Daemon Targaryen Visions Novels & Stories

There was a moment of silence as we all watched Tyrion take a substantial amount of gulps before giving a response. “Well…it's a lucky day because I brought you a souvenir,” Tyrion, belched, and dropped his drink. He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table towards me. “Beta Damon’s wife, Lisa, and his three-year-old son, Jayden.” I almost choked on my drink. “Wait what?” A sly smile gradually drew at the corner of my lip. “Could you please draw me a clearer picture?” I asked, leaning back into my seat.

My breath caught as the shard’s pulse merged with my own heartbeat, binding me tighter to the vision that unfolded. I stood on soil not of Dark Hollow, but of an older land where banners dripped in crimson firelight. Before me stretched a kingdom built on stone and blood, its high towers collapsing under waves of flame. Soldiers screamed as their armor melted, and at the center of the inferno stood a woman with my face—Ashara—her eyes molten gold, her hands drenched in fire and blood. I staggered back, heart hammering, yet the vision pulled me closer, commanding me to watch.

Shay hissed "touch it amd we are goners!" The beast sensed the fear brooding within Shay and it's head snapped towards her, it let out a huge grin, exposing its mouth full of sharpened pointed teeth "Come on girl" it said with in a choked voice, too full of teeth "I dare you to knock me over again!" One thing was made clear, Bree Davidson was almost done, They could both sense her soul exiting inch by inch giving way for the darkness, The daemon began to to advance, it claws extended and it's maw dripping spittle, it eyes black displaying intense hatred

"Not just like that. It was an exchange. I bring the tRosetor he suspects down, and he gives me an in to avenge my mother's death." “TRosetor?” “Yeah, Igor believes there’s one among you.” “What made him think there’s even a tRosetor? Does he have evidence?” "I don't think so. He follows his instincts on this one and strongly suspects someone." “Who?” "It doesn't matter if you know. Igor doubts Damien." She laughs, the sound throaty. “Not Pharaoah or Adrian, but Damien?” I narrow my eyes. “What’s so funny about Damien?”

Laryn stood up and wiped the blood from his face. "He's scrappy," he said to the other two dragons. I was slower to get up this time, but finally managed to gain my feet. "You next," I nodded to Sarn. "Hell no," he said. "I don't look good in red; that's Bastian's color." He gave me an ear to ear grin and stepped forward with his hand out. "I'm Sarn. What's your name?" I looked from his hand to the grin on his face. I took his offered hand and we shook. "I'm Tahr, of the royal silver dynasty."

He stayed by my side while Tyrion approached us with his fiery red eyes. "It was self-defense," Zane spoke up for me. "The hell it was!" Damara choked out from behind Tyrion's back, making all eyes turn to her. "That bitch should rot in prison or die!" I could see Tyrion's jaw clench. I had no idea what made Damara so special in his eyes. If he couldn't see past her fake outburst, then his intelligence should be seriously questioned. I watched him take a deep breath and help Damara stand up off the ground.

he said. "And you, my lord." "I made note of you this morning as well. The false gods burned with a merry light, did they not?" "They burned brightly." Davos did not trust this man, for all his courtesy. House Florent had declared for Renly. "The Lady Melisandre tells us that sometimes R'hllor permits his faithful servants to glimpse the future in flames. It seemed to me as I watched the fire this morning that I was looking at a dozen beautiful dancers, maidens garbed in yellow silk spinning and swirling before a great king. I think it was a true vision, ser. A glimpse of the glory that awaits His Grace after we take King's Landing and the throne that is his by rights."

his voice trembling with excitement as silver light erupted around me and the pain became unbearable. Images flooded my mind, ancient wolves, forgotten kingdoms, a silver throne hidden beneath mountains, a woman wearing a crown of moonlight, and beside her a gray wolf with golden eyes, Kael, no, not Kael, someone before him, an ancestor, a king, and the vision shifted, showing war, betrayal, blood, then a voice echoing through darkness: "The daughter of the moon shall rise, the bond shall unite what hatred divided, the chosen Alpha shall stand beside her, together they shall save the realm or destroy it."

Our eyes met, and it felt as if an invisible force connected us, bridging the distance between us. I moved closer, unable to tear my gaze away from his intense stare. There was something familiar in his eyes, as if he recognized me on a level I couldn't comprehend. The room seemed to hum with an unspoken understanding, and I couldn't help but feel that this encounter held a deeper significance. As I approached the bed, a mixture of excitement and trepidation flooded my senses. The Lycan King's presence was overwhelming, his gaze piercing into the depths of my soul. It was as if he saw parts of me I hadn't even discovered myself.

“I gave her the poison recipe. I opened the passage under the east tower. I thought… if the bond broke, you would see reason. Choose strength over sentiment.” Kael advanced, slow, predatory. “You thought wrong.” Jorah didn’t flinch. “Darius showed me the prophecy scrolls. The full ones, not the fragments the elders keep. A hybrid bride rises, born of forbidden blood. She either unites the packs under one unbreakable rule… or she tears them apart in civil war. The Ironfangs believe the second. I believed it too.” Elara’s claws extended instinctively. “And now?” Jorah met her eyes, gray storm meeting silver fire. “Now I’m not sure. You fought at the stones. You took arrows for him. You didn’t