Details For Requests

Hi :)

A little update, just to let you know that I’m almost done writing this fiction

I’ll have more than just translation and correction (Yeah, English is not my mother tongue so I write in it and then I translate, it’s easier for me even if it takes more time ^_^" )

At best it will be published this weekend :)

Hi

I feel like writing a fanfiction about a young woman coming from a very small noble house offering her favor to Daemon shortly before the start of a tournament, (she has no suitor and after a few years to wait. She has enough courage to do it) (she might be thin or chubby or bigger I still have to decide)

I don’t know yet if fiction would be in oc or an "x reader" I have to put my ideas in place

If anyone is interested in reading a fanfiction like this?

At worst I’d write it for myself

Kinktober

4 Maegor ?

Of course it's noted 🙂

about your opinion on the difference in plus-size!reader stories, i don't know if it's like that with everyone (and i also don't know if this is considered prejudice, please tell me if it is), but i like it and i don't read it because i think i'm appropriating something that isn't for me. the same happens with black!reader stories: i like it but i don't read it, because for me there are already many stories in which i'm the main "target" and i feel that by reading (black or plus-size stories) i will be appropriating something that someone else deserves much more (i don't know if you understand what I'm trying to say)

Hello, I think I understood what you meant, and I’ll try to answer as best I can from my perspective. I’ll divide my answer into three parts. The chubby/plus size reader, the poc reader, and the appropriation question. For the chubby/plus size reader, I think that you and other people can read the fictions that we target chubby/plus size reader, because being myself in this category, I have read many fictions where the reader is thin, and other chubby/plus size reader have read too.

For the poc reader, I would have trouble answering, for being a white person, I think it depends on the authors, in some fandoms, people were very aggressive about white people and explaining clearly and aggressively that they did not want their writings read. But personally, no matter the color of the skin, the author or the target audience, you can like a work, read it, watch it or listen to it, I write my fictions as neutral as possible (apart from the chubby/plus size side) so that everyone can enjoy fanfiction and feel included. I have always lived around people of different origins so the fact of categories a person because of his skin color is an abstract concept. I have always been taught not to judge a person by his skin colour but by his actions.

And to finish the subject of appropriation, I think very sincerely that this is a very delicate subject because everyone will have a different vision of the subject. For me there is no appropriation as long as there is respect, as for example Japan, if I put on a traditional kimono I will learn the meaning, the rituals, the tradition that surrounds it, I would wear it with respect and not strut about. In my countrie there is no such issue, because it is just crazy to see that someone knows my country, (as long as there is respect) I speak with knowledge being of Belgian origin, there are few people who would have heard about my country. (We have Brussels as capital just in case)

To summarize, I think that according to the authors and readers, the answer may differ. I am not an expert and even from very far away .

I will end with this words.

If we have to divide ourselves into a place that should bring us together no matter where we come from, that we have to start reading, listening, or looking at something based on our skin color, or our size, then our civilization regresses because we should be united, It scares me because we are all human.

I hope I’ve managed to answer you, honestly, if you want to read something that makes you want to read and that you like, go ahead, read as many fictions as you want. is not ashamed. Because it does not matter who reads what we write as long as it is a person who has appreciated our work and that there is mutual respect between author and readers then what good is it to break our heads with it?

If anyone wants to respond, go ahead, I’d like to hear from you, and I’m sure annon as well.

I hope I didn’t hurt anyone, that was not my intention.

Earenwen 🌿

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He's first and only love part 2

Pairing: Daemon x chubby Fem reader, allusion of Rhaenyra x Daemon and Laena x Daemon

Abstract: Did Daemon manage to take revenge and find peace?

Trigger warning: Death, blood, soft description of a death, if I forgot to name something said me and I will note it. Oh yes English is not my mother tongue, mistakes may have passed.

Author’s note: the text is longer than I usually write, just to warn you.

Songs (each music delimits passages):

(just for the exemple the first two song have colour)

Jenny of oldstonnes, Game of thrones Season 8 soundtrack

Winter is here, Game of thrones soundtrack

Not today, Game of thrones soundtrack

The streets of whiterun, TES 5 Skyrim soundtrack

Dragonstone, Game of thrones season 7 soundtrack

Daemon song of the episode 10 of House of the dragon

The Night king, Game of thrones soundtrack

Trust, Game of thrones soundtrack

"Y/n?"

Since all his years of wandering and hatred, how was it possible?

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Mourning is never easy, for some people it is even impossible, their thoughts will always remain on the person who left them tragically. There are many moments in mourning, such as denial. This denial, Daemon had experienced the very second that Y/n was murdered, it was impossible that anyone wanted his death. He denied the fact that he was attending the preparation of his body for the funeral, and yet in the morning he was convinced that the love of his life would just be asleep by his side, but he was welcomed only by the cold and metallic smell that reigned in the room, the servants had gone directly to work, cleaning up any trace of the events that had just taken place in the chamber of Daemon, if the traces of blood could have largely been removed, as for the smell, was so intensely present that it could have made more than one person sick, just trying to bring Daemon back to reality. The cremation was only to stab Daemon in the heart, he swore to himself not to love anyone again until his revenge had ended while watching Caraxes inflame the young woman’s lifeless body, The cries of Y/N’s parents then present seemed distant, how could he have allowed such a thing to happen? The ashes flew under the gentle breeze and with them flew the possibility of Daemon’s love.

In the first years after the murder of his love, Daemon reflected, plotted and made plans that would bring him to his end. He had moved away from the Red Keep, spending his nights in the city of King’s Landing, trying to drown his sorrow in alcohol and prostitutes. But nothing could fill the void he felt, nothing could. Whether it was the death of Jaehaerys I, which made him neither hot nor cold, The marriage and coronation of Viserys, which only filled Daemon with hatred, it should have been him to get married, to spend his wedding to ravage the body of Y/n by kissing them and spanking her love, to announce that he would be a father and not his brother. The coronation was like a spanking drop overflowing a vase already far too full. And every action his brother authorized with the support of Otto Hightower only cracked the overfilled vase.

His marriage to Lady Rhea was not even consummated, it was chosen by all those who could be in Otto’s confidences, just for that, he would never touch her. His affair with Mysaria was a way to anger his brother and even more so the board, he would never have married him, but he was proud of the little chaos he was creating at the Red keep. Laena, sweet Laena, he could have really loved her, not that he didn’t hate her, she was the mother of her daughters, Daemon believed during her years that she had mourned, but despite him, a vision of her past was continually coming back to her. This vision and emptiness that remained in his heart did not allow him to be fully happy, he imagined how his children with Y/n could have looked, if it would have been just one or more children, sons or daughters, everyone would have had dragons' eggs and if by luck they would have hatched, it would have been just another burst of happiness. Laena, though never fully filled the heart of Daemon, but the pain he felt at his loss was real and seeing the rest of his "family" lament him in this loss, only fed the fury and anger he felt towards them. They thought of themselves as a family, but Viserys was so blind that he did not see you that the children of Rhaenyra were not legitimate, it made him feel sorry, not for his brother, he learned to live with this customary feeling, this emptiness. Daemon would have done nothing to help Viserys, he did nothing but contemplate because, in a way, it was good to see other people suffer as much as he did.

In another life perhaps he could have loved Rhaenyra, but she reminded him so much of Viserys, that he could not help being as far away as he could from her, Daemon did his marital duty, each time, there was only one person in mind his only love Y/n, instead of the long silver hair of Rhaenyra, Daemon imagine the hair of Y/n, instead of the filiform body, he imagined the hot and bouncing that he had and continued to love so much. Rhaenyra was nothing Y/n, the princess could never have reached her level. Rhaenyra saw well how her uncle was with her, but having never heard of the young woman, she simply believed that Daemon was naturally like that. At times she regretted the loss of Sir Harwin.

At the death of Viserys, Daemon was surprised that despite the difficult years they had known, he felt pain not a false pain that we show to others as a mask, but a real visceral pain.

But two feelings threatened to explode at every moment and grew, anger and hatred towards Hightower, were increasingly present, ah Otto Hightower, over time he had become increasingly detestable, sending his own daughter into the king’s bed, while she was the princess’s best friend, liking her grandchildren, one Daemon could see the lack of fatherly love that Viserys bore them. He managed to make Daemon vomit.

Rhaenyra was only a pawn, a pawn so easily movable, Daemon knew very well that the people would never want her as queen, but breaking this "family" was in itself terribly pleasant as she had broken it.

The dance of the dragons, this war that could have been avoided, was like a wildfire with magnificent and horrible faith, little by little all the people who had rubbed shoulders with Daemon, saw how the prince became more and more head burning on the battlefield, missing more than once to die. Rhaenyra tried to reason with Daemon, Luce was dead and this gave him the opportunity to release his revenge fury but not to the point of becoming suicidal. He and Caraxes were getting more and more impatient, more and more irritable and murderous. Rhaenyra wanted to reason with him, he had to be by his side to rule and the closer they got to Higtower the more Daemon scared him, really scared, every word, Rhaenyra was afraid that her uncle-husband would abandon him or worse.

"Daemon, be more careful. The throne does not deserve your death."

"I don’t give a shit about your fucking throne!"

Rhaenyra did not know what to answer Daemon, he was sweating of pure rage.

"I don’t care about you, your fucking cunt and the crown! If I die fighting, your hold on the damn throne of shit won’t be so great. Your allies will abandon you."

"Dae... Daemon... it’s not just that, I love you."

Daemon sneered bitterly.

"You’ll never be her. You’re just a vulgar spoiling child who knows nothing about running a kingdom and screams for the toy you’ll never have. You’re nothing dear niece. Nothing to me, you’ve never been."

Daemon’s gaze also black and filled with fury made Rhaenyra’s blood freeze. Her words had marked her heart and mind, not understanding who Daemon was comparing her to. This was the last time she saw her uncle.

Otto’s death did not calm Daemon, deep down, all had to pay.

The dance of dragons ended for Daemon during his fight against Aemond, at the moment of falling from the sky, Daemon was filled for the first time in all his long years, with a form of serenity, he could again see her. His Y/n.

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But the story of Daemon does not end here, the fall did not kill him miraculously, yet he felt a terrible pain running through his body, the effort to open his eyes was great, his vision was blurred, Daemon felt that someone or something was pulling him quite saccader on the ground, the shadows he could perceive were moving, like the shadows created by the light of a torch. A strong smell of blood, earth, moisture and stone intrigued him, his heart was palpitating, he thought at first to be dead and to send into the seven hells, but the pain he felt made him understand that he was still alive, his breathing was difficult, Every breath burned his lungs, he wanted to struggle, only, at the same time he lacked strength, but he noticed that his wrists and ankles were connected, which was not a good sign either.

Daemon heard small voices speaking in a language that he did not recognize, trying to see who was dragging him, he noticed, that the forms of the people who were dragging him had a greyish green color, he thought had been captured by the greens. If he did, he had nothing to lose anyway, he closed his eyes and fainted.

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What awakened Daemon was the cold, a cold so intense that he wondered how it was that he could still be alive. When he opened his eyes, he only had to blink a few eyes to see where he was.

All around him, huge expanses of snow and ice. The sun seemed at once not to exist as the clouds covered the sky, but yet light could cross it. Daemon was standing, which surprised him at the time, he understood that he had been tied to a large tree that seemed dead, but with rare leaves scattered the branches. Looking at himself, he saw that he was shirtless, his torso was covered with more or less large scars, new cuts had appeared after his fight against Aemond, they were open and yet, the blood did not flow. Thin plates of frozen blood covered them. How was that possible? Noises of movement in the snow made him come out of his contemplation and look more frantically around him.

A dead man... There was a dead man walking in his direction, not a person made up like in the plays in the streets of Kings Landing, no, the thing was thinly sliced, pieces of skin ripped off hanging, the creature’s eyes were supernatural blue, they seemed to be enlightened. He limped slowly, a broken-leg artist dragged on the snow still bound by a few tendons. As the death progressed, the more Daemon thought he had gone mad, never could such a thing be serious, it was only stories that were told to the children to scare them. His heart was beating so hard, Daemon believed he could get out of his body, his blood was running frantically through his veins, although the ends of his limbs were almost frozen, Daemon could feel the blood coming back to him. Movements all around him made him look, fearing what he might see. An army of death stood before him, one of them, detached himself from the group, he maintained what seemed to be a child, but not a human child, his skin had green reflections, like... Like the shapes that Daemon saw take him before he passed out. What did he want with him?

The man did not speak, he had blue reflections and fine horns sticking out of his head, he seemed old, very old even, the child held was released, a black tip was placed in his hands, Daemon opened his eyes, The pain in his body seemed to be eating again, he was struggling to free himself. In vain. The pain he felt afterwards was intense, at the same time he felt himself leaving and reliving, his vision began to become much clearer, a murmuring him vain in mind, while seeing the man with the horns collapse.

"You are my successor... King of the night."

At the same time as the man touched the earth, the last breath of air ever released from Daemon. He was no longer human now.

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For almost two centuries Daemon looked at the world of men, he had been able to discover gradually the extent of his powers, he was not the first king of the night, it was as if, the previous king, had bequeathed to him their knowledge, His visions of the world outside the walls were rare and said because, the last events he had seen were, Robert Baratheon ascending the throne, the beginning of the war between the north and south of Westeros, but beyond Westeros, he saw nothing. He did not know if dragons had survived beyond Essos and other islands and containers making up the world.

He smelled blood from that Snow, he wasn’t just a bastard, he could smell it. Throughout their rare encounter, something reminded him of dragon fire, but what a strange dragon to dress as a wolf.

Men were close to their losses, he could feel their ends coming, his army grew, his powers were close to their climax. Soon very soon he would walk on Westeros, taking the eternal night with him. He just had to wait, although he was impulsive, two hundred years of existence had made him unwillingly patient.

"Y/n"

He couldn’t believe what he saw... Three dragons flying over a fleet of boats, and on the first one, the one with the figure of a prow in the shape of a golden dragon’s head, stood a young woman with the Targaryen look at her by her was one of the Lannisters, but above all, on the left of the Targaryen, there was a young woman, whose face was almost identical to that of Y/n, her round body, her shapes, her height, her hair, her eyes... It wasn’t possible... was she... was she Y/n?

Daemon had to have the answers, he had to go through the wall, he had to find a way to do it. This means was strangely quickly found.

A few months after this vision, he surrounded Snow and his companions, he could have killed them so easily, but that was not his intention, no, not now, for now, he had to recover his means of liberation. One of the fire-eaters.

This Targaryen woman made him think of Rhaenyra and at the same time of him, she was equally inclined to unleash the fire of her dragons in battles, but she was not ready to rule, no, the weight of the iron throne would have been much too heavy, She was a conqueror, not a leader. It is true that the black dragon was the most interesting, it seemed to be the most fierce, the biggest and the strongest, but he had to resign himself to take one of the other two smaller, he could always shoot down the other two dragons later. All he had left was to destroy the wall and conquer the south and try to find it.

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Westeros had been a home for Y/n before leaving for Essos with her parents, she had grown up in Pentos, her parents being serving in the castle with the red gate, she had known Daenerys from the beginning, she had followed her, whether it was with the dothraki, Mereen or Westeros, she had promised herself never to abandon Daenerys, taking care of her well, they had become friends and protected each other.

Although she was against some of Daenerys' decisions, Y/n had remained faithful to her, trying to calm her down and make her come to her senses in the harshest judgments.

There was something about Westeros that was intriguing Y/n and she didn’t know what it was, the closer she was to the Daenerys going on or dragons, the more her nights of sleep and dreams were filled with images of a city she had never seen, a man with silver hair, purplish eyes who hypnotized him, a red dragon, much bigger than Viserion, Rhaegon or Drogon, but, he did not spank him afraid unlike the other three who seemed to want to devour anyone approaching Daenerys, Y/n was almost reassured of his presence, as if an old friend were by his side.

She had not talked about her dreams to Daenerys, the queen was already very preoccupied to add her constant and insignificant dreams to compare to the war that broke out in Westeros.

Y/n asked what his dreams meant, was it his mind that played tricks on him? Or was there a related omen?

Her dreams became more and more precise, in addition to this man, she dreamed of the entrance of a hidden cave in a dense forest, she felt a call there, a voice of man that was both familiar and foreign to her.

Y/n was preparing for the wars of Westeros, that’s what she said to herself continually, but the murderous rage don Daenerys was able to commit him spanked cold in the back, the closer his reign of the seven crowns approached and the more Daenerys changed, Y/n though loyal, began to be wary of the deeds and words of his queen, the continent and the greed of the throne, was throwing a whiff of madness in the eyes of Daenerys.

Winterfell was very different from the landscapes and the city visited by Y/n, the constant cold was both inhospitable and calm. She felt as if she was drawn by the forests bordering the fort of Winterfell, but the threat of the death army from the north prevented her from wandering as she wished.

Yet at night, the call she heard in her dreams seemed real to her, a sweet whisper in her ear, calling her.

The first two nights, Y/n had restrained herself from following this voice, but the longer she waited, the more a feeling in the depths of her body became present, unconsciously, she walked towards the big doors, ready to leave the place, but several guards washed restrained, Daenerys worried about her friend, she so smiling filled with life became a ghost in this place, Daenerys asked Jon to have guards in addition to two of his unsullied protect and watch Y/n, Jon accepted and this reassured Daenerys, but she nevertheless warned Rhaegon and Drogon, if Y/n left the castle walls, they had to keep an eye on her.

The third and fourth nights were eventful, the unsullied who watched over Y/n had to catch her in the heart of the forest. This voice, so captivating, became much clearer. Her instinct told her it was dangerous, but deep down, Y/n felt she had to go, whose voice was that?

On the fifth night, she came out of the window of her room, fortunately, this one found two meters from a roof where a ladder had been placed by carpenters that strengthened the structure in the morning and forget.

Dressed in her dressing gown, shoes, fur, and a double cloak of the same material, she looked out of her room through the open window, her heart pounding, the veins of her temples pulsating, she climbed to the edge, clutching a torch in his hands or was tied a ball containing a piece of fabric and stones to ignite it. The cold wind brought with it large snowflakes, the night was so dark that only the torches placed in the fort could feverishly illuminate the place. It was time, not many people were outside and the guards at the door were going to change.

The fall took her breath away slightly, she crouched down clutching on the roof tiles to help her walk towards the ladder. The minutes went by and few obstacles were hidden behind Y/n barrels waiting for the right moment to get out. She was watching the guards, they were talking to each other, with her cold hands she was standing at one end of one of the barrels, she didn’t have to walk in a straight line to get out. The door opened, letting in the guards who had made the tour of the ramparts, in a few seconds everything was chained, the guards turned their backs on him, too busy discussing the night that seemed to last longer and longer.

“Now.” The voice was encouraging him.

Y/n stood up and quickly walked out of the fort, even starting to run when she arrived near the forest, her heart was pounding, her breath was hard, the guards were washing in sight before she entered the forest.

The forest was gloomy, but fragments of his dreams came to him in memory, the path was engraved, the trees covered with snow, he was familiar, the ground was covered with a thick layer of snow and was so cold that his toes were slowly numb, she did not pay attention to the winged creature that was cracking the air sniffing his smell.

The vision of the cave made Y/n stop, a part of itself said at the beginning that this place could not exist, but the entrance bordered by bush forming snow and ice, with stalactites hanging from its entrance was well in front of it.

The voice that had been quietly spoken to him again, the man spoke to him from the cave. With trembling hands she grabbed the torch, placed the piece of tissue around it and lit it, deeply inspiring, she stepped forward.

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Y/n could only hear his breath echoing against the stone walls. A gentle sound of gout ran through the long corridors. The reliable glow of the flames allowed him to illuminate himself by at least a meter and a half and to see the large walls of the corridor.

“Drakari pykiros

Tikummo jemiros

Yn lantyz bartossa

Saelot vāedis»

That song… it wasn’t just in her head, from her ears she heard the echo of the words. Was it Valeryen? No high Valeryen… All she understood was who was talking about the dragon. Her reason was screaming at her to leave, to flee this place, but something in addition to her curiosity insisted on continuing, she went deeper into the depths of this gloomy place.

“Hen nuhā elēnī:

Perzyssy vertretis

Se gēlyn irūdaks

Ānogrose»

The walls were widened, leaving room for a large room, The man was there, she was sure. Walking a few more meters, she saw him.

«Perzyro udryssi

Ezimptos laehossi

Hārossa letagon

Aōt vāedan»

This man with silver hair, he... He was like in his dreams, right there, she dropped her torch, stunned, her heart beating so fast, she kept walking in his direction as hypnotized, who was he? Y/n had not heard, so fond in that moment, that other people had entered after her. Nor had she heard the heavy rumble of Rhaegon. Flames came out of the dragon’s mouth, illuminating the room.

"Hae mērot gieruli:

Se hāros bartossa

Prumysa sovili

Gevi dāeri»

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Jon, Daenerys, Lord Davos and several Unsullied were standing at the entrance of the hall, the fire had allowed them to see the Night king standing in front of Y/n, hundreds of white walker behind him.

"Y/N ! "

It was Daenerys.

But Y/n did not listen to her, she remained amazed, an intense joy washed away without her knowing why, if for all they had seen the king of the night, for Y/n it was not him. All she wanted was to stay.

Jon rushed to catch Y/n, sword in hand, he was going to take her and bring everyone alive out of that cave.

A big cracking noise made him stop, the supernatural blue eyes of the walkers stared at him, hardly had time to stop in his stride, as the hundred walkers rushed towards the exit of the cave, running towards Jon.

"JON!"

Davos holding Daenerys by the arm, yelling at Jon to flee this cave. Jon retreated, always looking towards Y/n and the king of the night. The first walker reached him in the face, lifting his sword, he was able to counter his attack before cutting his neck. He did not have time to blow that the second and third walkers managed to carry him, followed a dozen, Jon had to turn back, the cries of Daenerys shouting both his name and that of Y/n, was hard to hear, the unsullied present protected their queen, Rhaegon spewing fire into the cave, while also backing away. If the King of the Night had not yet decided to kill him, it would not be long.

The cries of the walkers who had not yet died definitively, drew closer to the living group, the various tunnels plunging into other parts of the cave spitting out hordes of walkers, their putrid body odors made it easier for the group to find the entrance.

The cold air was comforting, but the cries from the cave, made them continue to run towards the ramparts of Winterfell, their hearts pulsating, all were terribly afraid, The growing darkness behind them did not allow them to see if the walkers continued to chase them.

The doors creaked during their openings, allowing Grey Worm and a dozen knights, unsullied and Dothraki to protect the ramparts from future attack. Rhaegon had flown far into the sky, both out of carrying a possible projectile but also of being able to help his mother. This did not prevent Drogon, who was close to the ramparts to spit fire beyond Daenerys, allowing the guards, unshelied and Dothraki present, to see hundreds of walkers burn.

When the living group entered Winterfell, the dead stopped running. Standing in front of the ramparts, they were waiting. The strange sound of a creature pretending to be a dragon sounded the retreat of the walkers, they left the outskirts of Winterfell, hiding in the forest and at night, out of carrying the living.

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Night had succeeded the day, since what seemed to be both days and weeks, the twirling snow it was to turn into a blizzard, the ramparts of Winterfell made it possible to protect the population that was, all were waiting for the imminent attack, whether it’s soldiers or women and children.

In the great hall Daenerys, Jon, Bran, Sam, Tyrion, Jaime, Tormund, and other lords were sitting, chatting.

Daenerys had become increasingly worried about Y/n, what had happened to her? Why had she left alone? And singing in high valeryion, the voice of man had seemed to her to be like the voice of a mermaid, his song had attracted Y/n to him, imprison him.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don’t know." Tyrion, a glass of wine in his hand was staring at a crack in the stone wall.

"We must fight them, no matter who joins them, we cannot let them destroy Westeros." Jon was more than certain that the walkers had to be stopped.

"She... she must still be alive... " Daenerys couldn’t believe what had happened a short time before.

"I don’t understand how someone can deliberately be sane and join them."

"Daemon."

All turned their heads towards Bran.

"The king of the night is Daemon Targaryen."

"My ancestor? But how?"

"He was chosen to be the night king, by his hatred and anger towards men."

"No this is not possible, he died fighting Vhaegar." Daenerys, could not believe the words of young Stark.

"Who is he? " Tormund was lost, in what way did the young woman from the dead, if she had silver hair and the bloody king of the night have a connection?

Bran looked at the people present, he thought for a moment, where was he going to start? From the beginning, Bran told the story of the prince, passing very briefly from his childhood to the most interesting part for Daenerys. He recounted the meeting between the prince and the young woman. The plot to make the prince bend. The brutal murder of the young woman. The growing anger of Daemon. Until the transformation.

"So that’s why his body was never found." Sam remembered the texts he had read.

Jon was looking at his brother.

"If he hasn’t attacked us yet, maybe it’s because they’re reunited again, his anger isn’t as strong."

"Or maybe he’s waiting for the best time, so we’re not on our guard anymore." Tyrion took a sip of wine. Maybe he has to find his queen to rule all Westeros, without any more obstacles before him."

Thinking, everyone continued to speak, the night had become darker and darker, the snow heavier and heavier and the bitter cold. The army of the living was preparing, the weapons sharpened. The army of the dead was waiting in the distance, they all knew it.

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Author’s note: Hello, I hope you enjoyed this text, it’s been a while since I had this idea in mind and I might as well write it to free up space for future writings. I am aware that this may not please many people, rare are the people who were of the king of the night’s rating but I came across a theory in which Daemon could be the night king, this text will probably be the only one where I allude to this theory.

I need some time to respond, but if you want to comment on that, I look forward to your positive or negative comments.

Good day/evening/night next time for Daemon x fem chubby Martell reader 

Translation: 

« Fire breather

Winged leader

But two heads

To a third sing »

« From my voice :

The fires have spoked 

And the Price has been plaid

With magic blood »

« With words of flame

With clear eyes

To bind the three

To you I sing »

« As one we gather

And with three heads

We shall fly as we were Destiny

Beautifully, freely »

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@avalyaaa

@noodle81937

Introduction

(Picture from Pixabay)

Hello everyone,

I already did a post to introduce myself about 2 years ago, but since I have changed in the meantime, I will do it again for new people who follow what I write. (And even those who have not seen the first post before)

So I’m called Earenwen, in pseudo but my first name is Emilie, I turned 30 this year and it’s been more than 14 or 15 that I write fanfiction. Writing was not constant, I even stopped for several years to write. I took it back after a break in my life and my great attraction to the House of the dragon series, put me back on the path of fanfictions.

I explained this just so you know that as I write, my style may change a little bit by writing.

All of the picture of my profil blog are from pixabay, a website where you can find pictures, songs and all for free and legal. And the masterlist illustrations are made by myself.

My mother tongue is French, I do not too badly in English (I understand when listening to it, reading and I write it, only my oral lets pass my accent French.)

I took a training in sewing to become costume designer of theater in the future.

Oh and I love talking to everyone, so you can always leave a comment or a mp and I will answer when I see it.

In a second post I would note the rules for future commissions if you like to ask. But mostly to explain what I write and what I don’t.

I wish you all a good day, evening, night

Earenwen🌿

[ Sons of The Dragon ]

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reupload

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌

Tank you 🥰

Omg! Your x chubby reader daemon is so, so, so good!!! that I don't even have words to describe. you are very talented and you write super well, please give us a part 3,4,5 or as many as you want, just give us more please 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽♥️♥️♥️

Hello,

Oh thank you, I don’t really know how to react, I’m shy by nature, so again thank you, it really encourages me

There will be many more parts, I don’t know yet how many

I will do my best to write them, it will take a little time, I have to structure the ideas in my head.

26 with Daemon maaaaybe? 🧎🏻‍♂️

Of course it's noted