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Rhaenyra still found it a little surreal to know exactly where Daemon was and to be able to simply seek him out whenever she pleased.
She had been up with Joffrey for hours the night before and even though she had yet to find sleep, she was very much awake. The sun hadn’t even risen when she had opened the secret door hidden within a carving of the conquerors’ dragons and found his bed empty and unmade, His boots were still by the door and Darksister was upon her place on the mantle. Even with these simple clues, she hadn’t even needed to think about where he was. She knew.
She was so confident that she knew that she was descending a hidden staircase, dressed solely in her dressing gown and nightdress. The only light in the pitch-black tunnel was the torch in her hand. Just as she feared that she had taken a wrong turn, she came upon the door she was looking for.
The door had a carving of Balerion, resting in a cave with the words ‘ Se caves hen thermal iēdar ’ carved above his head. It wasn’t usual, as ornate carvings and tapestries of Balerion were everywhere on Dragonstone. Of course, there were many pieces showing varieties of the Black Dread. Some were of him in his prime during the conquest, others when he was older and more rugged. One even showed her father with the Black dread in his final days, lounging on the dunes that hung in the library. That one was one of her favorites, she would admit.
It was only in the tunnels that there were depictions of him when he was young. It appeared that someone had carved them by hand, with scuffed edges and some even incomplete. His horns were short and his teeth were all neatly tucked into his mouth, not a battle scar in sight. Rhaenyra liked to think that these carvings were done by Daenys when she was young, exploring Dragonstone for the first time, discovering its secrets, and making this spooky old castle her home.
She stared at the Black Dread in the wall for a moment. She breathed in the faint smell of sulfur and spices. She tucked her torch into a sconce and only then did she descend the final few stairs, a hand on the wall for support. The last few stairs in the tunnel were to be damp, and the moisture made the smooth stone even more slick, so she couldn’t be too careful. It didn’t help that she hadn’t thought to put on slippers of any kind.
The door wasn’t particularly heavy, but it was an old door and most likely had not been opened since her Grandfather Baelon was in residence, and that had been decades ago. She had to press hard until she felt the stone shift and the door begin to move. The hinge squealed, and she cringed but kept pushing until there was a sudden relief from the pressure. Salt-heavy steam flooded through the crack and filled the landing. Now that the seal was broken, the door was much easier to open, and she quickly made a space big enough for her to slip through. She was met with the inside of the huge stone dragon skull that decorated the wall farthest from the door.
In her personal opinion, the baths were one of the most beautiful rooms of the castle. It had originally been a hot spring cave and it had been left mostly untouched by the builder, the walls rough volcanic stone, with windows carved the jill outside, currently covered by wooden shutters. There were tall stone columns each with a dragon curled around it, oil lamps hanging from their mouths. The bath itself was a large five-and-a-half-foot deep pool in the center of the room that took up almost all of the floor space and touched the wall that housed the bubbling spring which sat in its own stone brick-framed niche. Trays with folded towels and sweet-smelling body oils and soaps were placed around the edge
There were candles and spiced oil dishes scattered around the floor and shoved into seemingly every nook and cranny in the wall, that would fill the room in a warm orange light. Only a couple of the dozens were lit this morning, giving off a dim cozy glow just enough light to see the bath's singular occupant.
Daemon was submerged in the water up to his neck, his head resting on what looked to be his own folded sleepshirt. His eyes were closed, and he looked as if he was asleep, giving no indication that he heard her at all. The room was quiet, save for the sounds of water trickling down the wall and crackling candle wicks. Carefully avoiding the razor-sharp Dragonglass teeth of the wall-mounted skull, she walked towards him as quietly as she could.
“ Good Morning ” Valyrian echoed throughout the room, though Daemon’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Rhaenyra startled, an involuntary squeak escaping her mouth. Daemon stayed exactly the way he was, except for a small smile that crept onto his face. He opened his eyes slowly and looked over at her. Despite the fact that she was a grown woman in her own castle and he was her guest, she felt like a child caught somewhere forbidden.
“ I didn’t mean to scare you, but in my defense, you scared me first,” Daemon spoke with no urgency, voice gruff from sleep. It very well could be the first thing he has said all morning. He made no move to cover himself and simply looked at her. Almost as if he was challenging her to something. Challenge her to what she did not know.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were asleep.” She said in Common quickly, the out-of-place feeling growing. She was out of practice speaking in Valyrian, as she had no one to speak with other than the dragon keepers and even then they didn't speak with much detail. Not that she had lost her ability to do so, it was just a little awkward.
There was also a touch of awkwardness from the fact that they had interacted very little as of late. They had been dancing around each other for the last three months, without even meaning to. Kept busy with funerals and then with their children. Once one issue had settled, another rose in its place.
In the weeks after their father’s death, her boys had been in various states of emotion, which was to be expected.
Luke, who had always been quite a sensitive and anxious little lad, became even more so in these last months, taking to following her wherever she went. He barely spoke but stayed his polite little self, so there was very little she could say to send him away. Even in important meetings, he would sit in the corner with a book and quietly read to himself without so much as a peep. It was only in recent days that he had started to sleep in his own bed, so she hoped that he was coming out of the worst of it.
Jace, on the other hand, had been angry. He had taken to picking fights with whatever moved, whether it be his brothers, Luke or the baby, his Septon or anyone else foolish enough to cross his path. He was destructive and would spend hours in the yards “practicing” with his wooden sword, but in reality, all he seemed to do was hit the Straw busts with his sword with little finance or skill. Just doing damage until he was hungry or grew bored with it.
He had recently taken to spending most of his day with Vermax in the growing beast’s den, and it seemed to soothe out some of his tension. Vermax was a bit more level-headed than his rider at the moment and was becoming quite the trickster, cracking down on Jace’s stoney facade, according to the Dragonkeepers.
The twins had also been out of sorts. They had stayed with their grandmother after the funeral and only recently returned to Dragonstone. The loss of their mother weighed heavily on them, It was easy to see. Rhaena was a ghost, enjoying her own company and running from other people like a mouse from the light. Baela would flip between combative and teary-eyed at a moment's notice, itching for a fight with her Father at all hours of the day. Shouting at him until she cried and hid away in her room. Thankfully, she had begun to join Jace in spreading time with their dragons, and that seemed to have calmed both of them down.
On top of it all, the littlest of the pack, Joffrey, had entered that age of restlessness that many babies go through, on top of which he had come down with something in the last week. Maester Gerardys wasn’t worried as the boy had had nothing more than a runny nose and a slight fever but He refused to settle unless he was being held by his mother. Simply no one else would do. Which meant that Rhaenyra had not been able to have any form of personal space for the last four days.
“I wasn’t asleep,” Daemon answered simply. She almost smiled at the way he kept pace with her, even in little ways. Pentos and, more importantly, Laena had done him well. He was still very much himself of course but instead of the wildfire he had always been, bouncing between people and places and caring little for what he left in his wake, He had mellowed into a bonfire. Still wild, but with a new sense of stability. Or maybe just new to her.
Rhaenyra honestly didn’t know what to say to that. The little awkwardness she had felt was growing uncontrollably, making her skin prickle. Like tea leaves blooming in the bottom of the pot, . This was a new development since the last time she had seen her uncle. It made her feel stupid and small. She wanted the feeling gone.
“ You weren’t in your chambers.” She said after a moment, seeing the way his face softened almost imperceptibly.
“ My apologies, Princess,” There was a soft playfulness to his voice that she hadn’t heard in so long. The bizarre prickly began to fade as he spoke. “ Are you just going to stand there in your dressing gown? What if someone were to stumble upon us and see's you in this state?”
“ It is quite common to be in your dressing gown in the baths. Besides, why would anyone but the two of us be down here this time of morning? The sun has yet to rise.” She countered as she began to undo the silken buttons. Thankfully, this was one of her more simple dressing gowns, a light blue silk that had belonged to her mother. It slid off her shoulders easily, almost falling to the floor before she caught it. She folded it neatly and placed it at her feet. Just as she was going to pull her nightgown over her head, a fresh hot flash of embarrassment flowed over her. He had never actually seen her naked. Not really.
“ Avert your eyes.”
Daemon, who had remained completely still, sat up suddenly. “ Excuse me?”
Rhaenyra startled both at the sound of her own voice and at the sudden splash of water. Daemon stared at her with a furrowed brow. For a moment, they just stared at each other, speaking with only their eyes. It might feel childish, but she couldn’t help it. It was embarrassing enough that she had not yet recovered from her last pregnancy. She couldn’t stomach the idea of putting herself on display like that.
Only when she raised her eyebrows for a second time did Daemon relent, turning his back to her and facing the main entrance. Unceremoniously, she pulled her nightdress over her head and slipped into the water as quickly and carefully as she could. The water was startlingly hot. Hot in a way that makes you feel cold before the true temperature washes over you. The baths were a little more than five feet deep with shelves carved into the stone and divots to rest on, but the bottom was smooth, so it was easy to sink down up to her chin in water.
“ Thank you, you may turn around now, ” she said gently. Daemon huffed but made no move to turn back. She relaxed back, closing her eyes constantly. The heat felt like it was sinking in all the way to her bones.
She let herself relax back, soaking her hair and feeling the knots begin to undo themselves. She combed through with her fingers. Her hair had gotten long without her noticing. She had hardly had any time to herself, especially in these last days, but in this moment the water melted away her sleepless night and seemed to soak into every pore. She stretched her legs out, feeling her bones crack and her muscles stretch.
Absent-mindedly, she reached down and started to gently massage her stomach. Joffrey was less the three months old so she was just now getting back the strength in her core. As she moved across her stomach, her fingers caught on a knot of tight muscles, shocking herself out of her relaxation. The pain was sharp but gone quickly, only leaving a dull ache in its wake. She blinked a little and realized that Daemon had remained exactly where he was facing the main entrance. Without thinking, she spoke, “What are you doing? ”
“ I would hate for you to be scandalized.” The light humor in his voice returned.
She hummed playfully and pushed herself forward. She came up behind him and took her time to actually get a proper look at him. His hair had grown out to just past his shoulder, the water left it with a slight wave at the ends. She had felt the scars on his back but to see them, the still angry looking splotches of red and pink mottled along his right shoulder, cut with thin white scratch marks that crawled up his neck, was something else entirely. She wonders to herself what did this to him. She knew he had been injured during the War of the Stepstones, but what had exactly happened she was never able to find out.
She tried to take in every detail of his back, slowly moving closer and closer to him. She was careful, giving him time to pull away if he so wanted. Daemon was always the one that took the lead in their relationship and she had liked it in a way, but since they had reunited, he continually allowed her to be in control. It was intoxicating having the first move, a feeling she wouldn’t relinquish easily.
“ May I-” She hesitated ever so slightly, waiting for him to react brashly like he wanted to do. “ I would like to touch you. May I?”
Daemon looked back just enough for her to see his face and she reveled in his expression. It was not a prideful grin, he only wore a gentle smile that tugged at the corner of his lips just so. He looked handsome like this. He was almost coy if that was a word she could use about him.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around his chest, slowly bringing herself forward until she was pressing against his back. He made no move to escape, so she pressed her cheek agist his back. “Since when do you care about scandal?”
Daemon said nothing, but gently rested his hands over her own. Any stiffness from either of them had slowly faded as they embraced, though neither spoke. ‘Soft’ was not a word that Rhaenyra would use to describe him, but without his armor, his steel and personality both, soft was all she could think about. Even the calluses on his hands had lost their roughness to the water, as he rubbed his thumb along the bone of her wrist.
“ Forgive me. I have felt very little like myself as of late,” she whispered, finally getting a handle on what she actually wanted to say. “ I spoke of marriages and burning together and all I have done in these months is poke at the coals.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Daemon said gently. He spoke carefully, taking his time with every sentence, every word. “We both knew what we were agreeing to. If we had moved too quickly, I have full confidence that Jacaerys and my daughters would have set Dragonstone to the torch. Besides the fact the greens in all their holiness would have made it out to be a ruse and it would defeat any advantage we — you, would have gained. Biding our time has been the wise choice.”
She hummed. “ Your time in Pentos has made you wise, Uncle.”
Daemon chuckled and leaned his head back, droplets from his hair dripping on her forehead. His fingertips were pressing into her skin with a grounding pressure as if he was afraid she would float away at any moment. Having his touch without his gaze was comforting in a foreign sort of way. The opposite of what she had been accustomed to.
In King’s Landing, every movement she made, every word and thought she had, was scrutinized. No one didn’t look to her, only at her. Like a bird kept in a gilded cage. A thing to be observed , not to be touched or spoken to. She thought she had been ready to be Heir, and she had been for a time, but the poison of the Greens and the endless whispers and slights had penetrated her deep, in ways she only really started to understand now. It had made her closed off and altered the way she behaved, even when she was alone. Leanor had helped, as did Harwin, but they both could not cover the ground the other lacked, leaving her stranded.
Only now, months free of the prison of court, had she come to understand how much she had retreated back, how much of herself she had quieted in an effort for her and her boys to remain as undisturbed as possible. But clarity had come over her and she refused to play the game in any way but her own. Sure, this was not the first move she made, but in this moment it felt like the first true step back towards herself. She had meant what she had said on the beach and on the battlement. The months of stillness had only cemented those thoughts.
She squeezed her arms and felt the way he breathed deeply, even at her simple touch. “I have grown tired of biding my time. I meant what I said.”
Daemon twisted his body around facing her, and for the first time in months, she didn’t shrink away. She held his gaze as his hands came up and cradled her neck, thumb brushing her jawline. Her hands drifted down to his hips, digging her nails into his skin. Not deep to truly hurt, but enough that she was sure he felt it.
“ Say it again. Please.” For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Daemons sounded small. They had been in this exact position twice before, and yet the feeling in the air was completely new. There was no underlying tension, only the feeling of promise. Not a challenge made out of frustration, but a gentle vow of genuine love. This was a proposal of security, not just of her claim but of her own life, of her future.
They had gone out and lived complicated, full lives away from each other and yet nothing had changed. Every time they had come together and come apart was just another step towards this. They were made for each other. Alway had been. She had the answers to both of the proposals she had given him, but those were both made not out of love but of fear. Had she ever truly asked for what she wanted?
“I have loved you since I knew what that word meant. Let us bind our blood in the ways of our ancestors. The way it should have been from the beginning. Please, make me your wife.”
The words had barely left her lips before Daemons upon her. Their kiss was nothing short of passionate, only parting to breathe, which they did in quick gasps. The grip they each had on each other was tight, refusing to allow the other to escape. Pressed against each other, Rhaenyra quickly became aware of just how excited Daemon was, as it was pressing against her hip.
She pushed him back to the shelf he had been sitting on, water sloshing as they moved. Daemon was a man who seldom gave up control, but he allowed himself to be maneuvered with little complaint. As soon as his knees hit the rocks and buckled, she climbed into his lap, refusing to part with him for more than a second.
Thankfully, the time they had shared on the beach had taken away the nervousness of this part, even if they had done nothing more than rut against one another. She had healed since then, in more ways than one.
The heat of the water and the light of the candles made this a far more enjoyable experience than the beach, with its exposure and cold winds. There was no hesitation. Each moment was sure, each taking a step after the other. Rhaenyra's fingers wove into his hair. He moved his mouth to her collarbone in turn. She leaned down and kissed along the seam of his scars, making his breath catch. Daemon’s hands disappeared beneath the water, grabbing onto her ass, pulling him against her as hers wrapped around his shoulders and their lips joined together again.
His cock was throbbing, trapped between the two of them, but Daemon made no move to relieve himself, fascinated with the skin had never had to have access to. He kissed her cheeks and neck, along her collarbone, and down to her breasts, seeming to want to cover every inch of her skin with his lips and tongue. Her chest was not just hers for the time being and he knew that and was careful to not leave any evidence, which she was grateful for.
She pressed her hips forward, making the man under her suck air through his teeth. His hands on her hips pulled her back just enough to relieve some pressure on his cock. “ Careful.”
“I know what I am doing.” She retorted back, trying to move her hips forward only to be stopped again. Dameon seemed to pay no mind to her protests and continued with the task he had given himself. She pulled at his hair, pulling him away from the attention he was giving her chest, forcing his eyes on her. “ I have healed enough if that is your worry.”
“It is,” Daemon answers honestly, looking at her. Even in the dark, she could see that his pupils were blown so wide that the violet of his eyes was no bigger than a cat’s claw moon. He was flushed and there was a mix of sweat and spring water from his hair running down from his forehead. He looked beautiful. “ Sex, I have found, is most enjoyable without pain.”
“I am completely healed, I assure you.” She smiled down at him and leaned down to press their lips together again. His mouth and lips tasted of the mint tea he liked to enjoy, and Rhaenyra suddenly understood the appeal of the drink. It was amazing to feel the way that Daemon relaxed into being kissed. He relaxed back against the stone, and let his hands drift up the small of her back. Only once she felt the muscles of his arms release did she pick up her hips in a quick movement. He barely had time to react before her hand was around him and she was guiding him inside of herself.
Even though she felt sore some days more than others, Maester Gerardys had assured her that she was cleared for any and all activities she wished to partake in. Still, there was a split second of pain as she pushed herself down. It was gone as soon as it came, leaving only a dull feeling of stretching. Thankfully, the gasp she let out was lost in the sound of their mouths, which had remained pressed together. There was a beat of stillness before she felt the grin spread across his lips.
Rhaenyra thought of herself as lucky enough to say that she had experienced some good sex in her life and she thanked the gods that this morning was no different. It was quick and dirty, but the way that from the first movement, they did not stop. Arms tangled together, mouths never parting.
Her hips were grinding back and forth quickly, Daemon’s hands guiding every thrust, his right snaking around to press against her clit. Their moans were lost within each other’s mouths. While they couldn’t seem to slow down, it didn’t feel rushed. There were no missteps, no hesitation. Every movement had purpose.
It was then not unsurprising that it hardly felt like any time at all when the pleasure became too much and they came apart, one after the other. They pulled away just enough to pull in fresh air, their sweat-slicked foreheads pressed together. As the high wore off, they stayed woven together.
“Fuck.” Daemon sighed and leaned back against the stone, which was only slightly cooler than the water. Without hesitation, she laid herself on top of him, head tucked into his shoulder. Rhaenyra hummed in agreement and giggled a little. Her whole body felt soft and gooey, like sugar melting over a hot stone. “I do not wish to be presumptuous but, I am looking forward to more of this.”
They lay like that for what felt like hours. At some point, Daemon had begun to pull the knots he had made in her hair free, combing through it with his fingers until they didn’t catch. They whispered to one another despite the fact that they were the only people in the room.
It was decided that they would be married at the end of the month. It would be private, just them and the children, as they seemed to not want nobody else. The king meant the queen as well as the rest of the court, and Rhaenyra refused to have another wedding like her first. It took little prodding but soon she was trying to explain the best she could about her anxieties as of late and Daemon, to his credit, listened dutifully. He did not hide his disdain for the Greens, but he said nothing, only sighing in annoyance. The conversion dissolved from there about nothing and everything. It was peaceful in a way that Rhaenyra hadn’t realized that she was missing for so long.
Being the Heir to the king always meant being ‘on’ and she had learned that from a young age which was not a problem in itself, she would even dare to say that she thrived in it, but as she grew, it seemed that every new year was more eventful than the last, leaving her hardly time enough to catch her breath. It felt like a good omen that it was almost upsettingly easy to achieve this type of peace despite everything.
Just as she felt like she was going to fall asleep, the faintest sound of a whistle wafted up from the servant’s stairwell. Any relaxation she had achieved was quickly dashed as the princess sat straight up and looked towards the stairwell. There was the faintest light coming from it, but it was growing by the second.
“Shit,” Daemon muttered.
Without saying anything else, she swiftly moved to climb off his lap and out of the bath. Daemon helped her out the best he could but didn’t follow her. She snatched up her clothes and felt them unfold in her hands, not even attempting to redress herself. While she was no longer married, the last thing she wanted was to be caught in a compromising position, a completely accurate position in fact, with her newly widowed uncle. They had just made a plan that allowed them to be public on their own account, and it was about to be spoiled by some unsuspecting candle lighter humming a shanty tune.
She silently leaped towards the dragon's head, hoping to not to lead an obvious trail of water behind her as she disappeared behind the Dragon's head. Thankfully, the door had remained open. She slipped through it and pulled it closed behind her, just enough to hide the torchlight but not enough to hear it close. Thankfully, the door was much quieter to close rather than to be opened.
She slid down the wall, hand still clutching the end of the black dreads tail that made the handle, panting. Her dressing gown and nightgown were plastered to her skin from the moisture, frumpled and doing nothing to cover her modesty. There was a clatter of keys and she turned back, peeking through the crack in the door. Daemon was sitting up now looking more bewildered than she had ever seen him. The lock clicked on the door and the lamplighter walked in, mumbling the lyrics of a song she could have sworn heard before, but she couldn’t put her finger on the title.
He had skins filled with oil hanging from his belt and his wick pole was resting against his shoulder as he went along with his duties. He began to push open the windows, not seeming to realize that someone was sitting in the baths watching him. Cool morning light filled the room as the shutters were pushed up and braced open.
“She spun around and said to me no featherbed for me!-” The man hummed joyfully and turned, and came face to face with Daemon seated in the water watching him. He yelped, His pole clattered to the ground as he hastily bowed. “OH! My Prince!”
He did not rise, only began to babble an apology. Daemon, to his credit, was quite polite, mumbling something about how he should have made his presence known, but he had been dozing without even realizing it. Only then did she turn away, hand over her mouth as laughter bubbled in her chest.
She was sitting on the stone floor of a secret passage, naked and her skin still tingling from the heat. Drunk on sex and joy, choices and promises. And the laughter just couldn’t stop. She laughed so hard that she couldn’t breathe, shaking and gasping for air, trying to keep quiet. It took her far too long to relax and was finally able to uncurl from the floor. Once she had finally stopped laughing, the chill of the tunnel rolled over her.
She pulled her nightdress back over her head the best she could, fighting the water that remained on her skin. If the lamplighter was up and about, her maids would be in her room sooner rather than later, so she took her torch and climbed back up the stairs, mind racing with a million thoughts. She reached the end of the dark, winding hallway and pushed aside the tapestry into her chambers. She tucked the torch back into the sconce it came from and sat on her bed.
She fell back onto her covers and sighed. It felt like that night they had snuck out of the Castle and into King’s Landing, just with the ending she had wanted all along. She tucked a lock of hair out of her eyes and realized it smelled like him. The smell of vetiver and smoke seemed to envelop her as she pressed it against her nose.
Just as she sighed again, she suddenly felt the bizarre feeling of seed leaking out of her and she helplessly dissolved into giggles once again. It had been years since she had laughed like this. It made her feel wild and young, an omen of the beginning of something new. It had been exhausting the years surrounded by so many and yet feeling only helplessly alone. And as of today, that isn’t the case anymore.
Soon the Dragonstone would awake and its day would truly start. She would enjoy her breakfast and dress in proper clothes. Visit the children and go about her business, but in this moment she allowed herself to bask in the feeling of true, untainted enjoyment.