Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the ten years since her wedding to Laenor, Rhaenyra had become accustomed to sleeping alone. Though Ser Harwin had fathered all three of her children, and she and Laenor had attempted to do their duty on more than one occasion, the interludes always ended with Rhaenyra retiring in private.

On the night following her oft dreamed of wedding to her beloved Daemon, Rhaenyra welcomed her husband into her chambers. Their initial frenzied love making ,fueled by the passion of their shared dragon blood, later transitioned into languorous and tender caresses. On her wedding night, Rhaenyra finally experienced the intimacy of spending the night wrapped in her lover’s embrace.

To be so cherished after ten years of droll tragedy made Rhaenyra reluctant to rise the following morning. But the sunlight poured through the thick damask curtains of her chambers. Her head was pillowed by Daemon’s bare chest, her hair like melted silver spread across his pale flesh.

Rhaenyra reluctantly shifted only to feel Daemon’s arm tighten around her, drawing her close. He murmured something indecipherable in his sleep.

“Husband,” she called, cherishing the word and the man beside her. “We must wake up. Joffrey will need me soon.”

Daemon opened his eyes. They gleamed with reverence. “Wife, Joffrey is in the capable hands of the wetnurse. I believe my need of you may be greater than his.”

Rhaenyra smirked. “Is this your clever way of suggesting that I did not meet your needs last night, my love? This is hardly an auspicious beginning to our marriage.”

“Last night surpassed my wildest dreams, but the sun is barely above the horizon. Lay with me a little longer. We will need our rest before plotting the downfall of our enemies.” Daemon tugged her back down to his side, and Rhaenyra snuggled ever closer.

Rhaenyra felt his lips on her forehead. She never imagined that Daemon could be so tender. “For ten years, I have been unable to sleep soundly, wanting you with every fiber of my being. Now you are mine. Let us rest, love.”

Rhaenyra kissed his shoulder. “As my husband commands.”

In truth she was grateful for the reprieve. She intended to revel in the solace of her beloved’s arms for a little longer. The court would not look kindly upon her marriage, but in this moment, pressed against the man she loved, she was perfectly and incandescently happy.

Chapter Text

As Daemon strode out of the council chambers he silently vowed that he would slaughter each of Rhaenyra’s enemies in turn when the time came. Dark Sister would taste the blood of any man or woman foolhardy enough to support the gods be damned greens. But now was not the time to act out these dark and righteous fantasies. His wife needed him.

Rhaenyra had sent him to the council meeting in her place, claiming fatigue from the journey from Dragonstone, only to have Queen Alicent question her loyalty to the realm. It was almost laughable. As though Alicent truly cared about anything beyond getting her insufferable sprog on the iron throne.

Daemon threw open the door to their chambers without heed of the King’s Guard.

Rhaenyra was pacing the floor, one hand on her belly, the other twisting her silver hair in silent anxiety. She stopped when she saw him, her lovely face transforming as she gave him the smile meant only for him. The look of utter devotion quelled his fury toward those fools on his brother’s council.

In three steps, Daemon closed the distance between them, taking Rhaenyra in his arms and crushing her to him. Rhaenyra’s lips met his in a kiss of fierce passion and he allowed her to stake her claim, giving her whatever she desired as he had done every day since their hasty marriage.

Neither of them knew how they ended up on the floor several minutes later, having missed the bed entirely, but she was splayed on top of him after an earth-shattering release. “I missed you, husband,” Rhaenyra said, her voice trembling slightly.

Daemon gathered her in his arms and brought her to the bed. “I missed you as well, but love, you were supposed to be resting. I hardly think what just occurred qualifies as rest.”

Rhaenyra quirked a brow at him. “Is this a complaint?”

Daemon nipped at her lips. “It is merely an observation.”

“I was resting,” Rhaenyra said, “while you were at the council meeting. But then I received some news.”

Daemon looked at his wife, and for the first time noticed tears in the corners of her eyes. He mistook their meaning. His hand went to the hilt of Dark Sister as a reflex, but Rhaenyra took it in both of hers. She guided it to her belly. “My love, I am with child. I felt the quickening shortly before you returned.”

For a moment, Daemon said nothing. In the three months of their marriage, Daemon had dreamed of the day Rhaenyra would bear him a beautiful silver-haired babe. Was it possible that the gods had blessed them so quickly? He felt Rhaenyra’s hand on his cheek. ”Love, have you nothing to say? I thought you would be pleased.”

The hint of worry in Rhaenyra’s voice compelled him to speak at last, as though he could be anything but pleased about this news. “I am overjoyed, Rhaenyra,” he said, eager to reassure her. He kissed her hard before moving to kiss the gentle swell of her abdomen. “Will it be a boy or a girl, do you think?”

Rhaenyra smiled indulgently. “There is no way to be certain of such things, but I do believe that Prince Aegon will make his appearance in due course.”

Daemon grinned. “You will drive Alicent mad with such an action.”

“Her son is not a true dragon,” Rhaenyra declared, her eyes shining. “Ours will be.”

“As fierce as his mother,” Daemon said approvingly.

“And as loyal as his father.”

Chapter Text

Both Rhaenyra and Visenya had survived the long labor at Dragonstone. Rumors spread that the Princess Visenya was a malformed babe with draconic features. These rumors were propagated by the Greens, despite the protests of the ailing King Viserys.

Queen Alicent declared to any who would listen that Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon remained at Dragonstone to hide their monster of a child.

In truth, Visenya was the very image of her mother, five years of age, healthy, and lovely. The family had remained at Dragonstone to shield their beloved girl from the horrors at court. But now it was time for Visenya to make her debut, flying with her father on the back of Caraxes, for her young dragon Abraxes was too small for riding.

“Papa, please hurry!” Little Visenya Targaryen paced the stone floors of Dragonstone’s grand hall frantic with nervous energy.

Her brothers and mother had already departed for King’s Landing, but Visenya and her father would be arriving at court with dramatic flair and style.

Daemon stood at the top of the stairs, sheathing Dark Sister. “Patience, my little dragon,” Daemon called with an indulgent smile. “You are as eager to prove yourself as your mother once was. Your time will come.”

“I want to see Caraxes now!”

Daemon picked up Visenya a minute later. “As the princess commands. Now, you mustn’t be afraid. Caraxes is very large and long but he would never strike at the blood of a true dragon.”

“I am not afraid,” Visenya declared. “I have longed to ride a dragon, to show all of Westeros that I am not what they believe.”

“What the realm believes will be corrected today, little one. One day, you will ride gloriously to battle just as your namesake did with Aegon the Conqueror.”

Visenya’s chest swelled with pride. “I will help you and Mama defeat the Greens!”

“Perhaps,” Daemon said, hoping it would not come to that. Visenya was too young, too precious, to be lost.

As they approached Caraxes’ cave, Visenya hurried forward.

Caraxes had already been saddled, awaiting the arrival of his rider. The dragon raised its long, slender neck, sniffing the air to catch the scent of the approaching Visenya. He rumbled his approval when the princess boldly called Lykiri!

Visenya showed no fear as she approached her father’s faithful dragon. She extended a hand and stroked his scales. “You are beautiful,” Visenya whispered in High Valyrian. Caraxes trilled happily, curling his tail around the princess.

Daemon smiled. Visenya would be a glorious dragon rider.

***

“Your husband is late,” Alicent said, her voice snide and triumphant.

Rhaenyra resisted the urge to snap back. Alicent would regret the slander she had been spreading when Caraxes arrived in front of the assemblage, carrying Visenya in all her glory.

“Alicent,” Viserys’ voice carried a warning the his queen did not heed.

The queen’s reply was interrupted by the loud roar of Caraxes. The assemblage of peers looked up in awe at the approaching dragon. Daemon sat in the saddle as a king would sit on the iron throne. In front of him was Visenya, standing tall, held up by her father, her silver hair and scarlet gown whipping in the breeze. Caraxes landed on the flag stones with grace, lowering himself to allow Daemon and Visenya to dismount.

Rhaenyra’s supporters cheered the arrival of the princess, and even those who supported Alicent and the Hightowers stared with disbelief. Visenya approached her mother and grandsire, head held high. She displayed perfect courtly manners as she curtsied to Viserys.

Viserys knelt down and embraced her. To the gathered crowd, he said, “Let it be known to all the naysayers that Princess Visenya is as beautiful and strong as Princess Rhaenyra, future Queen of the Realm. We are proud to welcome her to King’s Landing.”

The crowd cheered again, and Rhaenyra welcomed her daughter to her side, throwing a triumphant smile at Alicent, who appeared to have lost her nerve.

It was a small victory.

Rhaenyra knew that the conflict between the Greens and the Blacks would come to a head one day, just as she knew that she would have to be victorious for the sake of her eight beautiful children.

Chapter Text

“She is so small,” Joffrey said the moment his mother presented little Visenya to the five brothers, who had entered the birthing room in a whirl of anxious noise.

Rhaena and Baela had stayed in the birthing room with Rhaenyra. As one they turned and frowned at their step brother. “She is beautiful,” Baela said.

“And we were all this small at one time,” Rhaena said, ever the logical one.

Joffrey seemed quite certain he had never been so tiny.

Rhaenyra smiled. “It is fortunate that little Visenya has five brothers and two sisters to protect her, as she so small.”

“I will defend her with my life,” Jacaerys declared. “And when she is grown, I will find a man worthy of her.”

Daemon grinned at his eldest. “I believe you are more than equal to the task.”

“Mama, I want to hold her,” Aegon declared, holding out his arms expectantly.

Daemon took the babe from his wife and showed Aegon how to support her head. Visenya cooed, wiggling her tiny nose.

“She looks like Mama,” Aegon decided, looking approvingly at his new sister.

The children took turns to hold little Visenya, but before long, the babe was returned to her joyful but exhausted mother.

Daemon guided the rest of his children out of the birthing room, leaving mother and daughter in peace.

“Papa,” Lucerys said.

“Yes?”

“Will Visenya have a dragon of her own?”

“Indeed. We must go to the dragon pit and fetch one from Syrax’s clutch of eggs.”

“All of us?” Viserys asked, a little frightened at the prospect. He had never gone to the dragon pit before.

“Yes. The House of the Dragon must stand together.”

Chapter Text

Tears stained her cheeks as the blood of her unborn child stained her hands. The baby had quickened the previous moon. She and Daemon had already discussed names. Viserys for a boy or Visenya for a girl.

Now the hope for a second child with Daemon was spilled across her flesh and stained against the white cotton of her small clothes.

A pounding on the door broke Rhaenyra out of the fog of her sorrows. She remembered suddenly that Daemon was expecting her. They were supposed to ride dragons with the children. She was going to share the news that there would soon be another sibling. But now those hopes were dashed against the craggy shore of Dragonstone.

“Rhaenyra, shall I have to break down this door?” Daemon sounded impatient and for a moment, Rhaenyra wanted to scream at him. Only he did not know the truth. She could not take her anguish out on her beloved husband. Her grief would soon be shared.

Daemon pounded on the door again. Rhaenyra took a deep breath and unbolted the door.

Daemon entered the chamber, his face alive with impatience, but the moment he saw the blood on Rhaenyra’s hands and the tears on her cheeks, that melted away. “What is wrong, my love.”

“We lost the baby, Daemon,” Rhaenyra said, her voice soft and pitiful, choking back sobs.

Daemon took her in his arms. “I will call the maester. Perhaps you are mistaken.” His voice sounded equally broken.

Rhaenyra shook her head. “I know the signs, love. I witnessed my mother go through the very same. There was too much blood. Our little dragon is gone.”

Daemon pressed his forehead against hers. She tasted the salt of his tears when he kissed her. “Are you in any pain, my love?”

“The physical pain has passed, but the grief will linger,” Rhaenyra said. “I do not want to see the maester. I only want you to hold me.”

Daemon swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He settled beside her and crushed her to him. For hours, Rhaenyra wept. Daemon held her as she cried, kissing her hair and stroking her back. Only when she found rest did Daemon finally allow himself to feel the full extent of his grief.

Daemon loved his children and Rhaenyra’s children, but he wanted more sons and daughters with his beloved. Could the gods be cruel enough to deny them?

Sometime in the middle of the night, Rhaenyra stirred. “Daemon, the children. We have let them down. They were so looking forward to riding the dragons.”

“There will be time for that tomorrow, love. Go back to sleep.”

Rhaenyra looked at him, fresh tears in her eyes. “I want to keep trying, Daemon.”

“I do not want to treat you as your father treated your mother,” Daemon said, his voice hesitant. “You are not a brood mare. You are the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I do not want to keep trying out of duty,” Rhaenyra said. “This will not break me. We will have more children.”

Daemon loved his wife’s stubborn expression. He kissed her, softly, tenderly. Against her flesh, he whispered, “As my queen commands.”

Chapter Text

King Viserys knew his end was coming. On the day his beloved daughter finally returned to King’s Landing, he neglected to take his morning dose of milk of the poppy. He needed a few moments of clarity to speak with his daughter and brother, to say everything that was in his heart.

Rhaenyra entered her father’s chambers with Daemon beside her. He clasped her hand gently, as a reminder that he would always be there for her. She would need his strength in the days to come.

“Who is it?” Viserys’ voice was weak, and it broke Rhaenyra’s heart. Perhaps she should not have stayed away so long.

“It is Rhaenyra, Father. I am here with Daemon.”

Viserys held out his hand to her. “My only child, help me up.”

Rhaenyra helped her father to a sitting position against the pillows. Gone was the King who had ridden Balerion the black dread. His head was wrapped in bandages. His skin was chalky white. He was more skeleton than man.

“Rhaenyra, Daemon I am glad you have come. There is so much I wish to say, but I fear my time grows short. I am not long for this world.”

“Father—”

Viserys grasped his daughter’s hand. “Rhaenyra, my daughter, I am sorry for the pain I have caused you. From the moment I named you my heir, I should have allowed you to wed Daemon. He would have protected you in ways I could not.”

Viserys’ gaze moved do Daemon. “Brother, you have always honored Rhaenyra. I can see that now. I should have granted you the request you made that day in the throne room. I have been blind, foolish, and selfish to keep you at an arm’s length.”

“Brother—” Daemon’s voice was soft and hesitant, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

Viserys grasped his brother’s hand. “Promise me, Brother, that you will protect my daughter and my grandchildren. The House of the Dragon is on the verge of collapse. I have been responsible for this instability. You and Rhaenyra must repair my mistakes.”

“I promise, Brother,” Daemon vowed. “I would give my life for Rhaenyra.”

“I pray it does not come to that,” Viserys said.

“Father,” Rhaenyra said, “thank you for all you have said. I do not want you to dwell on your regrets, Daemon and I found our way to one another, and with him at my side, I will rule the Seven Kingdoms and make you proud.”

“I know you will, my dear,” Viserys said.

“Father, if it pleases you, we have someone we would like you to meet.” Rhaenyra motioned for the maid to bring her Aegon and Viserys to her.

The king gave a crooked smile as he met his grand sons. “Viserys is a strong name fit for a king,” he said with approval.

Alas, his moment of lucidity lasted no longer. He crumpled back against the pillows clutching his head and muttering. “My tea!”

Daemon brought the goblet to his brother’s lips and Viserys ceased his muttering. He sniffed the goblet, wondering, not for the first time, if Alicent had been poisoning her husband. It appeared only to be milk of the poppy.

Viserys closed his eyes and Daemon led Rhaenyra and his sons out of the room. The sent they boys away with the maid and the wet nurse.

Rhaenyra was quiet as they made their way to their chambers. Only when they were truly alone did she speak. “He will be dead before long.”

Daemon gathered her in his arms. “You will make him proud, my love.”

“Not if the vipers continue to question the legitimacy of my claim.”

***

When Daemon awoke late that night it was to find Rhaenyra gone. He has spent much of the night comforting her and assuring her that he would do all in his power to help her climb the steps to the Iron Throne.

He waited, unable to return to sleep without her pressed against him. When she finally did return, her cheeks were stained with tears.

“Where were you, my love?” Daemon asked, welcoming her back to their bed with a tender kiss.

“Begging my father to take the throne tomorrow. Without his support, Lucerys will lose his birthright and the Hightowers will try to claim that I am unworthy to take my rightful place as Queen. This burden is becoming too much. I thought I wanted it, but now I only take it to protect our family. If Aegon ascends the throne he will not hesitate to kill us all.”

They were dark words, but Daemon did not doubt their veracity. Aegon the Elder and his brother Aemond would spell destruction for the Seven Kingdoms.

“If he can gather his remaining strength, it would be to support you, but he may not survive the night.” The idea of losing his brother was gutting. In spite of all that had passed between them, Daemon loved his brother. Had he been given the opportunity to become Hand of the King, he would have served his brother faithfully.

“I do not want to lose him,” Rhaenyra said. “When he is gone there will be no peace until our enemies are cut down.”

“Rhaenyra, I swear to you that I will cut down anyone who dares challenge you. Dark Sister will taste the blood of all your enemies.”

Rhaenyra nearly smiled. She kissed Daemon with an aching tenderness, and Daemon pulled her closer, running his fingers through her hair. “I will hold you to that, my love.”

Chapter Text

Queen Rhaenyra was losing the war against the Greens. No matter what her advisors declared, she knew it to be true.

She had been betrayed by the dragonseeds. She was losing her allies left and right. She had not seen her beloved Daemon in weeks. Dedicated as he was to her cause, he was fighting their enemies in the Riverlands.

Mysaria had come to her with a sordid tale of the dragonseed Nettles, claiming that the girl had seduced Daemon and become his lover. Rhaenyra knew better. Daemon had been her loyal husband for years, and no Targaryen bastard would take Rhaenyra’s place in his heart. Still, she had ordered Nettles to prove her loyalty to the Blacks, to find Aemond Targaryen and slay him. It was a death wish, but Rhaenyra would not strike against the girl outright. Not when Daemon had begged for mercy, having developed a fatherly bond with the girl.

When she received news that Nettles had joined forces with Lucerys at Storm’s End, Rhaenyra felt certain that the two dragon riders could outmaneuver Aemond and Vhagar. Instead, she had received her son’s eyes on a bed of seaweed along with news that Nettles had perished in the struggle.

Rhaenyra held Daemon’s scroll in her hand. It bore only a few words. “A son for a son, my love. Lucerys will be avenged.”

With the message in hand, she called upon her guard. She would return to Dragonstone with Aegon and Viserys and await Daemon’s return. She did not doubt that he would kill the Kinslayer. In the years since they had wed, Daemon had never failed her.

***

A son for a son, my love. Lucerys will be avenged.

Daemon Targaryen had challenged Aemond Targaryen, and now there was nothing left to do but wait for him to appear.

Harrenhal was a miserable place. For too long Daemon has been separated from his beloved. He was painfully aware of the fact that this duel with Aemond may end in his death. If this came to pass, at least Rhaenyra would know that he died fighting for her cause.

If he survived, he would bring Rhaenyra Aemond’s head and then he would dispose of Mysaria. He would not allow the unofficial Mistress of Whisperers to go unpunished, even though her deception had proved unsuccessful.

The days passed in agonizing slowness, but on the thirteenth day after Daemon had issued his challenge, Vhagar was spotted approaching the burned fortress of Harrenhal.

Daemon, with Caraxes beside him, watched their approach, his jaw set with grim determination.

Vhagar landed in a field with a great thud. Aemond dismounted. Every movement was show of arrogance and conceit. “If it is not the so called ‘Protector of the Realm’. What good are you if you cannot protect your own sons?” Aemond taunted.

Daemon’s fingers curled around the hilt of Dark Sister. “I did not call you here to trade barbs, Kinslayer. On my honor you will die screaming. Vhagar will be free of you at last.”

“My dragon is loyal to me,” Aemond said. “Your pitiful wyrm is no match to her power.”

“We shall see,” Daemon said, mounting Caraxes.

The dragons took to the skies. Aemond was quick to yell “Dracarys”. Vhagar attacked with a great blast of fire, but Caraxes dodged the attack with his greater agility.

Aemond screamed insults into the wind, but Daemon ignored the slander against his wife and children. It was meant to distract him. The arrogant little popinjay would not outmaneuver him on this day. Daemon urged Caraxes to attack, again and again. Vhagar was too large and ungainly. Aemond was too confident.

At long last, Caraxes struck a hard hitting blow, scratching Vhagar’s eyes with his claws. Daemon leapt from his saddle, Dark Sister in hand. He fell through the air and landed upon Vhagar’s scaly back.

Aemond had chained himself to his mount, no doubt terrified of falling from his mount. The boy was a coward. Chained as he was, he could not evade Daemon’s advance.

“Do it and be named a traitor. I am the King Regent,” Aemond screamed, making a pitiful attempt to delay the inevitable.

“I do not serve a king,” Daemon said. “In the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, I sentence you to death.”

He swung Dark Sister and landed true, the tip of the blade thrusting through Aemond’s remaining eye.

As though sensing the death of her rider, Vhagar returned to the ground.

Daemon removed the head of the Kinslayer, placing it carelessly in a burlap sack. He did not clean Dark Sister. Rhaenyra would see for herself the blood of one of her greatest enemies.

Caraxes trilled his approval as Daemon mounted him. The assemblage of smallfolk gazed up in wonder that the Kinslayer had met his end. Daemon idly wondered what songs would be written of his victory, but that did not matter. All he needed now was to return to his beloved.

***

Another betrayal. Ser Alfred Broome and his men had slaughtered her Queensguard and locked her and her remaining children away in the bowels of Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra knew that her vile half-brother was coming to slaughter her. In a strange way, she almost wished he would act sooner. The civil war had stolen so much from Rhaenyra. It may as well have her life as well.

“Mother,” Aegon said, “Father will return and free us.”

Rhaenyra almost laughed. Her son was meant to be king. He was the very best of her and Daemon, and now that his brothers had died, all they needed to do was slay Alicent’s wretched children. Aegon’s way to the throne would be clear.

This would not come to pass though. Being held prisoner in her own home had drastically altered her prospective on the outcome of the war.

“Keep praying for that, my son,” Rhaenyra said, holding him and Viserys close to her.

She knew the end was near.

Sunfyre and her half-brother appeared three days later. The so-called king looked haggard and weak. Rhaenyra longed for a blade so she could cut him down.

“Leave me with my dear sister,” Aegon II commanded, dismissing his Kingsguard. The knights left after some hesitation.

“Rhaenyra, you have lost. Surrender now and I may spare the lives of my nephews. They should not be made to suffer for the crimes of their mother.”

“You are no king,” Rhaenyra spat. “The Iron Throne belongs to a true dragon.”

Aegon II laughed. “It belongs to me, sister. I can see that your pride is more important to you than the lives of your children. Sunfyre will eat well tonight.”

Sunfyre rumbled his approval.

But before the Aegon II could utter a single command, the roar of another dragon echoed on the walls of the caverns beneath Dragonstone.

Caraxes!

Daemon appeared at the mouth of the cave like an avenging angel. Dark Sister’s hilt gleamed in the torchlight.

Aegon II grinned. “Prince Daemon, I was not expecting you. I thought you were in the Riverlands. Your arrival is fortuitous. You will get to see your wife and sons burn.”

Daemon opened a sack and dumped the contents at Aegon’s feet. “A gift for the false king,” he snarled.

Aegon II paled. “This is treason. You will burn as well.”

Daemon drew his sword. “I am the Protector of the Realm. It is my duty to cut down usurpers in the name of the Queen.”

Aegon II opened his mouth to call for his Kingsguard, knowing well that he would be unable to best Daemon. His cries were silenced as his head fell to the ground beside his brothers. Sunfyre roared only to be silenced by Caraxes.

Daemon turned to Rhaenyra. “I have avenged our family, my Queen. I only hope this is enough to earn your favor.”

Daemon fell to his knees and presented his sword, stained with the blood of the false king and his regent.

Rhaenyra did not hesitate to knock the blade aside. She threw herself into her beloved’s arms, sobbing in earnest. Daemon’s lips met hers in a fierce caress.

“I accept your act of service, my lord husband. You have my forgiveness and my heart.”

Daemon kissed his wife again and welcomed his sons into their shared embrace. At last, Daemon was home again.

***

One month later.

The Greens and all their supporters foolish enough to refuse to bend the knee were slaughtered in turn.

Rhaenyra and Daemon committed the executions themselves, as Lord Stark had urged them to. After all, the Northern lord believed that the one who passed the sentence should swing the sword.

When this grave task was done, Rhaenyra called a council meeting and announced her intent to forfeit her crown. The burden of the war that had nearly destroyed her house was too much to bear. Her son Aegon III would take his place on the Iron Throne when he came of age, with Jaehaera Targaryen as his queen.

A council of regents was assembled. Lords from all the great houses of Westeros were named to rule until Aegon III came of age.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were allowed to return to Dragonstone. It would no longer serve as the seat of the heir to the throne. Had some of the lords not protested, they would have remained on Aegon III’s council, but many of the lords believed the former Queen should not be rewarded with such an honor. Aegon III agreed to make peace in war-torn Westeros.

In truth, Rhaenyra and Daemon were glad to return. Viserys elected to stay in King’s Landing with his brother. One day, he would serve as Hand of the King.

The family said their goodbyes on a cloudy day following the declaration that Aegon III would one day sit the iron throne.

“My son, do not hesitate to write. Your father and I may no longer be welcome in King’s Landing, but you will always have our support.”

Aegon embraced his mother and father. “Live in peace and joy, Mother, Father. No one is more deserving of such things.”

“You will be a magnificent king, my son,” Daemon said. “And a king is in need of a Valyrian steel blade.” Daemon removed his scabbard and presented Dark Sister to his beloved son. “Use it well.”

After one final embrace, Daemon and Rhaenyra mounted Caraxes and returned to Dragonstone, leaving the horrors of the past years behind them.

***

“My love,” Daemon said, one early morning three months after their removal to Dragonstone. “I discovered a clutch of eggs. Syrax left you one last gift.” Daemon presented a trio of eggs, one gold, one silver, and one amethyst.

Rhaenyra felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Rhaenyra had felt certain that she would never mount a dragon of her own again. While she loved Caraxes, riding him was not the same.

“Thank you, my love, but I hardly need three dragons.”

Daemon smiled. “Perhaps not, but you have not bled since we returned to Dragonstone. I believe the gods have chosen to bless us once more.”

Rhaenyra’s hand moved to her abdomen. She had simply believed it was the stress of the last three months. True, she had been happy in a sense, but she longed for the company of her children. “How can you be certain?”

Daemon took her in his arms. “Because I know without a shadow of a doubt that you deserve to be a mother again. We have lost much since the war began, but the gods allowed us to survive. And I believe there is another little dragon in your womb, perhaps two.” Daemon knelt down to kiss the swell of his wife’s belly.

His words were proven correct six months later.

In the middle of a stormy night, two healthy girls were delivered. They were named Visenya and Rhaenys.

Rhaenyra may have surrendered her claim to the Iron Throne, but the House of The Dragon’s legacy would continue through her beloved sons and daughters.

The proud parents held their new children close to their hearts, filled with hope for a brighter future.

Chapter Text

Rhaena Velaryon watched in awe as her father and aunt bound their blood in the ancient Valyrian rite. She had never seen her father so happy, and it made her weep for the memory of her mother. Laena Velaryon had always defended her husband.

He’s doing his best, her mother had told her only days before she died.

Now her father would have more children who had dragons. Rhaena did not want to believe that he would continue to ignore her, but she couldn’t help but imagine her future with her new family, always on the outside, without a dragon.

Her first night at Dragonstone in her new chambers was troubling. Baela was already sound asleep.

Rhaena clutched her unhatched egg to her chest before placing it back in the warmer. It was her only chance to have a closer relationship with her father.

Daemon had never been unkind to her, but he did not dote on her as he did Baela. They did not share the special bond between dragon riders.

She avoided her siblings, both old and new, during her first few days at Dragonstone. They played with their dragons. The only one she could bear to be around was the baby Joffrey. His egg had not hatched either… yet. Even if it did, it would be years before her youngest new brother was old enough to ride.

Rhaena was rocking Joffrey’s cradle, singing to him about the sea, when Rhaenyra entered the nursery.

“Rhaena? Have you been hiding away in the nursery all this time?”

Rhaena felt heat rise in her cheeks. Rhaena never had a relationship with the woman who was now her step-mother. She didn’t even have any stories, for whenever she was mentioned, her father retreated to the library, a pained expression on his face. Rhaena had never asked her mother about her aunt either, afraid to bring up the subject that she guessed caused some strife in her parents’ marriage.

Rhaena was surprised when Rhaenyra sat next to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you unhappy at Dragonstone? Would you prefer to go to Driftmark?”

Rhaena shook her head. Driftmark would be worse. Her mother had longed to raise her children at her ancestral home, but they had remained in Pentos to please her father.

“What can I do to make your life happier? I know what it is to lose a mother. That grief will not be easily banished, but even in the face of great loss, there is joy to be found.”

“Like you and Father?” Rhaena asked. She flinched because it sounded like an accusation. She hadn’t meant it that way.

“We have found happiness, my dear, but do not imagine that your father is trying to replace your mother. I do not see it that way either. Your mother was an incredible woman, brave, strong, and lovely.”

“Father didn’t love her, not truly.” Again, it came as an accusation. “They loved each other as siblings do, I think. But I never saw them look at each other as you and Father did on your wedding day.”

Rhaena couldn’t believe she was saying so much. But Rhaenyra was happy to listen. She asked Rhaena the occasional question to encourage Rhaena to continue voicing her thoughts. Once in a while, she would stroke her hair. Rhaena leaned against Rhaenyra, glad to feel a mother’s love once more. Rhaenyra would never replace her mother, but perhaps they could build a bond that was nearly as strong. Still, there was one last nagging concern in the corner of her mind.

“My father wishes I had a dragon. I fear I am a disappointment to him.”

“Rhaena, that is not true. Your father loves you, whether you have a dragon or not.”

Her mother had told her much the same. Perhaps if they both believed it, then it was true.

“What if I never have a dragon? Aemon stole Vhagar from me. I ought to have claimed her.”

Suddenly Rhaenyra’s arms were around her. “One day, you will be a dragon rider as fierce and beautiful as your mother. And if not, your father and I will help you forge your own path. You have the blood of old Valyria, and I am proud to have you as a daughter.”

Rhaena hugged her back.

There was a knock on the door. Rhaenyra called for the visitor to enter. Daemon entered, appearing a little surprised to see them both in the nursery. But the surprise was quickly replaced with a smile. “Rhaena, sweetling, I thought you had stowed away on a boat to Driftmark, or worse to Pentos.”

“She was doting on her brother, my love,” Rhaenyra said with a smile. “Joffrey is very fortunate to have her.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Daemon looked down at the baby. “Nothing will happen to you while you are with your sister, little one.”

Daemon kissed Rhaena’s forehead. Rhaena was taken aback, but pleased by the gesture. Seeing the way her father was smiling at her made her believe that she could be happy in her new home with her new family.

Chapter Text

Daemon Targaryen returns to Dragonstone with victory in his heart. He has avenged the death of Lucerys.

Prince Aemond is dead, chained to Vhagar at the bottom of a lake.

His vow fulfilled.

A son for a son. Lucerys will be avenged.
Something is terribly wrong as he enters the keep. Servants lay slain on the stone floor. The heads of the remainder of the Black Council are on pikes.

Rhaenyra.
He thinks only of his wife. His feet bring him to the queen's chambers.

She is on the bed, her sheer white nightgown drenched with blood.

Her violet eyes closed forever.

A guttural moan escapes him. Daemon sinks to his knees and takes her cold lifeless hand in his.

Gone.
It is then that he sees the Valyrian steel dagger, the prized possession of his brother.

There is a note as well.

You took your vengeance against my kin. Now I take my vengeance against yours. I leave you this last curtesy, stained with the blood of your wife and children.
It is signed by the Usurper.

Daemon looks to his beloved. He kisses her forehead and then her lips, tasting her blood, his blood in truth.

He sings to her corpse in High Valyrian.

After the last note, he plunges the dagger through his heart.

If the gods are kind, he will see his wife and children again soon, but Daemon knows the gods have never been kind.

Chapter Text

It was getting harder and harder to stay in King’s Landing. Daemon Targaryen had always been restless. Between this and his brother’s penchant to shunt him away, it was easier to travel the world.

He never went to Runestone, where his bronze bitch resided. Instead, he took Caraxes to Pentos, Braavos, Volantis, and Myr. If he wished to remain closer to home, he travelled North, or to Dorne, or Highgarden. As brother of the King, he was welcome anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms.

Every time Daemon returned home, he had a gift for Rhaenyra. An apology really, to soften the blow of his next departure, which inevitably happened in the middle of the night, so he would not have to face her disappointment. In some ways, he was a coward.

When Rhaenyra was named heir, he thought more seriously of seducing her. Through Rhaenyra, Daemon would finally have a place of honor in court. These idle thoughts of seduction soon turned to fantasies. He would awaken in the middle of the night hard and longing for Rhaenyra.

She grew more beautiful with every passing moon, increasing his temptation, and forcing him to leave again. If he seduced her, it would be gratifying in the short term, but it was possible that Rhaenyra may grow to resent him. That unbearable prospect was enough to keep his desires in check.

Rhaenyra was the only person, apart from Viserys, whom Daemon truly loved. He would not ruin that.

The trouble in the Stepstones changed everything. As Daemon lay injured and bleeding, he knew he would not survive. He closed his eyes and winced in agony. An image of Rhaenyra came to his mind. She was beautiful and glowing, smiling at him as he delighted her with tales of his exploits and travels.

He would do anything to see that beloved face one more time.

With renewed vigor, Daemon triumphed over the blasted Crabfeeder.

They crowned him King of the Narrow Sea.

Daemon mounted Caraxes and they made their way back to King’s Landing after years away.

***

Rhaenyra’s eyes followed Daemon’s progress through the throne room. She had missed him with a fervor she did not understand.

When she was younger, and he would leave, she would miss him as a child misses a parent, but other pursuits would fill the void of his absence.

Now Rhaenyra was a woman grown, though her father refused to believe it. Daemon’s absence from her life was akin to a gaping wound. Now that he had returned, she felt whole again for the first time in years.

She only hoped Daemon would not make an ass of himself today and get himself sent away yet again.

But Daemon was always surprising her. He surrendered his crown to her father. Her father embraced Daemon and the assemblage applauded.

Later that day, Rhaenyra sat under the ancient weirwood tree, enjoying the warm breeze as it caressed her cheeks. She idly wondered how it would feel to have Daemon touch her in such a way.

She was startled out of her reverie by Daemon’s greeting in High Valyrian. “Good morrow, Princess.”

Rhaenyra looked up at her uncle. He rarely wore his hair cropped, but it suited him. “Hello, Uncle. What is it that you want?”

In truth, she still hasn’t forgiven him for leaving her again, for going to the Stepstones and putting his life at risk.

“The comforts of home. I brought you something, my little dragon.”

Rhaenyra could not resist one of Daemon’s gifts. He always brought her the most remarkable things. His last gift was the treasured Valyrian steel pendant. She had worn it every day since he had first placed it around her neck.

Daemon grinned as she rose to her feet. He removed a small pouch from his pocket.

“Hold out your hand,” he said.

Rhaenyra did as he asked.

Daemon withdrew a Valyrian steel bracelet, set with rubies. Carved into band were Valyrian glyphs: fire and blood. Daemon placed it on her wrist, then drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. The courtly gesture took her by surprise, but it also set her skin on fire.

She had been kissed in such a way before, but never had it elicited such a reaction.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. It is beautiful. Thank you. Tell me about the battles in the Stepstones.”

Daemon did as she asked, and they spent the afternoon curled together under the weirwood tree as he spun tales of his victory against the Triarchy.

When the light began to fade, Rhaenyra was struck with the notion that this time with Daemon would not last. Her heart ached in her chest at the thought of him going away again.

Daemon seemed to sense the abrupt shift in her mood. And just as she imagined earlier, his hand, calloused from war, caressed her cheek. “Rhaenyra, tell me what is wrong.”

“Our time together will not last. Why do you always leave?”

Silence followed the question, and yet Daemon did not remove his hand. He looked down at her, his eyes somewhat guarded. “I leave because I must.”

“What does that mean. Father has not sent you away again, has he? I will speak to him myself.”

Daemon laughed, the deep timbre of his voice sent a tingle down her spine. His hand had moved to her neck, his thumb caressing the soft flesh.

“Do you wish to know the truth? You may not like the answer.”

“Tell me,” Rhaenyra said without hesitation.

“I leave because of you, Rhaenyra. I cannot spend days on end with you without going mad with want. You are with me every moment. I cannot banish you from my heart, but I can protect you by leaving.”

“What if I want you as well?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice trembling.

“You are a child. What you want may change.”

“I am not a child,” Rhaenyra said. “I want you, Daemon. I do not care that you already have a wife. I do not care that my father will not approve.”

Then Rhaenyra’s hands moved, pulling Daemon to her. She pressed her lips against his. He tasted of sulfur and ash, of dragon. It was intoxicating. Moreso when he gave into her wordless demand and kissed her back.

She could feel the bark of the weirwood tree through the thin cloth of her gown. One hand roamed to cup her breast. He devoured her and marked her as his. When they were forced to pull apart, he only moved enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against hers.

“You will not leave me again, Daemon. As your future queen, I command it.”

Daemon smiled down at her. “As you wish, Princess.”

Chapter Text

It was too much. The idea had been to take Rhaenyra out to the city, to show her a taste of freedom, and even to aggravate his brother.

Kissing her in the brothel had not been planned, well not exactly. Perhaps he was hoping to compromise her. She had told him of her frustrations she felt as lord after lord offered themselves to her. Only a true dragon could be worthy of Rhaenyra. And Daemon himself, was a dragon.

Still, he had not planned to force his brother’s hand.

But then she was in his arms, not only welcoming his advances but responding to them with maidenly enthusiasm. And when she had taken control, he lost himself entirely. The realization that this was more than a game crashed against him, bringing him to his knees.

He ran. It was craven of him, he knew. Rhaenyra called out for him as he left the brothel, her appearance unkempt.

He went to the dragon pit first. The dragon masters were stunned to see him, but escorted him to Caraxes. Daemon caressed the scales of his beloved dragon. Caraxes rumbled his approval. Once he finally felt master of himself again, Daemon straightened his spine. He was a Targaryen Prince. He would not be cowed by lust.

As he walked past the golden Syrax, she snapped at him. Daemon raised a brow. Dragons often mirrored the feelings of their riders, and Syrax and Rhaenyra shared an unusually close bond.

Foolhardy though it was, Daemon approached Rhannyra’s dragon. She growled at him, her eyes glinting. Daemon pressed a hand against her snout, and whispered soothing words in High Valyrian. He wasn’t a fool. He knew it was cruel to abandon his niece, alone and unprotected.

He would have to sneak into her chambers and beg her forgiveness. But first, he needed to fortify himself with at least a bottle of Arbor Gold, otherwise he might do something foolish like beg her to take him as her Prince Consort.

Syrax nudged his hand and made a strange sound of contentment, as though she could sense his thoughts. Perhaps she could. Perhaps this was her way of announcing her approval. Foolishly, Daemon brushed a kiss on one of Syrax’s beautiful scales.

***

Rhaenyra was disappointed to learn that Ser Criston Cole was a poor substitute for her uncle. She had taken her pleasure from her loyal Kingsguard, but though he was handsome, he did not ignite the fire in her as Daemon did. Rhaenyra sent Ser Criston away, pulled on a nightgown and tried to find sleep. Images of Daemon haunted her. She could not forget the feel of his body against hers, the sensation of their lips pressing together. After two hours of torrid images flashing in her mind, Rhaenyra left her bed.

Ser Arryk Cargyll was at his post. “Princess, is something the matter?”

“I wish to stroll in the garden. You will accompany me.”

“Yes, Princess.”

***

Daemon stumbled up the stairs of the Red Keep, and then slipped into the secret passage way that would lead him to Rhaenyra’s chambers.

His belly was full of Arbor Gold, and his thoughts were only for taking Rhaenyra in his arms and kissing her senseless, and perhaps taking her maidenhead if she would allow him the honor.

When he opened the door to her chambers, he found them empty. The covers on the bed were thrown back, and an unfamiliar scent hung in the air. Sex and musk and something that was most definitely not Rhaenyra.

Daemon’s insides tightened. Had Rhaenyra brought a whore with her to the Red Keep. Or perhaps that Ser Criston had finally been rewarded for his moon eyes and slavish devotion. If that was the case, Daemon would happily kill the man for taking what belonged to him.

Without much thought, Daemon stripped off his clothing. He would wait for Rhaenyra to return, and then he would fuck her until she agreed to be his.

***

The sky was beginning to lighten as Ser Arryk escorted Rhaenyra back to her rooms and resumed his post.

Rhaenyra crossed the room to her bed only to find it occupied. Daemon was sprawled across the bed, dozing. More alarming, he was naked. Rhaenyra drew in a sharp breath at the sight of him. His body was perfectly formed. His skin was pale and littered with battle scars. Rhaenyra suddenly felt hot. She laid her hand on his shoulder and shook him. He blearily opened his eyes. “Princess, you have returned at last,” he said in High Valyrian, his voice rough with sleep and drink.

“Is there a reason you are naked in my bed, Uncle?”

“Daemon,” Daemon said, somewhat irritably. “I want to hear you screaming my name in pleasure. I should not have left you in the brothel.”

The thought of making love to Daemon sent a thrill of excitement through her, but he had abandoned her. He had left her to seek her own pleasures. Still, her encounter with Ser Criston had left her wanting.

Daemon, however, would need to be punished.

Rhaenyra settled herself between Daemon’s legs. She couldn’t ignore the way he responded to this maneuver, but she would not give him the satisfaction. “Why did you leave me?” she demanded, raking her nails against his bare chest.

He groaned and tried to wrap his arms around her.

She swatted his hands away. “Give me an answer, Daemon. Was is just a game for you. Did you mean to leave me wanting and burning for you. Did you mean to send me into the arms of Criston Cole? I thought you wanted me for yourself. Has that no been your purpose, to seduce me, and force my father to allow you to take me to wife?”

“Rhaenyra,” Daemon groaned. “Please. Forgive me.”

Rhaenyra glared at him and pressed her hips against his, teasing him with her nearness only to pull away when he tried to grab her. She was in control, and she would not yield her advantage.

“What do you want?” She demanded.

“You,” Daemon said, collecting himself and crushing her in his arms. He kissed her with a wild fervor, claiming every inch of her mouth. She moaned and it only increased his ardor. He tried to roll them so that he was on top, in a position of power.

Rhaenyra held firm and pinned him beneath her, nipping his lips with her teeth. “What use do I have for a man who abandons me? You will need to prove your loyalty to me, Daemon.”

“Anything,” Daemon said, trying to kiss her again.

But she denied him once more. She rolled away from him, panting from the electricity of the moment. “Worship me, Daemon.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

Rhaenyra was not disappointed as Daemon parted her thighs and began to lave the soft flesh with kisses and nips. One hand cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple with deft fingers. A jolt of sensation went straight to her core.

The other hand explored her most sensitive parts, stroking and caressing the tender flesh. She felt her excitement building, her insides coiling tighter and tighter. She yearned for a release, the release that her Kingsguard had been unable to give her.

Rhaenyra lifted her hips, pressing herself against his hand. His mouth replaced his fingers as he sucked her sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, nipping with his teeth and soothing with his tongue. It set her on fire. She cried his name, but Daemon’s other hand covered her mouth.

“Shhhh, princess, you will get us caught.”

“I thought you wanted to hear me screaming your name,” she challenged.

“I want this more,” he said, returning his attentions to her body.

Finally, she reached her pinnacle, her pleasure cresting as she tumbled over the edge. Her body convulsed against the feather mattress and her fingers curled into the sheets.

Daemon kissed his way up her body until he was looking down at her, poised to make her his.

“Take me. Erase the memories of your abandonment,” Rhaenyra commanded.

And within moments, she was screaming his name in earnest as he claimed her.

She did not even care when Ser Arryk Cargyll threw open the door to find them tangled together beneath the blankets several hours later. Her father would be furious, but she and Daemon would have to wed. It was what she wanted, to be his, and to possess him in turn.

Daemon smiled wickedly at her. “Have I proven my loyalty to you yet?”

Rhaenyra smirked. “Yes, but by all means, prove it again.”

Chapter Text

Daemon learned the news from Ser Erryk Cargyll. The knight came to him as he trained with Dark Sister. He was still so angry at Rhaenyra for putting so much stock in his brother’s foolish dreams, for her inaction.

She had hurt him, by reveling in the knowledge that his brother had never considered Daemon an heir, only as a place holder. Daemon had hurt Rhaenyra. Though neither blow had left visible marks. That was the trouble with loving someone as fiercely as he loved Rhaenyra. He knew best how to hurt her. And she knew best hurt to hurt him.

They were both dragons. They did not fight with honor.

When Ser Erryk delivered the news of young Prince Lucerys’s death, Daemon forgot his anger. He felt tears begin to fall. He had cried more in the past two days than he had in the whole of his life.

Lucerys was good. He represented the best parts of Rhaenyra mixed with the qualities of an honorable young princeling. He had been sent to the Baratheons as a messenger, and Aemond had slaughtered the boy in cold blood.

There was no body.

This would break Rhaenyra’s heart, and she had already suffered so much.

“My prince, what would you have me do?” Ser Erryk asked.

“Continue patrolling the island. I will tell the queen myself.”

***

Daemon entered the Black Council chamber. The assembled lords inclined their heads in his direction.

Rhaenyra stood at the head of the painted table. Her eyes met his. There was forgiveness in their depths.

Daemon approached her, gently taking her hand. He does not address her as a queen but as his wife. He drew her toward the fire. “Lucerys has been slain, devoured by Vhagar at Storm’s End.”

Rhaenyra did not answer. Her body shook with guttural sobs. Daemon released her hand, giving her space to grieve, yet not leaving her side. They have been divided for too long, though in truth it was only two days that had changed the trajectory of their entire lives.

Now the first strike of war had been dealt.

Rhaenyra aggressively wiped the tears away. Her eyes met his, and he saw the fire in them, blazing with righteous fury. They were united once more, and together they would destroy the Greens.

Chapter Text

The mood of the evening was celebratory, but Rhaenyra could not feel any joy. She had not chosen to marry Laenor Velaryon. She cared not for his proclivities. He was a good and honorable man and would make a fine husband, but the idea of spending her life with him bored her senseless.

Even as he sat beside her at the long feast table telling her of his time in the Stepstones and his flights with Seasmoke, she found herself holding back a yawn.

The doors of the grand hall opened, and Daemon sauntered in. Her father’s Kingsguard drew their swords, but Viserys said, “Bring another chair. It is a joyous occasion. Family should be together on a night such as this.” Her raised his goblet in a salute to the Velaryons, and smiled slightly at his brother.

Rhaenyra felt Daemon’s eyes on her. She did not, however, meet his gaze. He had left her in the pleasure house alone and wanting. She still had not forgiven him for it. An idea entered her mind. “Laenor, would you care to put on a show this evening?”

Laenor looked taken aback. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Princess,” he said, his voice low.

Rhaenyra explained her plan and watched the corners of Laenor’s mouth turn up. “It is nothing that he does not deserve, Princess. I shall be happy to assist you. And Joffrey, I am sure, will help as well.”

“Excellent,” Rhaenyra said, and then she kissed Laenor chastely on the mouth.

Some of the guests have indulgent shouts of approval. It was a wedding celebration after all.

Rhaenyra looked in Daemon’s direction, taking Laenor’s hand as she did.

Daemon was gripping the table, his knuckles turning white. His other hand fidgeted with his knife. Rhaenyra grinned. Perhaps the evening would not be so dull after all.

***

Rhaenyra Targaryen would be the death of him. That is if he did not throttle her first. He watched her as she moved her way through the set of dances. The Velaryon pup took ever opportunity to caress Rhaenyra. He took her hand, kissed her cheek, brushed his hands lower than proper as they danced.

Rhaenyra’s coquettish laughter rang above the music. Perhaps the rumors were wrong. Laenor may not be a pillow biter after all.

The boy’s companion, Joffrey, was it, danced with Rhaenyra next.

Daemon rose from his seat and prowled the periphery of the dance floor, listening intently for snatches of Rhaenyra’s conversation. “You are truly the most beautiful woman in the realm. If I had any skill in combat, I might be tempted to challenge Ser Laenor for your hand, Princess.”

“Ser Joffrey, you flatter me. I am sure my future husband would not mind if I favored you with a kiss.” And then she brushed her lips across the young man’s cheek.

Daemon’s fingers curled into a fist. What in the seven hells was Rhaenyra playing at?

Daemon moved his way through the dancers until he was face to face with Rhaenyra. “Uncle, I did not expect your company,” Rhaenyra said, her violet eyes gleaming with mischief.

“It is my turn to dance with the princess,” Daemon told the knight.

Joffrey bowed. “Of course, my prince.”

“That was rude,” Rhaenyra commented as she continued the movements of the dance.

Daemon lifted her up as the dance demanded, but he did not remove his hands from her body once he set her back down. “Is this what you want?” Daemon asked her in High Valyrian.

“I was not under the impression that what I want mattered to you, Uncle. You made that quite clear before you returned to the Vale.”

“I did not leave by choice,” Daemon argued, taking her hand and drawing her away from the dancers. He led her to a curtained alcove, impatiently shoving her inside. She did not appear displeased by his forcefulness. Rather, she seemed amused by it.

“So my father was in the brothel that night? How strange. I do not recall seeing him.”

Daemon took her face in his hands, wanting to silence her impudent mouth. Instead, he took a slightly more rational approach. “Laenor Velaryon does not deserve you. He is not a true dragon. He will bore you senseless.”

Rhaenyra, much to his surprise, laughed and spoke in the common tongue. “Are you jealous?”

When he did not answer, Rhaenyra pulled away from him. “It is my wedding day, Uncle. I must return to my future husband.”

Daemon scowled as she retreated.

Very well, he thought. Two could play at this game.

Laena Velaryon was younger than Rhaenyra and not nearly as beautiful, but she would suit his purpose well enough.

Daemon approached her. “My lady, your beauty has cast a spell upon me. Will you honor me with a dance?”

One of Laena’s delicate brows rose as she took in his appearance. After a moment, she said, “I would be honored, my prince.”

Daemon kissed her hand before drawing her to his side and escorting her to the line of dancers. Rhaenyra was sharing the set with Ser Harwin Strong. She caught his gaze over the man’s shoulder and Daemon only smirked as he said loud enough for Rhaenyra to hear. “Lady Laena, your beauty rivals that of our Princess. I wonder if sailors who venture near Driftmark crash upon the rocks, drawn in by your siren’s spell.”

Laena blushed furiously. Out of the corner of his eye, Daemon saw Rhaenyra frown.

“My prince, you flatter me. I am nothing to our future queen, but you must come to Driftmark to see its beauties for yourself. My father would be honored to host a prince of the realm, I am sure.”

“Were I to visit your home, my lady, we would be shortly forced to wed. I have never claimed to be a saint.”

Laena blushed again, but did not seem displeased. Then Daemon did the unthinkable. He kissed her lips, and lingered ever so slightly.

There were several murmurs and gasps from those around him. Laena averted her gaze, embarrassed. “I must return to my lady mother,” Laena said, her voice timid. “I thank you for the dance, my prince.”

Laena hurried away to where her Princess Rhaenys stood with a group of ladies. Daemon supposed he was fortunate that Corlys had apparently missed Daemon’s improper advances. But they had served their purpose.

Rhaenyra was glowering at him and Daemon only bowed slightly in her direction before leaving the hall.

***

Rhaenyra was going to strangle Daemon for upstaging her at her own wedding party. The ladies were whispering behind their hands and tittering. Corlys Velaryon was conferring with her father, as Daemon had apparently vanished into thin air.

But Rhaenyra knew Daemon better than her father. And so she left her own wedding feast, demanding that Ser Erryk Cargyll accompany her to the dragon pit.

“Princess, your father will be angry,” Ser Erryk protested.

“He will be angrier yet if some harm befalls me. I am going to the dragon pit. You swore to protect my father and his family.”

To his credit, Ser Erryk knew when he was fighting a losing battle. “As you wish, Princess.”

When they reached the dragon pit they were greeted by two surprised dragon keepers. “Princess, Syrax is asleep.”

“That is no trouble. I will awaken her myself,” Rhaenyra said. She turned to Ser Erryk. “Stay with the dragon keepers. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

Just as Rhaenyra expected, Daemon sat, leaning against Caraxes. His eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

“Ah, Princess, I did not imagine you would grace me with your presence. Surely you will be missed back at the Red Keep. The Velaryons would not thank you for abandoning their son, your beloved future husband.”

“And what of your offenses Daemon?” Rhaenyra demanded, closing the distance between them and ignoring Caraxes when he growled.

“You kissed the Lady Laena in the middle of my wedding feast. Everyone is talking about it. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys are demanding punishment for your offense.”

“The Sea Snake and Princess Rhaenys can hang,” Daemon said, his tone casual.

“And what of your offenses against me, Daemon?” Rhaenyra demanded.

“You started it, Princess,” Daemon said with a smirk. “If I did not know any better I would think you were jealous.”

Rhaenyra was tempted to strike him. “You are the most infuriating man in the realm,” she cried. Her voice awakened Syrax, who slept in the stall beside Caraxes.

“Why did you come, Princess?” Daemon asked, “If I am so infuriating?”

Rhaenyra scowled at him, eyes blazing. Why had she come? She was to wed another man this very evening. Daemon would never be hers. And yet… she wanted him.

“Well?” Daemon asked.

And without thinking, Rhaenyra seized his doublet and pulled him to her, kissing his impudent, infuriating mouth and finally silencing him.

It was better than their kisses in the brothel. He kissed he back with an unrestrained fervor and she pressed herself against his lean, muscular body, forcing him to stumble back against the stone wall of the dragon pit.

His hands caressed her curves, one cupping her breast, the other splayed across her bottom. He soon began peppering her neck with kisses. Rhaenyra moaned with satisfaction and pressed her hips against his, reveling in the thrill of sensation when she felt him, hard against her thigh.

Rhaenyra started ripping at his clothing, forcing it aside and baring his neck and shoulders to her greedy eyes. He was beautiful, and she wanted him with a passion she did not understand.

Deft fingers undid the laces of her gown until she was equally bare. A thumb tweaked her nipple and she moaned again, encouraging Daemon’s attentions.

“Beautiful,” Daemon said in High Valyrian as he began to worship her breasts with his deft fingers and lips.

Rhaenyra sank to her knees, pressing them against the scratchy straw that covered the stone floor. Daemon clung to her, continuing his efforts. One hand wandered to the juncture between her thighs and he began to stroke her. She keened with pleasure and Daemon stifled the sounds of her rapture with kisses.

Before too long, she was writing beneath him, her bare back pressing into the cold floor. Caraxes, sensing his rider’s pleasure, had moved away, curling himself into the corner.

“Take me as your wife, Daemon,” Rhaenyra demanded. “Your marriage was recently dissolved. I see no need to take a Velaryon husband.”

Daemon looked down at her, his attentions ceasing and leaving her dreadfully frustrated.

“You are not serious,” Daemon said.

“I want to be yours. Damn my father and anyone else who would oppose the match. I will be the queen one day, and you will be my consort. Now, obey your queen, and make me yours.”

“As my queen commands,” Daemon said, settling himself between her thighs. With one powerful thrust, he was buried inside her to the hilt. She cried out his name and their dragons roared their satisfaction.

Soon, she was drowning in a sea of sensation as Daemon moved within her. Her pleasure was building, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips as she rode the wave of her climax. Daemon tumbled over the edge soon after, spurting his release deep inside her. If the gods favored them, she would soon be carrying a little prince or princess.

Daemon kissed her soundly. “I want to wed you in the tradition of our house,” he said. “Your father denied my request.”

“Then let us go to Dragonstone. Maester Gerardys will happily oblige.”

Rhaenyra pulled her dress on again and helped Daemon with his clothing, which had been tossed carelessly away.

They called for the dragon keepers to saddle Syrax and Caraxes.

Later, the Rogue Prince and the Realm’s Delight flew off into the night, their hearts joined, and reveled in their glorious escape.