Ethereal Bonds: {~Facing The Ultimate Evil~}

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.

Whispers Through Time: {~Revealing the Truth~}

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

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1106

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 7 --- Chapter 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eternal Harmony: {~Forever Bound~}

Summary: Y/N's ordinary life takes a supernatural twist when they encounter the mysterious Cullen family in Forks. Immersed in a world of eternal love and trials, Y/N becomes a vital part of the Cullens' immortal story. Guided by Alice's visions and Jasper's wisdom, they face cosmic threats and navigate the complexities of supernatural existence. The story unfolds through eclipses of emotions and trials, culminating in a dawn where enduring bonds and love echo through the ages—a forever-bound journey in the supernatural realm.

Characters: The Cullen family

Pairing: Jasper x Reader x Alice

Warnings: No Warnings

Word Count: 536

Epilogue

The meadow, once a silent witness to the trials and tribulations of the Cullen family, now stood in the soft glow of the dawn. The night had unfolded like a celestial tapestry, weaving together moments of challenge, triumph, and unwavering unity. Y/N, having navigated the unpredictable currents of the supernatural realm, found themselves standing on the threshold of a new era.

Alice, her eyes holding the wisdom of ages, turned to Y/N with a serene smile. "The trials have sculpted our destinies, and the bonds forged in the crucible of challenges are unbreakable. This is a moment of renewal, a dawn that heralds a new chapter."

Jasper, the empathetic one, added, "We faced the trials together, and in doing so, we discovered the strength that lies within our unity. The supernatural world may be complex, but our love and resilience defy its intricacies."

As the first rays of sunlight bathed the meadow, the Cullens gathered—Edward and Bella, Emmett and Rosalie, Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper—each member carrying the weight of centuries with grace and resilience. The howls of distant wolves echoed through the forest, a reminder of the intertwined destinies that transcended both time and mortality.

Y/N, embraced by the immortal family, felt a sense of belonging that surpassed the constraints of human understanding. Alice, ever attuned to the cosmic currents, turned to Y/N. "You've become an integral part of our story, Y/N. Your presence has added a unique hue to the canvas of our immortal existence."

Edward, the guardian of secrets, spoke with a warmth that hinted at the eons of experience. "In the embrace of eternity, we find not just love but a shared journey that defies the limitations of mortal narratives."

Emmett, with his infectious enthusiasm, threw an arm around Y/N. "Welcome to the forever club! It's a wild ride, but with this family, you'll never be alone."

Rosalie, her demeanor softened by the dawn's light, offered a rare smile. "Trials may have tested us, but they've also shaped us. We endure, and in that endurance, we find the true essence of our immortal existence."

As the Cullens stood united in the meadow, the sun rose higher, casting a golden glow on the landscape. The howls of wolves blended with the rustle of leaves, creating a symphony that echoed through the ages.

In the quietude of the Pacific Northwest, Y/N and the Cullens stood hand in hand, their silhouettes painted against the canvas of the dawn. The meadow, witness to the trials and triumphs of the immortal family, seemed to breathe with the eternal rhythm of their existence.

Alice, her eyes reflecting the promise of forever, whispered, "This is not just an ending, Y/N. It's a beginning—a forever bound journey where love, resilience, and the mysteries of the supernatural realm intertwine in a symphony that echoes through eternity."

As the meadow embraced the warmth of the morning sun, the Cullens faced the horizon, ready to embark on a new chapter of their immortal saga. Little did they know that the tapestry of their existence, woven with threads of love and enduring bonds, would continue to unfold in the cosmic dance of forever-bound destinies.

Charmed: Chris' Identity is Discovered {~Chapter 2~}

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: 482

Masterlist

Piper rolled her eyes. Then shrugged.

"So Chris, pissed off any assassins lately?" She asked, with a smile on her face. This wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to raise Wyatt alone and Leo just left at a moment's notice.

"Not as far as I know." He said, he opened his mouth to say more but the loud annoying noise of a phone rang through the attic. People rolled her eyes, dug her phone from her pocket, and answered the call.

"Hello?... Elise, this was my day off...Really?...I will be there as soon as I can...goodbye." Phoebe snapped the phone shut and rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'd love to stay but duty calls."

"I thought it was your day off," Paige commented.

"So did I," She stood up. "Right, you three, keep me posted. Bye!" She left the attic, shutting the door behind her.

"And then there were three..." Paige muttered. "But, hey, we don't need Pheebs." But, once again, a phone rang. And Paige recognized the number.

"Guys, it's Richard. I have to go. I'm so sorry. Keep me updated." She answered the call. "Hey Richard...I know...I'm on my way..." She left the attic, once more shutting it behind her.

"And then there were 2," Piper muttered, echoing her sister's words. Chris was suddenly full of anger. How dare they? Leo, Phoebe, and Paige. Leave her with all this, it isn't like she has a child to raise and a club to run. This isn't fair.

"Why don't you go have a nap, Piper?" Chris said. Piper looked up away from the Book and up at Chris.

"What? Does it look like I need one?" She said sarcastically. He smiled.

"No, it looks like you have earned it. I'll look after Wyatt and look through the book. This is my burden to bear, not yours. Anyway, we can just wait for Phoebe and Paige. It isn't fair, you are doing this on your own." He said, truthfully. Piper smiled at Chris.

“You know, I might just take you up on that.” Piper smiled. “You sure?” Chris nodded. “Okay.” Piper approached the door, and quickly kissed her son on the head.

“Be good with Chris, okay baby?” Wyatt cooed. She smiled at her son. And then she too left the attic.

He walked over to the book, looking at the entry again. His hands delicately traced the outline of the image of the birthmark. He shut his eyes, as he began to recognize the familiar feeling of tears welling up inside him.

“I miss you…” He muttered to the pages. This is stupid, she can’t even hear me. He quickly blinked away his tears and began to think why the Phoenix Clan was after him. One thought popped into his head. No. It can’t be. He's 23 in the future. It can’t be him. It can’t be Wyatt...

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.

Shadows and Starlight: {~Rising Tempers~}

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: Pevensie siblings

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst

Word Count: 1582

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 3 —

The sun had barely begun its descent, casting a muted orange glow over the Narnian camp. The truce had held for days, though the atmosphere was far from peaceful. Each morning, Edmund could feel the weight of every glance, every whispered conversation that ceased the moment he entered a room. The rumors had spread, despite his efforts to keep his visits to your camp discreet. And now, with tensions rising on both sides, it was becoming harder to ignore the widening chasm between his duty and his desires.

Edmund sat at the edge of camp, his back against the rough bark of an old tree, watching the horizon. The quiet of the evening offered little solace, only serving to remind him of the conflict he felt inside. He wasn’t sure when his focus had begun to waver—perhaps it was the first time he had looked into your eyes and seen more than an enemy. Or maybe it was when you had hesitated, just as he had, during that first brutal clash on the battlefield.

There was something about you—something that gnawed at him, made him question not only the war but his very role in it. Edmund had fought many battles, some far bloodier than this, but never before had he been so consumed with doubt.

He was startled from his thoughts by the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. He knew who it was even before he looked up. Lucy stood before him, her expression one of quiet concern.

“Ed?” she asked, her voice gentle, as though she didn’t want to startle him further.

“Lucy.” He forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re out late.”

“So are you,” she said, taking a seat beside him. She studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with a kindness that Edmund had always appreciated. But tonight, that kindness felt like a mirror—reflecting back the turmoil he was trying so hard to hide.

Lucy didn’t say anything at first. She simply sat with him, her presence as soothing as the cool breeze that rustled through the trees. Finally, she broke the silence. “You’ve been distant.”

He winced at the truth in her words, but he didn’t deny it. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said softly, her gaze unwavering. “So has Peter.”

Edmund tensed at the mention of his older brother. He knew Peter was watching him closely—waiting for him to slip. Peter had always been protective, but lately, his protectiveness had morphed into suspicion.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Edmund muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you think I’m going to say?” Lucy asked, her voice soft but firm.

“That I’m losing focus. That I’m letting my guard down.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. “No, I wasn’t going to say that.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

Edmund let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned to look at her, surprised by the genuine concern in her voice. It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t a warning. It was Lucy being Lucy—always seeing past the surface.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Lucy leaned in slightly, her expression softening. “Is it about her?”

He stiffened, caught off guard by her directness. Of course Lucy would have noticed. She had always been the most perceptive of them all, even when they were children. She could see past the masks they all wore, could read the emotions that others tried so hard to hide.

Edmund didn’t respond right away, but Lucy’s gaze remained steady. She wasn’t judging him. She was waiting—waiting for him to trust her with the truth.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally, his voice low.

Lucy nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. “Ed, I don’t pretend to know everything about what’s going on. But I do know you. And I know that you wouldn’t be so torn if there wasn’t more to her than just... the enemy.”

Edmund’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t deserve her faith. Not when he was keeping so much from his siblings—his family. But the thought of trying to explain everything, to put into words the connection he felt with you... it seemed impossible.

“Peter and Susan... they wouldn’t understand,” he said, almost to himself.

“Maybe not,” Lucy admitted. “But I think they’d listen.”

Edmund wasn’t so sure. Peter had always been the one to see things in black and white, right and wrong. And this—whatever this was between him and you—it didn’t fit neatly into either category.

“I can’t risk it, Lu,” Edmund said after a long silence. “Not yet.”

Lucy looked like she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “Just... don’t shut us out, okay?”

Edmund nodded, though a part of him knew it was already too late. He was too far in—too conflicted, too caught up in his own emotions to untangle the mess he’d found himself in.

It was late, the campfire casting a dim glow as you sat across from Edmund. The talks had gone well—at least on the surface—but there was an undercurrent of tension that neither of you could ignore.

“You seem distracted,” you noted, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

Edmund’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting out a slow breath. “I could say the same about you.”

You smiled faintly, though there was no humor behind it. “I think we’re both distracted.”

For a moment, the air between you was thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts. There were things neither of you could say—truths that lingered just beneath the surface, too dangerous to give voice to.

“You’ve changed,” Edmund said after a long silence, his voice soft but firm.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his observation. “Changed how?”

“You’re not as... certain,” he said carefully, as though choosing his words with the precision of a warrior picking his strikes. “When we first met on the battlefield, you were... relentless. Unyielding.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours, “you hesitate.”

The words hit harder than you expected, but you couldn’t deny their truth. You had changed. The war had changed you. But it wasn’t just the war—it was him. Edmund had wormed his way into your thoughts, into your very soul, and now you found yourself questioning everything you once believed in.

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you said, trying to brush it off, but the look in Edmund’s eyes told you he didn’t believe that for a second.

“You’re not tired,” he said quietly. “You’re conflicted.”

The fire crackled between you, the sound almost too loud in the heavy silence. You stared at the flames, trying to gather your thoughts, but Edmund’s gaze never wavered. He was waiting for you to speak—waiting for you to admit the truth you had both been avoiding.

Finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. “And what about you, Edmund? Are you conflicted?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I am.”

It was the first time either of you had admitted it out loud, and the words hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap at any moment.

“I don’t know what this is,” Edmund continued, his voice barely audible. “But I know that it’s dangerous.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “And yet here we are.”

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He didn’t have an answer—neither of you did. All you knew was that the lines between friend and foe had blurred beyond recognition, and now, you were both caught in the middle of something neither of you could control.

In the command tent, Peter stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he stared down at the map spread before him. The other Narnians had already dispersed for the evening, leaving only Peter and Susan behind.

“He’s slipping,” Peter said finally, his voice tight with frustration.

Susan looked up from her seat, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Peter insisted, his blue eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and concern. “He’s distracted. He’s letting his emotions get in the way.”

“And you think you’re not?” Susan countered, raising an eyebrow. “Peter, you’re just as invested in this war as Edmund is. Maybe even more so.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Edmund. He’s... different. He’s not himself.”

Susan stood, crossing the tent to stand beside her brother. She placed a hand on his arm, her voice soft but firm. “He’s growing up, Peter. He’s making his own decisions.”

Peter didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the map before him. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued. “I just don’t want to lose him again.”

“You won’t,” Susan said softly. “But you need to trust him.”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can.”

Charmed: Chris' Identity is Discovered {~Chapter 9~}

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: 568

Masterlist

“Come on Piper. We should go.”  Paige called her sister.

“Coming!” Piper called back. Phoebe, Paige and Piper were getting ready to leave to go to the Elders, and to summon Chris. Piper entered the room, and Paige orbed her and her sisters to the heavens.

They appeared in the same room, with the same amount of Elders, if not the exact same ones.

“No sighting of Chris?” Leo asked, as soon as the sisters appeared.

“No. Nothing.” Paige answered.

“Shall we do this? I am eager to get answers.” Piper said, wanting to get started.

“Sure,” Leo said. “Do you have the spell?”

“Yes.”

“We are ready when you are.” Leo responded. The sisters held each other’s hands and began chanting the summoning spell. Not soon after Chris appeared in bright white lights. He was grinning. Why was he smiling?

“Christopher Perry.” An Elder chanted.

“Hmm…is anyone else getting déjá vu?” Chris muttered, sarcasm filling his voice.

“Chris, for the second time, please take this seriously.” Leo said. They may have had their differences in the past, but if Chris struggles, this will be painful, and he doesn’t want to see Chris in pain. Chris rolled his eyes at Leo.

“Let’s just do this. Do you want me to stand over there again?”

“Yes.”

“By the way, you could have warned me about the whole becoming unconscious thing.” He says, while walking to where he stood yesterday. No one responded to his comment.

“Will I be able to see what you see? In my mind, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Go for it.” The Elders bowed their heads, Chris fell to the ground. The hologram-like screen appeared once more. The Elders raised their heads to watch the screen, as did the sisters.

A young boy appeared on the screen. He looks around 11 or 12, with brown rugged hair. Presumably Chris’ younger self. His surroundings were the sun room in the manor. He was smiling, except his hands were covering his eyes. He was counting.

“17…18…19…20!” Ready or not, here I come!” Chris yelled.

Leo and the sisters were smiling. Enjoying seeing younger Chris. But then, Chris said a name. Just one name that changed everyone’s smiles.

“Wyatt! Wyatt, where are you!” He called. He was looking around the manor, and as he entered the kitchen, a young boy came into view. He could only be a year older than Chris, 2 years at most. Wyatt.

“Sorry Chris! But to be fair, you didn’t say I couldn’t use magic until I had hidden!” He said, defending himself.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that every time!” He muttered.

“No I don’t. I think you just don’t like losing, because you know I am better at hiding than you.” Wyatt sneered.

“Are not!” Chris replied.

“Prove it.” Wyatt said. Just before Chris was about to disappear, Piper walked in.

“Woah boys, what are you two up to?”

“Playing hide and seek.” Replied Wyatt.

“He was using magic!” Cried Chrs, to Piper. Piper turned towards Wyatt.

“Wyatt, what have I told you about using magic when unnecessary?”

“Not to do it.”

“And yet you have.” Piper retorted.

“Sorry, mom.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” She leaned forward and kissed Wyatt on his head. “Go play.” She said, Wyatt smiled and left the kitchen.

“So Chris, wanna help me bake?”

“Your cookies?” Chris asked, his voice full of hope. Piper grinned.

“Yes.”

“Yes! Thanks, Mom.” 

Charmed: Chris' Identity is Discovered {~Chapter 4~}

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: 514

Masterlist

“Hey, I am so sorry I left Piper. Something happened with the article.” Phoebe said as she entered the attic. “Hi handsome!” She kissed Wyatt’s head, as he was playing in his playpen.

“It’s fine, don't worry about it.” Piper responded.

“Where’s Chris”

“He went to the Underworld to see if he could find out any information. But normally he is only around 20 minutes. But, it has been nearly 2 hours. I am getting worried…” Piper admits.

“I’m sure Chris will be fine. He always is. But, if you are worried, can we summon him?” Phoebe suggests.

“No. Not yet. I am probably just worrying too much. I will give him one more hour.”

“Anyway, any more progress?”

“Not really. But the thing is they haven’t come today, so I think we are due some Phoenix anytime soon. So I am going to put Wyatt in the Magical School, so he is safe.”

“Good thinking. I will make some potions.”

{~2 Hours later~}

“Right, that's it!” Piper declares.

“What? What’s wrong?” Paige asks.

“I have given Chris an hour longer than I was. And we haven’t seen him. I am getting worried.”

“I’ll get the book.” Phoebe gets up from the couch in the living rooms and disappears into the attic to retrieve the Book of Shadows.

“I have never seen you this worried about Chris before.” Paige says. Piper looks hurt.

“I care about Chris.”

“Of course you do! I am not saying you don’t. I just mean, I haven’t seen you react this way.” Paige says, defending herself.

“It’s just, well. Chris talked to me earlier today, and revealed some personal stuff about himself. And it kinda gave me an insight into why he is the way he is. So I guess, I am a little more protective.”

“Well, what did he say?” Paige asked.

“His mother died when he was young, and he was there. He said he called for the elders, but they were too late and he asked the elders why they didn’t come. And apparently they said they didn’t realize it was important. So, I just sympathize with him more.”

“Woah.”

“Tell me about it.” Piper commented. Phoebe appeared with the book in her hands.

“Hey Pheebs, Chris–”

“I heard.” Phoebe says, interrupting her sister. Phoebe put the book on the table. And opened it to the summoning spell.

“Come on then, let’s do this.” Phoebe continued. They stood and chanted the spell. Together. As the power of three. As the Charmed Ones. Suddenly a body appeared in a whirl of blue and white sisters raised towards him. Chris was sweating, and clutching at his right-side. Blood.

“Paige can you rob and go get Leo, or any Elder please.”

“Sure.” Paige said. And immediately she was gone.

“Phoebe, get the first aid kit,” Piper exclaimed. Without saying anything, Phoebe rushed to the bathroom upstairs.

“Chris.” Piper cooed. Chris’ eyes were screwed shut, as if he were in immense pain. “Chris, it’s gonna be okay. Leo is coming. He will heal you.”

“Leo won’t come. He never does.”

Eternal Harmony: {~Melody of Souls~}

Summary: Y/N's ordinary life takes a supernatural twist when they encounter the mysterious Cullen family in Forks. Immersed in a world of eternal love and trials, Y/N becomes a vital part of the Cullens' immortal story. Guided by Alice's visions and Jasper's wisdom, they face cosmic threats and navigate the complexities of supernatural existence. The story unfolds through eclipses of emotions and trials, culminating in a dawn where enduring bonds and love echo through the ages—a forever-bound journey in the supernatural realm.

Characters: The Cullen family

Pairing: Jasper x Reader x Alice

Warnings: No Warnings

Word Count: 624

Chapter 2 --- Chapter 3

The dense forest surrounding Forks seemed to come alive as Alice, Jasper, and Y/N ventured deeper into its depths. The towering trees, shrouded in mist, arched overhead, creating a natural cathedral that resonated with a profound sense of ancient wisdom. The forest floor, adorned with ferns and moss, cradled their steps in a carpet of nature's embrace.

Alice, her every movement a dance with the unseen, turned to Y/N. "Our family is not what it seems, and the secrets of our existence are written in the language of the forest."

Jasper, walking with a quiet confidence, added, "We've lived through centuries, seen civilizations rise and fall. The forest harbors the echoes of our immortal journey."

As they meandered through the verdant sanctuary, Alice occasionally paused to pick a wildflower or share a snippet of the future she glimpsed. The air was thick with the earthy scent of pine, and the distant murmur of a hidden stream added a melodic undertone to the symphony of nature that surrounded them.

Y/N, caught in the enchantment of their surroundings, couldn't help but feel a growing sense of curiosity. "What are you trying to show me?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the vastness of the ancient woods.

Alice turned to Y/N, her golden eyes reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. "A place where we can truly be ourselves. A place away from prying eyes."

Soon, the trio reached a secluded meadow bathed in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the trees. It was a place untouched by the passage of time, a sanctuary hidden from the curious gazes of the mortal world. As they settled into the natural tranquility, Edward and Bella emerged from the shadows, their presence adding another layer to the unfolding tale.

Edward, with his tousled bronze hair and a gaze that seemed to pierce through the veil of reality, greeted Y/N with a nod. "Welcome to our secret haven."

Bella, her warmth a contrast to Edward's intensity, added, "You're in for quite a journey, Y/N. The Cullen family has its fair share of surprises."

As they sat in the meadow, the Cullens began to share snippets of their immortal lives. Carlisle, with his sage-like wisdom, and Esme, the epitome of maternal grace, joined the group, each member contributing to the mosaic of stories that made up their shared history.

Emmett, with his infectious enthusiasm, regaled Y/N with tales of epic encounters with formidable foes. "You've got a front-row seat to the best supernatural show in town," he boomed, flashing a grin that could rival the sun.

Rosalie, elegant and enigmatic, offered Y/N a nod of acknowledgment. "You've entered a world of legends, dear. Choose your path wisely."

As the afternoon unfolded, Y/N found themselves immersed in the vibrant tapestry of the Cullen family. Laughter, shared memories, and the unspoken bonds of kinship filled the air. Amidst the tales of their supernatural existence, Y/N sensed a palpable harmony, a melody of souls that resonated within the heart of this extraordinary family.

Alice, ever attuned to the nuances of the future, turned to Y/N. "You're a part of this now, Y/N. Embrace the melody, for your presence has added a unique note to our eternal composition."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the meadow, the Cullen family stood together. In the quietude of the twilight, Y/N felt a sense of belonging that transcended the boundaries of mortality. Little did they know that the journey had only just begun, and the melody of their intertwined destinies would echo through the ages, creating a symphony of immortal love and timeless connections.

Hi! Could I request this for Daemon? I've been really interested in the whole haunting for Damon

in the latest season and just wanted charmed and thought Daemon might come across the spirit of his late ex-lover at Harrenhal. She was Otto's eldest daughter who passed away before they could wed. There's a chance that Otto mistakenly poisoned her instead of Daemon, in an attempt to stop their marriage. She confides in Daemon about the specifics of her death, and he finds closure by being able to embrace her, kiss her, and be intimate with her. Alys Rivers was someone she adored and cared for, perhaps as a motherly figure. Alys might continue to trigger visions of his former lover in Daemon, but not with harmful intentions; it could be rooted in her affection for her maternal figure. This could serve as the first part of a two-part series, and the suspenseful conclusion could be Alys' revelation that she intends to bring her back to life, potentially leading to Damon's unexpected shift in allegiance in the series 😏💚❤️‍🔥

{~Shadows of Harrenhal~}

A/N: First of all I just want to say thank you for requesting this!!! I am sooo sorry that it took me to song for me to write this for you! I really hope you enjoy this and I'm really sorry if it's not entirely what you wanted but I tried! 😭

Summary: Daemon Targaryen encounters the spirit of his lost love, Otto Hightower’s eldest daughter, who died before they could wed. Alys Rivers offers Daemon a way to bring her back, binding their souls but at a high cost. As he’s consumed by their supernatural connection, Daemon faces a painful choice: keep her and lose himself, or release her and find peace.

Characters: Daemon & Alys

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some Angst

Word Count: 1983

Tag List: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Part 1 ---

Daemon Targaryen never considered himself a man bound by ghosts. He took what he wanted, feared little, and answered to no one. But there was one shadow that followed him, one face that haunted his dreams in the depths of the night—a woman he loved fiercely, his intended bride, taken from him before they could wed. She was Otto Hightower’s eldest daughter, his love, his match, and a memory that clawed at his heart like iron scraping bone.

And now, they say, she wanders Harrenhal.

The torches cast jagged shadows across the cracked walls as Daemon strode through the desolate corridors of the ancient castle. Alys Rivers, dark-eyed and silent, led the way, her steps so light she seemed to glide. Daemon had come here on a whim, drawn by rumors of Alys’s talents. They spoke of her sight, her ability to reach beyond the veil, of a power that could evoke spirits, and conjure memories from the other side. Daemon had scoffed at such tales, but here he was, heart pounding with a hope he would not admit, even to himself.

They reached an old, nearly forgotten hall where the light seemed thinner, barely touching the cold stone. Alys turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “She is near,” she murmured.

Daemon’s throat tightened. “Bring her to me, then.”

Alys did not respond immediately; instead, she stepped back, her dark eyes meeting him with an expression that seemed both compassionate and haunting. With a few whispered words that faded into the stillness, she raised her hands, her fingers moving through the air as though drawing open a curtain unseen.

And then, Daemon felt it—a stirring, a ripple in the atmosphere. The air grew colder, tingling with a sensation he couldn’t quite place as if something forgotten was being called to life once more.

Then he saw her.

She stood in the shadows, her form translucent yet unmistakable. She looked exactly as he remembered—elegant and poised, with a softness that made his heart twist with longing. Her eyes, deep and expressive, locked onto his, and he took a step closer, not daring to blink, terrified she might vanish like all the memories he’d clung to for so long.

“Daemon,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that cut through the chill around them.

His breath left him in a shudder. “Gods… I thought I’d lost you forever.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, filled with a rawness he’d never shown to another soul.

She smiled, though it was a sad, broken thing. “You did lose me, Daemon. And not by fate or sickness, but by the hand of my blood.” Her voice trembled, anger mingling with sorrow. “I did not die by chance. My father took me from you.”

Daemon’s expression hardened. He had suspected Otto’s hand in her untimely death, but hearing it from her lips was a dagger to his heart. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his voice rough, desperate.

She paused, looking down at her hands, then back at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He planned to poison you, Daemon. To ensure I would never stand beside you as your wife, to keep our marriage from bringing you closer to the throne. But he miscalculated…” Her voice broke, and she looked away, pain flickering across her face. “The cup he brought me that night was meant for you. I drank it, thinking it a gesture of his blessing, of forgiveness. And as I lay there, gasping, as I felt the life draining from my body… he looked at me with horror.”

Daemon’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as rage surged within him. “He killed you to stop me. That insufferable snake took you from me.”

She nodded, her form flickering faintly in the cold light. “In his eyes, I was a casualty… a necessary one to prevent what he feared most.” Her voice softened, eyes searching his face. “I only wish I could have said goodbye.”

They were silent for a moment, the weight of her words heavy in the air. Daemon’s gaze softened as he took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out, though he stopped just short of touching her. “I would have burned the realm to keep you safe,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I would have done anything.”

She stepped closer, her presence faint but solid enough that he could feel a sliver of warmth, a remnant of the life they had once hoped to share. “And I would have walked through fire for you,” she replied, a fierce glimmer in her eyes. “I would have given up anything to be by your side, Daemon.”

He reached out again, his fingers trembling, unsure if he would feel her touch or if his hand would pass through. To his surprise, he felt her—a chill against his skin, yet grounding, familiar. Her hands found his, delicate and weightless.

They stood in silence, foreheads touching, a thousand unspoken words exchanged in that moment. The years melted away, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it felt as if they were the same two souls they had once been—wild, passionate, and bound by a love that defied the very gods.

Daemon’s hand moved up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin as if memorizing her once more. “I swore you’d be mine,” he whispered, voice trembling with both rage and longing. “And now… I don’t know how to let you go again.”

She placed a ghostly hand over his heart, her touch soft but resonant. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, leaning in until her lips met his.

The kiss was electric, a union of fire and ice. His heart thundered as he held her, feeling her presence consume him, grounding him as if she were still alive, warm, and vibrant. Time slowed

each kiss, each caress an echo of the life they’d never had the chance to share. His arms tightened around her as if holding her would anchor her to him, to the world of the living.

When their kiss finally broke, she looked at him, full of sorrow and love. “Daemon,” she whispered, “you must let me rest. But promise me… promise me you will never let him win. Do not let my death be in vain.”

He nodded, his jaw set with grim determination. “I’ll avenge you and make him pay for what he took from us.”

Daemon’s hand slipped from hers as her form began to wane, her eyes glistening with the silent plea she had left him with: Do not let my death be in vain. He watched helplessly as her spirit faded, leaving behind an unbearable emptiness that seemed to deepen the shadows of Harrenhal.

Before the silence could swallow him whole, Alys Rivers stepped closer, her gaze steady and enigmatic. She observed him with the measured patience of one who’d seen such grief many times before, her expression a strange blend of compassion and steel. She placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her, breaking the spell of despair that had settled over him.

“You truly loved her,” Alys said softly, a question and a statement all at once.

Daemon’s eyes blazed as he turned to her. “She was everything.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, stripped bare of his usual pride. “But that is why I will never forgive that serpent, her father. I would see the world burn to have her back.”

Alys gave a slow, deliberate nod, seeming to weigh his words. She stepped around him, the hem of her dark gown whispering over the cold stone. “I can bring her back,” she murmured, each word a tantalizing promise that hung in the air. Her gaze held his, unflinching. “But such magic is costly, Daemon Targaryen. Some forces bind the dead to the afterlife, threads that, once severed, cannot be mended without consequence.”

Daemon’s fists clenched as he took in her words, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Name the price.”

She studied him for a long moment, and Daemon could feel her searching, reaching into the parts of him that he kept hidden. “You would risk your very soul, your bloodline… even your crown, to bring her back. Once life is restored, it can’t be undone again. She will come back to the world of the living, but such magic leaves scars.” Her voice softened. “And the price would not only be yours to bear. Those who defy death are never left unmarked.”

Daemon let her words sink in, the fire in him dimming with a slow, mounting horror. He could bring her back, but at what cost? Would she return whole, or would she bear some shadow, a remnant of the darkness she’d been drawn from? And yet, could he walk away, knowing this chance existed?

He turned away, his gaze dark as he looked over the desolate hall. “What must I sacrifice, exactly?”

Alys tilted her head, her dark eyes shadowed and knowing. “Your life as you know it, Daemon. Your heart will belong to her… entirely, without room for another. And if you defy the magic or the price of it, her soul will suffer the consequences. The magic demands loyalty, and as such, it would demand yours.”

Daemon’s mind raced, visions of their past together flooding his thoughts. She had been his match in every way—her laughter, her fire, her unyielding spirit, and the fierce, defiant way she’d loved him. He couldn’t count the times he’d dreamt of her, only to wake and remember that she was gone, lost to him by the hand of the one man he’d trusted least.

Alys’s voice was soft as she continued. “You know she saw me as a mother, as a friend. I would never harm her. But bringing her back… it will bind us all together in ways that none of us can predict. The magic is as old as these stones. It cannot be controlled once it begins.”

He met her gaze, his eyes intense, a silent question in them. “You would do this for her?” His voice was softer, guarded. “Even knowing the risk?”

Alys stepped closer, her expression softening with a trace of vulnerability. “For her, yes. She was dear to me, and her loss… it felt as though I’d lost a part of myself.” She hesitated, her gaze drifting as if looking into another world. “But Daemon, you must understand—this will change you. The Daemon Targaryen you know now will not survive unscathed. You might find yourself in conflict with those you once held dear, bound by forces that even you cannot defy.”

Daemon’s gaze darkened. His mind flickered to those he might be forced to forsake: his family, the throne… perhaps even the very kingdom he had once sought to rule. The sacrifices twisted at his mind, a hollow ache forming in his chest. Could he do this, knowing he might become unrecognizable to himself, bound to a fate he couldn’t undo?

And yet, her face lingered in his mind, a flickering light in the shadows.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he let his heart answer before his mind could. When he looked back at Alys, his resolve was clear. “I accept. She was my life—whatever is left of me now is hers.”

Alys regarded him, a small, knowing smile curving her lips. “Very well,” she murmured, a flicker of satisfaction in her gaze. “But remember Daemon, once this path is set in motion, it cannot be reversed. And if the cost becomes too great, the only way to save her will be to destroy yourself.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with fierce determination. “If that is what’s required, then so be it.”

Alys gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable as she extended her hand toward him. “Then come, Prince Daemon. The ritual begins tonight.”