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#daemon targaryen being daemon targaryen

targaryennumberonelover · 1 year

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Betrothed.

Summary: In which reader is from the north (house Glover), but is betrothed to Daemon, and is annoyed of the southron ladies at court, and gets very excited to see Cregan Stark when he visits from the North as it reminds her of home. Reader spends a great deal of time with Cregan, who is a very pleased guest, almost completely ignoring her betrothed. This prompts Daemon's jealousy, because who else can have you but him?

Notes: This wound up being fairly vanilla. Also my first proper, non-crack fic. Also my first time on this app + first time writing Daemon; so yay! Big milestone. Saw some other stories on this app and got inspired (+love the font). Idk how to write short stories, so girl is long + very loosely spell/grammar checked (should be ok but some parts might be odd). I personally love the northern reader concept lol, hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: swearing, canon-typical misogyny, Daemon Targaryen (man needs a whole warning, bffr)

In Deepwood Motte you detested late summer snows, they ate away the summer of your early childhood. You always envied Winterfell for the boiling water that runs through the castle walls; and rejoiced each time your house stayed as guests there. What you had envied most, as a babe, was warmth of the south. Now, however, that you had arrived in the southron lands, you missed those late summer snows terribly.

The south was unbearably hot, you'd have servants delivering you iced milk each day, and too often would you remind them to keep it unsweetened. The heat was not half as over bearing as the ladies of court and all their gossip. Back home, there was scarcely any gossip or other wasteful activities. You spent your youth being educated by the septa, learning the lady ways, and once you came of age, you spent your time putting those ways into practice.

The southron ladies always bragged of their luxuries, which were considered nonsensical in the north, their sweets and silks and careless grandeur. It was draining, sickening, even. Even ever modest Queen Alicent, soon to be your sister by law, would agree with the court ladies when they offered you a sweet as though it was an thing utterly unknown to your northern self, and on occasion would ask you to try a tart or cake she enjoyed.

The only person's company you could find peace in this blasted place was your betrothed, Daemon Targaryen. He was not overbearing, was not mocking of your northernness, but rather found common aspects in your values. Often, you two would walk together, and when there was a moment of respite from both of your busy schedules, he would take you to the skies on the back of Caraxes. You'd even visited Dragonstone, once, but most briefly.

Today was no different. The summer sun bore down over King's Landing, and despite the lush shade provided by the garden plants and sandy canopies that were stretched over head, you were hot. Despite the thick honey, you sipped on the iced milk gratefully, and made a mental reminder to gift the poor servants who fanned you generously later.

"These cakes are quite nice," one of the southron ladies said, sliding over a plate full of thick, layered cakes that smelt so strongly of sugar you might've smelt them when Daemon offered you a ride on Caraxes, leagues in the sky. You'd much rather be on Caraxes, with Daemon holding you close, leagues in the sky rather than here. You wished he would come and save you, but alas, you were stuck between a rock and several smothering southerners.

You smiled politely and took the smallest bite of one. "You're right, my lady, these are quite... tasty." You lick your lips, and are momentarily forlorn when there's nothing unsweet to remove the thick taste from your mouth.

Another southron lady seems to remember something, and rushes to finish her bite, fanning her hand in the air to invite our attention to her. "Have you heard?" She asks once she has swallowed, "lady [name], this would be of great interest to you, the good northfolk, like yourself, are coming to the Keep for a visit."

Despite the almost taunting way she says 'northfolk,' you find yourself intrigued. "Which house?" You ask, and your curiosity is not unheard. They seem to hold back snickers as another one of the ladies reply.

"The House Stark, and their party." She says, smugly, though you are lost as to why. It baffles you further how they regard the Starks, the wardens of the north, so casually. Did they not realise that every northern house beyond the neck swore their fealty to the Starks? The negative thoughts do not linger long, for you can't help but be excited at the thought of seeing Cregan Stark once more. In your childhood you had become acquainted with him, and his lord father offered your father a place on his table on several occasions, and later on he did the same.

You smile, widely, and ask, "do you know when they are to arrive?"

The southron ladies seem to look amongst each other for a moment, and it is Queen Alicent who replies from behind us. "They are to arrive on the morrow, Lady [Name]." You did not notice her arrival, and all seem to turn and stand to greet her.

"Queen Alicent," you exclaim, rising to bow to her. "I must excuse myself, I'm afraid I must prepare to see my fellow northfolk. I must catch you at court later, your grace." You give the ladies of court a small nod, before slipping away the way Alicent had came, glad to find respite from the suffocation of court.

The following morning you had dressed more northernly than you had in your entire stay here. You wore a gown with grey over white, with slim fur trimming, little enough that you wouldn't boil. It felt pleasant to be wearing northern colours once more, over the golds and silvers and silky things the south fashioned themselves in. You even found an old pin with the gauntlet of Glover on it, and wore it most proudly as you broke your fast with the court ladies. It was boring and tiresome, as it usually was, but you braved on without complaint and with a smile until, finally, the word came the Starks had arrived.

It took you little time to find yourself in the vast throne room, standing happily by Daemon, your sweet betrothed, awaiting Cregan Stark and his party. It had been nearly two years since you had last seen the Lord of Winterfell, never finding cause to visit before your betrothal, and finding it impossible to do so after.

"Eager, are we?" Daemon hums, noting your excitement. You do not make it difficult. You're practically jumping up and down in anticipation.

You look up at him with a small chuckle, "yes, I'm afraid so." You say, looking down the length of the throne room, a tad disappointed when there are no northerners marching down the hall. "Whilst the south has it's certain... qualities, it has been difficult not to miss the north."

Daemon only chuckles, seemingly amused by both your enthusiasm and desire not to offend any southerners by your distaste for their society.

When the Starks arrive, murmurs flutter around the hall for a moment, then spread madly like wildfire. They come down the hallway, proud and honourable as the Starks are, and bow down to their king and his new queen. There are compliments exchanged, and brief conversation, all the while you're teetering away, waiting for a moment to greet Cregan Stark; when it finally comes, it feels like you are back home.

"It is good of you to make the trip, Lord Stark," you smile as you speak, "not only for the court, but for myself. It may be selfish, but I've been missing the north terribly."

Cregan laughs, lightly so, at my comment. "And the north as been missing you, Lady Glover. Your house is morose without you, and Deepwood Motte emptier than ever. It is a shame you are not to return, you'd make a fine lady for the north."

You let out a laugh at his words, and speak, almost bashfully, "you are too kind, my lord. I am sure my family is doing fine with out me. I would love to return, alas, my place is in the south now."

Cregan lets out a long sigh, and rests a sympathetic touch on your arm. "Alas indeed, but if you ever feel inclined to visit, both Deepwood Motte and Winterfell would be more than glad to take you." He offers, and you smile warmly up at him. You have missed the north grievously, and it brings you deep comfort to speak with a northerner, and to see the direwolf of House Stark, the embodiment of the north, in plenty now.

"It would be good to have another northerner to keep me company, show me the ways of the south... if you would be so kind, my lady?" Cregan asks after a moment of respite, and you are to kind to decline, too glad to have another north soul to save you from the court ladies to say no.

So, you give him your prettiest smile and say, "of course, my lord. I'd be honoured."

Perhaps it was the way he spoke to you, how he called you a lady for the north, never of the north, the sly remarks he would make about the south, of how utterly glad and honoured he would be to take you in the north. Perhaps it was the light touches he placed on your arm, your back, and the way you returned them so innocently. Or, perhaps it was the fact that for the last two day's he had been in King's Landing you had utterly ignored him that made Cregan Stark not sit right with Daemon Targaryen.

More than once he'd clenched his fists and gritted his jaw and ignored the way you two laughed together, the obscene amount of time you spent together. How interested you had been in his gnarly, overgrown dog that slobbered after him everywhere he went. Daemon was left baffled, why would you want a dog when you could have a dragon? He couldn't understand your obsession with the Stark boy, and watching you ignore him and give into the flirtatious prick made him angrier than words could explain.

He didn't know how often his hand strained around his cup until his knuckles went white, or how often he took long sips of his wine to keep himself from saying something that would ruin your happiness. It was the only reason he put up with the ugly cunt as he flirted with you, took advantage of your innocence. He'd longed to kill him, but seeing you more content at court than ever before had prompted him not to.

His patience was wavering thin now, as the two of you sat together, ate together, practically glued at the hip as you laughed over something trivial. Jealousy burned in his stomach, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

And when the feasting was over, and it came time to dance, he wanted to slam his fist down when the bastard stood up before you. "Your hand, my lady?" He asked, with a gross smirk he was sure you'd perceive as a kind smile. "For a dance." He adds, and it is like a cruel taunt directed to him. Did the boy not know you were betrothed to him? That you were happy with a prince? That you didn't want a little lordling instead?

"Yes, of course," you agree, ever glad to indulge in his northernness. Daemon feels his nails dig roughly into his palms as he clenches his fist, and he doesn't care if he draws blood. All he can feel is horrible, terrible jealousy. You were his betrothed, his and his alone. Who did this winter cunt think he was?

He might've ripped off the bard's head for playing such a jovial tune. He watched as Cregan's hands gripped your waist and twirl you around the room. He reached for his goblet and tilted it it back into mouth, and when it emptied, he jerked over a serving girl and had her fill it to the brim. He'd drank overmuch already, but it was all he could do to not knock that poor boy to his feet like the dog he was.

His eyes remained fixed on you like a predator to prey. He watched as the bastard spun you into the crowd, as he lifted you by your waist, at the wide grin on flashing on your lips. Your pretty lips that were meant to be his, and his alone. He took another long sip from his cup. Through the gowns and the jewels he watched you with the ugly winter dog.

And, when Cregan Stark dipped his head down and whispered something to you, too close to your ear for his liking, making you through your head back in laughter, Daemon had enough. He stood up, his movements too sharp, sending his chair scraping behind him. He navigated his way through the heart of lords and ladies, past some drunken fool lifting a serving girl and spinning her in the air whilst the tray she carried clattered onto the ground.

Soon enough his hand found it's way to your shoulder, and held onto you a little too tight as he yanked you away from your dance with the winter boy. "You don't mind if I share a dance with my betrothed, do you, lordling?" He asked, his tone curt; he saw no reason to give this bastard any respect. Trying to steal his own betrothed from right under his nose. No, he would not have it.

His eyes seemed to squeeze with delight and his smirk widen as he watched Cregan's face twitch. "Of course, my prince," he says with a smile, and a short bout of laughter so fake Daemon might've puked. "I do hope you enjoy your time together." The winter dog says, and lift's up his betrothed's hand and gives it a disgusting kiss. The nerve.

"Thank you," you murmur, ever the sweetheart, as Cregan Stark finally takes his leave. You watch after him as he disappears into the crowd, as Daemon's grip on your shoulder holds you tight against him. Once the Stark boy is well and truely gone into the mass, he releases you momentarily.

When you dance again, it is him gripping your hips, it is him picking you up and twirling you around the room. Exactly the way it should be. "You seemed to be enjoying your time together," Daemon croons, looking down at your face with devilish eyes. There is anger in his voice, but it is swallowed up by his affection for you.

"Yes, I suppose I was." You say, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "IT is nice to have a break from the southron ladies, to have a friend who doesn't mock my northernness."

Daemon's eyes narrow, and he lets out a short hum, his head tilting to a side as he watches you. "I think the little lordling wanted to be more than just your friend, sweet thing." He murmurs.

Your soft expression furrows into one of confusion, and you let out a slight scoff. It's almost amusing how disbelieving you are that pissy lord of the north took an interest in you. "Lord Cregan is merely a friend, I assure you," you say, ever innocent in your ways.

"Oh, my sweet thing, you can not be so naive. Surely you've seen the way that dog eyes you," he says, shaking his head, "it's disgusting, frankly."

You laugh nervously, your head swishing back and forth in denial. "He would never, he knows I am betrothed. I haven't shown any interest in him, regardless." You argue. It's almost frustrating how you jump to defend the boy's actions, but he can not blame you. The ladies of Westeros are often too sheltered, made to think every lord is a gentleman. Sure, you knew of whores and cunts, but Daemon found there was much your sweet, trusting nature kept from your grasp.

He runs a hand gently down your cheek and offers you a kind smile. "Oh, my princess, your betrothal only makes you want him more. Do you not see the strays that sniff under the tables for food just beyond their reach? It matters not if you'll have him or not, he wants you the same." He coos, tilting your chin up to look at him. "The mutt wants something nice to warm his tiny little cock, and what better than a prince's wife?"

"Even if what you say is true," you pause for a moment, perhaps you're contemplating the truth of his words, or uneasy by his vulgar language. With a weak smile but a firm gaze, you finish, "I would never entertain his desire."

Daemon smirks at that, "of course not." He says, proudly so. "Why walk a bitch when you can ride a dragon?"

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reireichu · 7 months

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Daemon's POV captured the mentality of a predator well

Daemon in this one is so messed up and broken. I can’t really excuse his actions, but I also have formed a bit of a backstory in my head about how it shaped him—esp with him being so influenced by Alysanne and Jaehaerys and their mythologised idealised stories of ‘the old country’ and who they ‘were’. I honestly was a bit creeped out as I wrote some of it, and there was so much of Part V that needed to edited/culled/re-written because I was like “……THIS IS TOO DARK EVEN FOR ME”.

…..And yet here we are, me just giving in and realising that it’s just going to get worse from here, ahahahaha.

#asks re we’ll forever have the scars #daemon is his own warning #daemon targaryen being daemon targaryen #when the fic is about aegon and daemon gets his own pov chapter #rei fic #we'll forever have the scars #devereaux cinematic universe

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soyboywenzie · 2 months

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aemond: my uncle is a challenge i welcome, if he dares face me—

everyone, literally everyone, team green enthusiast and haters, team black enthusiast and haters, rhaenyra stans and antis, aegon stans and antis, alicent stans and antis, daemon stans and antis, team neutrals, team ‘I like pretty people and want to fuck them all’, team ‘yall are missing the point’, helaena lovers, and AEMONDWIVES AND HATERS:

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ceriseo · 1 month

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on the surface level baelor the blessed seems like a great deviation from previous instances of the trademarked targaryen crazy, but hes actually one of the purest examples of such. its just that instead of basing his maniacal egocentric worldview on his valyrian blood he places it on his perceived piety in the faith of the seven. and so instead of carpet bombing the riverlands and basking in everyones total reverence of him and abusing the woman around him he just makes everyone conform to his zealotry and basks in their total reverence of him. and of course abuses the woman around him.

#previous instances of trademarked targ crazy being maegor daemon and aemond. and thee pinnacle himself aerion brightflame.#house targaryen #asoiaf #baelor the blessed #valyrianscrolls

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greenbloods · 10 days

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daemon being the author's chosen epic rogue antihero will never not be funny considering how terrible he comes off as in canon. for my final act of redemption i will groom this fifteen year old before murder suiciding my dark shadow nephew above the castle of doom and death. george you say trust the process and yeah you kinda killed it with jaime and theon. but gimme something i can work with man

#he kinda killed it though with harrenhal being the site of daemon's 'redemption' and 200 years later the site of jaime's too #daemon maegor and aegon iv are the three historical characters i *know* would be so insanely babygirlified if they ever got a pov chapter #instead of being locked into the fire and blood historical narrative framing #daemon targaryen #fire and blood #hotd spoilers

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daenerysies · 3 months

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“He’s always angry, but we haven’t done anything.”

“…but I have a crooked finger, just like Mama!”

“We were born here. Mama is our mother.”

“I do not wish to be different.” “Nor do I.”

“So let us be good sons and please those who love us, so they may forget what we lack.”

I’m never going to recover from this. Once again scenes were removed that would add to both boys characterizations, and we all know why. The scenes would make the audience realize how Aemond’s ‘I’m being bullied for not having a dragon :( I’m the real victim!’ storyline so fallible and easy to shatter in universe because it’s a completely normal occurrence for Targaryen’s. Aemond is not the first child to not have a dragon by the age of ten, the original conqueror’s, Baelon, Alyssa, Rhaenys, Laena, Viserys, Daemon, Aegon II, Helaena, etc. all claimed young or fully grown dragons somewhere between the ages of 11-18.

The only character that had the potential to be marketed as his biggest bully is his brother. They’re never going to convince me (and many others) that it was Rhaenyra’s sons who would ever go after another child for their lack of a dragon, especially given that they were almost surely taught that hatching a cradle egg is but one way for a Targaryen to have a dragon. Aemond felt lesser than his nephews due to the way Alicent was parenting him. She led him to believe that his nephews were bastards, that due to their blood they were beneath him, and this is what led to his inferiority complex. It makes more sense than the crock of shit the show runners decided to include in the show.

Rhaenyra and her sons were subjected to actual abuse and bigotry over the timeskip due to their gender and their blood, respectively. It very much makes me sick how they’re being treated by not only the show runners, but a decent portion of the audience as well. Bastardphobia is not cool or edgy. Looking down on someone because their parents weren’t married is vile. It falls into the same category as believing in blood supremacy. It’s 2024. Do better.

Jace and Luke will forever be Mama’s boys and are never beating the best brothers/sons allegations.

</3

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themotherofblood · 11 months

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Ruie my dear, can I get an imagine or oneshot fluff Daemon x poc Martell (or Essosi) fem! reader where they're married with kids and reader is pregnant again and for some reason Daem decides to give her a tiger as a gift, at first she's kind of confused and really surprised (like how/when/where and why of all possible gifts he chose a fucking tiger ) but the children are fascinated by the animal and in the end she ends up getting attached too. Just some good old fluff with some humor if possible please? (if that doesn't make sense, sorry is that I saw a picture of a tiger and a half of this idea and coincidentally saw that you reopened your requests, so… but feel free to ignore it and sorry for my English)

ahhh, I really wanted make a longer one but felt I should keep the fluff to the point so here’s a blurby fic

WC: 1.2k?

You had laid lounged out in the beach, your pink chiffon gown clinging to your skin in the warm summer breeze. A small white haired child sat a few feet away from you, six summers of age and the prettiest lady in all of the Known World. Her hair, the same as her father and her skin, the very olive tanned aura of your own. There was much serenity in the small family of comfort you had procured, a fiery husband who filled you to birth your firey daughter Alyssa. She sat making castles out of sand, far enough that the moat would fill with water but wouldn’t topple her creation.

“Madame, the prince had returned from Bravos,” an attendant tore you attention from your daughter, Daemon had been gone for near a week, away striking bargain or mostly threatening people with his dragon to get what he wanted. You acknowledged the servant before he took his leave, from your periphery out pours the vision of silver hair blowing against the winds as the thuds of his boots against the sand filled your ears

“Papa!” Alyssa shrieked, pulling herself up with wobbly legs and running over to Daemon. Ready to throw herself at him as he reached down to swing her body up to towards him. She giggled and shrieked some more, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she giggled at him tickling her. He smiled at where you were sat, curls in a neat braid and the curve of your swollen belly against your dress, he did that, the glow of motherhood adorning your skin so pretty, he did that.

He walked over with Alyssa in his arms to situate himself next to you, the girl once again ran of to finish her architectural masterpiece as Daemon leaned his head down to lay a peck at your belly before letting your lips, “have they been good?”

You nodded, “they simmered down a while ago, might have grown bored fighting within mama, huh?” you questioned at your belly.

“Papa look! M’ made a castle!” Alyssa said, waving her hands frantically to grab her father’s attention.

He complimented his girl, his lips curling wider. “I brought you something,” he whispered, his small finger tracing against your jaw as he kissed your lips once more before standing up. He reached down to pull you up before pulling Alyssa onto his lap as he led you inside the palace. Alyssa all through babbled about the shells she found and the baby crabs she saw. Daemon humming along, finding her stories to be valiant stories of knights, his perfect poppet with her legs hanging couldn’t help but spew every detail of her day to her father.

“What have you done?” you stopped at your tracks, the white feline that seemed of popped it’s head out a wicker basket.

“I’ve bought you a big cat,” Daemon said all nonchalant as Alyssa wiggled in his arms to be let down, “go on, help mama name it,” he told her.

“Daemon,” you hissed at him. “That is a bloody tiger,” you covered your daughter’s ear as you glared at him.

“Mind you, they are tigers,” he corrected as the other orange feline joined his brother and popped the basket over as they escaped.

“Daemon…” you sighed, feeling a nerve in your head pop as you looked the aquarium of snakes and the pit for the small alligator he had procured months before.

“Until my darling’s egg hatches, she gets whatever animal she wants,”

You hadn’t realized how serious Daemon had been about turning this palace into a humid jungle. “What does it even eat?”

“Boots apparently,” Daemon chuckled as one waddled over to him and began nibbling on the fine leather of his boot.

“We keep it?” Both Daemon and Alyssa began to give the eyes, this was a plot, being teamed up against with purple eyes pleading at you. “please mama,” she whispered, her little tongue poking out to pronounce her “l’s” as “w” this was extortion.

“Fine,” you sighed once more.

After supper that night you sat by the glowing hearth, in it laid the metal pot with Alyssa egg. You were willing to hatch with all your maternal rage, hatch you damn fire bird, “glare at it harder my love, it will bond to you instead Alyssa,” Daemon pulled you from your anger fuelled staring.

“I swear on my milk cakes Daemon, if those cats, lizards and snakes eat your precious daughter. I am not birthing you another,” you pouted as he slotted himself behind you, lifting your shift to lay his warm palm upon the babes moving within you.

“Hush, just shhh,” he hummed against your temple. “What animal do you want, I’ll get you one to be rid of this fuss,” he mused.

“I have you, isn’t that more than enough,” you chuckled, already picturing the scowl that settled behind you.

“Huh, I am a dragon, just as these beauties within,” he poked at your middle.

“I was thinking more of a cute white sheep,” you giggled once more.

“Oh? Sheep is it,” his brows shot up as he turned your body to lay under him as he held his weight up by his elbow next to you head. “Would a sheep make you swell so full, hmm.”

The piercing gaze of his eyes made you wriggle underneath him as you shook your head.

“Make your breasts-“ Daemon’s salacious deeds would have continued had you not heard a very faint crack, you both stared at the egg for moment before Daemon shook his head and resumed pressing kissed down your neck.

Another faint crack,

“Gods Daemon!” you whispered in shook as you furiously tapped his shoulder, the top of the egg cracked open. Both of you froze in your compromising position before Daemon shuffled of you and rushed for the door.

You wanted to peak inside, yet you knew to give the little things it’s time to realize what was happening. Daemon returned with a groggy Alyssa with her head buried in his shoulder. “Darling look,” he shook her, patting her back to wake her up just enough to see what she was to become.

The egg rattled as a wing popped out, one of red membranes and purple scales, then popped out it’s tiny head. Alyssa, though usually a loud child, silently watched as her new friend crawled away from the egg pot.

Alyssa lifted her baby finger, apprehensively hiding her face in Daemon’s chest as the baby dragon grazed her skin. She flinched away only to turn to you with the widest smile you had ever seen. “Name it,” you whispered.

“Dragon!” She excitedly whispered making Daemon and you chuckle. “Yes zaldrititos, but you cannot name a dragon, Dragon,” Alyssa’s smile downturned as she looked to her father. You could tell she was thinking hard, reaching within her small vocabulary to find a name.

“Crocus,” she looked to her father for approval, you shook your head. After all, something of yours influenced her as she named the dragon a flower from your hand grown gardens.

“Crocus,” he agreed.

Alyssa sat upon the rug with the baby dragon climbing in her shoulder as Daemon returned to sit next you, the scene unfolding in front of you, so intimate and sweet you hadn’t realized your eyes were wet until Daemon wiped at them.

“Daemon,” you sniffled, he hummed as a reply.

“You bring another animal into the house, you sleep on the floor,”

#daemon targaryen x reader #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen x you #girl dad daemon #male wife daemon #daemon being a menace #white tigers #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon

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itsoretsev · 2 years

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watching daemyra shippers & daemon stans crying screaming throwing up bcs they can't believe a toddler killer, ex wife brutal murderer, groomer, careless father and overall psychopath would be an abusive man

#ooc daemon they say....#girlies aren't you embarrassed #anti daemon targaryen #anti daemon #anti daemyra #hotd spoilers #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenicent #alicent hightower #i can't even list all his nasty shit but him being horrible to women wasn't enough for people to stop shipping him with women period

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mmelolabelle · 2 years

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I really do not think that as a fandom we’ve discussed the straight line from;

Daemon seeing Rhaenyra miserable because of the tour and having to find a husband -> Rhaenyra telling Daemon that she doesn’t want to marry at all and that she fears dying like her mother, something Daemon calls a ‘tragedy’ -> Daemon straight up telling Rhaenyra that once she marries, she can do what she likes with whoever -> Daemon seemingly trying to destroy any chance of Rhaenyra making a political match in the patriarchal hellscape that is Westeros by making people believe that they had sex -> Daemon offering to marry Rhaenyra himself ‘as she is’.

I am just saying that maybe one of Daemon’s insane, unhinged motives was to try and protect Rhaenyra and give her an out from the situation she was in - if she was married to him, she would be safe (because Daemon, who is always watching from the shadows and trying to protect his family, would keep her safe) and free to do as she wanted.

Of course it all goes tits up when Daemon is confronted with the fact that someone he loves might actually want him and that’s his niece and he wants her and oh fuck he is absolutely fucked, hence the binge-drinking to cope and the decision to take a nap in throne room after being banished (again). Trying to wrap your head around ‘I could/should marry my niece’ to ‘I want to marry my niece and be her actual husband’ requires Big Brain energy that morning-after-the-night-before Daemon clearly wasn’t capable of.

#it’s a very linear sequence of events is all i’m saying #and exactly the kind of insane idea daemon would come up with #daemon being kind but in an insane but unhealthy way #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemyra #daenyra #rhaenyra x daemon #daemon x rhaenyra #hotd #house of the dragon

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dreamsuvivor · 2 years

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you know what I’m just gonna say it: I don’t give a shit about politics and the targaryen civil war. I’m here just for toxic malewife Matt Smith in blond wig being unhinged for his niece/wife, saying soft shit like: “I want Rhaenyra” in the huskiest most breathless voice and decapitating anyone who dares to disrespect her. And I would sell my left tit for a spinoff show only focused on their relationship.

#I feel like y’all are gonna hate me for this #pls do not crucify me #I didnt watch got I’m just here bc i simp for Daemon being a simp for Rhaenyra #matt smith #house of the dragon #GOT #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #emma d'arcy #milly alcock

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