Wow... Maegor, Daemon And Aegon I🔥🔥🔥

Not wanted (part 1)

Pairing : Daemon Targaryen x Chubby fem reader

Summer : "The silver hair of the prince was blown by the slight breeze, his purplish gaze burned with an anger worthy of his dragon. Y/n although set back could observe the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Daemon was in front of her father, Dark sister in hand."

Author’s note: hello, I post the first part of "Not wanted" now, so you don’t wait as much. Part two will probably be published during the week or else it will be two publications on Sunday. I hope you enjoy this first part. Enjoy your reading.

Trigger warning: mistakes have undoubtedly had to pass my vigilance, English not being my mother tongue they will be corrected.

Ao3 profile : Earenwen_Leafwhisper

---

There is a feeling, or will it be instinct, which tells you quietly that you are not wanted in a place, it can happen everywhere, whether in school, in the street, at work, but also in the family.

This feeling grows over time and it is not pleasant, the worst being the evening when the truth comes out. When your father is drunk with all the alcohol he has drunk since the beginning of the afternoon explains to you that you will never be born, that your life you owe to your mother who wanted more than anything in the world a child. That explains, a lot of things, like never having a "congratulations" when you achieve something, or a "I’m proud of you, I love you my daughter". No. Never, just "Did you see how fat you are?" "Stop reading", "Why don’t you read?" , being cut off at every moment, "Shut up!" followed by "Why don’t you answer me?". Little by little, all your self-esteem eventually crumbles, by a member of your closest family. There is also this question, "What would I do alone?" The moments when you imagine running away.

Being born on Westeros is not a dream life, whether we are peasants or nobles, we have our own personal hell. Yours is your father. Although not wanted, your father decided to do something with you, and marrying a second-rate lord was a good solution. His son, born of a first union, was already married to a lady from your region, strengthening the ties of the two families.

His son, he saw it differently, for him he had nothing to reproach himself. But to all the others, he was a frightful asshole, who amused himself by threatening servants and lords of smaller house than yours. Manipulating everyone around you, going so far as to threaten you, morally and physically, explaining clearly, that the day your father died, he would put you at the door of your castle. But you were just a ball and chain. Your father did not want to marry you, at the very beginning, prefer that no one speaks of you or shows interest, waiting for the coming years, he ends up wanting to see you leave with a lord, he could not see you when he was drunk, insulting you with various sentences, more or less painful, explaining that nobody would want you, the least that nothing. Deep down, he was bubbling, refusing to accept that someone was interested in you.

During the various tournaments in which he participated as spectator, he tried to find you a husband in vain, he reproached you, while it was his fault, because no lords had seen you in the flesh. The lords are trying hard to convince him to get you out of the castle, wanting to see who this misterieuse young woman was.

A date was chosen, those of the games organized by Lord Baratheon, for the adoubement of his eldest son.

---

To say that you were surprised would have been an understatement, your father, one morning sober, warned you or rather ordered you to be present at the games organize for the son Baratheon. Your mind worked very quickly, you felt fear mounted within you, your whole body became warm, your heart throbbing, you felt your blood flowing at the level of your temples, your hands became sweatly. With time you had learned not to believe the good news coming from your father because to each of them, hid a dark face, turning against you.

You instinctively understood that something was wrong. He had never wanted you to accompany the "family", you learned to appreciate the fact of not participating in banquets, the only semblance of banquets in which you had participated was in your very young childhood, during which only the houses vassal to yours participated and at the same time make your acquaintance, having seen you as a child at your mother’s side. Whether it was a courtesy visit or in the most difficult moments, you, the child who tried to do well to please his parents, but ended up seeing his father drunk, yelling at the guests who contradicted him on anything, (whether on the land or on the alcohol he ate) and who fell asleep on one of the benches aligned against a wall of the room, a knight winning up to your nurse in order to sleep safely.

As you grew up, you would stay back, observing in the dark the rare events taking place in your castle, seeing from your apartments, your brother’s wedding, do not participate in the festivities. In a sense you were grateful, you did not want to play this open-air play, where false pretenses were common, you could only wish good luck to the servants, knowing more than very well, that their work and reprimands would be much more severe than usual

Now you had to participate, was it a new way to humiliate yourself? To have you away from the castle so that your brother could make it his stronghold and abandon you in a place that you were unknown?

All possible reasons paraded in your mind, not even trying to find optimism in them.

---

The area of your family was quite far from the stromlands, the journey was long and winding, the summer was coming to an end, the roads formed of a mixture of earth and large stones, you avoided the forests anticipate the slightest attack of bandits who could have hidden in the trees and depths of the forest. You were traveling for the first time outside your castle and your father did not want to worry about looting in addition to having you nearby.

There were two carriages, in the first was your father, a mestre and his advisor. You were present in the second, more modest, made only of wood, without ornaments, made of the rest of the wood of an old carriage, a servant was at your side, helping you to sew a new dress, for the dinner in which you and your father would participate, dinner to help you find a husband. «New», was not the right word, you used fabric of old dresses that belonged to you to make your work. The jerky movements of the carriage made it difficult to sew, more than once you had pricked your fingers, fortunately there was no taste of blood spilled.

Your journey was calm, you stayed in the carriage most of the time, leaving only when you had no choice, escorted by your servant and a knight, you avoid your father, who over the days used up the small reserve of wine he took with him when you left. The less alcohol there was and the faster he started to be irritable. The slightest thing that was contrary to his desires was directly criticized, whether it was the singing of birds early in the morning, the wind blowing a little too loudly, or a knight of one’s armor needed to be oiled. Everything was a pretext for his moods, the rare moments when he was sober and asked how you lived the journey, and his drinking crises where he remembered for an eternal time painful moments for all and reproaching you, even if you had nothing in it.

---

After more than a fortnight of travel, you finally arrived on the edge of the ramparts of Storm’s End, gave you the impression of being gloomy, all its shades of dark color, made you think of the tales that your nanny told you before going to sleep. Your servant looked through the opening of the carriage opposite to yours, observing the little distance that separated you from your destination.

"My lady! Look! In the sky!"

Surprised by her sudden change in behavior, you looked, trying to understand why she had reacted in this way.

You squinted slightly, trying to look towards the clouds that were beginning to gather above the stromlands. It was just clouds, nothing new, just big gray clouds with white reflections. Whatever… There you seemed to see a darker point, moving, appearing and disappearing, moving in movements that did not seem to come from the wind. The more you concentrated, the more you had the impression that it was getting bigger and bigger. Your throbbing heart, you didn’t understand what you see.

"Sir Percival, do you see this form moving in the clouds?"

Sir Percival was a knight of of family who was loyal to yours for several generations, long before the conquest of Westeros by Aegon the conqueror. Percival seemed to be close to your father’s age, as far as you could remember, you had always known her. He had always encouraged you when you were a child doing a task that seemed impossible to you, unlike your father who always found subject to criticism.

Sir Percival mounted on his horse’s saddle, lifted his head, you could see from his profile that he was concentrating, you could see fine wrinkles forming in the corner of the eye that you could see.

“It seems Lady Y/n, that it is, a dragon.”

"A dragon?"

“Lady Rhaenys Targaryen is a cousin of the Baratheon House through her mother. It would not surprise me that other Targaryen would have been invited. Although tensions are still high between the two houses, with regard to the iron thrones. "

“Thank you Sir”

"With pleasure Lady Y/n"

When you put your head in the carriage you began to imagine how big the shape could become, what their dragon riders might look like. Lost in your thoughts, you whispered a sweet.

“Dragons…”

---

Tents stood against the ramparts of the city that was facing the castle. The long and heavy linen fabrics covered them, a ballet of color paraded on both sides of the central aisle. Shades of blue, green, yellow and other warm and cold colors contrasted against the walls of an anthracite gray. The tents closest to the doors were intended for the most noble houses and more precisely for their knights, small paths were formed between the tents, taking visitors in the direction of the tents of the vassal houses, whose tents became increasingly modest according to their ranks and riches.

From inside the carriage, you and your servant could smell scents of roasted meats, grilled vegetables and soups. The smells came from the outskirts of the enormous camp, where servants of vassal houses prepared meals on oak tables, suspended above the campfires, stood pots where various soups and stews marinated. Looking from the openings of the carriage, you could see the knights helping from their squires moving armor, swords, masses and shields towards the forges moving from the city to the camp. The noises they heard were a mixture of words, metal clapping, the neighing of horses and clogs clapping on the ground.

The coach stopped slowly arriving at the level of the places defined at the location of the future tents. Your house was not one of the largest houses of Westeros, but had known to keep its independence from the largest houses, bend the knee only in front of the Targaryen house, after several years of fierce war. Some people in your family had kept a deep resentment towards silver hair, prefer to have links with other houses in Westeros, hence their placement. Coming out of the carriage, you looked around, taking the time to remember every moment, knowing that she would risk being married to a person she did not know at the end of the games.

Your house was placed between the Stark and Tully houses. You had never met a person of the two houses, hearing of them only by the few bits of words coming from messenger or by the books about the conquest of Aegon. The people coming out of the main tent of the Stark house were preparing the beds, moving the weapon and armor racks, they too had to arrive shortly before you.

"You do not speak without permission, you do not look a lord or a lady in the eye, keep your head down, and most importantly! Don’t make me ashamed!"

The words of your father came out of your thoughts, since your departure from the castle, he had not spoken to you directly, you understood that he would not speak to you more, and kissed the head you understood that it was the best solution for the moment, no one present knew you except the knights of your house, no one would have stood up for you.

Sir Percival descended from his horse, standing beside you. He put his hand against your shoulder.

"Don’t worry Lady Y/n, I’m here."

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the years under your father’s yoke continue to pressure you.

"Shall I wait here until the tents are up?"

"No my lady, your father allows you to go around the camp, under the supervision of a knight."

"In that case, will you be prepared to accompany Sir Percival?"

"Of course."

Sir Percival, bowed gently in the direction of the young woman, letting his young squire take the reins of his horse, helmet under his arm, the knight began to walk beside the young woman, understanding more than his lord that the young woman needed it.

---

You felt several glances resting on you, despite everything you tried to keep your head high, constantly repeating to you, that your father did not see you, that he could not have concrete proof on your posture. The lord closest to your father looked at Sir Percival, recognizing the knight who at times accompanied Lord Y/f/n, they all watched the young woman round, recognizing for the most observant, the few features she shared with her father. So she was the young woman?

Murmurs began to roam the tents, first of all the less noble houses, clearly understanding that it was their chance to assert their houses in order to win ranks to theirs. The noblest houses were the most reluctant, the lords knew enough Y/f/n to know that your presence was hiding something. Never had your father talked about you, no hint, nothing. You could be legitimate just like a bastard they knew nothing about. A union between the two families by your blood did not guarantee the loyalty of the Y/h/n family, or even your legitimacy. There was still a positive point, your house, was known to have stood up to the Targaryen, it was powerful, but the disadvantage came from one man. Lord Y/f/n Y/h/n. Your father. Who of his problems with alcohol, became one of the most detestable men of Westeros, be it his words invaded with a hatred towards any man not thinking in the same way as him, refusing the slightest annoyance, and his bad manners, he turned and farted without any shame, whether during dinners, the shawl or in interviews when they took place at night.

Some shameless lords were already beginning to want to bring their sons closer, thinking they understood that your father could be overthrown quickly in case of an alliance, but the knight accompanying you watched over the grain, He threw black glances at people who observed too insistently his protégé. Fortunately all the families present were not insistent, greeting you simply out of politeness, resuming their activities just after.

From your walk in the central aisle, you could see the affinities of noble houses from their positions, the north remained mainly between them, the south with the south and then there were some houses that did not remain according to their geolocations on Westeros, But by their wedding rings, the children came and went from tents to tents, laughing at each other in a game that annoyed adults.

Looking at them you felt a slight pinch in the heart, you had never known a real moment of innocence to play with other children except one or two children of servants who ended up punished. Only your nanny and some knights kept you company, trying to alleviate the boredom of the little girl you were.

But of all the looks on you, you could never have imagined that one of them would have made you miss a heartbeat.

---

From both ends of the long alley stood two very large tents, of red and black color. From the location that the house Y/h/n, moving in the direction of the right stood the largest and most flamboyant in its shades of red, it was almost contiguous to the large door, this one raised flags of a red tricephal dragon on a black background. Many knights and servants moved in and around the tent, but no silver heads were visible.

“The king is very weak, he must have sent fighters on his behalf for the games.”

It was Percival, who saw the curiosity in your eyes, had spoken.

“In this case, who owns the second tent? It also carries the dragon.”

Percival concentrated, trying to understand why the Targaryen could have been divided into two parts. The Velaryons stood between the royal tent and the knights fighting under the banner of the Baratheon. In this case, the crown wanted to show that the union between the houses was maintained, although the princess was not the future queen. Who was in the second tent? To this Percival had no answer.

"I’m afraid I don’t know, lady Y/n. "

“It is nothing, we will probably learn in the coming days.”

You were right, when you returned to the tent of your house, you could see the second Targaryen tent grow. Unlike the royal tent, it was mainly composed of linen from a jet black. Two banners in the colors of the Targaryen were placed on both sides of the opening. There was very little movement around, the tent seemed almost deserted.

Almost.

A snap of armor was heard, you turned around at the same time as Percival and saw several knights walking quickly in your direction, Percival just had time to grab your arm and shoot at him, preventing you from being rushed. Slightly under the surprise, you did not pay much attention to the number of knights, or even to the fact that they did not apologize. The only thing that captivated your attention was a hair color that you had never seen beyond book to screen, silver hair, your eyes very easily found those that belonged to the person with silver hair. The purple eyes were almost hypnotic, you never thought possible that it exists, it took you a few seconds to turn away, not without fighting. In front of you, a man who seemed barely older walked, he was dressed in black with small touches of dark red. If at first the man’s gaze was surprised, it was quickly changed by a smirk. You felt your breath stay in your throat, time seemed to you to last an eternity. Although in reality your exchange of gaze did not last more than two minutes.

Percival with his protective arm around you, looked at the man younger than him, he growled. He understood why a second tent was present. Prince Daemon Targaryen would participate in his games, and this no longer in Percival. The prince since the appointment of Viserys as successor to the throne, was in dispute with the royal family, rumors about his adventures in the bordelles spanked numerous as his disrespect for people he did not see as his equal, refusing the arranged marriage with Lady Rhea Royce. The rogue prince was not someone the fathers wanted their daughters to meet. Percival though merely your protector feared that the prince would fall under his spell, not for the punishment he would have had, but he only wanted to protect you.

---

On the first night, Y/f/n ordered his knights and servants to keep you inside your tent, refusing to let you speak to anyone before he begins the bargain of your future marriage. He didn’t want you to undermine his progress, not noticing your look lost in the void.

Although you could not get out of the tent, the servants kept the entrance open allowing everyone to see what was happening outside, finding agreements with the servants of the nearby noble houses to say nothing to their lords.

You were sitting near the entrance and looking out, seeing that the movements of the day had faded by the time the noblest houses had come to the opening dinner of the games. You kept hoping you could see the silver-haired man again before your father came back, but he didn’t seem to have left his tent.

This is what you believed, because under a cloak with the hood up, the young prince was out, wanting to enjoy the night outside the large camp. He saw you from the corner of his eye, a servant was taking care of your hair (long/short, thin/thick, lise/curly/frizzy, etc.) y/hair/c.

Daemon was intrigued, he had already met your father on very rare occasions, as well as your half-brother. Oh more than once, the desire for murder had risen in his mind, he could still bear the Baratheons, but these two men, were detestable. Daemon wondered who this round young woman was, having never heard of her. Something in her attracted him, but he did not know what it was and he did not like it.

---

The night gave way to the days, the first games started at dawn, the archery tournament was on the outskirts of the city, long lines of targets next to each other butted in front of wooden bleachers. Ropes prevented the peasants from meeting the nobles. Your house was divided in two, the closest to the ground you were sitting with your servant, you had to keep your head low, feeling the heavy look of your father in the back, this one was two rows above you.

Daemon, from his place, standing back from the royal family, held a goblet of wine in his left hand, he tried to keep his gaze in the direction of the archers who were advancing, but was without hope. His gaze turned away at the slightest opportunity in your direction, he could see that since night, your posture had changed. From a straight posture, you had bent the spine letting appear some curves that he had not yet seen and which did not displease him, observing what was behind you, he saw Y/f/n, of which the black look was directed in your direction, while he seemed to speak with the lord next to him. Daemon despised this scene.

“You seem to be more interested in the Y/h/n house than in the tournament, my prince.” a lord who Daemon had forgotten the name, just spoken.

"If you please, my prince, it would seem that Lord Y/h/n wishes to bride his daugther although with her age I doubt that the lords are interested, they prefer them younger."

This lord annoyed Daemon, whether by his words or by his innuendo.

“At the same time, what did he think of his daughter, she only whas the second child, and of a second wife, his son will inherit everything.”

The second child… Daemon knew what it was like to be the second, more than anyone else.

---

Hello,

Now that I have post the part 1 of "Not wanted" I can tell you something.

Last sunday I have go to two convention in one the "Made in Asia" and "Heroes comic con". One ticket was good to enter the two.

And at the Heroes comic con their was this autographe session, so few days before thé convention I was "I go or not?". It was only on sunday that I take the décision.

And I go to the autographe of Graham Mctavish.

He was so sweet ! 🥰

And during waiting for him with Friends we have watch Tom Ellis. Yes. Tom Ellis, Lucifer.

He's autographe was a little to high in price for me, but I have watch him in fleech and bones! 🔥🫠😅

So this is the autographe

(and he know how to write my name correctly when their is three way to write it)

(and yeah my real name is Emilie, nice to meet you)

But that's not all,

I have finally find some goodies Hotd, and Doctor Who.

If you can not read the name on the card, I will have the link's to their social média in this post.

So It was Earenwen, see you,

Bye bye 🌿

Not Wanted part 3

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x chubby fem reader  

Summary: What a surprise it was to run into Daemon in this tavern.  

Trigger warning: English is not my mother tongue, I am sorry if mistakes are going through my correction, I will correct them.

Author’s note: Y/s/n = Your servant name  

Y/f/n = your father name  

---  

There he was, siting. You were face to face. Your heart throbbed, your blood pouring into your whole body. Your breath seemed to be trapped in your lungs and throat. Daemon was looking at you with a sweet smirk on his lips. He could see your reaction, but he couldn’t see your internal reaction.  

Inside you, your mind ran in all directions, you never could have imagined seeing it, here, in this tavern, even less during the day. What was he doing there? You were trying to stay calm, keep your breath down.  

He was the first to answer  

"Keep my mouth?"  

The tone of his voice was not harsh or angry, but rather amused. His voice seemed hypnotized to you, the environment around you no longer existed. Until this bubble burst at your realization. But what happens to me?  

"Yes, it is not very courteous to speak like that."  

"It is not a proper place for a lady, especially without a knight on her side." He smirk, but the tone of her voice was most serious.  

He hit the nail  

"I am not alone."  

He looked at your maid, his smirk grown bigger, a small laugh, out of his mouth, he shook his head gently spanking his long silver hair.  

"A servant will not serve you against bandits. Unless you are an expert in handling fabrics and needles."  

Even if you were to contradict him, he was right, she would be as helpless as you in the event of a bandit attack. You sighed softly, but did not lower your eyes.  

All of a sudden, you were worried if your dad found out you were sneaking out, although for your dad you were a jerk, disobeying him was going to lead to the beating you didn’t want to imagine. You shivered despite the heat of the tavern.  

"Will you bring it back?" 

Daemon watched your body language, your pupils widen, the fact that you curl slightly. You looked like an animal who was hunter and in front of an imminent and not visible danger. Time seemed to have become slow, so slow that it seemed to have stopped.  

"No, I see no interest, or benefit."  

Daemon was serious, his voice more posed and less playful, he smiled more mockingly. You let go of the breath you were holding, the tension of your whole body dissipated, you felt relieved although a slight fear, although reduced, remained in the depths of your mind.  

Your servant could see the tension that had settled, slowly fades, to help, she made the decision to change conversation and focus on you and ordering your meal.  

"Oh that’s right... "  

You think for a few seconds asking for a dish that contained what you enjoyed eating and that could please your servant, throwing a glance at her, to confirm if she was willing to eat it. She nodded. You commanded for two people, be it for food and drink. 

When the employer went away with your order, a silence settled at the table, this silence was only a silence of voices, because music came from the opposite side of the tavern. When you looked in the direction where the music was coming from, you could see Daemon, who was wearing the hood of his cape on his head, preventing the people behind him from seeing his silver hair, you were taken aback, he was alone in this tavern, at least seemed to be alone. For a prince, you thought that he would at least be accompanied by a knight not necessarily in bodyguard but at least in reinforcement if the prince was attacked. Perhaps his reinforcements were in the tavern also incognito. Although it seemed more likely that the prince came alone, hence the placement of his hood on his head.  

You didn’t want to keep your eyes on him to avoid being seen as an insistent person or one of the young women who is desperately looking for a man. So yes you found him more than charming, but no you did not want to pass for crazy.  

In the distance, from the oak counter, an employee differs from the one who took your order, walked zigzagging between the tables, arriving at yours. He brought a jug and a goblet in a gesture, he laid it all before Daemon. When the prince poured the contents of the jug you could see wine coming out, raising an eyebrow you could contain your reflection.  

Daemon looked at you and smiled in the corner, almost amused by your reflection. He let out a small mocking laugh. If the prince seemed to take your words well, your servant had become tense, giving you alert looks, trying to make you understand that you had to apologize for your words. You cast an inquiring glance at her, you did not see the evil in your words, a small battle of glance began, you were both winning and losing, for not apologizing, she did it in your place.  

"Wine that looks like dog urine, but not enough to drink?" 

"I am sorry, my prince, for my mistress’s behavior and word." She bowed her head in respect.  

"You can just as well shout." You looked harshly at your servant, your whispered words directed at her." Don’t forget that we can’t get caught."  

It is true that you had been dry and direct, but you refused to be punished on your return and even more so that your return would be faster if one of the knights of your house were in this tavern and recognized you. You were never harsh towards your servant, she was the closest person to a friend than anyone else in your home. You’ll talk to him later.  

"Oh yes... the rumors." It was Daemon.  

"What rumors?" His words questioned you.  

"The ones that say you’d be mistreated by your alcoholic father."  

Daemon had hit home. You avoided wincing at his words. Your father was finally more famous than you could have imagined, if even a Targaryen had heard the rumors.  

The prince drank a sip of his wine before continuing to speak.  

"An alcoholic asshole, I’m surprised to see you here, not under his yoke."  

"If I don’t start living now, I’ll never do it. Not once marry the man he chooses." You sigh.  

This interested Daemon, a lady tired of being the kind second child, envious of freedom. Oh how much could he understand you, much more than anyone else, but unlike you, the fact that he was a man prevented him from getting in trouble, you could live as a woman.  

Your servant was watching what was happening, nervous, hoping that once the dishes were brought, you would eat before leaving for the camp before the end of the game of the day. It was without counting on Daemon’s growing interest in you and your desire to escape.  

If at the arrival of the dishes, the discussion ended as desired Y/s/n the continuation was quite different.  

Daemon came out of the tavern first, long before you finished eating, he had not said a word, you were disappointed, but did not dare to say anything. At the end of your meal, you took out a small purse where some gold and silver coins were stored and you paid.  

Coming out of the tavern in your turn, the sun had slightly dazzled you, you took a few seconds before your eyes adapt to the brightness.  

The street was crowded with people, Y/s/n wrapped his arm around the hold so as not to lose you. You walked towards the main street, taking the time to look at the clothes of the people, the dresses were not in the style of your region, they were much simpler, the pomp of the nobles, gave them quite a charm. What the sun’s rays seemed to bring out. 

During a blockade in the street, where several people seemed to fight for something and had ended up blocking the street because of the crowd of spectators observing the situation. In the distance you could hear the cries of the people, then suddenly the cries were less until a crowd movement. Your heart and your breath began to accelerate. The cries had given way to a fight that was becoming widespread. The tinsel of armor was heard in less than two minutes. As you were about to be hit by a city guard, someone grabbed you by your free arm, made you step back, and stumbled on your steps.  

A hand came over your mouth, you looked around as much as you could. The back of your head was against a person’s chest/shoulder, you could feel the movement of the person’s breath, even feel the person’s breath against your cheek. Your gaze crossed Y/s/n, his gaze reflected his fear and growing panic. You could feel the blood pulsating in your temples, to the frenetic rhythm of your heart, a cold sweat running along your back.  

By trying to calm down, you could focus on the smell of the person holding you. It was a mixture of leather, grass from a bath, and burning coal, as well as a small smell of wine when the man began to speak your ear.  

"A young woman inclined to freedom, but not to her own safety."  

You recognized that voice, though you only heard it a few times. That voice... heard less than an hour before. A voice you wanted him to continue to speak to you. Some silver streak only confirmed your intuition. He released your mouth when he felt you relax.  

"Prince Daemon? ..."  

You turned in his direction, surprised, your pride shouted at you to answer him in a scathing way, but your spirit told you to be posed, while your heart howled incoherent things.  

"Fair lady, this city can be dangerous, not as dangerous as King’s Lading but feel no doubt much more than your city." 

But he was not wrong, this crowd movement, was nothing compared to an attack of bandits. Whatever you were in the middle of the day, in a street full of people, where the guards reacted quickly, rare were the attacks of bandits in such conditions.  

"Thank you... for stopping us from being pushed by the guards." You had to admit, you’d rather be shot at the prince than pushed by guards.  

Daemon smiles in the corner, seeing you thank him, your look avoiding him. He had interviewed your eyes in the tavern, and now that you were avoiding him, he had made it his mission to make you look at him.  

"Have you visited the whole city?"  

"No..." You didn’t have time to answer him.  

"No, we must return to the encampment as soon as possible, before Lord Y/f/n returns, and discovers that we are not present."  

Your servant had cut you off, you were irritating, you knew your father, with the day of the game, he would come home late at night and completely drunk, which means that he would not notice, your absence, even Sir Percival, was not at your bedside, Your father had ordered him to stay with him, thinking that you would stay in your tent. Sir Percival would not see your disappearance until your father was asleep in his tent.  

Daemon looked at your servant, she bored her to the highest point. Her black eyes, made her shut up and looked towards the ground. If she was familiar with your kindness, she would not suffer the wrath of a prince, a Targaryen prince in addition. 

Your side of the was measuring the pros and cons, to know if you stayed to go around the city with the prince, if he agreed, or you would come back now and reduce your chances of future boredom, due to your little escapade.  

For:  

"You discovered the city and were not locked up in your tent."  

-Chances of spending the afternoon with Daemon.  

-If you were with him, the opportunity to ask him questions.  

"If the prince liked you, it would reduce the chances of your father correcting you."  

Against:  

"Your father’s reaction if he finds you missing."  

-Be in your tent until the games are over.  

-To be forced to marry a horrible stranger... Oh yes it is true, it was already the case, feel your exit quietly.  

-Let your father learn of your sneaking out with Daemon, who already has his reputation and a nickname that was given to him in the victory of 'Rogue Prince'  

Whether for or against, they were at the same numbers, in any case those you had in mind at that time.  

Might as well live fully, no? But in safety. If Daemon asked you to visit the city by his side, you agreed. But if you were alone with Y/s/n, you would go back with her to the camp, putting an end to this escapade.  

"So? Have you visited the city?"  

"Not all of it, just the big streets."  

"Are there places you would like to visit? Like the alleys where jugglers play or street theatre?"  

"It sounds interesting, only... I wouldn’t mind a guide." You were hoping he understood your undertone and agreed to go with you.  

"I happen to know the perfect guide." He smirk.  

"Oh, who is he?"  

"Me."  

Your heart which had calmed down again to beat ka chamade, at the moment you thought you had misunderstood, that your imagination had played a trick on you, but by looking at him, in an interrogation way, his mocking smile. He offered you to be your guide, your blood poured into your body, a heat invaded it. You smiled softly and looked Y/s/n which was on the edge of panic. If you could calm her down, she would accompany you, she would even become a witness if anything should happen and turn against you.  

With a glance from you, encouraging, she agreed to follow you, you will talk about it later, once enter your tent and without witnesses.  

---  

The sky was overcrowded with heavy clouds, the wind had risen slightly, a smell of rain was beginning to spread in the air.  

In the city, only the people living there and not merchant had taken refuge in their cottages, the (entertainers) continued to entertain the passers-by, the different musics play by the small troupes of artists animated each street and alleys. In one of the alleys, a play was played. This one traced with "certainty" the loves and counted with confidence the number of conquest of the Lord Baratheon.  

"Certainty?... There must be only half the bastards begotten."  

Daemon had spoken in your ear, the sound of his voice and his breath against your cheek and neck, gave you shivers in the back, not of horror but earlier of anticipation.  

"Are Lord Baratheon’s out-of-wedlock adventures so well known?" You were watching Daemon surprise and disillusionment.  

"For the common people and some nobles apparently." Daemon shrugged.  

Applause came out of your discussion. The audience applauds the final scene where Lord Baratheon, at least his actor, had collapsed on the alcoholic floor under the gaze of his mistresses. 

“If it was one of the best shows in the city, I can’t imagine the others.” Daemon chuckled and shook his head.  

"Maybe the other theatres offer shows more to your liking?"  

“I highly doubt it.”  

"Why not try? At least you won’t have any regrets."  

Daemon shook his head again, if he were not intrigued by you, he would have refused. But at the thought of spending more time with you. He was ready to undergo the endless staging that included the theatres of the city, fortunately for him, almost all were filled by the people and were inaccessible.  

Daemon had left his hood on his head so as not to be recognized. You were often at the back of the crowd, avoiding contact with other spectators. Y/s/n was nervous and on high alert, all your opposite. You forgot your troubles, live the present moment.  

---  

It is only when the sun sets that you return to the camp. Once inside, Daemon removed his hood releasing his silver hair, the sun gave golden hues to his hair. You watched him from the corner of your eye, an almost mystical charm emanated from him.  

Servants and knights, staying in the camp looked in your direction, many were people who did not pay attention, too busy with their own concerns. Others wondered why the prince came back with you. (Mainly the people of small noble houses of the lords wanted to marry their sons) 

At the time you didn’t care, until you left the prince, your little bubble, deflated without bursting. For when they entered your tent, some of your servants present, looked at you surprised and panicked, they had searched throughout the camp without finding you and had feared that you had fled or worse had been kidnapped. If you had come home later, by nightfall they should have warned your father of your disappearance. You were sorry to have frightened them and told them, but deep down, you did not regret anything, this simple moment with Prince Targaryen you allowed to change your mind, to see a side of life that you did not know, you finally felt free. Free of this tent, free of your castle, free of your father and your family’s judgments. You had finally lived part of your life.  

---  

On his return your father had not even seen your change in your behavior, your look in the wave, how you only half listened to what he told you while being drunk. You even smiled a little, something strange coming from you, because you usually remained closed on you when he was there. You were on your little cloud, remembering the reflections of light in Daemon’s hair, or the smell that emanated from him when you were sitting next to him. To his giggling when he mocked a stage and actors at shows. To his breath against your skin when he pulled you out of the crowd. Even if it was only one exit, the prince had managed to capture your mind much more than you could have imagined.  

---  

The next morning, you had prepared, not for another getaway but for the new games of the day, the Béhourd tournament was about to begin and your father wanted you to be there to show you to a lord. You were bubbling with resentment that you were riding like a fairground beast. Your father left at first, letting you grind your teeth.  

As you left your tent, your gaze met that of a certain prince. He walked in the direction of the games, when he turned his head in my direction of the heavy sound of the movement of the fabrics which composed the entrance of your tent.  

When Daemon saw you, he smiled in the corner, not with mockery but because it was pleasant for him to see you. In no time you walked side by side, your servant followed you, Ser Percival followed you by his side, his gaze was suspicious, you spoke so easily with the prince, that it was not normal for two people who had just met.  

Along the way towards the duel field, your conversation with Daemon continued, you smiled much more than usual, even he smiled at you gently and not with his mocking smile. All along the way, you stayed too close, more than courtesy allowed. When you split up, Daemon took your hand and put a chaste fuck in it. You felt a heat rising in you, the same heat you had felt the day before, not of embarrassment (of Shame), but a pleasant warmth, of anticipation of the present moment.  

“Good game, my lady.”  

“Good game, Prince Daemon.”  

Ser Percival was about to faint, he knew very well the rumors about the prince who was more than once named Rogue Prince, in discussions between knights of different noble houses.  

He wondered about the events of the day before, he was not at your side and was afraid of what might have happened. He hoped the prince would not do this just to pass the time or to have a new nobleman to add to his conquests for the abandoned once tired of her.  

---  

The duels took place in the middle of the city, Lord Baratheon wanted everyone to be able to observe the duels, several of his own knights were going to fight and he wanted the greatest number to watch their victories.  

People had settled on the floors of the houses to look, people could attend the fight although they were not in contact with the nobles, the most guard arena was placed in the center of the city, large bleachers had been erected as well as barriers, to limit access to the place.  

As for the archery tournament, you were at your closest, your father sitting several rows behind you, but he had sat at the side of a lord, at the pace, not very neat. Y/s/s was always to be rated, but a young man, younger than the prince, with a dubious smell sat on your other side. He was more passionate about his wine cup and fighting than the people around him. If you were about to vomit, another person was bubbling.  

Daemon was seated in the gallery in front of yours, his hard and ardent gaze towards you, he could see how hard you were trying to get away from the lousy one who was shouting in the direction of the fights overthrow of his wine all around him. The fights bore Daemon, but what he saw in the stands opposite him was bubbling, your father a few rows above you, looked like a drunken and unscrupulous merchant. The screaming spectators, the clash of armor and weapons, did nothing to him, he heard nothing, just his blood bubbling in his temples.  

'My prince? ...' He was a servant, carrying a pitcher of wine.  

“What?” It wasn’t time to bother him.  

'Do you want more wine?' The servant, who had startled at the sound of Daemon’s voice, trembled.  

“No.”  

Daemon was not in the mood to drink wine, nor to talk to anyone. As soon as this tournament of Béhourd was finished, it would go in your direction. He was preparing a way out, to get you out of the mess your father decided to put you through.  

---  

When the sun reached its zenith, the game was over, you felt the wine you had not drunk, your dress was stained and this stranger followed you out of the bleachers. He made you uncomfortable, you looked around, behind you, your father was talking to the same lord at the beginning of the day. Until from the corner of your eye you saw silver hair moving in your direction. This silver hair moved very quickly, creating a crowd movement. In less than two minutes, Daemon was standing in front of you. He stood straight, a menacing look towards the gougea who was next to you.  

“My lady seem to be disturbed by some ‘dirty’ boy?” 

Daemon’s gaze towards the young man was murderous, he needed more than flames out of his mouth to make him look like a dragon. Ser Percival stood between you.  

“You’d better get away from Ser.” The tone of his voice became increasingly threatening.  

Y/s/n little reassured squeezed your arm.  

“It’s nothing, Percival.”   

The knight turned to look uncertain.  

'The prince must have seen what it is to pass in the stands and the state of my dress.' You smiled softly to try to calm the situation.  

“What’s going on?” Your father had just arrived and was looking at you with boredom.  

“Go back to your tent to change, have you seen how you present yourself in the presence of a prince?”  

“If that bastard hadn’t splashed his wine!”  

“This bastard is her fiancé!” The lord, father of the gougea, was caught in his pride.  

This sentence, dropped a stone on you, you quickly looked at your father, who although drunk had a hard look, you then looked at himself as a “fiancé” that even several poor had more pace, a wind of dread had just crossed you, it is the panicked look, You looked at the prince, lost.  

Daemon saw him with your change of expression and the positioning of your back, which reminded him of that of a condemned man. He finds himself bubbling even more rage. Oh he was going to make the lord regret the idea of making you marry his son, your father was going to regret how he treated you.  

Because for Daemon, you were his and his alone. 

Details for requests

Day 1 : Begging

Day 2 : Mirror sex

Day 3 : Daddy kink

Day 4 : Pregnancy

Day 5 : Hand jobs

Day 6 : Jealousy

Day 7 : Shower/bath

Day 8 : Anal

Day 9 : Sex in public

Day 10 : Hair pulling

Day 11 : Honeymoon

Day 12 : Sensory deprivation

Day 13 : Threesome

Day 14 : Cockwarming

Day 15 : Scars

Day 16 : Mutual masturbation

Day 17 : Size difference

Day 18 : Lap dance

Day 19 : Glory hole

Day 20 : Sex worker

Day 21 : Somnophilia

Day 22 : Mind control

Day 23 : 69

Day 24 : Double penetration

Day 25 : Rough

Day 26 : Incest

Day 27 : Face sitting

Day 28 : Aftercare

Day 29 : Shaving

Day 30 : Spanking

Day 31 : Masturbation

If all the nobles and Viserys have to heard one theme song during the burst of reader?

Treachery. The theme of Aizen

But for Daemon?

Or "Can't get enough of your love, babe" from Barry White but at the place of love it would be hate.

Or

You're the first, my last, my everything from Barry White

@avalyaaa

Rage

Daemon x wife reader

Summary: What happens when Daemon’s wife explodes in front of everyone?

Author’s note: hello everyone, it has been several months since I wrote such a long text in such a short time. I reread the first time to correct as many mistakes as possible.

Part 2 will come soon

Tag : @avalyaaa @dc-marvel-girl96

N/h is noble house

Not that Y/n refused the idea of marriage, what she refused was to be forced to marry a stranger living on another continent. Having to make a two-month trip by boat to meet an unknown prince, if for some it would have been a fairy tale, for y/n it was the opposite.

It is true that she could not say that Daemon was ugly physically, but his behavior towards her, was lower than some commoners.

Daemon had refused to meet her, preferring to go around the taverns of King’s Landing. When Y/n heard the news of her future husband’s place of debauchery, she confronted the freshly crowned Viserys, but refrained from saying the bottom of her thoughts.

"Rumor say, that my future husband is in a place of debauchery."

"Oh don’t worry, my dear. Daemon is a man, and a man with desires and needs." Viserys' voice showed his amusement. Under the outraged gaze of Y/n and the gaze of Otto Hightower.

Yes, Otto Hightower, the hand of the king who may be trying to do his job and who understood very well the stakes of the future marriage of Y/n and Daemon.

If Y/n hoped that once married, things would work out. Reality caught up with her.

Whenever it would be at the wedding day, when Daemon looked at her with disdain, or the non-existent wedding night, during which, it was a returning guard from the city who, out of pity, confessed to her that the prince was in one of the most famous brothels and insulted her copiously with all possible words. Daemon showed only disdain towards y/n, and in all this, y/n was alone.

Alone, facing a husband who did not want her and a beautiful family that seemed more tolerating than accepting her in the royal family. Between Viserys who always made excuses for Daemon or mocked the situation, pregnant Aemma that have tried to reassure y/n even if deep down, she knowed that Daemon would not change. Rhaenys who on rare visit, did not even seem to see her. Y/n felt alone, if only the mocking came only from that side. The visiting nobles liked to make fun of her clothes, which were not the latest fashion in Westeros, but represented her kingdom. Y/n hated all the nobles, except the Starks, whom she had never met.

In all this hatred, the most came from the "pimbêche". Noble lady's who took themselves superior while they were pitiful and contemptuous.

Oh and Otto Hightower, how can we forget? Otto dreamed of seeing the marriage of Daemon and Y/n explode, that Daemon is stuck in the kingdom of Y/n and that he can never come back to Westeros. Y/n could understand Otto’s hatred of Daemon, but she didn’t give Otto a spanking, preferring not to become a pawn in the gloomy game taking place on Westeros. The Daemon case being more than enough to give her headaches.

Despite the adversity, y/n remained smiling in front of others, keeping a good figure, at home it was polite to smile softly, which she spanked at all times, even when she dreamed of throwing Daemon from the ramparts of King’s Landing, when she looked away was not due to her shyness, oh no, this technique allowed her not to cast dark glances at the many courtiers.

She could not say how, she was able to keep so calm during the years that followed. Rejected by the nobles, forced to stay in the castle, not to meet Daemon in the streets of the city. Alone against all.

5 years, it took 5 long years...

This day haved to be a day of celebration for whatever reason Viserys found good.

In the morning, the servants of Y/ n had helped her to prepare, her dress was made of a gold thread woven self, allowed to be both light and show the richness of its origins. Whether it was her accessories or the style of her hair. Everything reminded her of her home, her family, because here. That was all she had left.

---

The atmosphere was heavy, Y/n standing with a glass of wine in her hand, watching the show before her eyes.

Daemon a glass of wine in hand, whispered in the hollow ear of a blushing servant.

Viserys spoking with Lord Corlys, or rather, talked about everything and nothing so, as not to leave Corlys talking of the problems of the kingdom.

Aemma stood beside a very young Rhaenyra, a septa not far from them. Several lords looked at y/n with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. Their wives had gathered in a pack of chatterboxes, barely discreet.

"Did you see her outfit?"

"She must think that Daemon will see her."

"Or a guard..."

"She look like a slut..."

"A wild one..."

"All of them are savages."

That someone insulted her was one thing. Daemon liked to call her "My little wildling" while smiling sneakily and with a mocking voice, but that someone dares to insult her people was the breaking point.

No one could have known which was the quickest, between the glass of wine throwing at Lady Lannister or the scream of Y/n.

"Don’t insult my people, you scoundrel!"

All the people present were silent on the shots, looking in the direction of Y/n, under the shock.

"You think yourself superior to me, my people and even yours when you are just a good snake, only good at to bear children. Children who are not of your husband." Lady Lannister blushed, trying to answer but was prevented. " Oh don’t play the innocent, everyone knows you like to copulate with your husband’s guards."

Y/n pointed finger lady n/h.

"And you. You dare to make fun of my outfits while yours are made fun of by your so-called friends behind your back." One tried to escape. " Don’t move! You think you’re trying to run away?! Oh no, not today. You think yourself so superior when you know nothing about my kingdom, and how dangerous it is for Westeros."

All the nobles were put back in their places, before Y/n moved towards the Targaryen.

"Oh, you think you’re out of reach?" Y/n laughs falsely. "Viserys. King of the trash. You play deaf and blind. Not wanting to listen to the problems of your kingdom. How do you want to reign when you are not even able to put back in place your own brother. I wouldn’t be surprised if your reign ended in war."

Although Daemon did not like someone to attack his brother, he could not be against the facts. When the eyes filled with rage and hatred of y/n landed on him, he was taken with a shiver, his pants begin to seem a little small. So... this was the true nature of his wife.

"And you! Dear husband. You are the worst of all. You are a pig packing in noble fabrics. Unable to consume your own marriage, unable to talk with your own wife! Unable to show an ounce of curiosity! How can you ascend to the throne when you are no better than the most disgusting of the people in this city?!"

And so it was that the beginning, all the worst actions of Daemon were brought to light, indicating that y/n knew everything.

"Today you will behave like the husband who is destined for me." She pointed towards a door leading to the many corridors of the castle. " My chamber. Now."

She did not raise her voice, and under the surprise of all, Daemon began to walk quickly in the direction of command.

Hi, on this stormy day, I come to you to warn you that this Sunday there will be no published text, I will make up for it next week by posting two texts.

"He’s first and only love part 3"

And

According to the progress either a continuation of the marital life of Daemon and Martell reader or a one shot about a chubby reader rejected by Daemon, but who falls on her feet and Daemon is jealous? I have to reread what I wrote for this one.

I wish you all a good day or night. 🌿

Oh and maybe I’ll sew a Cosplay of Alicent.

26 with Daemon maaaaybe? 🧎🏻‍♂️

Of course it's noted

Hello,

How do I ask that?

It’s been a while now, I write fanfictions, mainly on "House of the dragon" and "a song of ice and fire" and I’m looking for a beta reader.

I’m not too familiar with that. I probably have to say why I’m in this research.

So my mother tongue is French and when I write, I often leave mistakes in my fanfictions, and although I read after writing. The faults pass through anyway. (Some very large others smaller) sometimes I have trouble knowing if I post a fanfiction or not because I feel it is not good to read. At other time it is boiling in my mind and I publish, but yeah.

I mainly write my fan fiction in "x reader" and with chubby/plus size/fat reader (so yes, not everyone reads them) and I try to make it as neutral as possible, so that everyone can read my fanfiction regardless of their skin color, hair type. Etc...

For now I have not posted or written because... here, feel that it is not good enough, it does not make you want to write or post. (I have difficulty with the nsfw of the kinktober, yes I know I'm a lot lot late)

You can contact me by private messages on tumblr.

Have a good day or night.

Earenwen

(Oh and if you know where I could ask this, can you told me?)

I don't know if this was already tell,

But

The men's in asoiaf would have be for plus size/chubby woman.

At least for mariage, as historicaly people's who where plus size/chubby where the peoples who suffer the less of famines/having less food.

As so the one's who haved descendents/heirs.

So...

Maegor would have been for plus size woman logically/historicaly. As they where see as more able to have strong babies.

Daemon was a lot into a chubby/plus size Rhaenyra.

North lords where into it too, as it's more cold lands and all... I'm sure, that Creagan Stark was into plus size/chubby woman.

Gwayne Hightower? More to cuddles when all the bad things happen at the red keep and he have headache.

So yes, if your chubby/plus size reader. Thoses characters that you like/love, would definitely be into you for multiples reasons, don't let modern fashion and view made you think the opposite.

❤️

Don't get me wrong if your skinny/fit and all, they will also be into you.