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lillianastras · 1 year

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HOUSE OF THE DRAGON + REACTION GIFS (1/?) → Daemon Targaryen (part one). (feel free to use! 💕)

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lillianastras · 1 year

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Sapphire

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lillianastras · 1 year

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THE DRAGONS AND THEIR RIDERS In House of the Dragon (insp.)

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lillianastras · 2 years

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[ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ] ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ

sparks when skin brushes skin

secret smiles

checking to see what they think

seeing an object and thinking of them

hugs that last a beat too long

looking for them in a crowd

holding hands and that's all they can think of

rubbing comforting circles into their skin

laughing more around them

friends pointing [it] out

acting without thinking then checking to see how they reacted

lighting up when you see them

inside jokes

leaving notes

signing off a written correspondence with a kiss or "love"

accidentally referencing them as "my"

nicknames

comfort in their presence

personal gifts

growing really close really quickly

knowing what they'll say

feeling a flutter after something they've done dozens of times

they start analyzing everything to guess if it's romantic or not

face turning red when they get too close

face turning red when they think of them

smiling more easily

glowing after a nice remark and having it pointed out

overanalyzing what others say about them both

thinking maybe...

requested by anon

#prompts #please <3

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lillianastras · 2 years

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Queen of Love and Beauty || Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

TW: blood and violence (like, a lot of it... they are no good people here)

Summary: The final duel of the tourney is about more than glory.

The loud voice of the announcer rose over the excited buzz of the crowd as everyone’s attention turned to the grounds. Whether everybody already knows that this fight is not merely for glory, for winning a battle and be rewarded with the cheers of the masses, you are not sure. Whether everybody knows that this battle will not end until one of the men lies dead in the dust.

The black mare was huffing as impatiently as his rider, proud Sir Dondarrion of Blackhaven, the man to be your husband in a fortnight, was baring his teeth at his rival. That was his most distinguished feature, you thought, his pride. Sir Dondarrion has been well-mannered and always kind towards you, but you remember the evening when swords were drawn at the feast in the Great Hall. Will you fight me at the Red Keep, sir, the Lord Lannister had called, Arbor wine letting the word fall freely from his mouth, behind the same walls the Rogue Prince has fucked the future Lady Dondarrion against. You have no doubts that Daemon Targaryen would have killed him if he were there that day. Always the one to protect his Lady’s honour, you thought, even though this honour was lost years ago in his very own bed.

The ruby eyes of the dragon on the prince’s helmet are piercing directly at his opponent. He had told you once, over quiet talks and limbs tangled in his sheets, that it was intentionally so, that the last things his enemies were to see is the red eyes of the monster and the final blow of Dark Sister. Daemon doesn’t look at you, and he doesn’t look at the crowd as well, pays the cheers from the people no mind for what is probably the first time in his life. His pale eyes are fixed at the knight in front of him, for both of them the battle has already started.

The announcer shouts something that you don’t really want to hear, because it makes all of this real, presents the Lord of Blackhaven and the Prince of the City and the squire boys move out of the field as the two opponents take their final places before the tourney begins.

You try to remember how it got to this, how you had begged Daemon to stay out of the lists just this time, as if it were possible. As if he would have listened to you. You pleaded in fury, in tears, but your dragon prince had stood stubborn and unwavering, and you hated him for it. You wondered if it was not planned so from the start, if Sir Dondarrion was not a dead man walking from the very day he had asked for your hand. If the Lannisters had not called on his pride and bride and make him challenge Daemon, would have the prince done it himself?

You remember the tears his calloused hand had to wipe from your cheek, how sweet his kiss had been and his quiet reasoning of I will not let another have you, and you knew there was no way of changing his mind. You had spent the most of the night in his arms anyways, he would not let desperation lurk into your heart. His lips on yours were soft and gentle for the first time in ages and every time you suggested he should get some sleep before the dawn, he would wordlessly spread your legs again and silence you with his body, his fingers or his mouth.

The whispers in the crowd are intensifying, bringing you back to reality, and at last the announcer makes his way out of the field. Your breath hitches in your throat and you can barely register that the two riders are charging at each other until you hear the sound of their clashing and the roar of the crowd. They turn around at the end of the way and you see the young squires hurry to give them both another lance. The force of the clash made them both turn to shreds.

The two riders storm at each other again, but the faint smell of copper coming from the grounds makes you glance down before you see them crash. There is no time to clean the blood of the fallen from the battlefield, you think as you watch the dark red stains drying in the dust. The need to turn your head around and vomit the contents of your stomach grows and you have to take a deep breath through your nose.

You hear the heavy sound of a body hitting the ground and your eyes shoot up to the battle again. Before you can realise what is happening, a hand reaches out from somewhere and grabs yours. Princess Rhaenys does not look at you, her eyes are glued to the tourney, but her fingers are wrapped around your palm and she gives you a firm squeeze. Courage, as if she’s trying to say, you will not face this fear alone. Your stomach turns up.

Daemon is lying on the ground, unhorsed, and the crowd is cheering. Seven Hells, you know this fight is not going to end now. And indeed, the Rogue Prince stands up, the squire runs with Dark Sister in his hands and hands it to Daemon. Dondarrion is on his feet as well, greatsword in hand and the battle starts again, more vicious than before. You allow yourself a quick glance up, to the Royal Lodge. King Viserys’ eyes are fixed on the fight, and he does not seem particularly worried, even though you can see his silver-haired Queen whisper in his ear, worry evident on her ethereally beautiful Valyrian face. Whether the King puts enough faith in his brother, or he does not truly understand the reasoning behind this fight, you will never know.

You are not sure how long the battle lasts, for you it feels like forever. The only thing ringing in your ears is the sound of metal meeting metal and the occasional heavy grunts coming from the knights. You let out a quiet, throaty sound when Dondarrion charges, sword landing on the Prince’s shield, the blow strong enough to make him lose balance and allow himself to be pushed in the dust. Dondarrion lifts his sword, gripping it with both of his hands, to aim for the fallen Prince’s head. “He’s going to kill him,” someone whispers worriedly, maybe Alicent Hightower, but you do not turn to confirm your suspicions. You grip Rhaenys’ hand tighter instead and fight the urge to scream.

Dondarrion hacks down with all of his strength, but Daemon manages to roll to the side and the blow lands a hand away from his head. The Lord’s blade is stabbed into the ground and with his hands clutching the handle, he realises his mistake too late. You don’t even see where the dagger comes from, just the glint of light that reflects from it as Daemon stabs it into his opponents knee. With a cry of pain and surprise, Lord Dondarrion slumps to his knees, hand instinctively reaching for the wound. Daemon does not allow it and his kick lands exactly there, pushing his mutilated opponent to the ground. The audience cheers as the Prince stands up to kick the greatsword away, rising over Dondarrion like a dragon over a sheep, his own weapon in hand.

The knight doesn’t even have a chance to yield before Dark Sister is plunged straight into his throat and a spray of blood covers the black steel of Daemon’s helmet. The cheers from the crowd quiet down, a desperate mother’s wail comes from somewhere in the lines. But it matters not, it matters not anymore because it’s over now and you can finally breathe with no heaviness on your chest. You are still gripping Rhaenys’ hand, even when Daemon is claimed winner and walks away from the dead body lying in the dust.

The rose garland is covered in blood when he lays it in your lap and his voice is softer than summer rain. “For you, Milady,” he says, “Queen of Love and Beauty.”

#daemon x reader #Daemon Targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targeryen x reader #house of the dragon #House of the Dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #hotd #asoiaf fic #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #Viserys I Targaryen #aemma targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenys targaryen

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lillianastras · 2 years

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Viserys choosing to sacrifice Aemma vs Daemon refusing to sacrifice Laena. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON “The Heirs of the Dragon” (2022) dir. Miguel Sapochnik. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON “The Princess and the Queen” (2022) dir. Miguel Sapochnik.

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lillianastras · 2 years

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ready to risk it all for daemon targaryen tbh

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lillianastras · 2 years

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#pathetic little meow meow

#your honor #him #daemon targaryen

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lillianastras · 2 years

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People are waxing poetical about Daemon's layered relationship with Viserys and Rhaenyra, and I'm here enjoying the way he and Mysaria are written. Not in a "hot/shipping" way, mind you. But much can be said about a man by looking at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

You'd expect a Targaryen prince to just be using whatever low birth woman he fancies at the moment (and he does, to an extent), but we have also seen that Daemon has no problems being vulnerable with her in episode one. In ep2, he seems to take her concerns somewhat seriously. She calls him out for using her as a pawn in his high table games, he listens, and his answer to her safety concerns is rooted in practicality (the castle is safe) instead of posturing or dismissal. He also respects her choice regarding kids with no issue (we actually could... No? OK, whatever, sure).

The only other guy we have seen treat his concubine with kindness and respect was Tyrion, but Tyrion was a dwarf with no other prospects. Daemon is a highstanding hot wild Dragonlord AND a simp for the women in his life.

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lillianastras · 2 years

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🎵Now, at last begins a true adventure Epic, wild, a real butt-clencher So, huzzah and tally-ho Sit back and here we go Attend the tale of Galavant Daemon🎵

(x)

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lillianastras · 2 years

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this week on “what is Daemon up to”:

- becoming a polygamist for attention

- pregnancy scare for attention

- stealing a dragon egg for his fake baby for attention

- backtracking immediately after one (1) look from Rhaenyra

next week on “what is Daemon up to”:

- going to war for attention

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lillianastras · 2 years

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amen

every year i think that pumpkin spice latte’s can’t be that great, and every year I take my first sip of one and instantly feel blasphemous for ever doubting the magic in the spice

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lillianastras · 2 years

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― EURIPIDES, MEDEA

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lillianastras · 2 years

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“To the Lands of Old Valyria” | Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: Angsty, but not really triggery

A/N: This was written in a few hours on a Sunday night, so it isn’t proofread, but I decided to post it anyway. Enjoy some angsty bitchy attention whore boy.

“It is good you consider this funny.” Daemon Targaryen spits the words out through gritted teeth as he turns his burning violet eyes to the woman next to him. His reaction seems to amuse her, which in his turn angers him some more. “I certainly do not.”

She makes an obvious effort to erase the grin from her features, pursing her soft lips together, but still fails miserably. We must all grieve our own way. “I would never jest about anything as serious, my prince.” Her eyes turn to the wall and she breaks, her lips stretching to a toothy grin. “But you have to admit this is hilarious.”

Daemon has enough of it already. He pushes himself from the chair, so hard he makes the silverware on the table rattle, and makes his way to the window. It was suffocating him, the room, the castle, the whole gods forsaken city. He could saddle Caraxes and…

“It is even so practical, you see, instead of two separate weddings,” his thoughts are interrupted and he turns around to look at her, her eyes focused on the ceiling, as if she is deep in thought, “we could simply have one. Good old Otto should be made Master of Coin, don’t you think?”

Otto Hightower. He was going to kill him. One day, sooner than later, he would drag him down the corridors of the Dragon Pit, beaten and bloodied, and feed him to the beasts.

“Do you think my new Lord Husband would wonder if I am a maiden, or he won’t be that stupid?” Her last words make him physically sick. The thought of some other man’s hands on her is one thought too many and the look he gives her is enough to finally, oh gods finally, silence her. The moment she shuts her mouth, her face changes and he finally sees it. The fear, the desperation, like an animal cornered. The realisation that this is really happening.

“They are really making us go through with this, aren’t they?” She asks, her voice is throaty, like she is choking back the tears. She is going to marry some lord far in the North and he would get to spend the rest of his days in Runestone, in the bloody Vale. If he isn’t so angry, he thinks, he might even feel sorry for himself.

One look at his lady’s teary eyes makes that thought leave his head immediately. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Viserys nod fervently to the plan his Hand had presented, the fine and rich match Lady Rhea Royce was for the younger brother of the king. What about me? Can’t you once listen to what I have to say? I am your brother, for fuck’s sake! And marrying off his paramour right away, taking her to the other end of the Continent, what a sick, cruel joke that was, nothing to do with politics, but only for the sake of wounding him. Can’t you see how she makes me feel? Otto already took his place by his brother’s side away from him, he would now take his lover away as well. Gods, he really hated him.

His eyes dart down, his thoughts interrupted when he feels her arms wrap around him, her face burying in his chest as her body shakes in silent sobs. He places a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her even closer to him, as if he let go, she would disappear. Which, when he thinks about it, isn’t really far from the truth.

“I am not going to let it happen,” he declares, raising his hands to caress her hair. “I’ll let them all know I took your maidenhood and no one would want to take you anymore. ”

The words earn him a muffled laughter, and when she looks up at him, her chin resting on his chest, her eyes are wet and puffy. “How noble of you indeed.”

“I will, then I will take you and Caraxes and get far away from here, somewhere East, to the lands of old Valyria and then… ” Then what? They both knew those were empty words, empty promises of a desperate man.

“Please, let us talk no more of this.” She begs, resting her cheek against his chest again, letting a deep sigh. “Let us stay like that… just for a while.” And he doesn’t speak a word more, letting her presence soothe the pain that the future was bringing, silently swearing in the Old Gods and the New that he would not let anyone take her away from him. And make that sorry bastard Hightower wish he was never even born.