother. One had golden flecks reminiscent of his brother's crown. Another was as pink as a maiden's blush, but it was the seventh egg that most caught your father's eye.

-As crimson as Caraxes' scales, with dapples of a spring rose and shadows of the purest black, there was no gift so befitting the child of the Rogue Prince. He held it dearly in his hands, admiring the way it shimmered in the slight streak of sunlight. They would place it in the warming chambers until your mother gave birth, where it would then reside in your cradle until it hatched. The thought of you flying alongside him on a dragon of such striking beauty stirred in him a giddiness he had never before felt. He wondered if this was fatherhood. Could he really be so lucky?

-He returned to your mother somewhat filthy, ash smeared across his cheeks while his leathers retained the scent of the volcanic rock.

-"You stink of dragon," she said, crinkling her nose as he drew nearer.

-He gave her a wry smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "My darling wife," he murmured, "I know very well that you love it."

-She giggled as she brushed her lips against his, hands tangling in his hair. He smelled of adventure. Danger. Power. He was a Targaryen, through and through, and she secretly hoped you would be the same.

-She pulled away and this time, it was Daemon who moaned in protest. She merely chuckled in response. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you, husband?"

-His fingers danced across the small of her back as his eyes twinkled. "Only, my love, if you'll join me."

taglist: @rosaryos @justaproudslytherpuff @sirlovel @fulla02

DAENERYS TARGARYEN 2.08, The Prince of Winterfell

every time I see someone take a fork that I know ends up rejoining with the path I'm on, I break into a dead sprint as soon as I'm out of sight so that I can get slightly ahead of them and make them wonder if they accidentally took the slower path

vax crouching protectively over keyleth’s body, daggers out, snarling “don’t you even dare.  (bonus: marisha shouting “champion, my champion!”)

I think about them

do people not realize sanemi and giyuus miscommunication is supposed to be FUNNY it’s supposed to make you laugh. They’re not enemies they’re just traumatized adults that need to work on their communication skills.

dude does NOT wanna separated from his bf smh my head

Dabi!

If I see that cowboy flesh hat and one more goddamn time