cluelessteam

Latest Posts by cluelessteam

Hello! How r u?

Hiii, im okay. Im really sorry for not uploading. I’ve been really busy with school and just haven’t been feeling that well lately.

Im the original requester for the edmund pevensie series and I want to say that ur writing is so pretty omg 🤭😭

I was wondering if u could put some smut in there where hes vv rough with her 🤭✋

Thank you soooo muchhhh!!!!! I’m so happy that you’re loving itttt!!! This story is almost finished btw so I hope you are satisfied with it and will be happy! For the smut, I can’t tell you that it will be good for sure😭 I already have the rest of the story written out and I will try my best to implement it into the story. I don’t think I can be a full blown smut writer, I’m just not that creative tbh😅. But, it will have a litte SPICE to it.

Shadows and Starlight: {~Allies in War~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund and Peter

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Bit of angst

Word Count: 1529

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 4 —

The sky was dark, the sun barely visible through the thick clouds that had gathered on the horizon. The tension had been building for days, both within the camps and between them. But no one had anticipated the attack. It came swiftly, without warning, a surprise assault from a third faction that neither Narnia nor your people had expected.

It started with the unmistakable sound of horns—shrill and urgent, cutting through the air like a blade. The camp erupted into chaos as soldiers scrambled to arm themselves, shouting orders and gathering into defensive formations. Edmund was among the first to draw his sword, his instincts kicking in as he barked commands to the Narnians.

You were already in the midst of the confusion, your own people mobilizing with the same urgency. It was as if the tenuous peace between your forces and Narnia had dissolved in an instant, replaced by the brutal reality of survival.

And then the enemy came.

They poured over the hills, armored and armed, a wave of dark figures that moved with ruthless precision. Arrows whistled through the air, striking down anyone too slow to react, and the sound of clashing steel filled the camp as the battle began.

You and Edmund found each other in the thick of it, your eyes meeting across the battlefield for a brief moment before the fighting consumed you both. There was no time for words, no time for hesitation. You moved as one, your swords cutting through the enemy with practiced ease, each of you watching the other’s back as you fought side by side.

Edmund’s focus had never been sharper, but as the battle raged on, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. Despite the chaos, despite the blood and violence that surrounded you, there was an undeniable connection—a trust that had grown between you over the course of these long, difficult weeks. Every movement you made was instinctive, as though you had fought together for years.

An enemy soldier lunged toward you, his spear aimed for your side, but Edmund was faster. He deflected the blow with a quick strike of his sword, knocking the soldier off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Careful!” he shouted over the roar of the battle, his voice edged with concern.

You barely had time to nod your thanks before you were engaged with another opponent, your blade flashing in the dim light as you parried and struck with lethal precision. But even in the midst of the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced whenever Edmund was close—the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The battle was fierce, with neither side willing to give an inch. But as the fighting dragged on, the enemy began to close in, their numbers overwhelming the defenders. You and Edmund were forced back toward the center of the camp, where the wounded were being tended to and the remaining soldiers regrouped.

At one point, you found yourself pressed up against a barricade, panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Edmund was beside you, his face smeared with dirt and blood, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He glanced at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“We need to hold this line,” Edmund said, his voice rough but determined.

You nodded, gripping your sword tightly. “I’m with you.”

And then the fighting resumed.

Together, you and Edmund held the line, fending off wave after wave of attackers. There were moments when it seemed hopeless, when the sheer number of enemies threatened to overwhelm you. But each time, you found strength in the other, an unspoken understanding that neither of you would fall while the other still stood.

As the battle dragged on, something changed. The enemy’s attack began to falter, their forces scattering as the Narnians and your people fought back with renewed vigor. Soon, the attackers were in full retreat, disappearing over the hills as quickly as they had come.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing and the distant cries of the wounded. The battle was over, but the cost had been high. Bodies littered the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke.

Edmund sheathed his sword, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken that made your heart clench.

“We did it,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Edmund nodded, but there was no relief in his gaze. “For now.”

Later, when the camp had begun to settle, Edmund found himself face-to-face with Peter. His older brother had been watching him closely throughout the battle, and now, with the fighting over, the questions could no longer be avoided.

“Edmund,” Peter’s voice was sharp as he approached, his blue eyes hard with suspicion. “We need to talk.”

Edmund tensed, knowing what was coming. He could see the concern in Peter’s eyes, the way his brother’s gaze flicked toward you, even as you stood on the other side of the camp, talking with your soldiers.

Peter’s words were low, but laced with accusation. “You’ve been reckless. Distracted.”

“I’ve been doing my job,” Edmund replied coolly, though his pulse quickened.

“Is that what this is?” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Because it seems to me like your focus is elsewhere.”

Edmund clenched his jaw, refusing to meet Peter’s gaze. He had expected this confrontation for days now—had known it was inevitable. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m focused on the battle. On Narnia,” Edmund said, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

Peter didn’t let up. “Are you? Or are you too busy looking out for her?”

The accusation hit harder than Edmund had expected, and for a moment, he faltered. But then his anger flared, and he turned to face Peter fully, his expression hardening.

“She’s not our enemy,” Edmund said, his voice low but fierce. “Not anymore.”

Peter’s gaze sharpened. “And what happens when she turns on you? What happens when this fragile truce falls apart, and you’re too blinded by whatever this is to see it coming?”

Edmund’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand.”

“No,” Peter snapped, his voice rising. “I don’t. I don’t understand why you’re risking everything for someone who might betray us the moment it’s convenient.”

Edmund’s temper flared, and before he could stop himself, the words were out. “Because she’s different, Peter. She’s not like the others.”

Peter stared at him, his expression unreadable. “You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment, Edmund. We can’t afford that right now.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick and heavy. Then, Peter’s voice softened, though the worry in his eyes remained.

“You’re my brother,” he said quietly. “I can’t lose you again.”

Edmund’s anger ebbed, replaced by a dull ache in his chest. He knew Peter was only trying to protect him, to keep him from making a mistake. But the problem was, it was already too late. He had let you in—had let his guard down—and now, there was no turning back.

The aftermath of the attack had left your people shaken. The sudden assault had forced your forces to fight alongside the Narnians, and while it had been a necessary alliance, it left many of your soldiers uneasy.

In the command tent, your most trusted advisors were gathered, their faces grim as they discussed the events of the day. The question on everyone’s mind was the same: Could they trust Narnia after what had happened?

“We were caught off guard,” one of your commanders said, his voice heavy with frustration. “We can’t afford to let that happen again.”

You nodded, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn’t stop thinking about Edmund—about the way he had fought beside you, the way he had protected you without hesitation. There was a bond between you now, something deeper than just a shared battle. But how could you reconcile that with the distrust your people felt toward Narnia?

“We need to be careful,” another advisor said. “The Narnians may have helped us today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t turn on us tomorrow.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, and you felt the weight of your position more acutely than ever. You were their leader, the one they looked to for guidance. But how could you lead them when you weren’t even sure where your own loyalties lay?

“I trust Edmund,” you said finally, the words escaping before you could fully think them through.

Your advisors exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke. The truth was, they had seen the way Edmund had fought for you today. They had seen the way the two of you worked together, how you moved in sync, almost as if you had been allies from the start. But trust was fragile, and with war looming on the horizon, any misstep could be disastrous.

Shadows and Starlight: {~Rising Tempers~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Pevensie siblings

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst

Word Count: 1582

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 3 —

The sun had barely begun its descent, casting a muted orange glow over the Narnian camp. The truce had held for days, though the atmosphere was far from peaceful. Each morning, Edmund could feel the weight of every glance, every whispered conversation that ceased the moment he entered a room. The rumors had spread, despite his efforts to keep his visits to your camp discreet. And now, with tensions rising on both sides, it was becoming harder to ignore the widening chasm between his duty and his desires.

Edmund sat at the edge of camp, his back against the rough bark of an old tree, watching the horizon. The quiet of the evening offered little solace, only serving to remind him of the conflict he felt inside. He wasn’t sure when his focus had begun to waver—perhaps it was the first time he had looked into your eyes and seen more than an enemy. Or maybe it was when you had hesitated, just as he had, during that first brutal clash on the battlefield.

There was something about you—something that gnawed at him, made him question not only the war but his very role in it. Edmund had fought many battles, some far bloodier than this, but never before had he been so consumed with doubt.

He was startled from his thoughts by the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. He knew who it was even before he looked up. Lucy stood before him, her expression one of quiet concern.

“Ed?” she asked, her voice gentle, as though she didn’t want to startle him further.

“Lucy.” He forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re out late.”

“So are you,” she said, taking a seat beside him. She studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with a kindness that Edmund had always appreciated. But tonight, that kindness felt like a mirror—reflecting back the turmoil he was trying so hard to hide.

Lucy didn’t say anything at first. She simply sat with him, her presence as soothing as the cool breeze that rustled through the trees. Finally, she broke the silence. “You’ve been distant.”

He winced at the truth in her words, but he didn’t deny it. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said softly, her gaze unwavering. “So has Peter.”

Edmund tensed at the mention of his older brother. He knew Peter was watching him closely—waiting for him to slip. Peter had always been protective, but lately, his protectiveness had morphed into suspicion.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Edmund muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you think I’m going to say?” Lucy asked, her voice soft but firm.

“That I’m losing focus. That I’m letting my guard down.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. “No, I wasn’t going to say that.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

Edmund let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned to look at her, surprised by the genuine concern in her voice. It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t a warning. It was Lucy being Lucy—always seeing past the surface.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Lucy leaned in slightly, her expression softening. “Is it about her?”

He stiffened, caught off guard by her directness. Of course Lucy would have noticed. She had always been the most perceptive of them all, even when they were children. She could see past the masks they all wore, could read the emotions that others tried so hard to hide.

Edmund didn’t respond right away, but Lucy’s gaze remained steady. She wasn’t judging him. She was waiting—waiting for him to trust her with the truth.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally, his voice low.

Lucy nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. “Ed, I don’t pretend to know everything about what’s going on. But I do know you. And I know that you wouldn’t be so torn if there wasn’t more to her than just... the enemy.”

Edmund’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t deserve her faith. Not when he was keeping so much from his siblings—his family. But the thought of trying to explain everything, to put into words the connection he felt with you... it seemed impossible.

“Peter and Susan... they wouldn’t understand,” he said, almost to himself.

“Maybe not,” Lucy admitted. “But I think they’d listen.”

Edmund wasn’t so sure. Peter had always been the one to see things in black and white, right and wrong. And this—whatever this was between him and you—it didn’t fit neatly into either category.

“I can’t risk it, Lu,” Edmund said after a long silence. “Not yet.”

Lucy looked like she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “Just... don’t shut us out, okay?”

Edmund nodded, though a part of him knew it was already too late. He was too far in—too conflicted, too caught up in his own emotions to untangle the mess he’d found himself in.

It was late, the campfire casting a dim glow as you sat across from Edmund. The talks had gone well—at least on the surface—but there was an undercurrent of tension that neither of you could ignore.

“You seem distracted,” you noted, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

Edmund’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting out a slow breath. “I could say the same about you.”

You smiled faintly, though there was no humor behind it. “I think we’re both distracted.”

For a moment, the air between you was thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts. There were things neither of you could say—truths that lingered just beneath the surface, too dangerous to give voice to.

“You’ve changed,” Edmund said after a long silence, his voice soft but firm.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his observation. “Changed how?”

“You’re not as... certain,” he said carefully, as though choosing his words with the precision of a warrior picking his strikes. “When we first met on the battlefield, you were... relentless. Unyielding.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours, “you hesitate.”

The words hit harder than you expected, but you couldn’t deny their truth. You had changed. The war had changed you. But it wasn’t just the war—it was him. Edmund had wormed his way into your thoughts, into your very soul, and now you found yourself questioning everything you once believed in.

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you said, trying to brush it off, but the look in Edmund’s eyes told you he didn’t believe that for a second.

“You’re not tired,” he said quietly. “You’re conflicted.”

The fire crackled between you, the sound almost too loud in the heavy silence. You stared at the flames, trying to gather your thoughts, but Edmund’s gaze never wavered. He was waiting for you to speak—waiting for you to admit the truth you had both been avoiding.

Finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. “And what about you, Edmund? Are you conflicted?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I am.”

It was the first time either of you had admitted it out loud, and the words hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap at any moment.

“I don’t know what this is,” Edmund continued, his voice barely audible. “But I know that it’s dangerous.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “And yet here we are.”

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He didn’t have an answer—neither of you did. All you knew was that the lines between friend and foe had blurred beyond recognition, and now, you were both caught in the middle of something neither of you could control.

In the command tent, Peter stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he stared down at the map spread before him. The other Narnians had already dispersed for the evening, leaving only Peter and Susan behind.

“He’s slipping,” Peter said finally, his voice tight with frustration.

Susan looked up from her seat, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Peter insisted, his blue eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and concern. “He’s distracted. He’s letting his emotions get in the way.”

“And you think you’re not?” Susan countered, raising an eyebrow. “Peter, you’re just as invested in this war as Edmund is. Maybe even more so.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Edmund. He’s... different. He’s not himself.”

Susan stood, crossing the tent to stand beside her brother. She placed a hand on his arm, her voice soft but firm. “He’s growing up, Peter. He’s making his own decisions.”

Peter didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the map before him. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued. “I just don’t want to lose him again.”

“You won’t,” Susan said softly. “But you need to trust him.”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can.”

Do u write smut?

To finally answer this question, I will if you want me to. I’m not a smut writer or smut type blog but if you guys want me to write a one shot about for it or to add a scene in a series, I will try my best. Wont promise that it’ll be good tho😭

Shadows and Starlight: {~ The Fragile Truce Word ~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight fluff

Word Count: 1697

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 2 —

The camp was quiet, save for the low murmur of soldiers gathered around fires, their faces lit by the flickering glow. The war had taken its toll on everyone—physically and mentally—and tonight, even the most hardened fighters seemed subdued. The ceasefire had been called, but there was a tension in the air that was impossible to ignore. Everyone knew this truce was temporary. Fragile. And yet, as you stood at the edge of your camp, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more dangerous than battle lay ahead.

The source of your unease stood just beyond the perimeter, his presence unmistakable. Edmund Pevensie had come to your camp under the pretense of negotiations—discussing terms, strategies, anything to maintain the fragile peace that had been brokered after your last encounter. But you knew better. Edmund wasn’t here for political reasons. He was here because, like you, he couldn’t let go of whatever was growing between you, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

You watched as he dismounted from his horse, his movements fluid and purposeful, his face unreadable. The tension between you had shifted since that fateful day on the battlefield, when he had offered you his hand instead of striking you down. It was as if the very nature of your rivalry had changed, morphing into something neither of you could fully understand or control.

“Edmund,” you greeted him, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. You tried to keep your tone neutral, but there was no denying the undercurrent of something deeper.

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your greeting as his eyes met yours. For a brief moment, it was just the two of you, standing on opposite sides of a fragile line that neither dared to cross, yet both seemed drawn toward. But then, the moment passed, and Edmund’s expression hardened.

“I’m here to discuss the terms of the truce,” he said, his voice formal, though you could hear the strain beneath it. “We need to ensure this ceasefire holds.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you toward the central tent where the negotiations would take place. The camp buzzed with quiet energy as you led him through the rows of soldiers and tents, but no one dared approach. Your people regarded Edmund with wary eyes, their distrust of the Narnians evident in the way they tensed at his presence.

Once inside the tent, the two of you stood opposite each other, the low light casting long shadows on the canvas walls. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence thick with unspoken words.

“So,” Edmund began, his tone clipped as he tried to steer the conversation back to politics, “your side has been pushing for control of the northern borders. We can’t allow that to happen.”

You folded your arms across your chest, feigning indifference even as your heart pounded in your ears. “And what would you suggest, Pevensie? We give up territory in exchange for your goodwill?”

His jaw clenched, his irritation evident, though he was doing his best to keep his emotions in check. “You know as well as I do that this isn’t about goodwill. It’s about survival.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. This was supposed to be a negotiation—a purely diplomatic meeting to maintain peace—but it felt like something far more personal. Every word exchanged was a battle in its own right, each of you testing the other’s resolve.

Before you could respond, the tent flap opened, and a tall figure entered—one of your most trusted advisors, a man who had been at your side since the beginning of the war. He was charming, sharp-witted, and far too friendly for Edmund’s liking. You could see the change in Edmund’s posture immediately, the way his shoulders stiffened as your advisor greeted you with a warm smile.

“My apologies for the interruption,” your advisor said smoothly, his eyes flicking to Edmund with only the briefest hint of disdain before returning to you. “I wanted to ensure everything was in order for the negotiations.”

You offered him a polite smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “Of course. We were just discussing the terms of the truce.”

As you spoke, your advisor stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder in what might have been a gesture of support—but to Edmund, it was something far more irritating. His eyes darkened as he watched the interaction, his jaw clenching so hard you thought you heard his teeth grind.

Edmund’s voice was cold when he finally spoke. “I assume you’ve been kept informed of the negotiations thus far,” he said, addressing your advisor with a pointed glare. “It would be a shame for any misunderstandings to arise at this stage.”

The tension in the tent thickened as the two men locked eyes, neither willing to back down. You could feel the heat of Edmund’s jealousy simmering just beneath the surface, though he did his best to mask it behind a veneer of professionalism. Still, you knew him well enough to recognize the signs—the slight tightening of his grip on his sword hilt, the way his gaze never quite left your advisor.

Before things could escalate, you cleared your throat, stepping between them to defuse the situation. “Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand,” you suggested, your voice firm but calm. “We’re here to discuss peace, after all.”

Your advisor nodded, though you could sense the underlying tension in his posture. “Of course,” he agreed, his tone smooth. “We all want what’s best for our people.”

Edmund didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you resumed the discussion, the charged silence between you more telling than any words he could have said. As the negotiations continued, you couldn’t help but notice the way Edmund’s mood darkened whenever your advisor spoke, his irritation growing with each passing moment. It was as if the very idea of someone else standing at your side, advising you, grated on him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

By the time the meeting was over, the atmosphere in the tent had grown stifling. Your advisor left with a respectful nod, but the moment he was gone, you turned to face Edmund, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now that you were alone with him.

Edmund’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, you thought he might deflect your question. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted, his voice low. “He’s too... familiar with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his bluntness. “And why does that bother you?”

For a moment, Edmund seemed at a loss for words. His gaze met yours, and you saw the conflict there—the battle between his duty as a leader and the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than you had ever heard it.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he confessed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “And I don’t trust that he has your best interests at heart.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the raw honesty in his voice. This was not the Edmund you had fought against for so long—the hardened, calculating king who never let his guard down. This was something else, something far more dangerous. Because it wasn’t just concern in his eyes—it was something deeper, something that neither of you had acknowledged but both of you felt.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there in the dimly lit tent, the weight of his confession hanging heavily between you. It would have been so easy to push him away, to retreat behind the walls you had built around yourself. But something in the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the world that mattered—made it impossible.

“I can take care of myself,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “But thank you... for worrying.”

Edmund’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he was looking for something he couldn’t quite name. The tension between you was almost unbearable now, the air thick with the unspoken connection that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Edmund stepped back, his expression once again guarded. “We should continue this discussion later,” he said, his voice a little too formal, as if he was trying to regain control of himself.

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but feel the loss of the moment that had just slipped away. “Later,” you agreed, your heart still racing as you watched him leave the tent, disappearing into the night.

The campfire crackled softly as you sat with your soldiers later that evening, the warmth from the flames doing little to chase away the cold that had settled in your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about Edmund—about the way he had looked at you, the way his words had lingered in the air between you like a question neither of you were ready to answer.

Your people, however, were less conflicted. They had seen Edmund in your camp, had watched the way the two of you interacted, and now, whispers of doubt and suspicion were beginning to spread.

“You’ve changed since the truce began,” one of your most trusted soldiers said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of accusation. “People are starting to wonder if your loyalties are still with us.”

You stiffened, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. “My loyalties have never wavered,” you replied firmly,

though even you could hear the hesitation in your voice. “I’m doing what I must for our people.”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression skeptical. “Just be careful. The Pevensies are not to be trusted. They have a way of getting inside your head... making you question things.”

You didn’t respond, but his words hit closer to the truth than you were willing to admit.

Hello! I was the one who put in the Edmund request :)

Your writing is so beautiful and descriptive omg <3

If you could make it a series, I'd be vv grateful! And !Jealous Edmund>>>

Once again, loved your writing <3

Shadows and Starlight: {~The Clash of Swords~}

A/N: First I would really like to apologize for taking so long to get this out! I was moving and had honestly lost motivation for writing and just could not get anything out. I am also a junior in highschool so I have been busy with school. But, I am now on my Christmas break so I will be posting one chapter every single day to make up for the lost time. Since I have missed yesterday, I will be posting the second chapter of this story later today! I love you guys so much and I really appreciate your patience!❤️

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1674

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 1 —

The battlefield stretched out before you like a storm on the horizon—chaotic, dangerous, and all-consuming. The metallic clash of swords, the dull thud of arrows striking shields, and the war cries of soldiers filled the air, creating a symphony of war that pulsed in your veins. But amidst the carnage, amidst the chaos and confusion, there was only one person you were focused on—Edmund Pevensie.

You saw him long before he saw you, cutting through the battlefield with swift precision, his sword moving as an extension of his arm. He was brutal and efficient, taking down every opponent who dared cross his path. The youngest king of Narnia had become your greatest rival, the one opponent you could never truly defeat, and today would be no different—or so you told yourself.

As you watched him, a bitter taste formed in your mouth. Edmund Pevensie—so full of confidence, so sure of himself—fought like he had nothing to lose. But you knew better. You had seen him falter before, had noticed the subtle cracks in his armor during your past encounters. Today, you would exploit them.

Your grip tightened on the hilt of your sword as you wove through the battlefield, dodging stray arrows and blocking attacks from nameless soldiers. Your eyes never left Edmund, and with each step, you felt the weight of your unresolved rivalry bearing down on you. It had been this way for years, an endless dance of blades and blood, but today, it felt different. There was something heavier in the air, something that made your heart pound with more than just adrenaline.

Finally, Edmund’s gaze locked with yours across the battlefield, and you saw the flash of recognition in his eyes. His jaw clenched, and his body tensed as he prepared himself for the inevitable clash. You could practically feel the electricity in the air between you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing second.

Without another thought, you charged toward him, your feet pounding against the muddy ground. Every other battle faded into the background as you closed the distance between you, your focus narrowing to the point where nothing else mattered but the fight that was about to take place.

Edmund met your charge head-on, his sword raised to intercept your strike. The clash of metal rang out like thunder as your blades collided, sending shockwaves through your arms. The force of the impact jarred your bones, but you gritted your teeth and pressed forward.

“Back again?” Edmund’s voice was cold, almost bored, as he parried your next strike with ease. “You never learn, do you?”

His words stung more than you cared to admit, but you refused to let him see the effect they had on you. Instead, you pushed harder, your sword meeting his with a furious intensity. “You’re one to talk, Pevensie,” you shot back, your breath coming in sharp bursts. “How many times do I have to beat you before you finally stay down?”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of Edmund’s lips, though there was no humor in it. “Beat me? That’s funny, considering the last time we met, you were the one on the ground.”

The reminder of your previous defeat ignited a fresh wave of anger within you. The memory of Edmund standing over you, his sword poised to end your life, was one you hadn’t been able to shake. But today, you vowed, things would be different.

You struck again, your sword whistling through the air with deadly intent. Edmund blocked the blow, his strength evenly matched against yours, and for a moment, the two of you were locked in a stalemate. The muscles in your arms strained as you pressed your blade against his, trying to force him back, but Edmund held his ground.

“You’re getting slower,” he remarked, his voice taunting. “Is this the best you’ve got?”

A growl of frustration escaped your lips as you pushed harder, finally managing to break the deadlock. You swung your sword in a wide arc, aiming for his side, but Edmund was too fast. He dodged the strike with practiced ease, and before you could react, he retaliated with a quick, calculated swipe that nearly knocked the sword from your hand.

Stumbling back, you cursed under your breath. Edmund’s fighting style had always been a mix of precision and brutality, and it was becoming clear that today would be no different. He was relentless, his strikes quick and unyielding, and though you were able to match him blow for blow, it was taking everything you had to keep up.

“You’re slipping,” Edmund said, his voice tinged with mockery as he lunged toward you again. “Getting tired?”

“Not yet,” you snarled, blocking his attack and countering with a sharp thrust of your own. Your sword grazed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood, and for the first time in the fight, you saw Edmund falter.

His eyes flickered with surprise as he looked down at the wound, and in that brief moment of distraction, you pressed your advantage. You swung your sword with renewed vigor, driving him back step by step. The tide of the fight had shifted, and for the first time in what felt like years, you could see a path to victory.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, your advantage was gone.

With a swift, almost casual motion, Edmund deflected your next strike and spun around, catching you off guard. His sword lashed out, sweeping your legs out from under you with a speed that left you breathless. Before you could even process what had happened, you were on the ground, the cold, wet mud soaking through your clothes.

You gasped for breath, your body aching from the fall. Pain radiated through your ribs, but before you could recover, Edmund was looming over you, his sword pointed directly at your throat.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You lay there, panting, staring up at him in disbelief. This was it. After all these years, after all the battles and near misses, it had finally come to an end. Edmund Pevensie had you at his mercy.

“Go on,” you spat, your voice rough and filled with defiance. “Finish it.”

Edmund’s face was expressionless as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His sword didn’t waver, the cold steel pressing lightly against the delicate skin of your throat. But despite his position of power, despite the fact that he could end this with a single strike, something in his eyes told you he wouldn’t.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said quietly, the words so unexpected that they seemed to hang in the air between you.

You blinked up at him, stunned into silence. This was a trick. It had to be. Edmund had never shown you mercy before, so why now? “What?” you breathed, your voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

“I said I’m not going to kill you,” Edmund repeated, his voice steady but lacking the usual coldness that colored his words. He sheathed his sword and extended a hand toward you. “Get up.”

You stared at his outstretched hand like it was a viper about to strike. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. This was Edmund Pevensie—your sworn enemy. The one person you had spent years fighting against, the one you had sworn to defeat at any cost. And now he was offering you his hand?

“What are you playing at?” you demanded, still lying in the mud, too stunned to move. “Is this some kind of game to you?”

Edmund’s gaze didn’t waver. “No game,” he said firmly. “This doesn’t have to end with one of us dead.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t the Edmund you knew. The Edmund you had fought time and time again would never say something like that. But as you searched his eyes, you realized that this Edmund, the one standing before you now, wasn’t the same boy you had fought all those years ago.

You hesitated, the weight of his offer hanging heavily in the air between you. Everything in you screamed to refuse, to push his hand away and continue the fight. But something in his eyes, something raw and unguarded, stopped you. It wasn’t just the offer of peace that he was extending—it was something deeper. Something unspoken.

Slowly, tentatively, you reached up and took his hand. His grip was strong as he pulled you to your feet, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to still. The battle continued to rage around you, but in that moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones left.

You stood there, face to face, your hand still clasped in his. Your chest heaved with exertion, your body aching from the fight, but all you could focus on was the way Edmund’s gaze had softened, the way his eyes lingered on yours just a moment too long.

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

Edmund’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Because I’m tired of this,” he admitted, his voice low but filled with a sincerity that caught you off guard. “This war, this fight... it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a voice called out from behind you, cutting through the tension.

“Edmund!”

The sound of Peter’s voice brought you both crashing back to reality. You turned to see him striding toward you, his face set in a grim expression. Behind him, Susan stood with her bow drawn, her sharp eyes flicking between you and Edmund with suspicion.

Edmund quickly released your hand, his expression hardening as Peter approached. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted between you—something that couldn’t be undone.

When's the Edmund one coming? :D

It’s coming!!! I’m really sorry for the lateness and me just not uploading, just a lot of stuff going on in my life and I honestly just forget that I even have people actually enjoying my writing and waiting for more so I really do apologize and I’m about to post the 1st chapter, and I had lost like, everything so I am trying to figure that out.

Hi! Could I request this for Daemon? I've been really interested in the whole haunting for Damon

in the latest season and just wanted charmed and thought Daemon might come across the spirit of his late ex-lover at Harrenhal. She was Otto's eldest daughter who passed away before they could wed. There's a chance that Otto mistakenly poisoned her instead of Daemon, in an attempt to stop their marriage. She confides in Daemon about the specifics of her death, and he finds closure by being able to embrace her, kiss her, and be intimate with her. Alys Rivers was someone she adored and cared for, perhaps as a motherly figure. Alys might continue to trigger visions of his former lover in Daemon, but not with harmful intentions; it could be rooted in her affection for her maternal figure. This could serve as the first part of a two-part series, and the suspenseful conclusion could be Alys' revelation that she intends to bring her back to life, potentially leading to Damon's unexpected shift in allegiance in the series 😏💚❤️‍🔥

{~Shadows of Harrenhal~}

A/N: First of all I just want to say thank you for requesting this!!! I am sooo sorry that it took me to song for me to write this for you! I really hope you enjoy this and I'm really sorry if it's not entirely what you wanted but I tried! 😭

Summary: Daemon Targaryen encounters the spirit of his lost love, Otto Hightower’s eldest daughter, who died before they could wed. Alys Rivers offers Daemon a way to bring her back, binding their souls but at a high cost. As he’s consumed by their supernatural connection, Daemon faces a painful choice: keep her and lose himself, or release her and find peace.

Characters: Daemon & Alys

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some Angst

Word Count: 1983

Tag List: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Part 1 ---

Daemon Targaryen never considered himself a man bound by ghosts. He took what he wanted, feared little, and answered to no one. But there was one shadow that followed him, one face that haunted his dreams in the depths of the night—a woman he loved fiercely, his intended bride, taken from him before they could wed. She was Otto Hightower’s eldest daughter, his love, his match, and a memory that clawed at his heart like iron scraping bone.

And now, they say, she wanders Harrenhal.

The torches cast jagged shadows across the cracked walls as Daemon strode through the desolate corridors of the ancient castle. Alys Rivers, dark-eyed and silent, led the way, her steps so light she seemed to glide. Daemon had come here on a whim, drawn by rumors of Alys’s talents. They spoke of her sight, her ability to reach beyond the veil, of a power that could evoke spirits, and conjure memories from the other side. Daemon had scoffed at such tales, but here he was, heart pounding with a hope he would not admit, even to himself.

They reached an old, nearly forgotten hall where the light seemed thinner, barely touching the cold stone. Alys turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “She is near,” she murmured.

Daemon’s throat tightened. “Bring her to me, then.”

Alys did not respond immediately; instead, she stepped back, her dark eyes meeting him with an expression that seemed both compassionate and haunting. With a few whispered words that faded into the stillness, she raised her hands, her fingers moving through the air as though drawing open a curtain unseen.

And then, Daemon felt it—a stirring, a ripple in the atmosphere. The air grew colder, tingling with a sensation he couldn’t quite place as if something forgotten was being called to life once more.

Then he saw her.

She stood in the shadows, her form translucent yet unmistakable. She looked exactly as he remembered—elegant and poised, with a softness that made his heart twist with longing. Her eyes, deep and expressive, locked onto his, and he took a step closer, not daring to blink, terrified she might vanish like all the memories he’d clung to for so long.

“Daemon,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that cut through the chill around them.

His breath left him in a shudder. “Gods… I thought I’d lost you forever.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, filled with a rawness he’d never shown to another soul.

She smiled, though it was a sad, broken thing. “You did lose me, Daemon. And not by fate or sickness, but by the hand of my blood.” Her voice trembled, anger mingling with sorrow. “I did not die by chance. My father took me from you.”

Daemon’s expression hardened. He had suspected Otto’s hand in her untimely death, but hearing it from her lips was a dagger to his heart. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his voice rough, desperate.

She paused, looking down at her hands, then back at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He planned to poison you, Daemon. To ensure I would never stand beside you as your wife, to keep our marriage from bringing you closer to the throne. But he miscalculated…” Her voice broke, and she looked away, pain flickering across her face. “The cup he brought me that night was meant for you. I drank it, thinking it a gesture of his blessing, of forgiveness. And as I lay there, gasping, as I felt the life draining from my body… he looked at me with horror.”

Daemon’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as rage surged within him. “He killed you to stop me. That insufferable snake took you from me.”

She nodded, her form flickering faintly in the cold light. “In his eyes, I was a casualty… a necessary one to prevent what he feared most.” Her voice softened, eyes searching his face. “I only wish I could have said goodbye.”

They were silent for a moment, the weight of her words heavy in the air. Daemon’s gaze softened as he took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out, though he stopped just short of touching her. “I would have burned the realm to keep you safe,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I would have done anything.”

She stepped closer, her presence faint but solid enough that he could feel a sliver of warmth, a remnant of the life they had once hoped to share. “And I would have walked through fire for you,” she replied, a fierce glimmer in her eyes. “I would have given up anything to be by your side, Daemon.”

He reached out again, his fingers trembling, unsure if he would feel her touch or if his hand would pass through. To his surprise, he felt her—a chill against his skin, yet grounding, familiar. Her hands found his, delicate and weightless.

They stood in silence, foreheads touching, a thousand unspoken words exchanged in that moment. The years melted away, and for a fleeting heartbeat, it felt as if they were the same two souls they had once been—wild, passionate, and bound by a love that defied the very gods.

Daemon’s hand moved up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin as if memorizing her once more. “I swore you’d be mine,” he whispered, voice trembling with both rage and longing. “And now… I don’t know how to let you go again.”

She placed a ghostly hand over his heart, her touch soft but resonant. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, leaning in until her lips met his.

The kiss was electric, a union of fire and ice. His heart thundered as he held her, feeling her presence consume him, grounding him as if she were still alive, warm, and vibrant. Time slowed

each kiss, each caress an echo of the life they’d never had the chance to share. His arms tightened around her as if holding her would anchor her to him, to the world of the living.

When their kiss finally broke, she looked at him, full of sorrow and love. “Daemon,” she whispered, “you must let me rest. But promise me… promise me you will never let him win. Do not let my death be in vain.”

He nodded, his jaw set with grim determination. “I’ll avenge you and make him pay for what he took from us.”

Daemon’s hand slipped from hers as her form began to wane, her eyes glistening with the silent plea she had left him with: Do not let my death be in vain. He watched helplessly as her spirit faded, leaving behind an unbearable emptiness that seemed to deepen the shadows of Harrenhal.

Before the silence could swallow him whole, Alys Rivers stepped closer, her gaze steady and enigmatic. She observed him with the measured patience of one who’d seen such grief many times before, her expression a strange blend of compassion and steel. She placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her, breaking the spell of despair that had settled over him.

“You truly loved her,” Alys said softly, a question and a statement all at once.

Daemon’s eyes blazed as he turned to her. “She was everything.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, stripped bare of his usual pride. “But that is why I will never forgive that serpent, her father. I would see the world burn to have her back.”

Alys gave a slow, deliberate nod, seeming to weigh his words. She stepped around him, the hem of her dark gown whispering over the cold stone. “I can bring her back,” she murmured, each word a tantalizing promise that hung in the air. Her gaze held his, unflinching. “But such magic is costly, Daemon Targaryen. Some forces bind the dead to the afterlife, threads that, once severed, cannot be mended without consequence.”

Daemon’s fists clenched as he took in her words, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Name the price.”

She studied him for a long moment, and Daemon could feel her searching, reaching into the parts of him that he kept hidden. “You would risk your very soul, your bloodline… even your crown, to bring her back. Once life is restored, it can’t be undone again. She will come back to the world of the living, but such magic leaves scars.” Her voice softened. “And the price would not only be yours to bear. Those who defy death are never left unmarked.”

Daemon let her words sink in, the fire in him dimming with a slow, mounting horror. He could bring her back, but at what cost? Would she return whole, or would she bear some shadow, a remnant of the darkness she’d been drawn from? And yet, could he walk away, knowing this chance existed?

He turned away, his gaze dark as he looked over the desolate hall. “What must I sacrifice, exactly?”

Alys tilted her head, her dark eyes shadowed and knowing. “Your life as you know it, Daemon. Your heart will belong to her… entirely, without room for another. And if you defy the magic or the price of it, her soul will suffer the consequences. The magic demands loyalty, and as such, it would demand yours.”

Daemon’s mind raced, visions of their past together flooding his thoughts. She had been his match in every way—her laughter, her fire, her unyielding spirit, and the fierce, defiant way she’d loved him. He couldn’t count the times he’d dreamt of her, only to wake and remember that she was gone, lost to him by the hand of the one man he’d trusted least.

Alys’s voice was soft as she continued. “You know she saw me as a mother, as a friend. I would never harm her. But bringing her back… it will bind us all together in ways that none of us can predict. The magic is as old as these stones. It cannot be controlled once it begins.”

He met her gaze, his eyes intense, a silent question in them. “You would do this for her?” His voice was softer, guarded. “Even knowing the risk?”

Alys stepped closer, her expression softening with a trace of vulnerability. “For her, yes. She was dear to me, and her loss… it felt as though I’d lost a part of myself.” She hesitated, her gaze drifting as if looking into another world. “But Daemon, you must understand—this will change you. The Daemon Targaryen you know now will not survive unscathed. You might find yourself in conflict with those you once held dear, bound by forces that even you cannot defy.”

Daemon’s gaze darkened. His mind flickered to those he might be forced to forsake: his family, the throne… perhaps even the very kingdom he had once sought to rule. The sacrifices twisted at his mind, a hollow ache forming in his chest. Could he do this, knowing he might become unrecognizable to himself, bound to a fate he couldn’t undo?

And yet, her face lingered in his mind, a flickering light in the shadows.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he let his heart answer before his mind could. When he looked back at Alys, his resolve was clear. “I accept. She was my life—whatever is left of me now is hers.”

Alys regarded him, a small, knowing smile curving her lips. “Very well,” she murmured, a flicker of satisfaction in her gaze. “But remember Daemon, once this path is set in motion, it cannot be reversed. And if the cost becomes too great, the only way to save her will be to destroy yourself.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with fierce determination. “If that is what’s required, then so be it.”

Alys gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable as she extended her hand toward him. “Then come, Prince Daemon. The ritual begins tonight.”

Whispers Through Time: {~Whispers of Destiny~}

A/N: IT'S THE FINAL CHAPTERRRRRR!!!! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story and the journey in it!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1125

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 10 (Final Chapter)

The dawn had broken across the sky, casting a soft, golden light over the Red Keep. The air was still, as though holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The reader stood at the window of her chambers, watching the city below slowly come to life. But her mind was far from the bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Last night’s confessions weighed heavily on her, the truth she had finally revealed to Rhaenyra and Daemon still fresh in her mind. There was no turning back now. They knew everything—or at least as much as she dared to tell. Her secret had been laid bare, and the future of Westeros teetered on the edge of uncertainty.

She could hear footsteps behind her, the quiet sound unmistakable. Turning slowly, she wasn’t surprised to see Rhaenyra and Daemon enter the room, their expressions unreadable. They had come together, just as they always did—united in everything, including the questions that still lingered in the air between them.

“You didn’t come to us this morning,” Rhaenyra said softly, her eyes scanning the reader’s face. “We were worried.”

The reader forced a small smile, though the weight in her chest remained. “I needed some time to think,” she replied. “There’s a lot to consider.”

Daemon’s sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment before he stepped forward. “You’ve been keeping a lot from us,” he said, his voice calm but with a faint edge of accusation. “Now that we know... what’s next?”

The reader turned away from the window, facing them both. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I never planned to stay here this long. I thought I’d do what I needed to and... leave before anything got complicated.”

“And yet, here you are,” Rhaenyra murmured, stepping closer. Her voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it. “Inextricably bound to our fate.”

The reader nodded slowly. She had been so careful—so determined to avoid changing the future too much. But now, standing before them, she realized that her mere presence had already altered the course of events more than she could ever have anticipated.

“I thought I could control it,” the reader said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But everything is different now. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Daemon crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe it’s not something that needs fixing,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “Maybe this is how things were always meant to be.”

The reader’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “You don’t understand. I’ve seen what’s supposed to happen. I’ve tried so hard not to interfere, but... the closer I got to both of you, the more I feared I would change too much.”

Rhaenyra reached out, taking the reader’s hand in her own. “You think we’ll fall apart because of you,” she said softly, her thumb brushing gently across the reader’s knuckles. “But fate is never as rigid as we might believe. Maybe it was always meant to bend.”

Daemon’s gaze softened as he watched the two women before him, his expression unreadable. He stepped closer, placing a hand on the reader’s shoulder. “The future isn’t written in stone. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together.”

The reader’s heart clenched at the warmth in their words, but the fear that had gripped her for so long still clung to her. She had spent so much time trying to distance herself from them, to protect the future she thought she knew. But now, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to keep pushing them away.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Not just of what might happen to you... but of what might happen to me.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his voice low and steady. “You’re one of us now. Whatever comes, you won’t face it alone.”

Rhaenyra squeezed the reader’s hand gently, her eyes filled with quiet determination. “You’ve already changed our lives in ways you can’t even imagine. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The reader’s throat tightened with emotion, her heart swelling with the intensity of the moment. She had spent so much time running from her feelings, from the fear of what her presence in this world might do. But now, standing here with Rhaenyra and Daemon, she realized that perhaps fate wasn’t something to be feared. Perhaps it was something to embrace.

“You’re both so certain,” the reader said, her voice thick with emotion. “How can you be so sure that this is the right path?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met hers, and there was a fierce certainty in her gaze. “Because you’re part of it,” she said simply. “We’re stronger with you.”

Daemon nodded, his expression serious. “Whatever comes, we face it together. No more hiding.”

The reader swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their words settle over her. There was no more running. No more pretending that she could somehow keep herself apart from them. They had already bound themselves to her, just as she had unknowingly bound herself to them.

“I can’t promise that everything will be perfect,” the reader said softly, her voice wavering. “But... I don’t want to keep running anymore.”

Rhaenyra smiled, her grip on the reader’s hand tightening. “Then stay,” she whispered. “Stay with us.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the reader allowed herself to breathe. The fear that had consumed her began to loosen its grip, replaced by a cautious hope. She wasn’t sure what the future held—none of them were. But for now, that uncertainty didn’t feel like a burden.

It felt like a promise.

Daemon’s hand slipped from her shoulder, and he moved closer, his gaze intense as he looked between the two women. “We’ll carve our own path,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Together.”

The reader nodded slowly, a sense of peace settling over her. She had been so afraid of changing things—of disrupting the future she thought she knew. But now, standing here with Rhaenyra and Daemon, she realized that maybe the future wasn’t something to fear. Maybe it was something to shape.

With them.

As the three stood together, a quiet understanding passed between them. Whatever the future held, they would face it side by side. The reader no longer felt like

an outsider looking in. She was part of this world now, as much a part of Rhaenyra and Daemon’s story as they were a part of hers.

And for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

Whispers of destiny echoed in the air, but for now, they were content to let them fade into the background. The future could wait. Because they were exactly where they were meant to be in this moment.

Together.

Whispers Through Time: {~Unveiling Fate~}

A/N: Hey guysss! I just want to apologize for literally not updating this story for WEEKSSS! I had been really busy with school and then I had gotten sick and had chest problems. I really hope you guys enjoy these last 2 chapters of "Whispers Through Time"

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1254

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 9 --- Chapter 10

The reader stood in the dimly lit chambers, her mind racing from the events of the last few hours. Rhaenyra’s accusations still rang in her ears, and Daemon’s intense gaze seemed to burn into her soul even now. They had almost discovered her secret, the notes she had been leaving, warning them about potential threats and dangerous outcomes. She had narrowly avoided the truth being exposed, but the lingering sense of tension was palpable.

She paced the room, feeling the weight of the looming decision ahead. She didn’t know how long she could keep hiding her identity—or the fact that she was behind the warnings. A part of her wanted to reveal everything, but the risk of altering the course of history still loomed large. She couldn’t be sure what telling them would do.

The door creaked open, and the reader’s heart jumped into her throat. She turned, her pulse quickening, to see Rhaenyra stepping into the room, her violet eyes filled with curiosity—and something deeper.

“I’ve had enough of these games,” Rhaenyra said softly, stepping toward the reader with quiet grace. “You’re hiding something. And you’re going to tell me what it is.”

The reader took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. She couldn’t let this be the moment they discovered her truth. Not yet.

“I’ve told you, Rhaenyra, I’m not hiding anything,” the reader said, though even she could hear the tremor in her voice. She hoped the room's shadows concealed it from Rhaenyra’s sharp perception.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re lying,” she said, her tone calm but unwavering. “Daemon and I can feel it. You’ve been distant, withholding from us—especially after you stopped those letters from arriving.”

The reader swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. She had intercepted a critical letter meant for Rhaenyra only hours before—one that could have revealed too much about the future and her warnings. If they had seen it, her entire ruse would have unraveled.

“I... I was trying to protect you,” the reader admitted quietly, stepping closer to the edge of the truth without crossing the line. “There are things I know—things that could put your lives in danger. I’ve been trying to prevent that.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, but her expression remained guarded. “What things?” she asked quietly.

The reader hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t lie outright, but she also couldn’t reveal the full truth. “I’ve seen things,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Visions, maybe. I don’t know how, but... I’ve been trying to keep the future from falling apart.”

The admission felt heavy on her tongue, and she watched Rhaenyra’s face carefully, waiting for her reaction. The princess studied her for a long moment, and the silence between them stretched until it was almost unbearable.

Finally, Rhaenyra sighed softly. “You’ve been playing with fate,” she murmured. “And you didn’t trust us to know?”

“It wasn’t about trust,” the reader replied, her voice filled with quiet desperation. “It was about protecting you. I don’t know what changing things will do.”

Rhaenyra stepped even closer, her presence overwhelming. “You can’t protect us from everything,” she said softly. “You’ve already put yourself at risk. Daemon and I—”

“Daemon and you?” the reader interrupted before she could stop herself, her own turmoil spilling out. “This is exactly why I pulled away. I can’t—”

She stopped herself, biting her lip as she turned away, but Rhaenyra’s hand caught her arm, stopping her retreat. “You can’t what?”

The room felt too small. The truth that had been clawing at the reader’s mind for days was on the verge of breaking free, and she didn’t know how to stop it. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t let myself... care too much. If I do, I could change everything. Your future, your children—everything I know about this world.”

Rhaenyra’s grip on her arm tightened. “You’re afraid of loving us,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The reader turned back to her, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m afraid of what loving you—and Daemon—would do. I’ve already changed so much just by being here. If I let myself give in... what happens then?”

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, her eyes searching the reader’s face. Then, slowly, she let go of the reader’s arm and stepped back. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “You’ve already changed things. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

The reader frowned. “What?”

“You don’t get to decide what our future looks like,” Rhaenyra said, her voice firm. “That’s for us to determine. Not you.”

Before the reader could respond, the door creaked open again. Daemon stepped inside, his face shadowed with concern. He glanced between the two women, sensing the tension in the room. “What’s going on?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked to Daemon, then back to the reader. “It’s time we stop hiding from each other,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “All of us.”

Daemon’s gaze shifted to the reader, his expression unreadable. “She’s right,” he said after a long pause. “We can’t keep playing this game. If we’re to trust you, we need the full truth.”

The reader’s heart sank. This was it—the moment she had feared for so long. She looked between Rhaenyra and Daemon, her mind racing as she tried to find a way out, a way to keep her secret without losing their trust entirely.

“I’m not from here,” she said finally, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Rhaenyra and Daemon both stared at her, their expressions frozen in shock.

“I’m not... from this world,” the reader continued, her voice trembling. “I don’t know how I got here, but... I know things. Things about your future, about what’s coming. And I’ve been trying to stop it from happening.”

Daemon stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve known about the future this entire time?”

The reader nodded, her breath hitching. “Yes. I’ve known. And I’ve been trying to help without... without changing too much. But it’s getting harder.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened, but there was still an edge of caution in her voice. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was afraid,” the reader admitted. “Afraid of what would happen if I changed too much. Afraid of... of getting too close to you.”

Daemon’s gaze was piercing, but there was no anger in his eyes. “And now?”

The reader swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. “Now, I’m afraid I already have.”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The silence was thick, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Finally, Rhaenyra stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll face whatever comes—together.”

The reader’s heart ached with the warmth of Rhaenyra’s words, but deep down, the fear remained. The future was unraveling before her eyes, and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it from falling apart.

Whispers Through Time: {~Trials of the Heart~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1436

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 8 --- Chapter 9

The flickering firelight cast long shadows across the stone walls, as if the castle itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The reader sat by the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she stared out into the distance. Despite the view of the restless sea below, her mind was elsewhere—wrapped in thoughts she had been avoiding for far too long.

She hadn’t come to Dragonstone with any intention of staying—let alone forming bonds as dangerous as these. She had come with one purpose: to navigate this strange world with as little disruption as possible, to leave no trace of her presence beyond her carefully placed warnings. The risk of changing the course of events weighed heavily on her every decision, and yet...

“Are you troubled?” Rhaenyra’s soft voice broke through the silence, pulling the reader from her spiraling thoughts.

She turned to find Rhaenyra standing behind her, a small, curious smile on her face. There was something so disarming about her—a warmth that radiated even in moments of tension. It was that warmth, that strength, that had made it so difficult for the reader to keep her distance.

But she had to.

“I’m fine,” the reader replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer, her gaze never leaving the reader’s face. “You don’t seem fine.” She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You’ve been distant lately. Is something troubling you?”

The reader forced a smile, though her heart ached at the concern in Rhaenyra’s eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just... thinking about everything that’s happening. The war, the Greens, the uncertainty.”

Rhaenyra studied her for a moment, her expression softening with understanding. “I understand. It weighs on us all.” She reached out, gently placing her hand on the reader’s. “But you’re not alone in this.”

The reader’s breath caught in her throat at the touch, her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. She wasn’t alone—not anymore. And that was exactly the problem.

She had tried to keep herself detached from Rhaenyra, from Daemon, from everything. But how could she? Rhaenyra’s kindness, her fierce loyalty, her vulnerability... it had drawn the reader in, just as Daemon’s intensity, his sharp wit, and his protectiveness

had. They were both so different, yet both had managed to break through the walls the reader had built around herself.

But she couldn’t afford to let herself get involved, not like this. She had seen too much, knew too much of what was to come. If she changed anything—if she became too close to them, let her emotions take over—it could alter the course of everything.

“I... I can’t,” the reader whispered, pulling her hand away from Rhaenyra’s.

Rhaenyra frowned, her confusion evident. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t—” The reader swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “I can’t do this. I can’t be... close to you. To either of you.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. “What do you mean?”

The reader stood abruptly, turning her back to Rhaenyra as she tried to compose

herself. “I never intended to stay here, Rhaenyra. I never intended to get involved in any of this. I’m not supposed to.”

“You’ve already helped me so much,” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft but firm. “Your advice, your warnings—they’ve saved lives. You’ve become a part of this, whether you wanted to or not.”

The reader closed her eyes, feeling the weight of Rhaenyra’s words settle heavily on her. It was true—she had become involved. But that was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. Her presence here, her influence, was already affecting things. She couldn’t afford to let herself fall deeper into this world, not when the consequences could be disastrous.

“I don’t belong here,” the reader said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her hand gently resting on the reader’s shoulder. “You do,” she insisted, her voice filled with quiet determination. “You belong here with us.”

The reader shook her head, stepping out of Rhaenyra’s reach. “No, I don’t. You don’t understand—I could ruin everything. I could change things in ways none of us can foresee.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, her eyes searching the reader’s face for answers. “What are you afraid of?”

The reader swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. “I’m afraid of changing your future. Of changing everything.”

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the reader’s words. “Is that why you’ve been keeping your distance? Why you’re so hesitant with me? With Daemon?”

The reader hesitated, her heart pounding. “Yes. I... I’ve already changed things by being here. If I let myself get closer to you—if I let my feelings take over—I don’t know what will happen. And I can’t risk that.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened with understanding, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “I see.” She took a step closer, her voice gentle. “I don’t know what brought you here, or what burdens you carry, but I do know one thing—you’ve already changed our lives. And I don’t believe that’s a bad thing.”

The reader’s heart clenched at the sincerity in Rhaenyra’s voice. She wanted to believe that, wanted to believe that she could stay, that she could have a place here with Rhaenyra and Daemon. But the weight of the unknown hung over her like a dark cloud, reminding her of the dangers of tampering with the future.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and Daemon strode into the room, his eyes immediately narrowing as he sensed the tension between the two women.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion as his gaze flicked between them.

Rhaenyra glanced at the reader, her expression conflicted. “We were just talking.”

Daemon’s sharp eyes lingered on the reader for a moment before he turned to Rhaenyra. “About what?”

The reader’s stomach twisted with unease as Daemon’s attention shifted back to her. His presence always seemed to fill the room, his intensity making it difficult to hide anything from him.

“About my place here,” the reader said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “Still convinced you don’t belong with us?”

The reader’s breath hitched at his words. Daemon had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things, and it unnerved her how easily he could see through her defenses.

“I’m not convinced of anything,” the reader replied, trying to keep her voice calm. “I’m just trying to figure out how to navigate all of this without making things worse.”

Daemon stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You’re not going to make anything worse. If anything, you’ve made things better.”

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, her expression soft as she looked at the reader. “Daemon’s right. You’ve become a part of this—of us. You don’t need to keep holding yourself back.”

The reader’s heart raced, her mind spinning as she looked between the two of them. Their words were kind, sincere, but the fear of the unknown gnawed at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she let herself fall too deeply into this, something terrible would happen.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” the reader whispered, her voice barely audible.

Daemon’s smirk faded, replaced by a rare look of concern. “Why not?”

The reader met his gaze, her resolve wavering. “Because I’m afraid of what I might change.”

For a moment, the room was filled with silence, the weight of the reader’s confession hanging between them. But then, Daemon stepped forward, his expression softening as he reached out to gently cup the reader’s cheek.

“You’re not going to change anything that wasn’t meant to be changed,” Daemon said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “And if you do, then we’ll face it together.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward as well, her hand resting on the reader’s arm. “Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone. We’re in this together.”

The reader’s heart clenched, the warmth of their words tugging at the walls she had built around herself. Despite everything, despite her fears, she felt the pull toward them both—the undeniable connection that had grown between the three of them. And in that moment, the reader realized that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t keep running from it forever.

But even as she allowed herself to soften toward them, the fear still lingered in the back of her mind. The trials of the heart were far from over, and the consequences of her choices had yet to unfold.

Hiii, may I be added to ur tag list for secrets whispered through time? 💘

Yess, of course. Sorry for the late reply! :( I have been really busy.

SORRY! Plus announcement!!!

Well, first of all, I just want to apologize for not posting and updating my House of the Dragon series!!! I have just been really busy and just not had the time so that is why I have decided to post TWO chapters for ya'll! I hope you guys enjoy it! The next thing I have to say is that right when "Whispers Through Time" is finished (10 chapters only!!) I WILL be starting the next series trying to go based off of that request for my Edmund Pevensie one-shot since they have now requested to make it a series so I really hope you guys end up enjoying that as well! That's all! "Whispers Through Time" is almost finished so I hope you guys enjoy the last few chapters that I have made! Thanks! Have a good day/night!!!!

Whispers Through Time: {~Revealing the Truth~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1106

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 7 --- Chapter 8

The candlelight flickered over the faces of the trio, casting long shadows that danced across the cold stone walls. The weight of the moment settled thickly in the room, silence punctuated only by the soft crackle of the fire and the distant clatter of footsteps outside. The air between them felt charged, every breath heavy with anticipation.

Rhaenyra stood near the hearth, her hands clasped in front of her as she studied the reader with careful eyes. There was warmth in her gaze, but it was edged with something harder—uncertainty, perhaps even suspicion. Daemon lingered closer to the door, his presence as commanding as ever, though his expression was more relaxed. The subtle tilt of his lips suggested he found the situation amusing, though beneath the surface, he was every bit as alert.

The reader, caught between them both, felt the gravity of the moment. She had been careful, incredibly so, but now, the game was up. They had found her notes, pieced together the warnings and advice that had seemed to appear from nowhere. Rhaenyra had demanded this meeting, and Daemon, loyal to his wife, had come with her. Now, they wanted answers.

“You've been leaving us... these,” Rhaenyra started, holding out the parchment that contained the most recent warning, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Your words have proven to be true so far, but you’ve been hiding your intentions.”

The reader swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She had expected this moment to come eventually, but not like this—so sudden, with both of them confronting her. She tried to keep her face neutral, though she could feel her pulse quicken under Rhaenyra’s sharp gaze.

“I had to be cautious,” the reader said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “You would not have believed me otherwise.”

Daemon moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, though his tone was teasing. “Oh, we’re well past the point of disbelief. You’ve proven yourself far too knowledgeable for a simple midwife.” He tilted his head slightly. “What exactly are you?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to Daemon briefly before settling back on the reader. “You claim to be a seer,” she said, her tone careful. “But your warnings, they seem almost too precise. Almost as if…” She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

The reader took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. She had to choose her words carefully. “I never said I was a seer,” she corrected gently. “That is what you assumed.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened. “Then what are you? How do you know what’s coming?”

There was no easy answer. The reader had thought long and hard about this moment, about what she could say if they ever confronted her. She couldn’t reveal the truth—that she was from a world far beyond theirs, that she knew their history because it had already been written in her own world. It would make her sound mad. So, she offered them the best version of the truth she could manage.

“I have dreams,” the reader said softly, her eyes locking with Rhaenyra’s. “Dreams of things that have not yet come to pass. They are vague, fragmented, but I see enough to understand that some events... can be prevented.”

Rhaenyra seemed to consider this for a moment, her brows furrowing. “So you dream of the future,” she said slowly. “And you’ve used that knowledge to warn us?”

The reader nodded, feeling the tension between them ease slightly. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice calm and measured. “I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “And why help us? What do you gain from this?”

The reader hesitated. She couldn’t tell them the real reason—that she was trying to survive in a world that wasn’t her own, that she had no choice but to align herself with them because they were her best chance at safety. Instead, she chose the safest explanation.

“Because I believe in your cause,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I believe that you are the rightful rulers of Westeros. And I believe that the Seven Kingdoms will suffer if your enemies succeed.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, though there was still wariness in her gaze. “You could have come to me,” she said quietly. “You could have told me the truth from the beginning.”

The reader dropped her gaze to the floor, guilt gnawing at her. “I didn’t know if you would trust me,” she admitted. “I thought... if I could prove my knowledge first, if I could show you I was telling the truth...”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”

The reader’s heart ached with the weight of her lies. She had never meant to deceive them, not really. She had only wanted to protect them from the terrible fates that awaited them if they followed the path history had laid out. But now, standing here in front of them, she realized how tangled things had become.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her expression softening as she placed a hand on the reader’s arm. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But if we are to trust you, there can be no more secrets between us.”

The reader nodded, meeting her gaze. “No more secrets.”

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, finally pushed off the table and moved to stand beside Rhaenyra. “You’ve earned our trust,” he said, his voice low. “But make no mistake—we will be watching you closely.”

The reader felt a shiver run down her spine at the weight of his words. She had gained their trust, but it was fragile, precarious. One misstep, and it could all come crumbling down.

Rhaenyra’s hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before she stepped back, her gaze still intent. “You will stay by my side,” she said firmly. “I want to know more about these dreams of yours.”

“And I,” Daemon added, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “We will unravel your mystery, one way or another.”

The reader nodded, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with danger. But for now, she had bought herself time. Time to figure out what to do next. Time to find a way to prevent the future from unraveling before her very eyes.

As she left the room with them, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their trust—and the danger that came with it—pressing down on her like a cloak of iron. There was no turning back now.

Whispers Through Time: {~Shadows of Suspicion~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1383

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 6 --- Chapter 7

The tension in King’s Landing was mounting.

You could feel the shift in the air every time you walked through the castle’s halls. Eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, hushed whispers followed your movements, and the weight of suspicion grew heavier with each passing day. The silent game of intrigue you had started was becoming more dangerous than you ever anticipated.

Daemon’s words haunted you. Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.

He had known. Or at least, suspected. And Rhaenyra—there was no doubt in your mind that she had already started connecting the dots. The princess had become colder in your presence, her once friendly demeanor replaced by something much more calculating.

You had managed to keep your secrets for this long, but how much longer could you maintain the facade?

You sat in the dim light of your chambers, a piece of parchment laid before you. The next warning was written carefully, the ink still drying as you watched the words you had

crafted to change the course of history. Each note you left was like a ripple in the timeline, spreading outward and impacting events in ways you could never fully control.

The next message was vital—one that would steer Rhaenyra’s decisions in a crucial way, altering the fragile balance of power.

But this time, you hesitated.

The previous close encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had shaken you more than you cared to admit. Your heart still pounded at the memory of Daemon’s smirk, his quiet threat, and Rhaenyra’s piercing gaze as she subtly questioned your every move. One wrong step, and it could all come crashing down.

Yet you couldn’t stop. Too much was at stake now. You had already planted the seeds, and now they had to be watered. Carefully, delicately, you folded the note, preparing to deliver it when the time was right.

You hadn’t seen Daemon in the last few days, and part of you had hoped that perhaps his interest had waned. But when you least expected it, he made his presence known.

It was late in the evening when you found yourself outside in the garden courtyard, seeking solace in the cool night air. The stars above twinkled faintly, and the quiet hum of the distant city offered a rare sense of peace.

“Out enjoying the evening, are we?” a familiar voice drawled from behind you.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned to see Daemon standing just a few paces away, his usual smirk plastered across his face.

“I needed some air,” you replied evenly, your heart racing despite your calm tone.

Daemon stepped closer, his hands casually resting at his sides, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. He studied you for a long moment, his gaze sharp and probing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low and dangerously smooth, “about you.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “About me, my lord?”

Daemon took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re quite the enigma, aren’t you? Appearing out of nowhere, earning the favor of the princess, slipping through the cracks like a shadow.”

Your mind raced, searching for a response that would divert his attention without raising further suspicion. “I serve the realm, as any loyal subject should,” you said carefully, avoiding his direct challenge.

His smirk deepened. “Do you, though?”

Before you could reply, Daemon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Everyone here has a role to play. I wonder—what’s yours?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at you to run. Daemon was no fool. He was testing you, pushing your limits to see how far he could go before you broke.

But you couldn’t break. Not now.

“I am but a healer, my lord,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. “Nothing more.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might press further. But then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, it dissipated. He straightened, his smirk returning to its usual playful expression.

“We’ll see,” he said cryptically before turning and walking away, leaving you standing there in the dark garden, your heart still racing from the encounter.

You had passed his test this time, but how much longer could you keep this up?

The following morning, the air in the castle was buzzing with anticipation. A high-ranking visitor had arrived at court, though the details were being kept under wraps. You could hear the servants whispering about it in the corridors, speculating on who it could be and what their business might entail.

You knew better than to ask questions openly, but your curiosity burned all the same. The arrival of someone important always shifted the balance of power in subtle ways, and you couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.

As the day wore on, you noticed the increased activity within the Red Keep. Servants rushed about, preparing for what you assumed would be a private meeting between the royal family and their guest. It was clear that whatever business was being conducted, it was meant to stay behind closed doors.

But then, by sheer chance, you overheard a conversation between two courtiers that set your mind spinning.

“It is him, isn’t it?” one of the courtiers whispered, glancing around nervously.

The other nodded, lowering their voice. “Yes. The Prince of Dorne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The Prince of Dorne? Here?

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of intrigue. The presence of Dorne in King’s Landing meant there were discussions of alliances—or, worse yet, potential conflict. This was information that could change everything if used wisely.

And it was information that Rhaenyra needed to know. But how?

The weight of the folded parchment felt heavier in your hands than ever before as you made your way through the shadowy corridors of the Red Keep. You had to be even more careful now, knowing that Daemon’s eyes were on you and Rhaenyra’s suspicions had grown.

The Prince of Dorne’s arrival was significant. You couldn’t ignore it. But you also couldn’t deliver the note in the usual place—not after your recent encounters. You needed to be smarter, more careful.

You made your way to the hidden alcove in a part of the Keep that was seldom used. The old stone walls loomed around you, the only sound the soft echo of your footsteps. You checked your surroundings carefully, ensuring that no one had followed you.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting in the silence, you slipped the folded note into the small crevice in the stone. It was a new hiding spot—one you had discovered by chance—but it was discreet enough that only someone who knew where to look would ever find it.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. The warning was delivered. Now, all you could do was wait and hope that it reached the right hands.

But as you turned to leave, a flicker of movement in the shadows caught your eye.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat.

Someone had been watching you.

You could feel the blood drain from your face as you stood there, paralyzed with fear. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as you tried to process what had just happened. Someone had been following you. But who?

Had Daemon sent someone to spy on you? Had Rhaenyra finally figured out that you were the one leaving the notes?

Your mind raced, but there was no time to think. You had to move—now.

Without looking back, you quickly made your way down the corridor, your footsteps soft but swift. You couldn’t let them catch you. You couldn’t let them know that you had seen them. Whoever it was, they had been careful, staying in the shadows, watching from a distance. But their presence had been undeniable.

You didn’t stop until you reached the safety of your chambers, your heart still pounding in your chest. Whoever was following you knew something—and that knowledge could be your undoing.

You were running out of time. The game of shadows and secrets had just become much more dangerous.

Whispers Through Time: {~Unexpected Encounters~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1521

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 5 --- Chapter 6

The days following your tense encounter with Rhaenyra passed with agonizing slowness. You worked diligently, keeping to your tasks, always mindful of the eyes that followed you through the halls. Daemon’s scrutiny had intensified, though he still hadn’t confronted you directly. His gaze was like a shadow—constant, unnerving.

Rhaenyra, on the other hand, had become more aloof. You had noticed her lingering looks, her growing hesitance in conversation. It was clear she was piecing things together, but how much did she truly know? The tension between you and the princess was palpable, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra who weighed on your mind.

Daemon was always watching, always lurking. You could feel it—his presence, his curiosity—and it unnerved you more than anything else. Though your interactions had been brief and polite, his growing suspicion was impossible to ignore.

Still, the warnings had to continue. You couldn’t stop now. You had already set events into motion, and there was no turning back. The next warning would be the most dangerous yet, and you knew it had to be delivered soon.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself in one of the less frequented wings of the Keep. The hallways were quiet, the only sound your soft footsteps on the cold stone floors. You were on your way to check on supplies, something you had become well-versed in since assuming your fabricated role as a midwife. It was a simple task, one that allowed you the time to plan your next move.

As you turned a corner, you came face to face with Rhaenyra.

You froze, startled by the sudden encounter. Rhaenyra looked equally surprised but quickly composed herself, her expression unreadable.

“Y/N,” she greeted, her voice calm, though there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place.

You bowed your head slightly in response, trying to steady your racing heart. “Princess.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. You could see the questions in her eyes, the subtle curiosity, the cautious distance she had begun to keep.

“How do you find your work here in the Keep?” she asked, her tone conversational, but you sensed there was more behind her words.

“It has been fulfilling, my princess,” you replied carefully. “I am grateful for the opportunity to serve.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze lingered on you, as if weighing your words. She took a small step closer, her presence commanding despite the calmness of the exchange.

“There are many in this court who believe they know what’s best for the realm,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. “But few are as prepared as they think.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was she testing you again? Did she suspect that you were the one leaving the notes?

“I hope that those in power will continue to act with wisdom,” you replied, keeping your voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up your spine.

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it was fleeting. Her gaze sharpened, and for a brief moment, you wondered if she was about to confront you then and there. But instead, she merely nodded.

“Wisdom is a rare gift,” she said, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “I hope you are as wise as you seem.”

With that, she turned and continued down the corridor, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering in your chest. The encounter had been brief, but the weight of it lingered long after Rhaenyra had disappeared from view.

She knew something. But how much?

That night, you couldn’t shake the memory of your conversation with Rhaenyra. You had been careful, but it was clear that she was starting to grow suspicious. The danger was becoming more tangible with each passing day.

And then there was Daemon.

The man was an enigma, his unpredictability making him all the more dangerous. You had avoided him as best you could, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again. And when they did, you had to be prepared.

The encounter came sooner than expected.

You had just finished tending to a patient—a young woman recovering from childbirth—and were making your way back to your chambers when you spotted Daemon standing at the end of the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched you approach.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no avoiding him now.

“Lord Daemon,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady as you bowed your head in respect.

Daemon didn’t move from his position, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always seemed to carry an air of danger.

“You’ve been busy,” he remarked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that set you on high alert.

“I do what is asked of me,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

Daemon pushed off the wall, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, filling the narrow hallway with a sense of menace that made your pulse quicken.

“And what exactly is it that you’ve been asked to do?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Your heart raced, but you kept your expression neutral. “I am here to tend to the needs of the people, as always.”

Daemon chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in the sound. “Tending to the needs of the people,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “An admirable role.”

He took another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “But you’ve always struck me as someone who… knows more than they let on.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was this it? Had Daemon figured out your role in the warnings?

“I am but a humble servant, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone calm despite the panic rising in your chest.

Daemon studied you for a long moment, his smirk never faltering. Then, without warning, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper.

“Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, Daemon straightened and walked past you, his smirk still in place as he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing there with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had left you on edge. You had managed to avoid suspicion for the most part, but it was clear that both of them were beginning to question your role. The tension was becoming unbearable, and you knew it was only a matter of time before something—or someone—gave.

But the most dangerous part of your mission was still ahead. The next note, the one you were planning to deliver in secret, held information that could change everything. You had to be more careful than ever, especially with Daemon’s growing curiosity and Rhaenyra’s watchful eyes.

And then, just as you were beginning to plan your next move, the unexpected happened.It was late one evening when you found yourself in the corridors of the Keep once more, a new warning written and ready to be delivered. You had chosen a time when the halls were quiet, hoping to slip unnoticed into the shadows.

But as you approached the alcove where you usually left the notes, you froze.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were there—together.

They stood in the dim light of the corridor, their voices low, but the tension between them was palpable. You could hear the tail end of their conversation, something about strategy and alliances, but the words barely registered as your heart raced.

This was not part of the plan.

You quickly turned to leave, hoping to retreat before they noticed you, but it was too late.

“Y/N!” Rhaenyra’s voice called out, stopping you in your tracks.

You slowly turned, your heart pounding in your chest as both Rhaenyra and Daemon fixed their gazes on you. There was no escaping this.

“Out for a walk at this hour?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone curious but sharp. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied your face.

Daemon, on the other hand, remained silent, his expression unreadable as he watched you with that same unnerving intensity.

You forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “I was merely… clearing my head, princess.”

Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of their suspicion pressing down on you. They didn’t trust you. Not fully. Not yet.

But you had to play your part.

“I did not mean to intrude,” you said quickly, taking a step back. “I will leave you to your discussion.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she finally nodded, though there was something unreadable in her gaze. “Of course.”

You bowed your head and quickly retreated, your heart still racing as you disappeared into the shadows of the Keep. You had avoided confrontation this time, but the tension was growing. And soon, something would have to give.

Whispers Through Time: {~Whispers of Warning~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1376

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 4 --- Chapter 5

The stillness of the Red Keep in the early morning was almost deceptive, as if the palace itself was holding its breath in anticipation. After narrowly avoiding Daemon's gaze the night before, you had returned to your chambers, trying to calm your racing mind. But no matter how hard you tried, the thought of how close you had come to being caught lingered in your thoughts.

You had been careful—perhaps not careful enough. It seemed inevitable that the danger would only grow the longer you continued this charade. But you had no other choice; Rhaenyra needed to know. The storm brewing within the kingdom wasn’t something you could stand by and watch unfold.

The second note had been delivered without issue, and although you had not yet seen Rhaenyra's reaction, the tension you had observed in her movements the day before told you everything. She had read it. She believed it. A slight relief washed over you, but it didn’t last long.

The warnings you had provided in your notes—minor events that, when pieced together, painted a dark and treacherous path—would soon start to play out. But the biggest danger, the real storm that would tear the kingdom apart, was still ahead. You could only hope Rhaenyra would heed your words before it was too late.

As you prepared for another day, you glanced at the parchment before you. The third note lay waiting, its message even more urgent than the last. This one, you knew, could not fall into the wrong hands. It was too specific. Too dangerous. If Daemon—or anyone else—got hold of it, your ruse would be exposed.

You spent most of the day carefully watching, waiting for the right moment. The castle was always buzzing with activity, and today was no different. Rhaenyra had been meeting with her councilors for hours, and Daemon had been conspicuously absent for much of the day, something that both relieved and unsettled you.

As you walked through the halls, your mind wandered to the contents of the note. It was a warning of a conversation you knew would soon take place—one that would push the already fragile relationships within the court to the breaking point. The details were vague enough not to raise too much suspicion but precise enough to send a clear message: a storm was coming, and only those who were prepared would survive it.

Late in the afternoon, you finally spotted Rhaenyra, standing alone on a balcony overlooking the Blackwater Bay. Her figure was tense, her expression hard as she gazed out at the horizon. You could see the weight of the world pressing down on her, her mind no doubt filled with thoughts of her uncertain future.

It was the perfect moment.

Quietly, you approached the alcove near her chambers, the same place you had left the previous notes. Your hand trembled slightly as you placed the folded parchment in the hollow behind the wall, making sure it was well hidden but easy enough for Rhaenyra to find if she looked carefully.

Just as you were about to leave, footsteps echoed behind you. You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, you turned, half-expecting to see Daemon’s shadowy figure emerging from the darkness.

But it wasn’t Daemon.

It was Ser Harwin Strong.

The tall, broad-shouldered knight was making his way down the corridor, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if on guard. You quickly lowered your gaze and moved aside, pretending to busy yourself with some imaginary task. Your mind raced, wondering if he had seen anything.

“Good day,” he greeted as he passed, his voice polite but his tone indifferent.

You nodded and mumbled a quick response, keeping your head down until he was out of sight. As soon as you were sure he was gone, you let out a breath of relief. But the danger hadn’t passed. Harwin Strong was a loyal protector of Rhaenyra, and though his demeanor was kind, you knew he wasn’t to be underestimated. If anyone was capable of figuring out your intentions, it would be him.

You had to be more careful.

Later that night, as you moved through the Keep on yet another task, you saw a familiar figure at the end of the hall. Rhaenyra was walking, her face pensive and her steps slow. Your heart raced as you realized she must have found the latest note. From the way her brows were furrowed, you could tell she was deep in thought, grappling with the weight of your warnings.

She turned a corner, disappearing from sight, but not before you saw her glance back once—just once—as if expecting someone to be watching her. But there was no suspicion in her eyes, only a growing sense of realization.

Your messages were reaching her.

The following days were tense. Daemon had returned to the Keep, his presence as sharp and unsettling as ever. You could feel his eyes on you more than once, though he never approached or questioned you directly. It was as if he were waiting for you to slip up, to make one wrong move that would confirm his suspicions. You went about your tasks as normal, avoiding his gaze whenever possible.

But it wasn’t Daemon’s scrutiny that kept you awake at night.

It was Rhaenyra.

You could sense her growing trust in you, even though she didn’t know who you were. The notes had been a lifeline for her—an anonymous ally in a world filled with enemies. Each day, she seemed more confident, more assured in her actions, and you knew your warnings were playing a role in that. But with trust came danger.

The closer she came to believing your words, the more precarious your position became. You had gained her trust, but trust was fragile, and you were walking a tightrope between helping her and exposing yourself.

One evening, as you prepared to write yet another note, there was a knock at your door. Your heart skipped a beat as you opened it to find one of Rhaenyra’s attendants standing there.

“The princess requests your presence,” she said simply, her expression unreadable.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. Had something gone wrong? Had Rhaenyra discovered something that pointed to you? With the notes fresh in your mind, every possibility raced through your head as you followed the attendant through the corridors of the Keep.

When you reached Rhaenyra’s chambers, she was seated at a large oak table, her back to the door, her long, silver hair cascading over her shoulders. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the stone walls.

“Leave us,” she said softly, and the attendant quickly departed, leaving you alone with the princess.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood near the door, waiting for her to address you. Finally, Rhaenyra turned in her chair, her eyes locking onto yours. There was something different about her gaze—a sharpness, a clarity that hadn’t been there before.

“You’ve been a great help since your arrival,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “The maesters speak highly of you.”

“I only wish to be of service, princess,” you replied carefully.

She studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, she stood and walked toward you, her steps slow and deliberate.

“There are whispers in the court,” she said, stopping just a few feet away. “Whispers of danger, of betrayal. But I have found myself… well-prepared for certain things.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Was she testing you? Did she suspect that you were the source of those warnings?

“I’m grateful that you have been kept safe, my princess,” you said, bowing your head slightly to hide the fear in your eyes.

Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Safe. Yes.” She paused, her gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before turning away. “That will be all.”

You quickly bowed and left the room, your heart still racing. Rhaenyra hadn’t confronted you, but her words had left you shaken. She knew something—perhaps not everything, but enough to suspect that someone was helping her from the shadows.

The storm was closer than ever.

Whispers Through Time: {~Meeting Daemon~}

A/N: I am so sorry I have not posted chapter 3, I have been really busy with school and had to catch up with all my work since I was really sick last week and missed a bunch of work!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1243

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 3 --- Chapter 4

Days had passed since you left the first note for Rhaenyra, and the subtle shift in her demeanor was unmistakable. While she had yet to confront anyone publicly, you could sense her wariness in the way she interacted with those around her. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and though you were relieved that your warning had reached her, the constant danger of being discovered hung over you like a storm cloud.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra’s growing caution that concerned you. Daemon Targaryen’s presence had become more frequent, and wherever he went, he seemed to move with a purpose that unnerved you. You had caught glimpses of him here and there—always watching, always listening. It was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again.

And then, one day, it happened.

You had been sent on an errand to deliver herbs to the maester’s chambers, a mundane task that took you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. Your mind was preoccupied with the next note you intended to leave for Rhaenyra—one that would warn her of a more immediate threat from within her inner circle. As you turned a corner, lost in thought, you nearly collided with someone coming in the opposite direction.

Startled, you looked up—and your breath caught in your throat.

It was Daemon.

The Rogue Prince stood before you, his silver hair catching the light of the nearby torches. His violet eyes regarded you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken questions. His gaze swept over you, as though he were trying to read your every thought, your every secret.

“Apologies, my lord,” you stammered, quickly stepping back and bowing your head to avoid his piercing stare. Your heart hammered in your chest as you prayed he would simply move on and forget the encounter.

But Daemon was not one to let things go so easily.

“You’re the midwife, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp, something dangerous.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “I was sent to deliver these herbs to the maester.”

He nodded, though his eyes never left you. “I’ve heard you’ve been quite useful since your arrival.” His words were casual, but you sensed the underlying suspicion. “Unusual for someone to earn such favor so quickly.”

“I only do what I can to be of service,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

Daemon smirked, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Modest, too. How very noble of you.” He took a step closer, and you instinctively tensed. “And yet, you’ve managed to find yourself in quite a few interesting places around the Keep, haven’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. Did he know? Had someone seen you near Rhaenyra’s chambers? You forced yourself to remain calm, to hold his gaze without faltering. “I go where I am needed, my lord. Nothing more.”

His smirk widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. You’re just a humble midwife, after all.”

The way he said it made it sound like a lie, like he knew there was more to your story than you were letting on. But you couldn’t afford to let him push you. Not here. Not now.

“I should be going,” you said, shifting the basket of herbs in your arms as an excuse to leave. “The maester is waiting.”

Daemon stepped aside, though his gaze followed you as you passed. “Take care,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement. “The Red Keep can be… unpredictable.”

You didn’t respond, quickening your pace as you made your way down the hall. Only when you were far enough away did you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

That night, as you sat alone in your room, the weight of the encounter with Daemon settled heavily on your shoulders. He knew something—maybe not everything, but enough to make him suspicious. And if there was one thing you knew about Daemon Targaryen, it was that he didn’t let things go easily. His curiosity was as dangerous as his sword, and now, it was fixed on you.

You had to be more careful.

But even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew that avoiding Daemon’s scrutiny wasn’t your only problem. You still had to deliver the next note to Rhaenyra. And this time, it would be even riskier.

The following day, the Keep was buzzing with activity as preparations for an upcoming feast were underway. Servants rushed through the halls, carrying linens, food, and other supplies, while the nobles discussed matters of the court. It was the perfect distraction.

You had written the second note the night before, the words carefully chosen to warn Rhaenyra of an impending plot by one of her closest allies. Slipping the note into the same alcove near her chambers would be tricky, especially with Daemon’s increased presence around the Keep. But you didn’t have a choice.

As you moved through the crowded halls, your mind raced with thoughts of how to avoid detection. The feast provided some cover, but there were more guards than usual stationed near Rhaenyra’s quarters. You would have to be quick.

When you finally reached the corridor leading to her chambers, you were relieved to see that the guards were distracted by a group of visiting nobles. Seizing the opportunity, you hurried toward the alcove and slipped the note into place, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Just as you turned to leave, you heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through you as you ducked into the shadows of a nearby column, your heart pounding in your chest.

Daemon.

He appeared at the far end of the hall, his expression unreadable as he spoke to one of the guards. You held your breath, praying that he wouldn’t notice the note—or worse, see you hiding. For what felt like an eternity, you stayed perfectly still, watching as Daemon scanned the corridor.

But then, as if by some stroke of luck, he turned and walked away.

You didn’t wait to see where he went. As soon as the coast was clear, you slipped out of the shadows and made your way back to the servants' quarters, your heart still racing. You had managed to leave the note without being caught—but just barely.

Later that evening, you found yourself on edge as you worked, your thoughts consumed by the possibility that Daemon was still watching. You had been careful, but how long could you keep this up before he—or someone else—figured out what you were doing?

As you went about your duties, you noticed Rhaenyra in the distance, speaking with one of her advisors. From where you stood, you couldn’t hear their conversation, but you could see the way her hand clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, the tension in her posture unmistakable.

She had found the second note.

For a brief moment, her gaze flickered in your direction, but there was no recognition in her eyes. You were still a stranger to her, just another face among the many who served in the Red Keep. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, in time, she would come to depend on your warnings more than she realized.

But for now, your secret was safe.

At least, you hoped it was.

{~Narnia Masterlist~}

[One-Shots]

Edmund Pevensie:

-Between Shadows and Steel

If you do Narnia fics, can you do one about Edmund Pevensie with !enemy reader? Ty <3

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much for the request! You are my second one and I really hope you enjoy this. This is a oneshot fanfic but if you want me to do a series for this prompt, I will do it just for you!

{~Between Shadows and Steel~}

Summary: In the midst of a fierce battle, you confront your sworn enemy, Edmund Pevensie, determined to end the war between your people and Narnia. But as your swords clash, Edmund’s unexpected words and actions challenge everything you thought you knew about him—and yourself. With the chaos of war surrounding you, a moment of vulnerability leads to an undeniable connection, forcing you to question whether you’re truly enemies or something more.

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1178

The battlefield stretched out before you like an endless ocean of chaos. Warriors clashed with brutal force, their weapons ringing in the air, the ground beneath them soaked in the blood of the fallen. The cries of the wounded mingled with the roar of battle, and somewhere in the distance, you could hear the chilling shriek of a centaur as it fell to a barrage of arrows.

You stood on the edge of the fray, your chest heaving, sword in hand, watching as the skirmish raged on. In the midst of the melee, a single figure caught your eye. He moved like the wind—swift, agile, and utterly determined.

Edmund Pevensie.

The Just King of Narnia. And your enemy.

To you, he represented everything you’d fought against for years. Narnia’s expansion had forced your people into a corner, and you had sworn to resist. To fight until there was nothing left. But as you watched him now, cutting through your soldiers with practiced precision, doubt flickered in the depths of your mind.

You hated him—or so you told yourself. Yet, every time you crossed paths with Edmund, it felt as though there was something more beneath the surface. Something that made your heart pound in ways you couldn’t explain.

You gripped your sword tightly, the leather of the hilt biting into your palm as you steeled yourself. Today, you would confront him. Today, you would end this, one way or another.

With a deep breath, you charged toward him, weaving through the chaos, your eyes fixed on his form. Your footsteps were light but swift, your sword slicing through any obstacle in your path. The moment you reached him, you swung your blade, aiming for his unguarded back.

But Edmund moved faster than you anticipated. As if sensing your presence, he spun around, his sword meeting yours with a resounding clang. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

“You again,” he muttered, his voice strained with exertion, but not without a hint of recognition.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you shot back, pushing against his blade with all your strength.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something that was neither fear nor anger, but something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m not. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then you should’ve been ready for me.”

The two of you danced across the battlefield, swords clashing with each strike, the sound echoing in the din of war. He was a skilled fighter, and you found yourself struggling to keep up with his speed. But you refused to back down. You had trained for this moment—prepared yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

Yet, as you fought, there was something different about this battle. Each time your swords connected, there was a spark in the air—an electricity you couldn’t ignore. Every time you stepped closer to him, it felt like the world was closing in, leaving only the two of you in its wake.

“You don’t have to do this,” Edmund said suddenly, his voice low, as if he could speak to you alone amidst the chaos.

You growled, frustration building in your chest. “And you don’t have to keep pretending you care!”

He blocked your next strike with ease, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

That stopped you for a moment. Your sword hovered in the air as you stared at him, the words catching you off guard. His expression softened slightly, and you noticed that he wasn’t attacking as aggressively as he could have. In fact, it seemed as though he was holding back.

“You don’t know me,” you snapped, stepping back to regain your composure.

He sheathed his sword, making you pause. “I know enough.”

Before you could retort, a nearby explosion rocked the ground, sending dust and debris into the air. The shockwave threw you both backward, and you hit the ground with a grunt. For a moment, your vision blurred, the chaos around you fading to a dull roar.

When the dust settled, you found yourself staring up at the sky, dazed. But then, a shadow fell over you, and you blinked up to see Edmund standing above you, his hand outstretched.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice steady despite the battle still raging around you.

You glared at him, but the strength in your arms had fled. Reluctantly, you took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. His grip was firm, and for a moment, neither of you moved, your hands lingering together a little too long.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, breathless. Your heart pounded, but it wasn’t just from the exertion of battle.

Edmund’s expression softened. “Because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

The words hit you harder than any sword could. You stared at him, confused and conflicted. “We’re enemies,” you whispered. “You’re supposed to want to see me fall.”

His hand remained on yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. “Maybe we don’t have to be enemies anymore,” he said softly. “We’ve fought for so long, but what if there’s another way?”

You wanted to argue, to push him away, but his words—his gaze—cut through your defenses. There was a sincerity in his eyes, a raw honesty that you hadn’t been prepared for. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if he was right.

Edmund stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper now. “You don’t have to fight this war alone. You don’t have to carry this burden anymore.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as he inched nearer. The battlefield, the chaos around you—all of it seemed to fade away. There was only him. And for the first time, you realized how much you had been fighting against yourself, not just him.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing against your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine. “Because… I think I’ve been fighting against myself too,” he admitted. “I’ve hated this war as much as you do.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit, but there was none. Just vulnerability. A rawness you hadn’t expected to see in him.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, your breath mingling with his. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then, slowly, cautiously, he closed the distance between you.

His lips met yours in a tentative kiss, soft and warm, like a promise. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you forgot everything—the war, the pain, the years of hatred. All that mattered was this. Him.

When you finally pulled back, your breath was shallow, and his eyes were filled with a mix of relief and something deeper. “We don’t have to keep fighting,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

For the first time in years, you let yourself believe him.

Can I please be added to your new house of the dragon series? ❤️🐲

Omg of courseee, I'll start a tag list and please let me know if any of ya'll wanna be apart of it!!

Whispers Through Time: {~Secrets in the Shadows~}

A/N: Omg, I am sooo happy that you guys are enjoying the series so far! I honestly was not expecting it but I am so happy! Here is Chapter 2 and I will be constantly putting out these chapters so you guys don't have to wait! Enjoy!!!!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1107

Chapter 2 --- Chapter 3

The days since your arrival in the Red Keep passed in a blur of whispered conversations and cautious glances. Though you had gained entry to the castle by claiming to be a skilled midwife, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed to do more if you were to truly alter the course of events as you remembered them. As you moved quietly through the halls of the Keep, your mind raced with thoughts of how to intervene without revealing too much of what you knew—or worse, revealing who you truly were.

You had managed to secure a small, modest room in the servants' quarters, far removed from the nobility. There, you spent your nights pondering the timeline, thinking about the key events that led to the Targaryens' fall, trying to remember details from history and lore that would be valuable in the days to come. Your knowledge of Westeros was fragmented at best—flashes of future events mixed with the uncertainties of living in this medieval world—but you were determined to find a way to help Rhaenyra, and perhaps, by extension, yourself.

As the wind howled outside your window one night, a sense of urgency crept over you. It was time to act. You needed to warn Rhaenyra about the threats that loomed within her own walls. But approaching her directly was far too dangerous—there were too many eyes, too much risk of exposure. You would have to find another way to communicate.

Sitting by the dim light of your candle, you pulled a scrap of parchment from the small desk and began to write:

"Princess Rhaenyra,""There are those close to you who hide their true intentions. Be wary of whom you trust, for some who smile to your face will one day seek to destroy you."

"A Friend."

You stared at the note for a long moment, rereading the words. It wasn’t enough—too vague, too cryptic—but it was all you could offer without putting yourself at risk. Folding the parchment carefully, you tucked it into your pocket. Now came the hardest part: delivering it without being caught.

The castle was quiet that night, the torches flickering dimly in the halls as the staff retired to their quarters. You moved through the shadows, your heart pounding as you neared Rhaenyra’s chambers. You had scouted the area earlier and noticed that servants would occasionally leave messages or small gifts in a niche near the entrance—just out of sight from the guards stationed at her door.

That would be your opportunity.

Keeping to the edges of the corridor, you made your way toward the alcove. The guards were still at their posts, but they seemed to be deep in conversation, their attention focused elsewhere. Silently, you slipped the note into the niche, ensuring it was partially visible so that whoever was meant to find it would do so.

As you turned to leave, you froze. A shadow moved at the far end of the hall. You ducked quickly behind a column, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the figure draw nearer. It was Daemon Targaryen.

Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking him. His presence was unmistakable—commanding, dangerous. You had heard the whispers about him, the rogue prince, the man who walked a fine line between loyalty and rebellion. The last person you wanted to cross paths with.

Daemon’s steps were slow, deliberate. He wasn’t headed for Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he was close enough that you couldn’t risk moving until he was out of sight. You stayed hidden, heart racing, as he passed by, his face unreadable in the flickering torchlight. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, always aware.

When he finally disappeared around the corner, you let out a slow breath. You had come dangerously close to being caught. Without wasting another second, you slipped back into the shadows, retreating toward the servants’ quarters.

The next morning, the castle was buzzing with its usual activity. Servants bustled through the corridors, nobles conversed in hushed tones, and the guards maintained their ever-watchful presence. But there was an undercurrent of tension—a subtle shift in the atmosphere that hadn’t been there before.

As you went about your duties, you overheard snippets of conversation, mentions of a note that had been discovered outside Rhaenyra’s chambers. No one knew who had left it, and the guards were tight-lipped about the situation, but the news had spread quickly among the servants. There was speculation, of course, but no solid leads. Whoever had left the message had done so without being seen.

You kept your head down, focusing on your work, but your mind was racing. The note had reached Rhaenyra, but what would she do with the information? Would she take it seriously? Or would she dismiss it as a prank or a ploy?

Later in the day, as you moved through one of the upper corridors, you saw her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was standing by a window, her back to you, deep in conversation with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in her posture, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was angry—no, more than that. She was disturbed.

The note had hit its mark.

You dared not linger, moving quickly past her chambers and back into the lower halls. The note had worked, but it also meant that you were now part of something far more dangerous. If anyone suspected that you were the one feeding Rhaenyra this information, your life could be at risk. And with Daemon’s ever-watchful eyes lurking in the shadows, you couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

That evening, as you returned to your room, you found yourself pacing, your mind turning over the events of the day. Daemon’s presence haunted you. Though he hadn’t seen you, you felt as though his gaze had lingered on you long after he passed. You knew you had to be careful, more careful than ever before. But as the days went on, Rhaenyra would come to rely on the warnings, and sooner or later, someone would begin asking questions.

You sat at your desk, quill in hand, staring at the blank parchment before you. Another note would need to be sent—this time, with more detail. But the risks were growing with each passing day. How long could you continue before someone discovered the truth?

As you dipped the quill into the ink, you pushed the fear aside. There was no turning back now. The game had begun, and you were determined to see it through.

Masterlist

Hiii Welcome to my blog! I will mostly write anything that you want, just please don't be weird with the requests. I don't have that many stories out yet but please send me your requests! Alsooo, if you guys want me to make a tag list, I can, just let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{~Charmed (1998)~}

{~House of the Dragon~}

{~Narnia~}

{~Supernatural~}

{~Twilight~}

{~House of the Dragon Masterlist~}

[Series]

{~Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon~}

Whispers Through Time

A New Arrival

Secrets in the Shadows

Meeting Daemon

Whispers of Warning

Unexpected Encounters

Shadows of Suspicion

Revealing the Truth

Trials of the Heart

Unveiling Fate

Whispers of Destiny

[One-Shots]

Whispers Through Time: {~A New Arrival~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1293

Chapter 1 --- Chapter 2

The biting chill of the wind gnawed at your skin as you stumbled through an unfamiliar landscape, its vastness stretching out before you. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the world around you had shifted, but the change was undeniable. Your memory still clung to the familiar buzz of the modern world—the sound of car engines, the hum of streetlights, and the constant tap of your shoes on concrete. But now, all that was gone, replaced by a stark silence that only heightened your disorientation. The horizon before you seemed endless, filled with tall hills covered in thick mist, and in the distance, a looming structure—a castle—stood proudly, its towers piercing the dreary sky.

This couldn’t be real. It felt too surreal, like a dream pulled from the pages of some historical fantasy novel. You had always been fascinated by the medieval period and Westeros in particular, but that fascination never prepared you for this. And yet, everything felt too vivid to be a dream—the sharpness of the cold, the heavy scent of damp earth, the distant call of gulls swooping down from the cliffs nearby.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a familiar panic began to rise. You could almost feel your heart pounding, each beat growing louder in your ears. Logic screamed that this couldn’t be happening. You were walking home after a long day, when—there! That light. The blinding flash that enveloped you and carried you here. You clenched your hands into fists, grounding yourself, and let the question form properly: Where am I?

Slowly, as you took in your surroundings, the faintest flicker of recognition sparked. That castle, those towers—it looked eerily familiar. The realization hit you hard, and your knees weakened. This was not just any castle, but one you had seen countless times in books, on screens. Westeros. You had somehow, impossibly, been transported to the world of the Targaryens, Velaryons, and the Seven Kingdoms.

"Gods…" you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were calling to them or cursing them. How could this be possible?

Panic began to bubble up in your chest, but you bit it down. Now wasn’t the time to lose your head. Whatever force had brought you here, it clearly didn’t care about your confusion. You were stranded in a world you had no right to be in, with no clear path home. But you were nothing if not resourceful, and survival instinct kicked in fast. First things first: you needed a cover story.

You looked down at your clothing—your jacket, jeans, and shoes entirely inappropriate for this world. You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you didn’t do something, and quickly. And then, as if fate wanted to test you immediately, you noticed a figure making their way toward you—a villager, maybe, wrapped in furs, their weathered face twisted in confusion at the sight of you.

Without hesitation, you pulled the hood of your jacket up, hiding as much of your appearance as possible, and let an idea form. You needed to be someone important, someone with a skill that would grant you entry into the castle ahead. You thought of the people in this world—superstitious, often lacking in medical knowledge, and prone to reverence for those who claimed to possess sight beyond the ordinary.

A midwife. A seer.

That was the way in. You straightened up, quickly rehearsing a story in your head. You could remember enough of the history of this time—enough about the impending conflicts and players involved—to convince someone of your abilities. And if you could do that, you might just survive.

The villager had reached you by now, his eyes flicking over your strange attire, suspicion evident in his gaze.

"You… you lost, stranger?" His accent was thick, the words harsh against the wind. He looked you up and down, frowning deeper as he noticed your modern shoes.

Clearing your throat, you adopted the air of someone who belonged here, someone important. "I’ve come from far away," you began, your voice steady, "I am a midwife, and a gifted seer. I’ve been summoned—by fate itself—to serve the realm."

His eyes narrowed. "A seer, eh? And who exactly called ye?"

You squared your shoulders. "Not who. What." You let the pause linger, allowing the weight of your words to sink in. "There are things at play in this world that go beyond your understanding. I see them—glimpses of what’s to come. And I’ve come to ensure the safety of those in power, to warn them of the dangers that await if they do not heed my counsel."

The villager hesitated, doubt still clouding his expression, but he seemed unsure now, weighing your words. Superstition held great power in this world, and the idea of turning away someone who claimed to have foresight was a dangerous gamble. Finally, with a curt nod, he motioned to the road leading toward the castle. "You’ll want to speak to the men at the gates, then. They'll decide if yer needed."

You gave a small nod in return, keeping your expression controlled, though relief washed over you. You began to walk, your thoughts racing. You had taken the first step, but getting into the castle was just the beginning. Once there, you would need to convince people far more powerful and skeptical than a simple villager. Rhaenyra, Daemon, the Velaryons… the very people who would shape the future of Westeros.

As you approached the castle’s towering gates, the sheer size of the fortress became overwhelming. The walls stretched upward, casting long shadows over the ground. Your breath quickened as the guards came into view—men clad in armor, their hands resting on swords as they watched you approach. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

One of the guards stepped forward, his face stern beneath his helmet. "State your business," he demanded, his voice rough and authoritative.

"I am a midwife," you repeated, keeping your voice steady. "A seer. I have been sent here to serve the realm, to offer counsel to those in power." You met his gaze directly, hoping to convey confidence. "I see things—glimpses of what’s to come. And I know that there are dangers on the horizon. I must speak with those who rule, for their own safety."

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "A seer, eh? You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word at face value. We get all kinds at these gates."

You expected resistance, and you had your response ready. "I understand your doubt, but let me offer you this—" You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "There will be an attempt on the life of someone in power here soon. It will come from within, not without. If I am wrong, you may throw me to the wolves. But if I am right, you will have failed in your duty to protect this castle."

The guard’s expression faltered for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passing across his features. He glanced at his fellow guards, then back at you. Finally, with a curt nod, he stepped aside. "I’ll let the master-at-arms know. If you’re lucky, you’ll get your audience."

You stepped through the gates, your pulse quickening. Inside, the castle was a maze of stone corridors, each more imposing than the last. Servants moved quickly through the halls, and you kept your head down, trying to appear as if you belonged.

Your mind raced with the enormity of what lay ahead. You needed to get close to the right people—people who would believe your story. And the first name that came to mind was Rhaenyra Targaryen. The heir to the Iron Throne, a woman of strength and ambition. If you could win her trust, you’d have a chance.

Hi.

I don't know if you are still accepting requests. But can you write that Chris from Charmed is dating y/n but doesn't know that Chris has magic?

If you don't like the idea, you can delete

A/N: Omg of course! You are my first-ever request! I had not been making any posts because I wasn't motivated, but since you requested it I will do it!! I hope you enjoy it!

{~Secrets in the Halliwell Manor~}

Summary: Chris Halliwell has been keeping a life-altering secret from Y/N—he’s a witch from a powerful magical family. When he finally reveals the truth, Y/N is thrust into a world of magic, demons, and danger. Y/N must decide whether to embrace this extraordinary reality or walk away. Can their love withstand the truth, or will the secrets Chris has kept tear them apart?

Characters: Chris, Piper, Leo, Phoebe

Pairing: Chris Halliwell x GN!Y/N

Warnings: No Warnings

Word Count: 1537

Chris Halliwell walked hand in hand with Y/N down the bustling streets of San Francisco. The early evening sun cast long shadows, and the air was filled with the sounds of distant chatter, car engines, and the occasional chirping of birds. He had been seeing Y/N for a few months now, and things had been going well—too well, perhaps. But with every date, every sweet moment, the weight of the secret he carried grew heavier on his shoulders.

“Chris, you’ve been a little quiet today,” Y/N said, glancing up at him with concern in their eyes. “Everything okay?”

Chris forced a smile, squeezing Y/N's hand a little tighter. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About?” Y/N prompted, not missing the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

“Oh, you know, life, the future… where we're headed,” Chris replied, hoping the vague response would be enough. The truth was, he was always thinking about the future—literally. As a Whitelighter-witch hybrid, Chris had traveled from the future to prevent a dark fate from befalling his family. But none of that could be shared with Y/N, at least not yet.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Y/N teased, nudging him playfully with their shoulder.

Chris chuckled softly. “No, not at all. Just trying to figure out how to balance everything, you know?”

“Life can be complicated,” Y/N agreed. “But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Chris stopped walking and turned to face Y/N, taking both of their hands in his. The sincerity in Y/N’s gaze made his heart ache with the desire to come clean. But how could he? How could he explain that he was a witch, that his family was one of the most powerful magical families in existence, and that he had traveled through time to save the world?

“I know,” he finally said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Y/N smiled, standing on their tiptoes to kiss him properly. “You’re right, you are lucky,” they teased, their smile lighting up their face.

Chris laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Let’s head back to the Manor. There’s something I want to show you.”

______________________________________________________________

The Halliwell Manor was as imposing as ever, with its Victorian architecture and an aura of mystery that seemed to cling to its walls. Y/N had been there a few times, but the house still held an enigmatic charm that they couldn’t quite place.

“Piper, Leo, I’m home!” Chris called as he opened the front door, leading Y/N inside.

Y/N looked around, admiring the intricate details of the house. “This place is incredible. It always feels like there’s some kind of history here.”

Chris smiled. “There’s a lot of history in this house, that’s for sure.”

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Piper Halliwell, Chris's mother, appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She smiled warmly when she saw Y/N. “Oh, hi, Y/N! It’s so good to see you again. How have you been?”

“Hi, Piper! I’ve been good, thank you. How about you?”

“Busy, as usual,” Piper replied with a wink. “But that’s life. Are you staying for dinner?”

Chris quickly cut in before Y/N could respond. “We might have to skip dinner tonight, Mom. I wanted to show Y/N something upstairs.”

Piper raised an eyebrow, her motherly intuition telling her something was up. “Alright, but don’t take too long. You know how I feel about skipping meals.”

Chris nodded, pulling Y/N towards the stairs. “We won’t. I promise.”

As they made their way to the attic, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and curiosity. Chris had mentioned the attic before, but he had always been vague about what was up there. Now, as they climbed the stairs, Y/N felt a sense of anticipation building.

When they reached the attic door, Chris paused, looking at Y/N with a serious expression. “There’s something I need to tell you before we go in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay…”

Chris took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “This might sound crazy, but you have to trust me, alright?”

Y/N nodded, their concern deepening. “Chris, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I’m not who you think I am,” Chris said slowly. “There’s a lot about my life that you don’t know… things I haven’t told you because I didn’t know how.”

Y/N’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying. “What do you mean?”

Chris turned to the door, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open. The attic was dimly lit, with shafts of light filtering through the windows, illuminating the dust particles in the air. In the center of the room was an old, ornate book resting on a wooden stand.

“What is this place?” Y/N asked, stepping inside, their voice barely above a whisper.

“This is where my family keeps the Book of Shadows,” Chris explained, moving towards the book. “It’s a magical tome that has been passed down through generations. It contains spells, potions, and information about demons and other supernatural beings.”

Y/N stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Magic…? Chris, what are you talking about?”

Chris met Y/N’s eyes, his expression earnest. “I’m a witch, Y/N. My whole family is. We protect the world from evil forces that most people don’t even know exist.”

For a moment, Y/N couldn’t speak. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, and nothing made sense anymore. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” they finally managed to say.

Chris nodded. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But I wanted you to know the truth because… I care about you. And I can’t keep this from you anymore.”

Y/N took a step back, trying to process everything. “This is… I don’t know what to say, Chris. This is insane.”

“I know,” Chris said softly. “But it’s the truth.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door to the attic burst open, and in rushed Phoebe Halliwell, Chris’s aunt, with a worried expression on her face.

“Chris, we’ve got a problem,” Phoebe said, her eyes flickering to Y/N for a brief moment before focusing on her nephew.

“What is it?” Chris asked, immediately on alert.

“There’s a demon in the city. It’s causing havoc, and we need to deal with it before things get worse.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “A demon? Like, an actual demon?”

Phoebe glanced at Y/N, offering a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, sorry about this. Welcome to the family, I guess?”

Y/N felt like they were in a dream—a bizarre, surreal dream. “Chris, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise,” Chris said, turning back to Phoebe. “Where’s Wyatt?”

“He’s on his way,” Phoebe replied, just as a swirl of blue orbs materialized in the room, revealing Chris’s older brother, Wyatt.

Wyatt gave Y/N a quick nod. “Hey, Y/N. Sorry you had to find out this way.”

Y/N could only nod in response, their mind reeling.

“Let’s get this over with,” Chris said, determination settling in his eyes. He turned to Y/N, his voice gentle. “Stay here, okay? We’ll be back soon.”

Y/N grabbed his arm, their voice trembling. “Chris, be careful.”

Chris squeezed their hand, giving them a reassuring smile. “I will. Trust me.”

With that, the three witches left the attic, leaving Y/N alone with the Book of Shadows and a whirlwind of emotions.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N paced the attic, their mind racing. Magic? Witches? Demons? It was too much to comprehend. But the more they thought about it, the more things started to make sense. The strange occurrences, the odd things Chris had said or done—it all fit together now.

After what felt like an eternity, the door to the attic creaked open, and Chris stepped inside, looking slightly disheveled but unharmed.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, rushing over to him.

Chris nodded, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. “I’m fine. The demon’s gone. It’s over.”

Y/N clung to him, feeling a rush of relief. “I can’t believe any of this is real.”

Chris pulled back slightly, looking into Y/N’s eyes. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And if you need time to process everything, I understand.”

Y/N shook their head. “I don’t need time. I just need you to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Chris said immediately.

“Don’t keep secrets from me anymore,” Y/N said, their voice firm. “If we’re going to be together, I need to know everything.”

Chris smiled, relief flooding through him. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Y/N smiled back, feeling a sense of peace settle over them. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris leaned down, capturing Y/N’s lips in a tender kiss. For the first time in a long while, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N knew that no matter what.

{~Twilight Masterlist~}

[Series]

{~Alice x Reader x Jasper~}

Eternal Harmony

Fateful Encounter

Melody of Souls

Whispers of the Future

Eclipse of Emotions

Trials and Tribulations

Forever Bound

{~Supernatural Masterlist~}

{~No Pairings~}

Transported into Supernatural:

Ethereal Bonds

A Rift in Reality

Welcome to the Hunting Life

A Hunt for Answers

Unraveling the Mystery

Facing the Ultimate Evil

A Bittersweet Farewell

{~ Charmed Masterlist~}

{~NON READER STORIES~}

[Series]

Chris Identity Revealed

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter10

[One-Shots]

Chris Halliwell:

-Secrets in the Halliwell Manor