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Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories:
F/MMulti
Fandoms:
Game of Thrones (TV)House of the Dragon (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsA Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Relationships:
Arya Stark & Daemon TargaryenArya Stark/ ?Arya Stark/Daemon TargaryenArya Stark/Aemond "One-Eye" TargaryenAegon II Targaryen/Arya StarkArya Stark & Laena VelaryonDaemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra TargaryenAemond "One-Eye" Targaryen & Arya StarkAegon II Targaryen & Arya Stark
Characters:
Arya StarkDrogon | Daenerys Targaryen's DragonDaemon TargaryenAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenAegon II TargaryenLaena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonRhaenyra Targaryen
Additional Tags:
Arya Stark-centricTime TravelAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceBAMF Arya StarkCanon-Typical ViolenceWarg Arya StarkTime Travel Fix-ItFamily DynamicsDragon Rider Arya StarkAegon II Targaryen is Not a RapistThreesome - F/M/MDigital Art
Language:
English
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Published:2024-09-01Updated:2026-06-17Words:520,544Chapters:90/?Comments:1,601Kudos:2,362Bookmarks:446Hits:94,300
A Song Told Through Time
wicked17writer
Chapter 6: 🌊Daemon🎞️
Summary:
Daemon POV
Notes:
I usually post once a week, but here you go, another chapter. PLEASE don't get used to double updates, once a week is my goal and everything else is just confetti!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 6
~Daemon~
Arya had been gone for a week. The girls were miserable. Laena was angry with him. And he, he felt as he did before he learned of the girl's existence. Despondent. Bored. Listless.
Arya had been a puzzle and a project and a delight all rolled up in one. He felt her loss deeply. Most days he tried not to think of her but his family made it very difficult.
At the dinner table Baela would sigh, "I miss how Arya made lessons more fun by constantly interrupting with questions. When will she return?"
Before bed Rhaena would moan, "Arya and I were to learn how to bake bread this week, is she coming back soon?"
And Laena, his wife was the worst of all. All times of day she would invoke the girl's name. "Do you think Arya's safe?" "Oh, Arya loved this soup." "Where do you think Arya went?" "The gown I commissioned for Arya has just arrived, what should we do with it?" "Have there been any sightings of Arya and Drogon?"
It was reaching the point where Daemon wanted to throw something every time he heard the girls name. It was not as if he asked her to leave! And yet, Laena acted as if her disappearance was his fault. As if he was the one keeping her from returning. As if he wasn't just as worried about her.
And he was. He was worried about Arya. She had left with no belongings, no coin, only Drogon. He knew her to be capable but, still he worried. Because he had heard nothing about where she went. Even with all of his contacts around the world and no one had seen her.
Just as he settled in by the fire with a book on Maegor, his wife appeared announcing, "My parents have written."
He glared at her but said nothing, in his opinion nothing good could come from Westerosi gossip.
"Arya went to Driftmark!" His head jerked up to stare at his wife.
"What?" He shut his book with a snap and extended his hand for the letter. His wife summarized it as he read, "She arrived a week ago, so she must have flown straight there after we fought. My father says she has become gravely ill and my mother is now showing the same symptoms, he bids us to come at once!"
His eyes scanned the words as quickly as he could, eager for every scrap of news concerning his missing girl. It was written by Corlys, his script familiar to Daemon's eyes. Before he finished reading Laena cupped his face and guided his eyes away from the letter and up to her own, "Daemon, we must go home for her."
He didn't answer right away, first he finished reading the letter. When done he came to two conclusions. One, the letter was a manipulation. And two, it was a very clever one.
Arya was smart and strategic when she wanted to be. She knew only death or the threat of it would be enough to destroy his pride. He doubted Arya and Princess Rhaenys were ill. The bit about Laena's mother being ill was tacked on to the end of the letter, not like an afterthought, like someone read it over and didn't think it was convincing enough.
He knew in his heart Arya doubted their love for her and that's why she added the bit about Rhaenys possibly being ill. Arya probably didn't think they would go if she was the only one in peril. And the insecurity of that made his heart ache.
"I don't think it's true." He informed his wife, "Not a word beyond Arya's arrival." Laena pulled back from him, anger rising in her warm eyes. He smirked, "We will go anyway."
He watched his wife sigh in relief. And then her mind set to work. "I'll tell the girls, you say our goodbyes to the Magistrate and write a missive to the Prince expressing our apologies for missing his dinner tonight."
He stood and gave Laena a peck on the cheek, happy to follow her orders. "And then I will begin packing."
She nodded, "We'll leave after breaking our fast tomorrow."
.
.
.
During the flight back to Westeros Daemon began to doubt himself. His gut said the letter was a ploy, but the reality was it could have been true. Arya, for all of her death-defying dragon back stunts, was just a young girl. She was as mortal as anyone else. She could have fallen ill like Corlys claimed. Laena's father was not a known liar. And Daemon had seen her unwell before. Many times, in fact.
A month after coming to stay with him in Pentos, Arya was still insisting to sleep outside every night with her dragon. It was fucking ridiculous and unnecessary for her protection now that she had Daemon and his family to rely on. And so, after a week of his wife and children harping on the girl to sleep in a bed for a change, she conceded.
In the middle of the night, he woke to the sound of a girl screaming. It only took a moment to identify it as Arya's voice. He'd grabbed Dark Sister and dashed into the room ready to slay whatever fiend dared hurt a child under his protection. But the girl was alone. Alone and still in bed, blankets twisted around her body, pillow dark with sweat, Arya by all appearances was still deeply asleep. Just screaming herself hoarse as she battled demons in her dreams.
Slowed down by her pregnancy, his wife arrived just as he was making his approach to wake the girl.
"Be careful, I bet she'll wake violently if you startle her." Laena cautioned. His daughters appeared in the hallway just behind their mother.
"What's going on?" Baela sleepily asked as she and Rhaena tried to peek inside, "Is something wrong with Arya?"
He exchanged a look with his wife, silently they agreed she would care for their girls while he dealt with their wild dragon.
"Arya is just having a nightmare my darlings," Laena said calmly as she guided their daughters away from the door, "Come, back to bed. We will leave your father to tend to her."
She closed the door behind her just as Arya let out another piercing scream. It was disturbing how girlie it was. How youthful she sounded. When she screamed her voice was high pitched and feminine in a way that did not match with who he knew Arya to be.
He approached her bedside quickly, but hesitated before touching her. Laena was probably right; he would not put it past Arya to sleep with a knife under her pillow. He did not wish to be stabbed for doing a good deed.
"Arya." He called out loudly.
She mumbled a response, her voice hoarse from all the screaming, "Jon?"
It was a new name he had not heard from her before, mentally he filed it away. In private he was doing his best to discover her true identity, despite her disinterest.
"Arya, wake up!" He called louder; he gave the bed a kick for good measure. An answering roar from Drogon gave him a start, but still the girl did not wake.
"I can't--" Arya turned on her side, kicking out with her foot, "I--"
Arya's memory loss was the most frustratingly true thing about her. He knew it to be no ruse. Her lack of curiosity regarding her past was in his opinion, stupid. With her now talking in her sleep, he thought it a ripe opportunity to gain more clues, so despite her obvious distress he abandoned his goal of waking her up.
Softening his voice, he tried to prompt her into revealing more of her hidden secrets. "Arya, who's Jon?"
"No!"
"Did Jon hurt you?" Laena told him she had many scars, and he was curious about who gave them to her. Curious and eager to get revenge upon her behalf if it had not already been claimed.
"I can't…" She whispered, sweat beading at her brow.
"Can't what?" He encouraged.
"Can't…Jon!" She was thrashing now, batting at the air with her hands as if she was trying to fend off some unseen predator.
"Who's Jon?" He tried again.
"Coming…they keep coming, they—I can't!"
He drew closer asking, "Who keeps coming?"
She screamed then.
Like she was dying. Like someone she loved was dying. The sound so filled with agony; he immediately abandoned his scheme to get answers from her unconscious mind.
Grabbing Arya by the shoulders he forced her to sit up as he shouted her name. It was her sleep addled mind which made her movements slow, slow enough to stop the hands going to gouge out his eyes.
As Arya came back to herself, she kept her eyes shut tight and shook her head as he murmured gentle assurances. He ignored her moaned protests and kept his voice calm and steady.
"You are safe."
"No."
"It was just a dream."
"No."
"I am here." He used his thumbs to rub small circles into her shoulders and at this she finally fell silent.
"You are not alone." He reminded her. He then pressed his forehead to hers and repeated himself, "I am here, Arya. I am with you. You are not alone."
When her eyes finally opened and focused on him, they were glossy and wet. As they pulled back from each other a single tear broke free and slid down her cheek as she whimpered his name, "Daemon?"
In that moment he felt ancient. She was looking at him with pain and anguish in her eyes that one so young should not know of yet. But there was also something else. In her eyes, beyond the pain he could see a silent hope there too. A hope that he could make it better. A hope that he would not leave her. A hope that she was finally safe at last. It was a hope that only truly good people managed to cling to even in the darkest of times.
For Arya in that moment, he wanted to be the safe harbor she was looking for.
Despite his past and his reputation, he was not a monster. And what's more he was a father to two young girls. That is to say it wasn't a conscious decision to pull the wild girl into his arms. It was instinct to rub her back, pet her hair, and hold her close while she cried herself back to sleep in his embrace.
He held the pose even when his limb grew stiff, for he did not wish to wake her now. Not after such a visceral display of emotional vulnerability. He was mentally debating what to do, how to get her back into bed properly, when the door opened and his wife reentered.
She smiled either amused at his obvious predicament or by the mere sight of him preforming such a domestic task. He shot her a sour look, but did not move. Laena ran her hand down his back when she reached his side.
"Did she say anything?" He shook his head and answered in a whisper that matched her own, "Not about her dream, not anything of significance."
Laena brushed two fingers down the side of Arya's face. The girl reacted, twisting her body towards Daemon, curling up and pressing her face to his chest.
"She trusts you." Laena said, her tone fond.
"It would appear so." He wondered at it often, why her dragon accepted him so easily, which in turn convinced the girl to do the same. He felt his wife press a kiss to the back of his head. When she turned to leave him, offering no help, he hissed, "You can't leave me like this!"
Laena smothered a laugh and merely waved at him from the door, which she quietly closed.
He sighed when he and the girl were alone again, and then he yelped when Arya spoke softly, "Daemon."
He looked down to find Arya awake. She extracted herself from his embrace and settled back on the bed with her back against the head board. While shaking out his numb limbs he debated leaving, but he couldn't. She looked so small and exposed sitting there. Despite all her fire, she really was a tiny thing.
He joined her on the bed copying her pose. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I've had the dream before." She admitted, "Usually its not so intense. But today…I'm sorry I woke you up."
He grabbed the blanket and spread it over their legs. He then gambled on how much affection Arya would allow in such a vulnerable state. He slipped his arm behind her shoulders and pulled her into his side. She stiffened like a corpse before settling against him more comfortably. He thought it might be easier for her to talk now that they were touching, but not looking at each other.
"You said a name in your sleep." He offered.
"Jon." She whispered knowingly.
"Another paramour?" Last week she had remembered a lover named Gendry, that was when he started to keep a physical record of all the bits of information Arya had revealed to him concerning her mysterious past. At present it was still a pitifully small list of clues.
"I—yes, no—with Jon." She was struggling for words which was not like her, Daemon stayed quiet, letting her think. She ran a hand through her sweaty hair and pulled lightly at it before answering coherently, "Yes, I loved him. But no, not like Gendry. More. Different. Deeper. It's why it hurts so much, I think. When I watch him die. Night after night."
She paused to sniff and wipe at her eyes. "I watch a man I love, but don't know die, gruesomely."
Daemon could see why that could cause such a visceral reaction. "It's—when I drink a little too much or sleep besides, well anyone, but especially Drogon, the dreams are less frequent and less intense. It's part of the reason why I've insisted on sleeping outside for the last month."
That certainly explained a bit about her recent behavior with the local attractive male population. And her liberal drinking at dinner.
"Can you describe Jon for me?" He asked.
She pressed her face into his shoulder. "I know you're still trying to figure me out, and I don't actually mind, but do you really think you'll be able to decipher all my secrets based on a dead man's description?"
He hugged her close, pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and told her a half truth, "That is not why I asked."
He did not think she would say anymore for she took a very long pause before speaking again.
"Our eyes matched…he had black hair. A broody face, but handsome when he smiled…I don't think he smiled enough, but he did for me." Discretely she wiped away a tear.
He was so curious. And he reasoned, it was not healthy to keep such things bottled up inside. So softly, he commanded, "Tell me about your dream."
She pulled away from him to lay down, he obeyed the tugging on his limbs and did as he was silently bid and followed her. Once they were lying in bed together, she snuggled back into his arms cuddled up his chest. He though she was seeking protection from all that haunted her mind, so he was gentle and held her close in his arms.
Still, he had to know. "What killed your Jon?"
"The same thing that kills everything, an endless winter filled with monsters."
.
.
.
They make good time and arrive on Driftmark just as the sun was beginning to set. Moondancer was still too small to be ridden on such a long journey so both girls were passengers with their mother on Vhagar.
Arya and Drogon were waiting for them on the cliffside when they arrived. She looked pale and tired but no where near her death bed. He silently reveled in being right. And rejoiced at her continued health.
He watched from afar as his wife and children joyfully reunited with their lost little dragon.
He listened as she glossed over her and Princess Rhaenys's illness saying they were both well now.
He stayed back when Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys came out and greeted their long-gone daughter.
He saw as his girls were introduced to their grandparents for the first time and his women were all ushered inside.
He stayed near his dragon until Arya left his family at the door and came to fetch him.
He could tell by her slow gait she was nervous. And she avoided his eyes until they were an arm's length away from one another.
She said his name in greeting, "Daemon."
Before landing he was eager to let her stew in the guilt of worrying them needlessly. He had wanted to stare her down. Make her crack and reveal her great deception. He had wanted to soak in her anxiety. Bask in the knowledge that his instincts were right, she had lied to manipulate their return. And then after savoring his victory, he had planned to graciously offer his forgiveness.
But his stupid heart was so relieved to see her again, that his petty plans evaporated.
Wordlessly he took her into his arm and hugged her tight. She reciprocated with equal strength. And he was glad.
Muffled words were whispered into his neck, "I'm sorry we fought."
Pulling back, they locked eyes and he smiled. Pressing his head to hers, he forgave her, "As am I."
She pulled him in for another hug and he gave himself up to her clever manipulation.
.
.
.
Nightmares Comfort
Notes:
By this point Laena is 6-ish months pregnant. (fyi)
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