#house of the tragon fanfic

[just-some-random-blogger]

hey gorgeous! it's me! thank you so much for writing it! tbh, it's not what i expected but AGWHWHWG bc soft!daemon? i LOVE it!! such a cutie!! i still do need him to suffer more, though... what do you think about maybe a part 2? where he's the one who (finally) gets teased and gets the taste of his own medicine (reader flirting with HM ser stong?). so the demanded apology with tears on the knees (not nsfw) because this pretty prick deserves it :) again, thank u so much for writing it! sorry if it's too much, never wanted to make you uncomfortable! take care!

Since You Asked So Nicely

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Summary: Your feud with your husband was about to meet a swift and strong end.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: mentions/descriptions of violence, daemon's still such a man, fem!reader, wife!reader, i love strong puns XD, married couple quarrels, harwin daddy, jealous!daemon, fluff, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: the title of this fic is my reaction to you nonnie. honestly i kinda felt both bad that my fic wasn't enough T_T LIKE PLEASE I TRIED then annoyed like HOW DARE YOU NOT LIKE IT THEN MAKE ME WRITE SMTH ELSE HADhASLHDA HAHAHAH nah but then you asked me so nicely so i thought ok fine i'll give it another wack i hope that i'll finally be enough for you T_T i guess our theme for today is petty 🥰 WIAT GURL THESE GIFS SIDE BY SIDE TOGETHER FUCK THAT SHIT IM DEAD BYE Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony Part 1 (which I think you should read) "It Takes Two"

We had not spoken since our struggle last night. In the flames of my anger, I woke up before him and made no effort to alert him of my errands or duties for the day. That of course, also meant, he was certainly riveting in annoyance and betrayal having woken up alone after pleading mercy to me until he and I both fell asleep.

In all his pride and morose wailing, still, he did not find it in himself to ask for pardon. He instead wasted his breath in trying to convince me he did it as a game, and that I should not have thought much of it, that he would happily get on his knees but for the exact opposite thing I truly want him to do.

And even now, the man is as insufferable as he can get. Since it seems it was nary clear that I did not enjoy the sight of him divulging his attentions to other ladies at court, he did, what? Yes of course, the very exact thing.

Each ear of his had a young lady giggling bashfully into it. I had gone a great many lengths to ignore it, but then it began to be unbearable when I finally noticed the lords and ladies turn from my husband to me, muttering and laughing under their breath.

Normally, I wouldn't even bat an eye over the opinions the pricks had of me or my husband. Here and now however, it was hard not to feel like a dunce, when I was the princess, yet I was standing alone, and my prince had ladies fawning over him left and right.

Enough.

I will not grant him the satisfaction of humiliating me any more than he has. I'm leaving.

Daemon watches, perking at the sight of the exit. He steps forward, away from the irritating voices, smirk falling, for it was never truly genuine in the first place.

His face hardens when there is an interception.

"My princess," a deep voice speaks, as a large man blocks me.

I lift my gaze and stop before we collide. Immediately, my spirits are lifted at the sight of the dark man's hair and beard, "Harwin."

His lips curve at the familiarity of my addressing.

"I thought you were off, doing gods-know-what again?"

Harwin chuckles, shaking his head, "the gods have allowed me to accomplish my tasks swiftly.

He raises a brow and places his hands behind him, "you're not leaving when the festivities have not even commenced yet, are you?"

I scoff, crossing my arms, "festivities are naught this eve, ser Strong."

"That is because," he steps forward, taking my hand slowly, "you and I have not yet shared a dance."

I roll my eyes at him, "you're a poor partner."

"And that is precisely why the festivities will commence."

I snort, smiling up at him, as he smiles back down. He takes my expression as wordless agreement. Harwin spins me once before leading me to the dancefloor. I chuckle at his theatrics. Poor he may be in dancing, he's always been good at making me smile.

I press slightly against him as his hand falls to my back, the other clutching my arm delicately.

"Tell me, Winne," I grip his firm shoulder as we glide with the music.

He snorts at my archaic pet name for him, rolling his eyes as he licks his teeth in amusement.

I am amused by his reaction, pleased to know that the name still held him tightly in annoyance, exactly like how it did when we were younger. I chuckle before deflating, "do men normally think it a game to toy with their wives' feelings?"

Harwin's amused expression fades. He grunts and spins me around, using the opportunity to eye Daemon, who was undoubtedly already looking at us.

When his eyes dart back to me, he purses his lips, "indeed this night is not at all festive to you, little doe."

I turn away from him, aimlessly looking at his collar to avert my glare elsewhere. He did not mean to trigger my anger, what he said was his pet name for me as children, but it had been since overshadowed by my husband's musing of the name; he called me his little doe in times he came to me as a predator and I appeared to him like prey.

My gut groans in annoyance.

Harwin notices my discomfort and does me the courtesy of changing the subject, "tis unfortunate for me to announce a tonne of men believe riling wives a thrilling sport."

I turn back to him; the darkness in my face melts when I catch the concern in his. I purse my lips tightly, pushing a stray curl away from his face, "and do you hold the same regard, Strong?"

"Hmm," he looks away to think, "my princess would be pleased to learn that as a child, I had a terrible playmate," Harwin turns back to me, raising his brows, "she was the most entitled little girl I ever met, was so viscous and strong."

I snort.

He mimics, "though perhaps not as strong as me. Still, I am aghast to ever think of crossing or treating a woman poorly, not even because I think it descent, but merely for I fear the rage of she."

I cannot help the fond smile that spreads on my lips. I tilt my head as we circle the room, continuing our movements, "I suppose it is the gods irony that the Strong boy fears a strong girl."

Harwin laughs, twirling me around once more. I break into a chuckle as he does so, a bit dizzy when he pulls me back close to him. I am heaving slightly when he pulls me close.

"I suppose it is, princess," he tilts his head.

In that moment, the song ends and each dance partner parts, clapping as they did, us included.

"Care for another dance, Winnie?" I ask, extending my hand to him.

"Actually," he leads me to the side, "I was wondering if you wanted a change of pace," Harwin brings us by a column, "I feel that, in all his pettiness, the prince has not yet told you that the flowers he requested for you have recently just been planted in the gardens."

"What?"

Harwin huffs, "I had the same reaction when I heard of it. Your husband is a fu-"

Instantaneously, I am pulled aside and a string of, what I knew to be High Valyrian curses, were muttered tightly. Daemon seethes, gripping me with his iron hand, "and what of her husband, Strong?"

Harwin is unfazed by the glare Daemon throws.

I wince at how rough his grip is on me, "unhand me!" I bark, shoving Daemon off me. He does not budge and tightens his grip further. It is clear to me Daemon is too blinded by his rage to realize he is hurting me.

It is because of this, Harwin finally steps in. He barks, yanking Daemon off me, stepping between us, "you're hurting your wife, prince!"

Of course the action only caused further injury to me, Daemon's nails grazed my skin, and yet I am thankful for Harwin's interception.

The vein on Daemon's neck flares as he presses forward, closer to his opponent, "you have no right to tell me what I do with my wife!"

The area of my arm that Daemon grabbed throbs in pain. Tears fog my eyes as I watch the two of them squabble.

"I have every right to protect the princess," Harwin flares, "especially from the likes of you."

"From the likes of me?!" Daemon narrows his eyes.

The crowd breaks into a shocked gasp when the prince lunges and grabs Harwin by the collar, muttering something in High Valyrian, then threatening, "I best kill you. Who the fuck do think you are to tell me anything, vermin?!"

"Daemon!" I quip, prying him off Harwin, "unhand him!"

"YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE!" Daemon seethes, hands digging deeper into Harwin's clothing.

"KEEP YOUR ATTENTIONS ON HER THEN!" Harwin barks back, overpowering him, twisting Daemon's hands off him and shoving him away.

The next instant, the attentions of the entire room is upon us. I feel my blood pump as my head spins, unsure of what to do next. I still manage to act swiftly before anything else can happen.

I walk over to Harwin, calling out to him. "that's enough, please just-"

"Why are you going to hi-" Daemon starts, grabbing me again. He cuts himself back and recoils when I whine and draw back at the contact he makes at my sore arm, the arm he most definitely bruised.

I snap at him, throwing him a hot glare. He looks bewildered. He looks guilty. He doesn't even meet my eyes and instead is staring at my arm. I point a finger at him, "I'll deal with you later."

I turn back to Harwin, placing my hands on his chest, pushing him away, "go home, Winnie."

Daemon's head cocks, his lips twitches in an unpleasant manner, "Winnie?"

Harwin gently takes my arm, leaning in, "he hurt you."

I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes. I fight them off as I whimper, "please, just go."

Harwin brushes his calloused hand on my injured arm before walking back and storming off.

When I turn back to Daemon, he is looking at me with a stoic expression. I grit my teeth and grab him, dragging him away with me as we leave this damned hall.

I take him all the way to our shared chambers, but I stop just outside the door. I finally release him and begin to berate him, "are you satisfied?"

Daemon stiffens at the sound of my shrill voice.

I heave, "not only did you ruin my night, you ruined everyone else's!"

His eyes evade me. His lips part when he sees my arm. He reaches out to me and I recoil, "don't you dare fucking touch me."

"I didn't mean-"

"YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO DO ANYTHING BUT YOU STILL DID THEM!" I scream. I poke his chest in anger, "you claim it's all a game to you, and yet you're the only one that ever enjoys it!"

"It's all that cunt, St-"

"IT'S YOU, DAEMON!" I flare, "It's always you!"

Daemon's face contorts. His breath hitches. He walks closer, "my love, please-"

"You hurt me, Daemon!" I word carefully, wanting it to finally get through his thick skull, "not just tonight, but for the past weeks!"

He calls out my name but I raise a hand to silence him.

"You're either sleeping on the floor or sleeping elsewhere."

He gulps, ready to plead his case again. I cut him off before he can even open his mouth.

"Speak a word in protest over my generosity and I will chose a far crueler fate for you," I coldly spit, walking toward the door, pushing it open. I look over my shoulder as I walk in the room, "what's it going to be, prince?"

Daemon cringes at the call, brows tightening along with his fists. He deflates and mutters under his breath, "floor."

I turn to him, eyes narrowing, "you were so loud a while ago, where did your fire go, dragon?"

"Floor," he utters walking in the room, stopping once he is in front of me. Daemon's expression is grave as he mutters again, "I'd much rather sleep on the floor, wife."

I pull away from him before he can even attempt to touch me. I walk towards our bed, grabbing a pillow, haphazardly throwing over to him. I glare darkly, "if you are cold, sleep by the fire, dragon."

Daemon calls out my name, wanting to begin his pleas again, but then he stiffens when he watches me walk toward the door, "where are you going?"

I scoff, "how cruel of you to think I'd sleep with a throbbing arm."

"I'll come-"

I turn to him, tears finally running down my cheeks. Daemon freezes in his spot. I huff, looking away from him, "do not show your face to me until I've calmed."

Daemon frowns.

"I mean it."

At last, he finally has the brain to no longer push the matter further.

#daemon fanfic #harwin fanfic #daemon angst #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon x you #harwin x reader #harwin x you #harwin angst #harwin fluff #ig its fluff for him cos harwin hecka sweet in this #my tags in my other fics still relevant as ever lol #harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong angst #house of the tragon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x you #daemon targaryen x you

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey gorgeous,

Would you be up for some angst ?

Maybe his niece (rhaenyras younger sister) was always the negleted child and after sometime she gets to be known as one of the greatest targaryens (she claims cannibal and is a beast when it comes to fighting and being a ruler) and she comes to the last dinner before her father dies and sleeps with daemon (who previously in her childhood made her feel worthless)

And when she avoids him after, he goes to her and shes like:

-Just so you know, that meant nothing

-what if it meant everything to me?

-not my problem

All I Ever Wanted

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The gods have weighed the scales, now you were only paying everyone their dues. It felt nice to hold the upper hand against your uncle for once.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: mentions/depictions of targcest (uncle and niece), fem!reader, mentions/allusions to sex, angst, bad fam relations, typos, etc.

A/N: idk im tired i hope you like it nonnie. i changed a bunch of stuff about the fic req so T_T i cant believe i managed to make it so long HAHHAHAHH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

Daemon could not believe it.

He could not believe that he woke up by himself.

He was soaking in his smugness, dripping with self-accomplishment and victory, eagerly rolling over to coo his musings of self-importance to his prey.

Yet you were gone.

And he did not understand it.

He did not appreciate the bile that was threatening to be regurgitated out of his pallet. A line grew between his brows as he ripped his blanket off. He roughly dressed himself in breeches and a shirt, then stormed out of this chambers.

Part of him was relieved to find you so quickly, another part was in pure offence to how nonchalant you acted in the gardens, eating a pear as you read a book.

"Skoro syt issi ao kesīr sīr early isse se ñāqatubis?" Daemon cut through your concentration on your page. You turned to him halfway through his sentence, full mouth slowing in its chewing.

"What do you mean 'why are you here so early in the morning', uncle?" you narrow your eyes, shaking the hanging foot from your crossed leg. The heavy, red velvet of your skirt barely moved at your actions.

Daemon walks over to you, unkempt long, platinum hair blowing with the morning breeze along with his loose shirt, "you should have woken up with me."

You watch him as he nears. When he reaches the bench you were sat upon, you bring your book to your lap, one hand in between the pages of where you stopped reading, "and why should I have done so, uncle?"

The tone in which you say this with simultaneously angers and excites Daemon. He adores a good challenge. You both know that.

The prince reaches out to your face, tilting your head up to him, "I'm not done with you, niece."

You roll your eyes. He chuckles as you stand.

You thoughtlessly discard the core of the fruit to the side and release your grip on your book in order to clamp it under your arm, "iksis ziry daor obvious bona iksan tetan lēda ao?"

Daemon stills. He watches as you, his sweet little niece, defiantly staring at him. You spat such words as 'is it not obvious that I am finished with you?' to him? Your uncle? Your star? He who you viewed as holy as the Seven you were so devout to? No. This surely was a jest. A game of cat and mouse.

Daemon's lips curve into a lopsided grin. He opens his mouth to join in the banter, and yet he was not given an opportunity to speak.

"I will leave now, since you're clearly persistent to bother me," you coldly say, moving past him in all audacity.

A scoff actually leaves him because of this. He catches your arm, lowly and dryly chuckling, "rūda lēda aōha tymptir, byka genes."

Quit with your game, little mouse.

"I'm not playing, and I'm not a mouse," you snip, pulling your arm out of his grip.

Now you were both looking at each other with furrowed brows, equally long and light air wafting with the wind.

"I got what I wanted from you, Daemon."

You word this so plainly, so carelessly, and yet it pokes at him, makes his insides churn.

"I've scratched my itch. I've satiated my curiously," you release the tension between your brows to contort your face into scorn, "I've unraveled you, and found you're just another man-- greedy, self-absorbed, and cannot show for all the talk they give."

Daemon scoffs, eyes narrowing. He steps closer, raising his nose as he lets your words get under his skin, "it is too early to toy with me like this."

The eyeroll you give strikes a chord in him as you mutter, "ah, kepus, ao sagon getting uēpa. Ȳdra daor ao jiōragon ziry?" Oh, uncle, you're getting old. Don't you get it? The hardness in his face falters when you continue, "there's no game between us. There's nothing."

Daemon pulls his head back. No. That's not you.

You slowly shake you're head, ratifying, "Iksan gaomagon lēda ao."

I'm done with you.

But who were you?

Last night, the young girl he used to braid the hair of burst into the hall, uninvited, with purpose. His decaying brother, Viserys, and the Hightower bitch was shocked, even your sister, Rhaenyra, was. Daemon, though, was amused by the the theatrics and whispered this your ear, telling you that you copied him.

It was clear when you replied, "except I was not exiled, uncle. I left and returned on my own will. Something you have never done and never will," that you were not that little girl anymore.

He watched you as you moved, as you carried yourself in the room with not a hint of reluctance. You came as... a woman. A woman.

His breath caught in his lungs as you recounted your stories with your beloved Cannibal, much to the aghast looks of others. He was not one of those who laughed at the notion your frailer version gave of claiming the dragon, and yet still, he could hardly believe the words that you surely uttered by your bitten lips himself.

Oh, your lips that then mused more private stories for his ears only later that night, your lips that he then took between his teeth even later, and that he then made to call out his name in the early mornings.

Who were you now?

That woman was not here. You were not the warrior that claimed the dragon, the vixen that clamed his soul, and, sure by the gods, not the little girl that claimed all eagerness to please everyone around her.

Who were you, you who was looking down at him, as though it was not he that read you bedtime stories, he that gave you treats under the banquet table, he that make you come undone beneath him last night?

How dare you discard him?

Daemon regains his gall, "I'm not done with you, niece."

You don't even look at him when you say, "I don't care," and walk away with that stupid book in your hands.

His nostrils flare. "Don't you fucking walk away from me," he quips, unwilling to chase, unwilling to bend or beg.

He watches as you make your way farther.

Against himself, in a brand of desperation, he hastens after you, grabbing your arm, pulling you back to face him. He heaves at your idle gaze, "you've worn my patience."

"It's only fair," you purse your lips, "you worn my time for nothing."

One of Daemon's eyes twitches.

"Bullshit," he chuckles.

You shrug and it enrages him.

It is bullshit and you both know it. And yet somehow, he's beaten to the punch again. He's left defenseless before his little niece and it's ripping at his seams.

"I honestly expected more from you, uncle," you pout, "but then again, I only thought so highly of you because I was a naïve child, just like you said I was all those years ago."

Daemon could not even respond as you hypnotize him by pushing his hair behind his ear, "I've met many men whilst my travels with Cannibal. Though I did appreciate your company, I'm sure you'd agree last night was as lack lustre as it was for me, right, uncle? Since you'd had a great many women yourself."

He watches you as you lean in. He can see the sheen, smell the remnants of pear on your mouth.

This was a trap. There was no real answer. He's been choked. You knew this. And now your lips were curving up.

"Your mind games don't work on me, child," Daemon finally gets to speak.

You laugh outright. You grab his arm as you sigh, "what? Is it so scary to reply to my words you evaded the question altogether?"

In another world, he'd have gone red faced at your words, but no, your mind games don't work on him.

But, oh, it does.

You got him piping like a kettle.

"Just so we're perfectly clear, uncle, so that I am certain we're on the same page," you clutch your book into your chest, "know, that everything, last night, meant nothing to me."

He speaks before he thinks. He can't even hate himself for it because he speaks like he can't even hear himself, "what if it meant everything to me?"

You knit your brows. You scoff out a chuckle, "now who's playing, Daemon?"

His breath audibly hitches. You hear it. You smile, "that's not really my problem, now is it?"

You horribly, so, so gently rub the pad of your thumb on his lips. He freezes as you turn back. Daemon watches you walk away for the second time. This time, he does not run after.

#daemon fanfic #daemon angst #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon x you #house of the tragon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon #daemon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen angst #hotd angst #daemon x targaryen!reader

[just-some-random-blogger]

I LOVEEEE your daemon angst!!!! MORE MORE MORE 😃😃

I'll Play The Fool Instead

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Summary: The king's younger brother was as insufferable as the rumors made him out to be. Having caught his eye at a feast, your instant reflex was to snarl your teeth at the prince, until you realized your parents were against the idea of him lingering around you. Ever since then, it was Daemon, you, and not at all secret rendezvous. Oh, and ser Harwin.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Bad parental relations, graphic mentions of physical violence and injuries, fem!reader, angst? i truly cant tell, typos, etc.

A/N: I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHY I MADE THIS SO LONG KILL ME NOW. ALSO ???? is it even angst i can't tell, can someone tell me i'm being fr right now Anyway, this was anon was most probably a responding to another ask i had where I said I wouldn't be continuing my angst fic called Doves, Snakes, Dragons, so you should go read that i guess, though it literally has nothing to do with this fic HAAHAH. also the title is a line from the english version of congratulations by day6

The first time I ever encountered the prince was during a feast where he said he liked the color of my dress.

"I like the color of your dress," a voice calls from behind me, making me and my lady friends halt our giggles and turn over to whom spoke.

My brow quirks and my grin falters into that of annoyance, "why thank you, Prince Daemon."

The prince's eyes rake my entire body up and down without shame.

I let out a barely amused chuckle, "I have not yet had a man compliment me in such a way."

He tilts his head, eyes finally locking into my hardened gaze, "what do they usually compliment?"

"My bosoms," I retort, crossing my arms, making the very area of my body push up at the action.

He breaks into a chuckle, and I half expect him to turn to my breasts, yet he does not look down, "the men around you would dare be so tactless?"

"I'm shocked that you're surprised by it," I say in uninterested tone. I give one last nod in regard then turn back to my friends, though obviously they had been watching my exchange with the prince and looked far more interested in it now than whatever it was we were previously talking about.

"Might I tempt you with a dance?"

I roll my eyes and make no attempt to turn to him, "no, but perhaps one of my dear friends would be interested," I look between the ladies then finally turn back to the prince.

With that, I give him a proper curtsy, "your grace," then walk away.

Daemon turns to the ladies.

"My prince-"

He walks off before she could continue.

"What was that?!" an aggressive mutter paired with an aggressive grip pulls me to the side before I can even make my way to the banquet table to pour myself a drink.

"What was what, mother?" I say releasing a deep sigh to calm myself, lest I blow up in front of everyone and be locked in my room as a consequence again.

"Were you entertaining the prince?!" she breathes heavily against my neck.

I roll my eyes, turning to her, "no mother," I pull my arm out of her grip, "I have no intention of-"

"Good," she releases, firm and relieved. She straightens herself up and fixes the already perfectly fixed hair on my head, "the prince acts like he is starved of attention and nothing but trouble nips at his heels. I will not have you associate with him as both your brothers would likely fall into hot water for it. Especially not when your father has already laid out a more suitable match for you."

My eyes widen, not that she would notice, since she was busy pampering me for no reason.

Her words make me scan the room for the very person she did not want to be around me. So very quickly, I spot the prince on the other side of the room, eyes already on me.

Prince Daemon's expression is stoic, and yet there is a slight curve in the corner of his lips.

"Now go," my mother says, forcing my head to look at her with her soft but heavy hand, "the Strongs await you."

My lips curl in distaste. My mother spins me around, facing me to the direction of my father, and pushes me off. I release a sigh and head to my old man beckoning me over. On my way, I look over my shoulder and find the prince's eyes have still not left me. I smile to myself.

"Lord Strong," I bow to whom I would assume was my potential match, "Lord Strong," I bow to whom was clearly his father, "Father," I give my father a sardonic smile.

He ignores this and pulls me under his arm, "finally, my daughter graces us with her presence."

"Tis a pleasure to finally see you face to face," the man my father's age speaks, "your father's stories do you no justice."

My father is displeased when I only return the man's words with a half smile, "thank Lord Lyonel for the compliment, daughter."

I turn to my father with the same smile still on my face, but Lord Lyonel cuts in, "no thanks is required, I'm merely telling you my thoughts."

The genuine tone of the man makes me turn to him and drop my fake smile.

"I can only assume then you are more temperate than what your father described."

I snort at that.

My father shifts next to me.

I break into a genuine smile, "Thank you, my Lord," I curtsy, "tis not often that I hear such genuine compliments."

"I do hope you allow my son to continue with the task," Lord Lyonel says, motioning to the man beside him.

"Harwin Strong, my lady," he introduces, reaching his hand out to me.

I take his hand, introducing myself, and find myself not utterly revolted when he kisses my skin.

After that, our fathers promptly leave us to our own devices. Harwin pours me a drink and leads me to a more quieter side of the room.

In all fairness, he was kind, funny, and an utter gentleman. He did not advance with his hand like other men would, nor did he press on topics I showed no interest in. I did enjoy our conversation, but I was too distracted by the silver haired prince that positioned himself conveniently right across us.

I giggle at Harwin's joke. He leans in as he shares in my laughter. His father and my parents, who were watching us intently, are utterly pleased with our exchange.

"I do not wish to cut our laughter short, but I fear I might piss myself if I do not relieve myself right this instant," Harwin says after his chuckles die down.

"Oh," I shake my head, "and here I thought of inviting you to a dance to prove how true your jests at being horrible at it are."

Harwin lets out an amused breath, "then I shall be quick about it and return to accompany you with my two left feet."

I nod, "I'll walk you then."

"There is no need, my la-"

"No, I think I shall ask the prince to be my partner in the meantime."

Harwin's grin falters and he instinctively turns to the man he had been acutely aware was staring the whole time.

Noticing his features dip, I look over to my parents and see that they looked utterly blissful now. How nice it would be if I changed that.

"I snubbed him a while ago," I mutter, making Harwin turn back to me, "I do think I should entertain him now while you are gone."

I half expect Harwin to repel the idea, but I am impressed at his composure as he nods, "as you wish."

And so we head over to the other side of the room.

On the way, he jokes again about his horrible dance moves and I let out a laugh. I feel my parents eyes hot on my back when we near the exit. Harwin gives me one last look before I break away from him and move over to the prince.

The Targaryen is fully amused when I walk in front of him.

"My prince," I curtsy.

He hums, "bored out of your mind, were you?"

I straighten up and chuckle at his words, "I think you witnessed how much I laughed at his words from here, just as I witnessed your intent gaze."

The curve on his lips does not falter, and yet I do not miss how his jaw tenses.

I hold back a laugh, "I have decided to rescind my rejection."

He chuckles, turning to his feet as he walks over to me, "and did your mother convince you otherwise?" He clicks his tongue once, "I'm afraid no one in this world has a face pretty enough for me to forgive conspirators who wish to leech off me for power."

Once he is before me, he lifts his eyes and burns me with his gaze.

I am excited by his attempt and give a smile in return, "contrarily, she piqued my interest when she ordered me to stay away from you."

The prince narrows his eyes upon hearing this.

"I am honestly shocked you are unaware of the impertinent eldest child of my house, who works tirelessly against her parents' wills."

The glint in his eyes brighten, "and why would she do such happy things?" he lifts his head interest.

"She is sick that her stupid younger brothers get to do what they want and she has to get married off for the benefit of her family."

He mock sighs, "pity."

"It would be if you don't allow me the satisfaction of maddening my parents," I purse my lips, "it is precisely for that reason that I am now eager to take you up on your offer."

Daemon takes a moment to measure my reaction. He tears his gaze from me, looking out to the room, finding, sure enough, two pairs of eyes were angrily staring back at him. He smirks, turning back to me, "an interesting turn of events."

"My mother said you were starved of attention," I note, immediately making him grunt in amusement. I continue, "and my parents' angry gaze is attention still."

Daemon places his hands behind him, tilting his head in thought. I mirror his actions. He chuckles breathily in response.

"Might I ask for your company the second time then?" he reaches is hand out.

I take it and pull him to the frolicking crowd without another word.

The second time I would encounter him was the day after, on my way to a tea party that was routinely held by the gardens of the palace.

"I heard you received quite an earful from your mother after the feast," the familiar voice speaks from behind me, "before ultimately being locked up in your room."

I look over my shoulder and behold the Targaryen prince. I stop in my tracks, making him do the same, "and where, pray tell, did you hear such a viscous rumor?"

Prince Daemon looks down at me due to his height. He has his hands behind him as he shifts on one leg. He looks much more princely now with the gardens in the background. Suddenly I wonder what he was doing here, since he's never attended the tea party before, and I was sure only the ladies and I would be here today.

"The servants talk" he mutters plainly, "and apparently your mother's rage is unmistakable."

I laugh heartily, "it is," then shake my head, "but do not worry. It is a custom in our house, and she only ever uses her words to wound me."

"Yes," he says, turning to the direction I was heading, leading us off, "I assumed as much when you told me how you revel in disobedience."

I smile to myself as I follow after him.

"There is a congregation of chatty ladies beyond the fence, correct?" he points forward.

"Indeed, my prince," I grin ear to ear, turning to him.

He turns to me with a knowing look, "how long do you think your sermon will be if I walk you there, hand in mine?"

I break into a laugh. Daemon turns away and follows suit. I grab his hand and take larger strides, "best not to think about it too much."

I do not hear the way Daemon chuckles as I make my way to the heart of the garden.

The very moment we arrive, it is clear the tea party is unlike the usual ones, as each lady is paired with a man, standing closely together in their own personal bubble.

"Oh, there she is," one of the ladies say, "and by the gods, in the hand of the prince."

The prince greets the scrutinizing gazes with a grin and leads me to the dining table that was mostly vacated.

I find my focus on ser Harwin, who was seated by the opposite side of the table, gazing tightly at Daemon, then speak "I was unaware we would be joined by the lords today."

"Clearly, my love," one of the ladies seated retorts before sipping on her cup.

"I am surprised you managed to drag the prince here," another adds, looking to our joined hands, "he digs his heels in the dirt every occasion I invite him."

I turn Daemon, who turns from Harwin, then to the woman who spoke, "I only thought it would be unbecoming if our lady walks all the way here by herself," his eyes take in mine, then presses a kiss on the back of my hand, "I shall leave you to your tea, then."

I curtsy at him as he pulls away.

"Ser Harwin," Daemon turns to the man glaring at him, "do take care of our lady."

I walk over to Lord Strong the moment the prince leaves. The ladies watch me and begin to gossip with each other.

He greets me, lips not missing a smirk.

I match his expression, "my Lord Strong."

"My lady," he stands beside me, "your mother did warn me you had a knack for theatrics."

"Hmm," I chuckle, "did she say theatrics or impertinence?"

Harwin chuckles, looking over his shoulder, deciding to lead me off to where we would not be heard so keenly, "no mother would dare speak so poorly of their child."

I snort as we walk over to the flowery part of the garden, "clearly you are not acquainted by my mother."

"Well," he raises a hand, "tis not your mother I wish to be acquainted with anyway," he picks a flower from a bush, "but her daughter."

I turn to the bright pink petals in his hand and take it in mine. Harwin smiles as I inhale the flowers scent.

Ever since then, whispers of me and the prince, and me and ser Harwin, would slowly trickle through court. It wouldn't take long for the mangled truth of us to reach the ears of my parents. And of course, for every time they told me to stay away from the king's brother, I would reach out to him more eagerly.

For every time they would arrange a meeting with Strong, I'd make sure the Targaryen would find an opportunity to butt in.

At a point, my parents stopped telling me about my premade meets with Harwin, and yet Daemon still managed to come around, to my delight and everyone else's annoyance.

It was clear to most onlookers that I was absolutely smitten with the prince after all our 'coincidental' meetings, and yet I was also extremely taken by how ceaselessly patient Harwin was by it all.

It was, I suppose, during our 20th meeting that a chord was actually struck. And as innocent I could say I was, for I truly did not know they would fight that day, perhaps I should have known they would, considering we were at a tourney after all.

"My lady," Harwin huffs, looking up at me with a grin. The horse he is mounted on is restless as it was only just galloping fiercely across the grounds moments ago. "Might I have your favor again?"

I smile down on him from the elevated stand as he points his lance at my direction.

My mother hands me a wreath and urges me off my seat. I walk over to ser Harwin and throw the ring of leaves to his undefeated weapon, "nine is a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Shall I withdraw at your command then, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I would not dare deny the crowds their dashing champion."

Harwin chuckles as the crowds roar at my words. He takes the wreath from his lance and hands it to the servant who places it with the rest of them, "then perhaps a last victory for an even 10."

"As you wish, my lord."

I retreat back to my seat and earn a pleased look from my mother. Her pleased look does not last when she hears the name of Harwin's next competitor.

My own jaw slacks at the sight of Daemon from the other side of the fighting ground. He was clad in thick, and flashy armor, and he seems to know exactly where my seat was, considering he was staring right at me as he strut his horse over. I have no idea why my mother thinks pinching my arm will make me close it and not open my mouth wider.

It doesn't take long for the two to ready on either side.

Without a seconds thought, the two opponents are now charging, bashing their beams on each other's shields. Their might seems to be an even match, as both their lances are crushed on impact.

The audience revels in the violence of the match. They crush their lances on each other twice more before, finally, Harwin is thrown off his horse.

I honestly was so shocked by the outcome that I jump out of my seat and lean against the rails gasping.

Daemon gallops and screams victoriously at the crowd who was celebrating their prince. His gaze meets mine and he rides over my direction at once. I cringe at the thought of him trampling on Harwin, who was writhing in the dirt, and mutter a prayer that the two do not go at each other with their swords.

I release a breath when Daemon passes Harwin, making no attempt to unmount his horse or continue the fight.

I hear my mother call out my name repeatedly but I ignore her as the prince is nigh over. I watch as Daemon points his lance at me, "I have spared your strong suitor a death in the tourney grounds," he makes his horse halt before me, "the least the fair lady can do is offer me the wreath meant for his tenth victory."

I release a chuckle and shake my head.

Daemon smirks as he looks up at me in expectation.

"Of course, my prince," I turn over, holding my hand out to my mother. She gives me a defiant look and I raise a brow in response, "the wreath mother."

She clenches her jaw.

I sigh, looking back out the stands, "can someone give me a wreath?"

Daemon catches my mothers gaze then drops the lance in his grip to the side. I turn back to him after, as he then commands his horse to stride forward.

Harwin finally stands from where he was on the dirt with the aid of his family servants.

"If you cannot grant me a wreath," Daemon calls, bringing his horse to the side, forcing me to lean into the railing so I could still see him.

The crowd goes wild. My mother grumbles my name.

Harwin watches as Daemon throws his helm and shifts on his steed, wobblily bringing his feet to his saddle attempting to stand.

I gasp when his hand reaches the rail and his head rises up near mine. His grin does not fade even after seeing my mother's furious expression from behind me.

"Perhaps a kiss then?"

The crowd goes wild.

My mother blinks rapidly, in pure disbelief. She is too stunned to move. She barks my name out in a warning, but I my heart is fluttering at the prince's boyish grin.

I do not hesitate and take his cheeks in my hand, bring my lips upon his. The crowd grows even wilder.

Harwin turns away as the crowd roars in approval.

Our 21st meeting is in the secrecy of midnight at the stables near my home.

I hear my name. I lift my gaze from the horse I was petting and find the prince's face as it twists at the sight of me.

"By the gods," Daemon mutters, hand springing to the side of my face. His eyes darken at the purple around my eye.

He does not find the same amusement I do when I speak, "I never thought they'd lay their hands on me like this. I used to pride myself in knowing only my younger brothers got the wrath of my father's hand."

"Your father did this to you?" Daemon practically growls.

"Apparently, my words amount to nothing now, as he is more convinced by the rumors of the servants that claim I am pregnant with your child."

Daemons brows tighten, "and what did your Harwin Strong have to say about this?"

"He has not seen me for days after the tourney, which is what angered my father to begin with."

He scoffs out a chuckle, "I underestimated how weak willed and spineless the ninnyhammer could be," Daemon pulls his hand away to brush my hair back, "clearly he should be called Harwin Cunt."

I roll my eyes, "he could have broken bones from your blow for all you know."

Daemon narrows his eyes at that, "I broke his fragile ego, surely," he shakes his head, "and you a bruising mine by guarding his name when he failed to guard you from your father's hand."

I chuckle before aimlessly walking off, "how brave of you to admit to the fragility of your ego." I look over to him as he walks by my side, "still, Harwin has done nothing but be patient with me and our schemes against my parents."

Daemon looks like he doesn't enjoy where this is going.

"I've accepted that he is to be my future husband. My father will stop at nothing to ensure it."

"No," he quips, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Daemon and I share a long look before her brings his hand up to ghost on the bruise on my face, "there would be no finer match between a lady of your stature and a prince like I."

"Hmp," I scoff, "except my father loathes you."

"Surely, he does not loathe the opportunity to rise next to the second highest seat in the realm."

I am unable to respond as he places his hand on my belly, "and making the rumors true would give him no choice but to comply."

The sincerity of his words make me raise my brows and shove him off. He chuckles.

I cross my arms, "I might be unruly, but I am still a lady."

Daemon chuckles as I continue, "if you wish to get me pregnant, you're going to have to get on one knee first."

I'm genuinely surprised how the prince invited himself to our house later that day. Of course, he was still the prince, and knowing his wildness, my parents did not dare to turn him away.

My father was rendered completely dumbstruck by the visit, and where my mother chastised me again later that night, he only watched our viscous exchange.

I sent word to Daemon about it swiftly, practically giggling in my letter at the idea that his visit broke my father.

I did not receive a response though, but I thought nothing of it because I knew I would see him soon enough.

And yet days would pass I wouldn't hear from him same as ser Harwin.

It would not have phased me as much as it did, but then my mother had taken her turn at beating me. With my father no longer present, since he was out of town to mend my proposal with ser Harwin, my mother readily took up the mantle as disciplinarian.

She was not like my father, who I knew immediately regret bringing his hand out to his only daughter; she used me to air out all her frustrations eagerly. She was worse than my father, since she made sure to hit me repeatedly with not her hand, but her cane in places that would not be visible.

It got to a point were the servants called a maester for me at one time. In fact, it got so bad that my younger brothers, who had always been scared shitless by our mother, finally stepped in to hold her back. They even told me to leave home until father returned.

You can bet that they didn't have to tell me twice.

And so having already prepared lodging for me, my brothers sent me off to the capital and told me not to return until they sent word of my father's arrival.

At this point, I had sent word to the prince, eager to take my mind off my aching body. I found it utterly out of character when I still did not receive a response. Thus, out of my own volition, I came to him.

"The servants told me you'd be here," I call, releasing a soft and relieved smile upon seeing the prince's silver-white hair reading a book by the weirwood tree.

He was sitting on a chair at a table set with snacks, not at all moving to turn to me at all.

"Is your story that intriguing that it's made you ignore me?"

Daemon finally turns to me, face hard, eyes uninterested.

The smile that I gave him fades when he stands and walks past me without a word.

I knit my brows as he strides away. I call for him when I am faced with his back, "Daemon, I-"

"It's your grace," he cuts, raising a finger as he turns back to me with a look of anger, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen."

I look at him as he clutches the book in his hand tightly.

"Your grace," I mutter softly.

"Yes," he snips, then slowly words out, "Lady Hightower."

My face contorts as I shake my head in confusion, "I do not understand. I am not-"

"No?" he adds blurts, "but your cunt of a father is The Hand, Otto Hightower's cousin, is he not?"

I step back when he steps towards me.

"This was all your elaborate mind fuck, wasn't it?" he chuckles dryly, "you even went as far to let your father strike you so that I would-"

"Daemon," I raise my hands, "I-"

"DO NOT ACT FAMILIAR!" he snarls, throwing his book forcefully off to my side. I heave sharply in fear and feel my pulse quicken as the prince accuses, "you are a deceptive wench, hellbent on climbing to the top, just as I knew you were from the start!"

I shiver, "and you are turning into my father that chose to strike me because of baseless rumors!" I whine, holding back tears as my lips wobbled.

Daemon turns away, laughing darkly, "oh, don't play the victim!" He turns back to me, chest rising and falling in anger, "I heard your father speak it to his conspiring cousin that he struck you so that I'd take notice."

Unable to even process the weight his words held if it were true, I just look at him with tears falling helplessly from my eyes.

"What say you now, bitch?" Daemon seethes.

"Daem-"

"DO NOT CALL ME BY MY NAME!" he shouts, taking my shoulders in his hands, shaking me in anger.

He was unaware of the bruises in my arms, which is why he shoves me back when I scream, what was to his ears, exaggeratedly.

I reel back at his strength, having none to repel it, and come crashing back to the table behind me. The unanticipated contact on the small of my back makes me coil in the most unsavory of ways. I knock a few plates on the floor.

There is a shooting pain that shakes all over my body. The searing sensation makes me drop to the floor where my hands land on a plate that breaks under the force of my weight.

Tears and whines rip out of throat as I pull my bloody hand away from the shards that cut me.

Daemon had not anticipated that to happen at all, and so he just stood there, stunned. He was so stunned, in fact, he didn't have the wits to look over his shoulder as someone screamed out and tackled him.

With intent to destroy, Harwin lunged on Daemon, pinning him down on the ground where he punched him twice before he halted after hearing the sound of pained whimpers.

Harwin looked over his shoulder to me, and shoved himself off of the prince that was writhing, dazed on the floor.

"My lady!" Harwin calls to me, offering his one hand out as the other goes to my shoulder. He makes tries to lift me to my feet, by I let out a pained cry that stops him from moving me any further.

Daemon props himself on his elbows upon hearing it.

"Apologies," Harwin says, "I-"

"No," I shudder in pain, "I-" tears fog my sight, "I don't think I can stand."

Harwin clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring, "I will have the prince answer to hi-"

"It's not him," I whine, finally managing to at least pull away from the broken glass on the floor with the dark haired man's aid, "it's- it's my mother," I choke out a cry, "she's enraged that you have not returned because I have upset you-"

"You have not upset me," Harwin calls, "not you."

Daemon finally has the brain to stand.

"Harwin, I- I can't-"

Without another word, Harwin mutters that he will carry me to the maesters. I shake my head in disapproval, but he only hushes out apologies as he brings me to his arms.

Daemon catches a glimpse of what was underneath my skirt, discolored marks, unmistakably bruises.

I moan out in pain as Harwin cradles me in his arms. My hand darts to his face, but I pull back when I wipe blood on his cheek. I cry harder now, "I- Harwin-"

He looks down at me in his arms, hushing me as he shakes his head.

Daemon runs off in a hurry to ready the maesters that were just a hall away. Harwin is shocked but relieved that the maesters have a bed prepared for me the moment we enter. He is angered to know it is because of the prince.

"The prince pushed her," Harwin speaks sharply, turning to the said man, as he sets me down on the bed.

The closest maester does nothing but come towards me to attend to my bloody hands.

"She has bruises on her legs," Daemon says, making both Harwin and the maester turn to him. The former clenches his jaw tightly, anger doubling when my legs are examined by a separate maester.

He doesn't have to say it, but the maester speaks what both men already figured, "the lady was probably hit by a stick of sorts."

Daemon heaves in anger. Harwin twitches at the prince's reaction.

The maester asks me to describe the pain I'm feeling, and I explain it to him, adding I collided against a table but then also the fact that my mother hit me with a cane on my back on an occasion where I ran from her.

The maester gives me something for the pain.

Upon drinking it, I look between Harwin and Daemon who were both angry and distraught. My tears were still glazed with tears when I muttered, "please, don't take me back home, I beg of you."

The two of them move to speak, but Harwin is who is heard, "I will take you to my residence."

Daemon scoffs, "she will stay here," he throws Harwin a dirty look, "with the company of the best maesters."

"What so you can fucking push her from the top of the tower next?"

Daemon rages over to Harwin, but my squeaking command for them to stop proves to be effective.

Daemon turns to me, but I am too focused on Harwin to care, "my father said he went to you to convince you to take me back."

Harwin knits his brows.

"How could he when he's here, conspiring with Otto Hightower?" Daemon retorts in a sour tone.

Harwin ignores him and walks over to me, kneeling by the side of my bed, "he came to me, saying that you were ashamed to face me after the tourney and told me to patient for your call."

I cannot believe what I am hearing.

I break into a fit of tears, screwing my eyes shut in disbelief, "Harwin, I've been waiting for you to come to me so that I-" I bite my lip and shake my head, "when I realized you weren't coming, I thought my only hope of relief from my mother's hand would be when my father returns home."

Harwin sighs, as I repeat, "please, don't send me back."

Moving closer to me after the maester finished wrapping my wound, he mutters, "I will not allow another soul hurt my bride."

Both I and Daemon freeze upon hearing that.

Harwin pulls the ring from his finger and fiddles with it for a moment, "I agreed to my father's plans to wed you the moment I saw you, my lady."

He slips the ring on my finger, making my breath hitch.

"Harwin," I start and make a move to sit up, but there is again a blinding pain that shoots down my spine that forces me to screw my eyes shut and yelp.

He places a gentle hand on my arm, barely ghosting on my skin, hushing me yet like he has been since he carried me.

When I open my eyes, my gaze darts over to the prince, but I find that he is no longer here.

My line of sight drifts back down to the man before me, and I only have the strength to reply to him with a sad smile.

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