Chapter Text
“Rhaenys was right, they will never accept me as ruler, they’d rather marry me off to the highest bidder in the hopes of calling him King.”
“Aren’t we all doomed by our faith,” Daemon said unimpressed, like a rehearsed speech.
Rhaenyra stopped her pacing to look at him, her hands still balled into fists.
“You as a woman, me as a second son,” he said.
“It’s not fair!”
“Life’s not fair, Princess.”
Rhaenyra huffed. She didn’t need his reminders, she needed a solution. If they all thought they could get rid of her, leave her behind in the shadows of some undeserving stranger who’d been lucky enough to have been born with a cock between his legs, they were wrong.
“I’m not doing it, uncle. I’m not getting married to someone just so he can take my birthright from me.”
“You’ll have to get married eventually, to secure your bloodline,” he noted dully. “Whether it’s now or later, what does it matter?”
“It matters, because it will be my choice when the time comes, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I’m not some cattle to be sold for breeding.”
“So what do you want me to do about it? Kill the lucky bloke who gets picked?”
“No,” she laughed uneasily, knowing that would perhaps be easier in hindsight. But then again, these things were never as easy as they seemed.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, willing her hands to stop shaking. She could barely look at him, sitting there in anticipation, waiting for her to reveal her plan.
The fire crackled and sizzled in the fireplace, adding to the heavy silence. She hoped that she could pass off the flush to her cheeks as heat from the flames.
Her eyes locked on a burning log. She wondered how long it would take for it to turn to ash. Dragonfire did it so much faster, it burned everything away in the blink of a single moment.
“Yes?” Daemon urged her on.
“I’ve been thinking that they can’t marry me off if my virtue is not intact.” She turned to him, tall and strong as a statue, intertwining her fingers like a shield in front of her. “Who would have me then?”
“What exactly are you asking me, Rhaeyra?” His manner, intrigued before, had turned suspicious.
“I’m asking you for your help in this matter,” she said pointedly, leaving no room for interpretation.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill him?”
“There will be another after him, and another, and another after that. You know this. This is the simplest way to prevent all of this.”
He rose from his chair, towering over her.
“What if I refuse?”
She’d expected that answer. All of them, actually. But she also knew him like she knew her own shadow. He wouldn’t turn her away.
“Then I’ll have to beg. I’ll have to beg you not to let me be auctioned off.”
“And be resented by you for the rest of my life for doing this to you instead.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
It was clear to him now that she would not change her mind about this. And yet she hadn’t expected him to agree to this so quickly.
“Very well then. When do you want it to happen?”
“Tonight. The sooner the better. In my chambers, if you don’t mind.” She’d rehearsed these words, but it didn’t make them any less odd tasting on the tongue. She wasn’t used to giving him orders, not of this kind.
She’d also never invited a man up to her bedchamber before.
Daemon nodded his head once, looking grim and solemn, as if heading to a funeral.
Rhaenyra bit back tears of relief or regret, she was unsure.
—-
This was not how things were supposed to go. But then she had known for a while now that life does not run the course you’d intended for it to go.
There was no reason to hold onto any delusions of her innocence any longer, not when it had been stripped away the day her mother departed from this world.
She was a child no more. So let it be done with.
In times like these Rhaenyra wished she could still speak to her mother. Now, there was no one left to keep her secrets, ask for advice. She’d have to rely on herself.
She’d sent away her handmaidens after they’d helped her bathe and dress. She wore her thin night dress for the occasion, her feet swinging back and forth as she waited on the bed.
Daemon entered without knocking, as per her request. He was still adorned in the black and silver from earlier.
He stepped almost cautiously into the room. Rhaenyra had never seen him this timid.
“Your necklace,” he spoke first.
Her hands hurriedly reached for it, meaning to undo it.
“Don’t. Keep it on.”
Rhaenyra placed her hands back in her lap, bewildered by his manners.
Daemon didn’t come any closer to her. He stood in the middle of the room, hands behind his back, like he was about to give out orders to an army.
“Has anyone ever told you about matters of intercourse or what takes place on a wedding night?”
Rhaenyra had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Even though his posture was rigid, his tone was light, as if simply questioning her on her reading.
“Yes,” she replied. “I know what is supposed to happen.”
“And what is that exactly?”
If she could breathe fire, she would’ve. Rhaenyra sat there glaring at him, feeling like a right fool in her night dress. Why was he playing games with her now?
“I know,” she ground out studiously, “that we will have to undress and that you will lie with me, and that I will bleed and might possibly get pregnant.”
“Is that all you know?”
“Is there more?”
“Much more,” he sighed, strutting around the chamber. “Starting with; you don’t necessarily have to undress, and there are ways to try and prevent you from carrying a child. Not to mention that it rarely happens on your first try.”
Rhaenyra took in the latter part of the information, wondering what else there was that she was unaware of.
Her mother had briefly explained it to her when she’d started bleeding for the first time, but that had been a couple of years ago and she barely remembered. Then there were the hushed whispers of her childhood friend and various servants, but she never got any specifics out of those conversations.
“Well, you’re the expert on such matters,” Rhaenyra said, her sneering tone hiding her humiliation.
Daemon didn’t reply, but the grin he sported told her plenty.
“I only meant because you’re married,” the girl corrected herself. He’s married , she thought, as if it had just occurred to her.
He must’ve picked up on her realisation.
“Having doubts?” he asked.
“No.”
The longer he stood there doing nothing, the more agitated she got.
“Aren’t you going to do it? You agreed.”
“I said I would and I will keep my word.”
“Then why are you -”
He silenced her by taking her face in his hands, gentle enough not to hurt her but with just enough force to make her look at him.
“Do not think this is easy for me.”
Rhaenyra pursed her lips, for it was easier for her to retain her mask of blazing anger than to reveal her true feelings.
Daemon let her go and sat next to her, his body so close, a reminder to her of what was about to occur. He watched her face as he combed his fingers through her hair.
“That smell,” he commented quietly, as if a passing thought.
Rhaenyra had bathed in more fragrant oils than usual, to accommodate him and herself, but the scent itself had remained the very same she consistently wore.
“Would you like for me to kiss you?” he asked.
“I did not request you to kiss me, Uncle.”
He looked slightly disappointed, but not displeased.
However, the waiting was getting to her , making her think that there was something wrong with her for him to take so long. She knew he’d had whores, frequently, everyone knew. So why was he stalling?
She quickly gazed between his legs, wondering if she’d be able to tell if he was ready.
“I know that you have to -” she couldn’t get it past her lips, “- is there anything I can do?”
She’d put him in this situation in the first place, therefore she was keen to help out in any way she could. If only he’d hurry.
Spurred on by her, Daemon took her by the waist and placed her between his spread legs, her back to him.
“Sit still,” he hissed into her ear, before arranging her hair over her shoulder and inhaling slowly, his chest expanding against her back with every breath.
“Your scent is usually more than enough,” he confessed, and Rhaenyra thought it best to not dwell on his choice of wording.
And indeed, she felt something grow rapidly hard against her backside. She jerked in his grasp, surprised by the unfamiliar feeling.
“I said stay still ,” he breathed, but the scolding didn’t hold any anger.
“Apologies,” she squealed out. “Did - Daemon, did I do that?”
“Yes,” he replied in her hair, sounding strained.
She’d never heard him sound like that, it made her feel like she held power over him. She liked the feeling.
“Will you do it now, please?” she asked him, feeling emboldened.
She finally felt his hand between her spread thighs and he proceeded to press one finger inside her, the digit barely budging. Rhaenyra held her breath at the intrusion.
“Not yet,” he said, pulling back. “You’re too tight.”
“I can do it,” she assured him, turning her body to look at him.
“You wish for me to hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“You think of me as unfeeling?” he asked, his brows furrowed as he locked eyes with her.
“No,” she replied earnestly. “I think of you as devoted to your family.”
He kissed her like he couldn’t contain himself, like a man condemned to death.
Rhaenyra was shocked at how good it felt, how natural. She wished they’d been doing this all along.
His tongue slid against hers and it was as if they were speaking Valyrian, a secret message exchanged between them only they understood.
She hiked herself up higher on her knees, so he had to have his head angled upwards to kiss her. Daemon’s hands were pawing at her underneath her dress, fingers digging into her ass and thighs, dipping between them to stroke her as she grew wet.
Rhaenyra expressed her content as she kissed and bit his lips, soft little groans escaping her own mouth as he continued to stimulate her.
“How soft and wet you are, Princess,” he said in High Valyrian, the words rolling off his tongue sounding like poetry to her ears.
“How good you feel, Uncle. How I wish to feel you inside me.” Rhaenyra still blushed but found that it was much easier to tell these things to him when done so in a different language.
“You ruin me, Niece.”
Daemon left her on the bed to stand and remove his clothes. Rhaenyra watched, touching her swollen lips, feeling her skin tingle with anticipation.
She wanted to remark on how handsome he was, the candlelight illuminating his broad chest in the most alluring way.
He then pushed his trousers down, revealing himself entirely to her and she gawked openly, imagining how he would feel between her legs.
“Does my form please you, my dear?”
“Yes,” she said, already out of breath. She’d always known he was cocky, but the smirk on his face was truly unparalleled in its haughtiness.
Rhaenyra grasped the hem of her night dress and pulled it in one swift move over her head.
“Does my form please you?” she repeated after him, the steel necklace the only thing she wore.
“It does much more than that,” he admitted, kneeling on the bed, chasing after her. “My, how you’ve grown, my love.”
She kissed him again, because it’s what she enjoyed doing, and lay back so he could position himself on top of her.
“Do you know of the ways in which men can pleasure women?” he asked, bumping his nose against hers affectionately.
“I’ve…heard of them, yes,” she replied.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve heard of them using their hands or their -”
“Mouth?”
She nodded slowly, her lips parted, hungering for more.
“Do you enjoy using your hand, dearest?”
“Yes…”
“Do you ever think about me using my mouth on you?”
“Sometimes.”
He was pleased to hear it, she could tell.
Daemon threw one of her legs over his shoulder, lowering his face to her most intimate parts.
“Daemon!” Rhaenyra yelped, sitting up as best as she could in her position. “That’s not what I asked of you!”
“Maybe it’s something I’m asking of you,” he said, his breath fanning over her cunt, fully on display for him, and it made her body tremble in response. “What do you say? Will you grant me your favour, Princess?”
She bit back her smile that matched his own.
“Very well then, I grant you my -” Naturally, the Rogue Prince didn’t wait for her to finish before kissing her cunt, dragging his tongue along her slit.
Rhaenyra threw her head back, giving herself over to him.
He held her legs open, his fingers leaving imprints on her flesh while he licked and nipped at her.
She needed something to hold onto herself, to ground her, and so she found his necklace between her breasts and fiddled with it, gracing her neck, imagining his fingers around her throat.
It did not go unnoticed by Daemon, his eyes fixated on her as his mouth steadily worked her into a frenzy.
“The Realm’s Delight indeed,” he said, voice nothing more than a hushed whisper, but she’d heard it. The pleasurable twisting in her gut came unexpected to her and she couldn't contain her unbridled cry, followed by his name.
He placed kisses along the inside of her thighs, nuzzling her like a content beast.
Rhaenyra had the urge to pet him as if he was her dragon.
“Do you do that to your whores?”
“Watch your mouth, Rhaenyra.”
“I’d rather watch yours.”
“Come here,” he said, dragging her into his lap once again. Rhaenyra went along willingly, feeling comfortable with him wrapped around her.
She’d been plenty of times in his lap before today. Ever since she’d been a young girl, he’d always make sure she knew he was close by, be it by a hand on her back or her body perched on his knee.
She’d been devastated over his departures, more so than she’d ever let on.
Her legs locked behind his back, not letting him leave this time around. The closer he got the more it frightened her that she might lose him again.
Daemon rubbed her ankle soothingly.
“It will be disagreeable for a bit,” he said, guiding her onto his cock. Rhaenyra nodded in understanding, already sensing a storm building inside her. She vouched that she would only ever cry and bleed for him. None other would ever get to see this side of the Queen.
“Forgive me, Rhaenyra,” he said, sinking inside her, ruining her.