TOM HIDDLESTON And OWEN WILSON In The LOKI S2 BLOOPERS

TOM HIDDLESTON and OWEN WILSON in the LOKI S2 BLOOPERS

Imagine Waking up in HoTD: pt.2

Reader x Various(Yandere)

Pt. 1

CW: Blending of Fire & Blood canon and HoTD canon, Language, period-typical dungeon antics, halfway a parody and halfway sincere, spoilers for season 1, biblically accurate Targaryens, reader knows ASoIAF pretty well, your presence WILL force an AU.

Less than three hours in a fantasy world, and you were in a dungeon. Perfect.

Still dressed in your soggy, sandy, miserable clothes, you were shuddering in the dark. As you sat with your hands chained over your head and against the wall, you could see nothing beyond the bars of your cell. Torches were lit up and down the halls but they were useless. You suppose that was the point, though.

It is after all, a dungeon.

In the few hours that had passed you tried to make peace with your new reality. The first hour or so, you were just waiting to wake up. It was dark enough to nod off and you did. Until a rat decided to take a small nibble on your leg. You kicked the bastard off with a yell.

After having a good, dignified cry, you tried yo pull yourself together. After all, you’re a lifelong nerd! You’ve read shit like this in fanfiction. Mainly ‘Lord of The Rings,’ which would have been a kinder world to wake up in. But, this is where you were. Numb hands, soggy pants, name tag still dangling on your lanyard.

Women aren’t treated well here. Especially ones that talk as much as you do and seem odd. Seeing as you emerged from a Honda Civic in a Target uniform screaming about non-emergency lines, you were at a significant disadvantage here. You needed to recover someway to stay alive. Make yourself important, but not threatening.

As you ruminated on this, you heard the sound of a heavy door open. The echo of metal on stone had you sitting up straighter. Footsteps, many of them, drew near.

Under the orange glow of a nearby torch, a crowned woman came into view. She was dressed in a black cloak, long white hair laid in loose waves down to her waist. Her skin was smooth, pale; her eyes were a brilliant shade of lilac. This woman was so beautiful, so immaculate… It was almost unsettling.

Behind her stood two knights, one you recognized by his voice. “This is the witch, My Queen. She rode an iron vessel through the Narrow Sea, fleeing from her master she calls a tyrant.”

You swallowed thickly, staring helplessly at Rhaenyra in the flesh. She gave a nod to a smaller knight who opened your cell. Walking inside, Rhaenyra began to speak, “I would not normally place myself in a cage to meet with a madwoman. In peaceful times, I would simply have you beheaded and cast you back from whence you came.“

“Sounds efficient,” you mutter. At the tilting of Queen Rhaenyra’s head you quickly add, “—Your Majesty.”

She kneels down in front of you. Her closeness has you holding your breath. You can understand now why they never had the actors who played Targaryens in color contacts. Lined with long, white lashes, Rhaenyra’s glare was almost inhuman. Too pale, too bright, like looking into the face of an angel that hates you. Just. You.

“War is near, and you have my attention. My Queensguard think of you as a witch, my King Consort calls you a tactless spy of my half-brother,” her hand takes your chin. Slowly, she leans in, “They both tell me you should die. That I have no use for you. I… am not certain I agree.”

Trembling slightly, you tried hard not to panic. “I’m not a witch, and I’m not a spy. I swear to god, Gods, I am not a threat to you.”

Her other hand came to your face. With her thumb, she brushed off sand and dirt that had smeared across your cheek. So tender was her touch, it clashed harshly with her cold stare.

“Dressed in red and black, crawling from an iron beast, how absurd. I needed to look at you to know for certain. And now, I do,” Queen Rhaenyra stood quickly. Her hands left you. Your heart stopped. “You are an oddity, but a useless one. A pity.”

You needed to act fast, convince them that keeping you alive and in one piece was in their best interest.

"I am a seer!"

The Queen paused, her amethyst eyes flicking to yours sharply. Tread carefully, her eyes said. You swallowed a lump in your throat and repeated, ""I... I am a seer and... a be... er. I see and I be. The past, the present, and the future!"

Rhaenyra knelt down to you once more. You held your breath as she crowded you. She smelled amazing. "You said you were no witch. Now you change your testimony? Do not take me for a fool.”

You nod, "I am not an evil witch. But I, like, know things. Important things.”

"Demonstrate these powers, then," Queen Rhaenyra’s voice was pure ice. "Tell me something of my past and something of my future. Just two answers. If your demonstration satisfies me, you shall be freed of this cell. If you do not, you have my permission to rot where you sit.”

Oh, fuck.

"Well, I..." Shit. What do you even say? Do you follow the books, or the tv show? Which one is canon for this universe? You can't tell her something too far into the future, she might not believe you. And if you give her something too obscure in the past she won't believe you either.

Queen Rhaenyra sighs, "You waste my time. I leave you to your fate." She stands and turns away from you, heading for the cell door.

Your heart is pounding. Dying with your aching arms over your head with the rats? There’s no way you can die like this. And in your fucking Target uniform?! Just a skeleton in with a name tag, that’s what you’ll be. You scream at yourself to just say something. And oh, you do—

"When Queen Aemma was last with child, you hoped it was a girl!"

The Queen stopped dead in her tracks. Her Queensguard visibly stiffen.

"You told your mother to name the child Visenya, you wanted to name your daughter Visenya too." As Rhaenyra turned back around to face you, you knew you probably went a bit too far. By some unseen command, her knights came next to you. They loosened your bindings only to yank you up to your feet. Both men pinned you to the wall behind you.

Yup, too far.

Without giving you any validation or reward she asked, "And what of my future?"

Looking into her wrathful eyes, you saw some hope. You had been right. Or, at least right enough that she wanted you to predict her future. Knowing you were on the verge of a terrible end, you decided to take one last risk:

"Has Prince Lucerys left for Storm's End?"

Something flashes in her eyes. A spark of recognition, of fear. Her lip trembles for a moment, "Prince Lucerys is on his way back. Why ask me this?"

Losing your nerve slightly, you say, "Queen Rhaenyra, your husband is going to come to you. He is going to take your hand. You won't understand what he says to you, at first. It won’t make sense and— “

The Queen grips your throat, her rings digging into your flesh, "Speak. Clearly."

"Prince Aemond will kill your son today," you rasp.

You gagged slightly as she released you. Queen Rhaenyra placed a palm over her stomach, breathing deeply as if she had just been struck. Her breathing only grew more labored as her nostrils flared and rage took over her features, “Chain her, now.”

Again, you were forced into a seated position and your arms chained over your head.

Rhaenyra pointed a finger at you, shouting, “How dare you! A fool from Alicent Hightower’s court, put here to play her tricks in my ancestor’s home!? You may sit here with your great joke, and die. Slowly.”

Helpless, all you could do was cry and beg as the Queen left you. Your cell door slammed closed. And, to add to your misery, Rhaenyra ordered that each torch that lined the hall to your cell be extinguished.

Leaving you alone in perfect, cruel, darkness.

For one day, and one night.

You were glad enough that you weren't being tortured. The hunger was already so unbearable, though. Worse still was the waiting. Waiting for death, for the dream to finally end… just… waiting. Hours slipped by slowly. With each minute that passed, you mulled over your actions.

Had you given her the right lines? Perhaps it was foolish of you to dare to pretend to be a prophet. Especially in a world that so seldom had happy endings. Who the fuck would want to know the future here?

You leaned your head back and tried to ignore the pain in your shoulders. The rats had left you alone long enough for sleep to take you. Just as you started to dream, you heard the sound of metal on stone.

The dungeon door had opened.

Staying completely still, you waited. Listening hard for footsteps. You only caught two sets. The growing light of a lone torch made you light your head. Two shadows stood at your cell door. Either your doom, or your salvation.

Likely doom.

Staring down at you was the illuminated face of Queen Rhaenyra. Behind her stood a tall man with silver hair to his chin, holding the torch. He had thin lines on his face to note his age, his mouth was wide and his cheekbones were high. Just like Rhaenyra, he was beautiful in a way that felt wrong. He looked at you with disgust, lip curling back in a sneer. This must be Prince Daemon.

You looked to Queen Rhaenyra and felt your chest tighten. Rhaenyra’s expression was solemn, her eyes puffy. You understood immediately. It had happened, just as you said it would.

Prince Daemon approached you, torch held high and sparks falling near your legs. His left hand went down to his side. Your eyes went to Dark Sister on his hip. It wouldn’t take much for him to use that. Luckily, he reached for a ring of keys set next to his scabbard.

He unlocked your wrists and your arms dropped in front of you. You hissed in pain, blood flowing back too slow and too fast.

Prince Daemon spoke first, his voice dry, "Stand, seer. There is much to discuss."