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Rhaenyra may be speaking too soon but having a husband, who had married her out of love, was absolutely spectacular. If she may say so herself.
For many years, she had become comfortable with only getting half of the men in her life. Leanor had always been a constant presence by her side, but they did not share a bedchamber or even an apartment as he liked his own freedom, something she had never faulted him for.
Harwin, for all of his dutiful companionship, preferred to return to his quarters before someone noticed his absence, leaving her to sleep alone most nights. She held no resentment of course, as they had such a good understanding of each another. It was just that she had not realized there was even an absence until it was filled.
Daemon seemed quite content on not allowing her to be free from his sight for more than an hour at a time since they had become husband and wife. Valzȳrys and ābrazȳrys. Perhaps it sounded childish, but it makes her feel very special. They had been married for less than half a month and while they had not kept their entire relationship a complete secret, the fact that they were married was still not yet public, even on Dragonstone. There were a handful of people that knew and four of them were currently sitting in her chambers, watching her be fitted for a new dress.
Rhaenyra was standing straight as a pole arm, trying her best to stay still so that the dressmaker could work. Madame Sands, a small, ancient looking Dornish woman was buzzing around her like a bee, draping and pulling at black and red brocade fabric, making the final alterations to a beautiful new dress, now that there was not a swollen belly to work around.
“What do we think?” The seamstress asked, taking a step back and allowing the princess to see it for herself. “Too tight, too loose? I tried something different with the sleeves. It is all the rage in Lys, my lady. Especially with this fabric. Do tell me if it is not to your taste.”
“The hanging sleeves are quite fetching, especially with the red lining.” One of her ladies, Margery Arryn, piped up. Her sweet cousin was the quietest of her ladies. Though most days she more comfortable being an observer, she did pipe up in smaller settings like this one. Her mother had thought Dragonstone would make her come out of her shell but it had only made her more of a quiet comfort, now that she had a protector in one of Rhaenyra’s other ladies Joselin Strong, a woman that never rushed to speak, but she spoke so firmly, most seldom got a word in otherwise.
“Thank you, M. I agree, the sleeves are beautiful.” Rhaenyra smiled in her direction. The fair girl blushed at the compliment and went back to her embroidery with a coy smile.
“I believe you have outdone yourself, Madame Sands.” Joselin agreed from her seat next to Margery. The elder of the Strong twins rose to her feet and walked up beside her. With a little wave of her hand, she encouraged her lady to spin. Which Rhaenyra did as carefully as she could manage as to not disturb the collection of pins. “The fabric is absolutely beautiful. Though I feel as if it is missing something…Magpie, what about the lovely embroidery of Syrax you completed last week on the bodice, the one with beaded flames?”
“Oh, that would be perfect!” Jeyne Strong, her younger sister, clapped her hands together. Elinda Massey, the youngest of the ladies in the room, nodded her head in agreement. Margery blushed but Rhaenyra could see her preening in the mirror.
“Oh, that would fit perfectly! I do so love it when I can get my beautiful girl in my gowns. Do you think it could be done before I leave for to King’s Landing in three days’ time?”
“In time for the King’s Nameday tourney? Easily done! Of course, Your Highness.” She nodded and she and her assistant began to take the final measurements and free her from the cage of pins.
Joselin stood at the ready and as soon as she stepped out of the black dress, she was stepping into the red silk dress that she had dressed in this morning. Joselin was efficient and diligent as always, making sure everything was pristine as she pulled the laces tight and smoothed out any wrinkles.
Rhaenyra was only a year her elder, but the Lady Strong ran her Princesses household like a general leads an army. Nothing was done without Joselin’s oversight. Though it wasn’t very common that a lady-in-waiting had this much hand in the day-to-day runnings of the household, it seemed to make her quite content. She had a steel fist that she paired it with a velveteen soft glove of kindness that made her simply singular, in Rhaenyra’s opinion.
As the dressmakers bowed and took their leave, she rejoined her ladies beside the fire. Joselin followed at her heels and rejoined Margery on their usual couch. Rhaenyra sank into an armchair, finally allowing herself to relax for the first time since breakfast. More than one pin had poked her, and holding herself like a dress mount was not an activity that was said to be enjoyable.
“Are you feeling well, my lady? You look ever so weary.” Elinda said sweetly, reaching out and taking her princesses hand. “Should I ring for luncheon?”
“Oh yes, I am quite alright. Just a little tired, but luncheon sounds perfect.” She smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze.
Elinda nodded and bustled off to ring the bell. She was always so eager to help, ready with kind words or a gentle comfort. Despite the reservation she had been about adding a new personality to her little gaggle, Elinda had truly been a lovely addition to her ladies.
“A common symptom of being in a new romance.” Margery spoke as if she was discussing what thread to use next in her embroidery. “They have much more pressing things to attend to other than sleep.”
The reaction was instantaneous; the room erupting into playful laughter. Elinda’s cheeks went cherry red as she once again took her seat, and Jeyen hid her face behind her book. Joselin looked unimpressed at the glowing pride upon her companion’s face.
“Magpie, why must you be so vulgar?” Joselin sighed as she reopened her date book and tried to refocus herself.
“Someone must be, or what are we to talk about? The latest sleeve trends?” Margery said as she pulled her needle and pushed back into the fabric. She was working on a new piece of Caraxes. Her whicker basket that never left her side, was tucked at her feet was filled to the brim with many shades of red threads and a small collection of glittering red beads.
“Quite literally anything else!” Elinda said quickly, her voice squeaking with embarrassment, her face going a bright shade of pink. The girl was barely 10 and 9 and it showed in the most endearing ways. Jeyen giggled even harder, and remained hidden behind her book, her face going red from trying to contain her laughter. Joselin turned and looked at the seatmate with an unamused expression. Margret seemed undeterred.
There was a beat of silence as the ladies regain their breath before Elinda spoke again, “Though I must say, it must be so wonderful to be so desired.”
“It is no wonder the poets seem to never cease to speak of it.” Joselin Strong said her usually stern tone, not moving her eyes from her book. Margery giggled as she reached down for a new spool of glittering red thread.
“Joselin, why must you be so stern,” Jeyne chided her playfully, ever the peacekeeper. Rhaenyra’s from the corner of her eye caught the woman nudging her elder sister’s ankle with her foot. “I, for one, agree with you, Elinda. Prince Daemon’s affection for you is ever enviable, my lady. He is ever so attentive.”
Rhaenrya couldn’t help but preen at the compliments, smiling at Jeyne as she blushed. It was such a new and unexpected feeling that seemed to fill her whole body. She had always heard ladies wane on about the Honeymoon phase and as silly and cliche it was to say she hadn’t understood what it meant until now. So much of a mention of Daemon had her smiling before she could stop herself.
“Does the coloring look right, my lady? I am much less familiar with the Blood Wyrm than Darling Syrax.” Margery held up her hoop and showed off the half finished image of Caraxes’ profile. At this point in their friendship, it was almost expected of Margery to say something indecent and move on as if she had said nothing at all.
“It looks wonderful, M. Daemon will be quite pleased with it, I am sure.”
“How is he finding Dragonstone?” Joselin looked up over her glasses. Rhaenyra opened her mouth to answer but was unintentionally interrupted by a serving girl who appeared with a tray. She placed down the tray as quickly as she could before scuttling off. The four of them were all quickly distracted by the tray of steaming tea, fresh fruit and spiced pumpkin cakes dripping with sweet icing.
“Was he not raised on Dragonstone?” Elinda asked as she scooped sugar into her tea.
“He was born here, yes, but when Princess Alyssa and the little prince Aegon passed, they all moved to King’s Landing, did they not?” Jeyne’s book was long forgotten and left down facing on the table in exchange for pumpkin cake and clotted cream.
“Yes, my grandparents come to Dragonstone in hopes that the the fresh sea air would help my Grandmother Alyssa’s health. Unfortunately, that was not the case and my poor grandfather had been beside himself in grief. In his depression he was not well enough to care for himself or his sons, for that matter. So Prince Aemon ordered him to return to King’s Landing under the guise of needing his brother’s guidance with their sisters. In reality, it was simply to care for him.” Rhaenrya spoke gently, watching the way her cream swirled and disappeared into her tea.
The only reason she knew any of this was that Prince Aemon had kept a journal that he wrote in almost every day from his 16th name day, right up until the morning of his death. He seems to take great joy in writing about his life in detail, even frequently writing about his daily meals down to the wine pairing. The journals had been left to his daughter, and they remained safely tucked away within her private library on High Tide.
Princess Rhaenys, when she had still enjoyed Rhaenyra’s company, had been kind enough to allow her to read them while she and Laenor stayed on Driftmark while waiting for Luke’s overdue arrival into the world. She had spent hours reading them, distracting herself from her discomfort of a full term babe that kicked right into her ribs at all hours of the day and night.
He wrote of his family and their escapades often, as there always seemed to be a spat or an event happening in one of their lives. Years of writing and he spoke of no one more than Baelon. His Valonqar. It had moved something in her to see two brothers who cared for each other in such a way. In a way, her grandfather and great uncle had helped guide her with her boys, even from the ashes.
“I did not know that. I knew they were close, but I never realized that Prince Aemon had summand Prince Bealon.” Margret said sweetly, looking thoughtfully at the half of Caraxes that she had completed, running a finger along his threads, checking the knots.
“The heir to the Jaehaerys the Wise, Rider of Caraxes, a talented swordsman, a good husband and a doting father and yet above all, the eldest brother.” Joselin said somehow, waxing poetry of men she had never even known.
Rhaenyra hummed in agreement, taking a thoughtful sip of her tea.
“So Prince Daemon has never lived in Dragonstone before, not really?” Elinda said before sipping her tea.
“No, he did take residence in the castle, but not for very long if my memory serves me. He claimed himself as the Prince of Dragonstone for a month or so shortly after the assertion of our lovely princess.” Jeyne’s voice was playful, but the princess did not miss the way Joselin scoffed quietly, turning the page of her book. Her younger sister had little hesitation before she gave her a swift kick to the shin.
“A foolish declaration, perhaps, but have none of us done something foolish in our youth when we believe ourselves to be spurned? May he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
Margery hummed in agreement, but Joselin remained silent. She had not warmed to Daemon as quickly as Rhaenrya had liked, but the lady was careful to not say anything out of turn. Daemon as well seemed less than enthused about her presence, so it was mutual dislike. She should talk to him about that.
“I definitely have, and my youth is far from over.” Elinda stared off into the distance, remembering something.
“Definitely not.” The princess agreed before continuing, “As for what you asked, He and the twins are settling in well. Thank the Gods. Though I do not believe either of the twins has gotten a taste of Westroi food quite yet.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate, but the cuisine of Pentos is quite delicious,” Margery said as she finally put down her hoop and took her tea, which had already been sugared to her liking by Joselin.
“Yes, As Jace has told me, Baela is quite insistent on the matter.” She chuckled and placed her teacup on its saucer.
“Those two spend quite a bit of time together.” Elinda said before taking a grape and popping it in her mouth. “They must be fond of one another.”
“They do, yes. They have grown more than fond of one another.” Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows knowing and the ladies all giggled playfully, all except poor Elinda, who just looked lost.
“What did that mean?” she asked and looked at Jeyne, who shrugged, cheeks going a light shade of pink. “What did I miss?”
More playful giggling quickly enveloped the poor girl’s confusion, and the conversion branched off into Pentosi food, talks of spiced cakes, sweet wine and cheeses. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but lose track of what was being discussed as she relaxed back into her chair.
Besides her dress being resized, she had nothing out of her normal routine today. She woke at her normal time and despite Daemon trying to keep her bed for as long as he could before he slipped away; she had kept her normal audiences and appointments and went about her day just like it was any other. And yet here she was fighting sleep at barely half past noon.
“My lady?” Elinda asked gently.
Rhaenyra jumped in her seat and met with her ladies staring at her with amused expressions. Margery looked over her hoop with a small but wicked grin, “Like I said, who would sleep when there are so many more enjoyable activities?”
“Margery!” Joselin’s book snapped closed in hand. Margery showed no shame, only a coy smile as she tied off a bead on Caraxes crest.
Just as the room dissolved into playful banter again, there was a soft knock at the door, before Ser Staffon opened the door and stepped in. “Your royal highness?”
“Yes Ser? Is there something the matter?”
“Not at all, ma’am, only that Prince Daemon has asked for your presence in his study before you go down to dinner.”
“Thank you, Ser.” She rose up as the door closed with a click. Her ladies rose to meet her. “I believe if I sit here any longer, I will not last until the dinner bell. M, do you mind running the embroidery over to the Seamstress before dinner?”
“Of course, my lady.” She nodded as she began to collect her things into her little basket.
“Consider it done,” Joselin agreed, taking the basket from the blonde woman’s hand and tucking it into her elbow. Margery smiled sweetly and took her other arm. “Is there anything else that you can think of that needs doing before you depart? I do believe we are set out quite early on the morrow.”
Rhaenrya hummed as they walked out of her chambers and through the dark stone halls. “Other than the dress, I can not think of anything. Without the children accompanying us, there is so much less to fuss over. Can we go over the itinerary again, just for certain?”
“Certainly. At the King’s request, you are to arrive two days ahead of the scheduled activities…”
Joselin began to recite next week’s plans from her little leather date book. As they walked, Ser Steffon followed dutifully, trying to keep pace with the group of women. It took all her strength to keep just a brisk pace and not simply run to her destination.
Joselin was undeterred by the speed of her lady and easily kept pad as she continued to talk of all the plans. The party would be spending a week and a day in King’s Landing for the week long 55th Nameday celebration for her father, so the schedule was packed. There was a tourney to be held as well as so many feasts and teas that she felt overstuffed, just from the thought.
“Finally, after a final breakfast with his Grace, the celebrations will be concluded. The ship is set to leave King’s Landing before noon, but as you and the Prince have your own transportation, your departure is left to your digression, Your highness.” Joselin closed her books with a snap and tucked it away.
They were deep into the East wing at this point and were quickly coming upon the gallery that hid the entrance to the study, which was a tower all its own. If she had thought that the Red Keep was full of secret passages, Dragonstone was a true maze of hidden rooms and tunnels. Some rooms that she had only stumbled upon once and she had yet to find them again.
“Very well.” With a quick look to the side, she turned to her ladies and leaned in, picking her words carefully just in case of listening ears, “Before time gets away from me, I wished to thank you for keeping my secrets with such care.”
Her ladies smiled at her, Jeyne reaching out to take her hand and gave it a squeeze, “I think I speak for all of us when I say that it was our pleasure, Your highness.”
“After this week, there shall be one less to protect, but I feel like I should warn you. It may cause some waves. Big or small, I can not know. I simply wish to prepare you for whatever comes next.”
“We stand at the ready, Your highness.” Joselin stood proudly.
Margery, who remained tucked in the brunette’s arm, nodded in agreement. “Whatever you need of us, consider it done.”
“Thank you, my ladies.” Rhaenyra turned to leave before a thought came to her. “Oh, Elinda! Do stop by the Maester to ask for that draft that settles your stomach. It is not a long trip, but I would hate for you to feel ill.”
The girl startled and turned back, blushing once again. “Of-of course, my lady! Thank you for reminding me!”
The girl bowed respectfully and turned back, hustling to catch up with Jeyne, who had stayed back for her. She stumbled a little before catching herself. Jeyne giggled and took her arm. “The Princess is ever so wonderful, is she not?”
Rhaenyra could not help but blush at the compliment before continuing towards the hall of gilded paintings that hid the entrance to the secret tower. “Please remain here, Ser. Prince Daemon is quite protective of his hiding spot. I will return before the dinner bell.”
The Knight nodded, and she continued until the painting that was 6th to the right and third down, a painting of Storm’s end in a storm, lighting hitting the highest turret. She pulled it away from the wall and ducked down into the tight stairwell and began her climb.
It was a skinny, spiraling staircase, dotted with dark stained glass windows, that let in enough light to see and nothing more. While one of the tallest points of the castle it was thankfully not too much of a climb and soon she arrived on a little landing that held nothing but a steel door with a stone drake lounging on top of it, its dangling leg making the knocker.
She only had to knock once when the door swung open.
“Hello my beautiful wife,” Daemon smiled his dashing smile and Rhaenyra did her best not to melt into the floor. Without hesitation, he reached forward and grabbed the small of her back, pulling her in close to him. “I have missed you ever so terribly.”
“I saw you this morning!” She giggles and happily lets herself be pulled into the study as Daemon’s arms wrap around her and pull her in close. He was dressed in only a black cotton tunic and his slacks, but he was just as handsome as he was in a fancy dress.
“Far too long,” He barely manages to mumble before his lips are on hers. He kisses her like he hadn’t seen her in years. Firm but so full of affection that she almost couldn’t stand it. He pulled her into the room, letting the door close behind them.
They weren’t exactly hiding that they were spending time together, but they had managed to keep the fact that they were married surprisingly under wraps these last weeks. Stolen moments are all that they had to sustain each other and, if she was being honest, it was shockingly invigorating.
She had been so familiar with the routine of her previous romantic encounters before, with Harwin and other select gentlemen she had allowed into her bed chambers but when the threat of execution and disgrace rides upon your secrecy, it loses its luster, she will admit.
Daemon pulled her against him as if he was afraid that someone was going to steal her away, and when she did not follow him fast enough, he grabbed onto her thigh, picking her up off the ground. She didn’t fight him, only wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Their lips never left each other, despite the laughter shared between the two of them.
“Daemon!” She laughed as she finally pulled away from him enough to speak, hands cradling his face. He was looking at her hungrily, but she held him in place so that she could catch her breath. He had shaved, his cheeks smooth under her palms.
“What? Is a man not allowed to kiss his wife?” he smiled boyishly and leaned in for a quick peek and then another “My beautiful wife.”
She preened and let herself be showered in kisses. “You are ridiculous! Did you call me just for kissing?”
“Obviously. Why else would I ever need to see you?” He was so playful it made her cheeks hurt from smiling. He finally took a break from his onslaught and allowed her to stand on her own two feet. But his hands never left the small of her back, holding her close and looking at her dreamily. “Well, I did find something that I have been meaning to give you..”
“A present? When did you have the time to get me a present?” Somehow, her excitement grew as Daemon chuckled and pulled her in closer, taking little hesitation to begin to kiss her again, using his body to direct her where he wanted to go. The study itself wasn’t very small, nothing more than a circular room, but it was different from almost every room in Dragonstone, in that it was filled with warm wood.
Tall mahogany bookcases filled to the brim with all manner of books and trinkets, being even more stuffed with all of what Daemon had brought from Pentos with him. The desk was facing a grand window that looked out to the sea. Her favorite part of it, where she was being playfully pushed towards, was a plush daybed that was quite literally carved into a hole in the wall.
Daemon only pulled away when her knees pressed against the edge of the bed. He stepped back and gestured for her to sit, which she did, tucking her skirt under her politely and holding out her hands expectantly. He tuts and reaches up, covering her eyes. She giggled giddily as something small was placed in her palm. He pulled his hands away as she was met with the smallest jewelry box she had ever seen. It was a soft black leather and seemed barely large enough to fit a ring.
“Let me guess?” she chuckled. Daemon scoffed and rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. He is kneeling in front of her now, hands resting on her upper thighs
She opens the box and is met with a beautiful Valyrian steel ring. It was a signet ring emblazoned with the Targaryen crest, a ruby no bigger than a pinhead in each of the eyes of the three heads. She pulled it free from its case and examined and inspected the fine details in awe. The sides of the rings were scuffed, but in a way that rings tended to be when they were well loved.
She wanted to say something, but no words seemed to come to her. While the ring itself was beautiful in its simplicity, it was her first gift from Daemon as his wife and it made it just the more precious.
“I noticed how empty your pretty hand looked without a ring. Do you like it?” The two of them were alone and yet Daemon spoke softly. He looked almost shy, kneeling in front of her, hands resting on her lap. He was looking at her so expectancy, waiting for her approval.
She quickly moved the box aside, just so she could turn it over in her hands, trying to memorize every detail and imperfection. As she inspected it, she realized there was an inspection on the inside of the band. “Our vow spoken through time” in an almost impossibly small script. She looked up, only to be met with expectant violet eyes, and quickly leaned down to kiss him as a thank you. She pulled away so she could look at it more, enamored with the delicately detailed little ring. “It is beautiful.”
“Good.” He was almost bashful as he smiled at her, hand flexing against her. He took it from her grasp and slid it onto her ring finger. “I knew you would like it.”
“When did you get this?” She looked down at her hand, feeling how quickly the ring warmed to her body temperature in the way only Valyrian steel seemed to do.
“I have had it tucked away for quite some time. I was waiting for the right moment.” Any nervousness that had remained within him was quickly replaced with pride, much to Rhaenyra's amusement.
“How long is ‘quite some time’?” She smiled down at him, cradling his cheek. He leaned into it and held her gaze. She could see that he didn’t want to divulge his secrets, but after the silence seemed to drag out for just a moment too long, he finally relented, breaking eye contact with her to stare at his hands on her thighs.
“I was planning on giving it to you when I returned from the Stepstones.”
“What?” Her eyebrows raised, and she watched the great Daemon Targaryen attempt to hide his face in her palm, a subtle shade of pink creeping down from his ears to his cheekbones. She almost started to laugh. Not that his uncharacteristic bashfulness was humorous, it was just the unexpectedness of it. She restrained herself though as the last thing she wanted was to embarrass him as this was not something she found shameful but she knew Daemon and he would almost definitely not see it that way.
“It was Alyssa’s.” He finally looked back up at her. There was an unfamiliar look in his eyes, but she kept her face relaxed, letting him take his time to speak. “I borrowed it years ago. Never had the chance to give it back, so I tucked it away for when I needed it. I had planned to give it to you when I had returned from the war, before I was clouded by wine and my own foolishness.”
He was trying to kill her; she was sure of it.
It took all of her strength to not react to the fact that every word Daemon spoke was more increasingly more important than the last. He had wanted to give his mother’s wedding ring, a ring he wanted her to have years ago. So much energy was coursing through her body. She felt as if she needed to take a lap around the castle before dinner or she might just combust.
“I…” Rhaenyra finally managed, “I do not know what to say.”
“You do not need to say anything.” He tried to regain the playful tone he had mere moments ago, but it felt hollow. He moved to stand, but she didn’t let him, holding his face firmly in her hands in a stubborn grip. He started to push against her and pull away from her but she held fast, “Rhaenyra-”
“Daemon.” she countered back. She reached forward and held his chin, directing his attention to her. There was still the lightest dusting of pink on his ears. “Thank you for giving this to me. I will treasure it for as long as I live.”
“.... Good.” It was like a candle flickered to life in his eyes. Daemon melted into her hands. All the stiffness and tension he was holding onto dissipated in a moment. His hands were still resting on her thighs, flexing as if he wanted to do something.
She shifted her legs just enough to pull him closer to her, which he did without hesitation.
Daemon, shuffling forward on his knees, stirred something inside of her that she could never admit aloud. It was a primal and foreign and yet felt so good and right. Almost as if she was finding a piece of herself that she wasn’t aware that she was missing. The strong arms of one of the most talented knights in Westeros were wrapping around her middle and the head that wore a crown for a kingdom he had made with his own sword and blood lay in her lap like a kitten, nuzzling against her thighs. If he could purr, she was sure he would be.
“Were you worried that I would not like it? There is no need for that. I have never disliked any of the gift you have given me.” She spoke slowly, petting his hair.
“Whatever you say,” he mumbled. Not in a childish way, but in a relaxed, sleepy sort of way.
“It is the truth! I keep the jewelry box that you gave me, and it is just for gifts from you. I try to wear them often. There are only a few things that I keep tucked away and that are mostly out of fear of small clumsy hands. The jade tiara and the black pearl hair net are kept in my study, so I may see them whenever I wish. Oh, and that pink silk dress from Bravos is one I wore quite frequently while you were away. Well, until the boys came along. It didn’t look the same afterwards.”
“I know it still looks beautiful on you.” He mumbled again, the words seeming to lose form as soon as they were spoken.
She almost started to argue with him, but he sounded so sincere that she held her tongue. “Thank you. If you say it, then it must be true. My mistake.”
Daemon hummed happily, and she could feel him running his fingers over the lacing of her dress. He wasn’t attempting to untie it; she knew what that felt like. He was just tracing it with a gentle touch.
“I shall prove it to you and wear my favorites on our trip. Would you like that?”
He seemed pleased with that answer, humming contently, “I would, yes.”
She giggled and curled a lock of soft white hair around her finger. Pentos was good for Daemon for many reasons, including a hair oil he used that made his hair silky soft and ever so slightly wavy. Rhaenrya would be the first to admit she liked the curls.
“Why don’t we have a rest before dinner? I can only assume that your position is not very comfortable” She was careful to leave her voice soft and light in an attempt to have him actually do it and not just get embarrassed and sulky.
“I am more than comfortable.” He argues back every so gently, his arms tightening around her middle.
“Perhaps, but if you fall asleep in this way, I worry about your comfort.”
He huffed. Even on a good day, Daemon could be described as quite moody, so overly tired. Daemon was a beast all in himself. She had to move quickly and carefully or they would lose their little bubble of serenity. With a firm but gentle hand, she moved his head enough so they could make eye contact.
“I am getting a little tired myself and I would not mind a short rest too. I would like to have one together, if you would enjoy that.”
It was unsurprising how quickly Daemon pulled himself up and invaded her space. He pressed forward and pushed their foreheads together. Rhaenyra didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything, just held onto his face comfortingly. Daemon toed off his boots and allowed himself to be pulled forward and into bed.
It took a little coordination, but soon the two of them were tucked into the nook. Daemon was somehow wrapping her in his arms and laying on top of her, his head resting on her chest. Her hands were back into his hair, the little ribbon that held his ponytail pulled free and forgotten in the wrinkles of the blankets
“There we are, much more comfortable.” She hummed and nestled deeper into the pillows, letting her own shoes fall from her feet onto the floor as she tucked her legs into bed. Daemon sighed again and she could feel the little noises he was making reverberate against her chest as he settled.
“Is there a reason you are so tired? Are the girls keeping you up? Is your bedding not to your liking? I know we will soon be sharing chambers, so if there is something I can do, please tell me.” She wasn’t trying to keep talking, but the words kept coming, much to the annoyance of the man lying next to her.
“Everything is fine.” He huffed out and tried to cuddle closer to her. She breathed in deeply and started to speak again, but she was quickly interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am not accustomed to sleeping alone. It makes sleeping hard to find.”
The words hit her like a dagger to her heart. As awful as it was to think it, she had been trying her best to not think of Laena. Not for petty reasons, but out of the fear that if she let herself feel that grief, she would take to Syrax and fly to Driftmark to join her in the sea.
“I had not…I had not thought of that. Oh Daemon…Daemon?” She asked quietly as she looked down and was met with his peacefully sleeping face, mouth was ever so slightly open and all the creases on his face relaxed properly. She smiled and leaned down enough to kiss his forehead and said nothing more.
Rhaenyra leaned back and promised herself that she was not about to nod off or they would both miss dinner. Only then did she realize that she was no longer tired at all. Blinking up at the black stone ceiling, she tried to figure out how she could go from dozing off to being wide awake, doing no more than walking down a couple of halls and ascending some stairs. Her raspberry leaf tea wasn’t even that invigorating.
As she continued to wonder, there was the gentlest of movement from Daemon as he shifted in his sleep. She looked back down and let her mind go blank, focusing on trying to memorize every detail of his sleeping face. Just because she could.
She allowed her mind to wander as Daemon slept, thinking of the dresses she was going to wear and the jewelry she wanted with them. She would have to go through her boxes before the boat leaves. Maybe she could steal Joffrey’s away from his nannies so she could have one-on-one time with her littlest boy before she leaves him for a week. The longest they had been apart. She wished he was here in her arms. He would love nothing more than a nap like this.
Even though he was barely six months old, she found herself daydreaming of what her next little ones would like, if she ever had more. She was more than content with her boys and if the twins warm to her like Daemon swears they will bring her collection up to five, which is more than enough children for anyone. Especially for her family and its history. The idea of her actively wanting children, even after all these years still had an air of strangeness, she would admit.
She had said as much to Maester Gerardys, who had agreed, in a way, “Five is quite a lot of children to handle, but you have taken to motherhood quite well, my lady. Though, If I may speak plainly, Your grace. If you care for yourself as you have done with your previous pregnancies, I see no reason why you could not have more children if you so wished. You are young, with so much life ahead of you.”
She had scoffed at the time and informed him that she was more than happy with her boys and went on with her business. But now, looking down at her husband sleeping peacefully on her chest, she allowed herself to daydream. Fresh little blonde babes, chaos, and laughter, warming the cold halls of Dragonstone until it glowed like the painted table.
The hours passed by quickly and soon the whole tower was bathed in the soft golden light of afternoon. Dinner would be served soon, but Rhaenyra couldn’t get herself to wake the man cuddled next to her. He simply looked too peaceful and content.
“Daemon…Daemon…” she whispered finally, after her stomach rumbled one too many times. He didn’t wake as much as he grunted and cuddled against her chest. “The dinner bell is going to ring soon.”
He huffed, and finally his dark violet eyes squinted at her before quickly closing them again. “Fuck that.”
She could help but laugh. “You say that, but if we miss it, you will be ever so cross.”
Daemon growled but finally sat up, albeit a little awkwardly. He smacked his mouth a little and yawned, the seams of her dress leaving red impressions on his cheek. She smiled and did her best to not pull him back down to her. Her blushed-cheeked, raspy-voiced, freshly awoken husband, whose hand was still resting on her rib cage, inches away from her breast.
Rhaenyra was only a woman.
In his sleepy state, it was shockingly easy to grab the front of his shirt and pull him on top of her again, pressing their mouths together purposefully. Daemon made a small noise but quickly opened his mouth and kissed her just as happy as she was.
He didn’t need any more prompting and quickly took control. He uncurled himself from her side and reposted himself on top of her. His arms branched her head and his knee suddenly pressed between her legs. Not that she was complaining.
“I am feeling tired too,” He playfully mimicked her voice back to her when they parted to breathe, quickly pressing back together. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders just to keep him as close as she could. “Let us take a rest together!”
“You were the one falling asleep in my lap!” she counters back with a laugh, pulling at the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. He was staring down at her with a gentle expression. “What?”
“I like it when you smile with your teeth.” He said softly, reaching up and tucking a little lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed at the realization that she was, in fact, smiling with her teeth. Instinctively, she wanted to correct him. Say something about it being unlady-like and he was the only one that liked it but she didn’t.
“Thank you.” She reached up and pecked his cheek. “We are expected for dinner. Come, we will have more time alone later tonight.”
Daemon sighed dramatically but crawled off of her as gracefully as he could. Without his boots he moved almost startlingly quietly, moving around the room like a cat. He retrieved his doublet off of the back of the desk chair.
She sat up and smoothed out the back of her hair, ensuring the braided bun was where it was supposed to be. Toeing on her shoes, she walked over to the entrance and walked out onto the landing, waiting for her companion. She couldn’t help but sigh dreamily as she admired her new wedding ring, moving her hand around to see the way that light bounced around the engraving.
“You and your jewelry. You are nothing more than a magpie in a pretty dress.” Daemon kissed her shoulder, wrapping around her like a warm fur, engulfing her in his warmth and somehow fitting the two of their bodies together
She giggled and leaned back into his arms. “Oh, you hush! What is jewelry for, if not to be admired?”
She started down the stairs, Daemon not allowing himself to be more than inches behind her, his hand intertwining with the one she was not just admiring.
“What are you, a poet?” It was so good to hear the playfulness she was so familiar with coming back so naturally. It was an art, being able to tell when the rogue prince was being genuine or when he was putting on the show for the masses.
“No. I am your beautiful wife, as you keep insisting.” She counted back as they were quickly coming upon the painting door and their forced separation. Without thinking, just as they reached the last steps, she turned and pulled him against her. It took almost nothing to have him pushing her up against the wall of the stairwell, kissing her just the way she liked.
“Insatiable”, he mumbled, mostly into her mouth. All he got in return was laughter and tucked her leg against his hip, curling around his leg.
In a moment, they would part, and she would move her ring to the opposite hand. The two of them would walk through the gallery at a tasteful distance and make their way down to dinner, having polite small talk about their trip or the children, but for now she could wrap herself around her husband, mumbling their secert language between breaths.