Chapter Text
“It is a bit sad that they had to go to such lengths.” Nora whispered as they all started to send letters to make the purchases.
Usually, they would have no problems going into the city themselves. However, with the smallfolk starving and desperate due to the shortage of grain and vegetables, the knights were of the opinion that the risk was too great. A bit unhappy, but unable to deny the reality of the situation created by the King, they had agreed to call for the merchants instead.
The commoners would not be able to differentiate between the different households despite the Princess’ best efforts with Queen Aemma’s Wings. While still open to all for housing and healing, food grew scarce just as it did in the rest of the city.
“I do not know what I would do if my own father did not give me his blessing, after promising he would.” Estell agreed as she made different arrangements of flowers for Princess Rhaenyra to approve.
“And have you seen the look on his face the other day?” Rosamund leaned down to be heard as she lowered her voice. “He tried to decrease the amount of coin for his own daughter’s wedding and then Prince Daemon simply mentioned that he was more than willing to be the one to pay for all expenses. The King could not throw more gold in our direction fast enough.”
Rosamund shook her head as the ladies around her complained in quiet voices. Their tone was full of disdain for their monarch and she could hardly disagree. She swore she had only seen such a behavior from her youngest brother, and he was but five summers. Their mother would try and command him to come to supper, he would scream and throw a tantrum and their mother would seemingly acquiesce only for him to scream and throw another tantrum.
“At least the Prince and the Princess seem happy.” Elinda spoke softly from her place beside Amanda and Lyra.
“Small mercies.” Amelia agreed.
Estell sighed dreamily. “Their courtship ought to be the subject of legends.”
In that matter even Ada and Barba had to agree. Prince Daemon has been everything any maiden anywhere could hope for.
Just two days before, Prince Daemon had ridden his dragon, Caraxes, over the Red Keep as they were all breaking their fast in the godswood. The Blood Wyrm’s distinctive roar got their attention then and no sooner his shadow passed them by, roses and lavender and gardenias started to fall on them all. All they could see was the flapping of fabric in the wind behind the dragon, clearly where the Prince had held the flowers.
Princess Rhaenyra seemed stunned and gleeful at the display and grand gesture. It looked magical and something that poems could hardly describe. Rosamund and the rest of the ladies had twirled around as petals and flowers danced around them until the godswood and good part of the middle bailey were covered in colors and so fragrant that it started to gather the attention of servants, valets and courtiers alike.
Rhaenyra had stayed seated and beaming at the skies, not making any move to take off the petals that had landed on her hair and on her lap. And that was how Prince Daemon had found her as he dismounted his dragon and made his way to her. Of course, there was a parcel of velvet on his hands which revealed a beautiful set of wide bracelets. Gold with big purple gems.
“From the finest Myrish artisans. The gems reminded me of your eyes in the sun, the merchants had the stones tested in front of mine eyes to prove that they are purple sapphires. Extremely rare, just as you are.”
Ignoring their duties and their own tight schedules, even the maids of the castle had stopped to watch the declaration. Sighs and cheers echoed for long moments after the Prince was already seated by Rhaenyra’s side, the Princess happily blushing as they were served her favorites, which Prince Daemon had made sure all knew it was from his orders.
It was still talked about. And of course it was, the godswood was still quite covered in the beautiful flowers. Rosamund knew that it would be talked about until long after they were all gone.
To make it rain flowers and petals, the betrothed’s favorites in lavender, white roses and white gardenias and to be received by such words…
Rosamund has heard a few knights, a few guards calling the Rogue Prince… cuntstruck. The vulgar term made her grimace, but many more had called him chivalrous, a legendary knight wishing to have warm arms to return to.
For as long as she could remember, Rosamund has never overly cared about the gallantry the maidens around her would dream about, but that was before she witnessed what it meant to be courted. Properly and by someone that loved you. She had to admit that the thought made something flutter inside of her.
She had briefly thought of Ser Harwin then before she could stop herself.
And, as the moon turned, the preparations for the wedding advanced and so did the tensions in the family of the King. Rosamund almost shook her head. Lady Alicent’s expression was positively dark as she, and Rosamund could not think of any other word for it, marched about the keep. Her steps were stiff and heavy and it looked as if she was either ready to collapse in tears and screams or about to kill someone. Maybe both.
“Bethany Hightower and Patricia Redwyne probably told her… about the real nature of the tour we went on.” Lyra’s hazel eyes were sharp as they followed Alicent’s retreating back.
Rosamund felt herself stop breathing. “Will it… what can we do?”
“Not much.” But Lyra did not seem worried as she urged Rosamund to keep walking. They were almost late to meet with the florists of the city that were coming to the keep. “It is not like Lady Alicent herself can do anything after all.”
Rosamund took a few deep breaths. “It is a juxtaposition.” She whispered just loudly enough to be heard by her friend. “She is the wife of the king, she ought to have his ears.”
Lyra snorted, a truly rude sound that seemed so out of place from her usual elegance that Rosamund almost stopped her steps. “She certainly has his cock,” before Rosamund could even comprehend her words enough to be shocked, Lyra continued, “but it is not like she knows what to do with the little power she does have in that position. At most, she goes to tell her master, whoever that is, the King or the Hand, and, although enraged, it is not like either of them are happy now . What will truly change?”
Rosamund saw the logic behind Lyra’s words, just like Lady Alicent did not see it. For not only a few days later, they were all attracted by the commotion happening in the King’s apartments.
Princess Rhaenyra was not present, but Rosamund could see Prince Daemon as she stood beside Lady Amanda and Lady Barba. Although to varying levels, they were all amused and hiding it, thoroughly entertained as they all pretended to be watching solely to report back to Rhaenyra.
Lady Alicent finally ceased her high pitched supplication when the King took a vase from a nearby table and smashed it against the farthest wall. It was only then that Rosamund noticed that Ser Otto and Ser Tyland were also trying to speak with the King.
Otto did not let the King’s display of violence deter him, however.
“Your Grace, please, I beseech you. This is blatant manipulation, lying at best and treason at worst.”
“Silence!” The King almost screamed at the knight’s face. “One more word from you of my daughter, Otto, next time I shall not be quick enough to stay Daemon’s hands.”
That was quite the odd threat, at least to Rosamund. Her own father threatened a particularly insistent merchant with a wandering hand with decapitation by his own sword before throwing him in their dungeons. He never… threatened using others’ prowess. Looking about, she saw that even Prince Daemon looked taken aback by it.
“Husband… please.” Lady Alicent tried then.
Rosamund felt her eyes widening. She heard the whispers, all did, about the Wife of The King finally behaving a bit more properly. While Alicent Hightower did not have the hunched shoulders of a lady in disgrace, in equal turns, she has been trying to assert power or was too meek to position herself. The uncertainty would kill Rosamund and she was not sure whether Lady Alicent was too ignorant to be properly afraid or she simply did not notice the edge she was teetering on.
This was the first time they have seen her calling the King in such a familiar way.
“Rhaenyra… she fooled us all.” Lady Alicent insisted.
It seemed that Lyra was right then. Rosamund was barely breathing as she tried not to call attention to herself and be sent away.
The King closed his eyes as if pained. “I understood that very well, Alicent, cease repeating yourself.”
Rosamund could not fault Lady Alicent from wincing and blushing in humiliation. But it was hardly like she learned much of anything from the experience. Time and time again Lady Alicent was brought to heel. With words, with the consequences of her own actions, with circumstances… nothing seemed to teach her anything.
It was only then that Rosamund noticed Patricia Redwyne. Coppery hair with perfect coils and sharp features, Rosamund had to acknowledge that she was very beautiful indeed, and yet she seemed to know very well what she was doing with said beauty.
Most women with her appearance would not bother with court intricacies. Their looks alone would be enough to get them almost anything they could wish for. Instead, she discreetly leaned forward, towards Lady Alicent as the King was once again distracted by Ser Otto and Ser Tyland.
Lady Patricia whispered something that made Lady Alicent swallow and nod before Lady Patricia's gritted instruction stopped the movement at all. She was good. Rosamund had to control her own reaction as she watched the exchange.
While Rosamund could not know what Lady Patricia said at that first moment, she could see that not only Lady Patricia became skilled in discretion but she was also well-versed in perception. The wife of the King could hardly be seen being so visibly… controlled or overly relying on her lady after all.
The same mistake that Rosamund and her own fellow ladies have witnessed between the King and Ser Otto. Even the knights, as newly arrived as they were, were quick in noticing that the King’s actions were seemingly dictated by his Hand. Whether or not that was true did not matter if King Viserys never dismissed the whispers in his ears.
Lady Alicent did her best to look confident, “My King, I understand that with the oath so publicly given and then announcement equally public there is little to be done at this conjunction of time.” Did she now?
Rosamund had to employ a lot of effort into not releasing the disdainful little noise stuck at the back of her throat.
“But surely some consequences ought to be had.”
Whoreson. Rosamund felt herself palling. That was… that was very skillfully put.
Lady Alicent not only made it clear that she understood the current state of affairs and the position the Princess had forced on her father. She offered understanding and respect and pressed the need for punishment that ought to come from the King and by the King’s initiative.
Rosamund, carefully and slowly, turned to Lady Patricia who was not even smiling, not even smirking. No, instead, Patricia Redwyne was politely staring ahead. Not making a spectacle of herself after her own successful advice.
Lady Amanda for sure noticed the same, Lady Barba, although far from used or trained in politics could certainly identify a predator. They were also looking at Lady Patricia.
Like a mantra, Rosamund repeated Lyra’s words, trying to reassure herself.
“What can they really do?”
But it was not about the King’s – and the Hand’s – inability to stop the wedding. Rosamund swallowed as she watched the King’s eyes darkening. It was no small concern. The King of Westeros was cornered and forced into compliance. Regardless of his own more malleable nature, the whole affair was very public and it only threw into attention that he was made powerless by his own daughter and brother, even if most did not know about it. Consequences ought to be felt at some point. The Crown Princess no longer had the King’s trust, or, at least, not complete trust.
Rosamund knew that the King would keep a tight control over the information. As far as everybody else would know, King Viserys was not happy but kept his word about the Princess’ husband after all, he was no oathbreaker, yes?
Beyond the political ramifications, it was about the dismantlement of the rapport the Princess built for the last year as she made her father miss and love her. Rosamund knew that it was part of it, and a predictable one as well. The Princess was very clear of her expectations and plans. It was always the intention to lose the King’s ear and confidence in exchange for Prince Daemon’s hand in marriage. She eyed him from the corner of her eyes.
Thankfully, the Prince seemed aware of it. Focus was something that Prince Daemon never seemed to lack – indeed the sharpness of his eyes unsettled many – alongside his silence it made him a very intimidating presence even as he looked satisfied from his place leaning against walls and doors, happy to be forgotten as he readied himself to act. Now he was unusually solemn, unusually serious and contemplative.
For the sake of her Princess, Rosamund was happy and relieved that not only was Prince Daemon doing his utmost to show all how very important Princess Rhaenyra was to him, but he was also very conscious of the sacrifice required for the Princess to marry him as well.
Some would say that it was no sacrifice when you lose something poisonous, or something that you never had. And yet…
At the end of the day, Princess Rhaenyra sacrificed her relationship with her own father for Prince Daemon. And, Rosamund then realized, Prince Daemon sacrificed his relationship with his brother for Princess Rhaenyra.
~*~
“We shall divide it into sections then.” Princess Rhaenyra declared, resolute but tired after an entire day focused on the preparations of her wedding.
Amelia nodded and let Maris note it down.
“The colors of the Houses Paramount… shall we… shall we do something about the Iron Islands and Dorne?” Nora asked by her side.
Lady Barba looked at Amelia’s sister in incredulity but it was little Elinda that answered timidly.
“The royal family of Dorne was invited but they have already declined attendance.”
“I expect an appropriately expensive gift but not much more.” Rhaenyra waved the matter off. “We invited them out of respect of a fellow royal family and although there were some expectations of attendance due to the talks of a betrothal between House Velaryon and House Martell, tensions between Dornish and Westerosi are simply too high. The same applies for the ironborn. Can you imagine the look on Lord Mallister’s face if House Greyjoy decides to attend?”
They laughed a bit uneasily at the not so jesting tone of the Princess.
“Although we ought to keep the matter as silent as we can.” Lady Amanda cautioned. “We do not know what goes on behind closed doors between House Velaryon and House Martell and both are unlikely to thank us for spreading information about. We invited them, they declined, that’s all that shall pass through our lips if prompted. If not then the matter is not our concern.”
Lady Amanda waited and met all their eyes as they nodded. Even Princess Rhaenyra.
Amelia understood that the Velaryons were too powerful to make an enemy of them. Even just create animosity truly. While their children were amicable and, alongside Princess Rhaenys, were Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra’s blood, she still had a legendary iron fist and it was never a good idea to underestimate and slight the Sea Snake.
“Probably because the last time Prince Daemon saw them was but a few moons ago and the Princess of Dorne was heavy with child. At least that’s the rumor. They are no dragonriders and their fleet has never healed since the times of Princess Nymeria.” Ada frowned.
The Northwoman may not be the best amongst them with politics, but she knew history and strategy very well.
“No words of rumors shall pass our lips.” Amanda raised her hand and repeated herself. “The royal family of Dorne was invited but they have already declined attendance. Anyone ask anything… we cannot claim to know for sure.”
They all uttered their agreements.
“So… seven sections. Will that not make it clear the regions with the least number of Houses attending?” Estell hummed into her own notes, being in charge of the list of guests herself. “At first glance many of them confirmed. Roughly an equal number.”
Barba’s light brown eyes widened. “Even from the North?”
“Motivated by Lord Stark.” Rhaenyra nodded. “Houses Amber, Bolton, Burley, Cassel, Crowl, Dustin, Flint, Hornwood, even the Karkstarks, Mormont and Umber to have it alphabetically.”
“So close to winter as well.” Barba said to herself, and Ada joined her in frowning in consternation.
They sympathized, but they could not offer much more than mere words at that moment.
“Eight sections.” The Princess corrected. “Prince Reggio of Pentos confirmed his presence. Two magisters from the conclave of… of Lys did it also.” Rhaenyra seemed a bit uncomfortable and it was no hardship to understand the reason.
Foreigners were not very well regarded in Westeros. And Lys had… a reputation.
But the Princess was far from done.
“The Prince of the Summer Islands has also expressed wishes to attend.”
Even Elinda’s eyes were wide as the moon. They all understood and knew the history and customs of the place after all.
“My Princess… is… uh… that… wise?” Nora cleared her throat, she did not wish to challenge or question so overtly but…
“Do not worry,” Rhaenyra seemed a bit unsettled but not tense which made the rest of them calm as well, “underneath quite the many, many words, he declined… he just did so in a way that implied he wished to see what the Westerosi called ‘bedding’.”
Something told Amelia that “implied” was maybe not the correct term.
“Lady Trianna, she is a Volantene, part of the Triarchy that rules Volantis, shall also be here. Due to the conversations between the Sealord of Braavos and House Velaryon, we have decided on inviting them as per the letters exchanged between myself and Princess Rhaenys. I believe those are to be the only ones from Essos. The important part is that they will all send gifts for the occasions, giving the perception that they would have loved to have attended.”
Amelia felt confusion growing inside of her and could not help her curiosity. She understood the show of force that the Princess intended but, “Is the betrothal not going forward then? Between Braavos and Lord Corlys?”
Rhaenyra hummed. “In all honesty, I do not know and until everything is set in stone I shall keep myself out of their business. There is no way to influence them one way or another and it is asking for far too much trouble.”
“And we should all follow the example.” Lyra reinforced.
“If we are to make the Velaryons the guests of honor then we must decide on the gesture.” Amanda continued then, seemingly eager to move forward.
“A seat at the main table mayhap?” Maris suggested, already aware of the idea.
Amanda tilted her head but she seemed agreeable. “That is interesting, their Lady is cousin to the King and a princess after all.”
“Is it too presumptuous to have a seat for Lady Jeyne at least?” the Princess asked then.
“It is your wedding and your cousin, Princess.” Amanda answered gently.
Looking more lively, Rhaenyra watched as Lady Amanda carefully wrote it down.
“The first three dances set the tone.” Rosamund provided. “After that it is not truly important who dances with whom.”
“Usually the newlyweds open the dance,” Elinda started, “and then Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys can be the next ones.”
“The second dance is between the King and the Princess, so they will be accompanied by the Velaryons then.” Lady Amanda corrected.
Maris quickly noted it down.
“Prince Daemon will be dancing with… Lady Alicent… or Lady Laena… maybe Princess Rhaenys?” Estell paused, confused and hesitant.
“Princess Rhaenys.” Amanda was completely sure. “It is after her that comes the problem. Princess Rhaneyra should be dancing with the Hand of the King, but I presume this is not going to happen.” At Rhaenyra’s unchanging expression, Lady Amanda nodded. “Then she is to dance with Lord Corlys, it is then that we are not quite sure who should be partnering with Prince Daemon.”
Amelia almost laughed, if a bit uncomfortably, how casually Princess Rhaenyra was planning on snubbing the Hand of the King. But it was a dilemma to choose Prince Daemon’s next dance partner.
Usually it would have been the next highest ranking woman just like it was the next highest ranking man for Rhaenyra. Lady Alicent… the Wife of the King or Lady Laena… the daughter of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and Lord Corlys Velaryon… rider of Vhagar…the answer should be obvious, but… Lady Alicent was still the wife of the King… and she was firmly in his good graces.
Their attention was suddenly on the Princess as she slowly opened a huge smile. Happiness, malice… vindication in every feature.
“Prince Daemon shall dance with Lady Jeyne Arryn… Lady Paramount of the Vale, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East. The niece of Queen Aemma Arryn and cousin to the princess he is marrying.”
~*~
“I must say, Prince Daemon is truly dedicated to his courtship.” Lady Lyra’s eyebrows were high as they all watched Daemon approach being followed by a bevy of servants carrying another enormous arrangement of flowers. This time they were all roses. Maybe a hundred of them.
Six moons seemed like a lot of time and Rhaenyra never again would commit the mistake of thinking that.
Rhaenyra was fast in deciding on eight days of celebrations. If only to smirk that it was not “merely” seven – as the one her father had with Alicent – and to spurn some religious reason behind the number.
She tried to suppress the feeling of butterflies as she was about to fulfill a girlhood dream of marrying Daemon in Dragonstone.
Blood of two…
Joined as one…
And although more than a bit embarrassed that she had failed to notice she was being courted, Rhaenyra fully enjoyed the last six moons of it. A mere sennight separated them from the first day of celebrations and yet Daemon still continued the courtship. She could not even imagine the effort behind preserving flowers in full bloom from wherever he was getting them.
Rhaenyra ought not to be too judged for not noticing the courtship, she felt. It was not like Daemon never gave her flowers, books full of poems and jewelry. Their time together with meaningful conversations may have become rarer as Rhaenyra grew into a woman and her problems grew in size and complexity that Daemon could not always fully comprehend, just like Rhaenyra started to become aware of his own issues that she could not do much for either. And yet, it was, if not easy, then almost natural to open themselves to one another.
Still, she could feel her heart racing whenever Daemon invited her to walks, rides in horses or dragons or did one of his grand gestures. The intent behind them was so different from the memories of childhood that Rhaenyra could not even bring herself to hide the blush in her cheeks.
“They are stunning.” Rhaenyra smiled at Daemon who returned the gesture.
“They pale when compared to you.”
Eyes and voices would follow them. It was a reality that Rhaenyra has grown used to since her first clumsy steps as a babe. The giggles were new, she had to admit.
Rhaenyra did not even have to lift the flowers for her to appreciate their scent. So sizeable that the petals were already brushing her face even with her arms completely down.
“Beautiful.” Daemon complimented.
Feeling her smile increasing, Rhaenyra ordered some of the servants around them to put the flowers in her chambers where they would replace the last flowers Daemon had given her. Still fresh and still beautiful and likely about to decorate several vases spread about the Red Keep now that new flowers were gifted.
“Your household seems almost lost.” Rhaenyra teased and, much to her amusement, Daemon sighed in exasperation.
He was clearly not overly sure of what to even do with the knights that, a year before, were fighting and bloodied and dirtied. Surrounded by enemies and sand in the Stepstones as Daemon did his best to lead them. And now they were clean, arrogant as only a noble could be, and apparently happy to arrange his clothes and bring him his letters.
With the preparations done, all that was left to Rhaenyra’s ladies was to pack their belongings alongside the maids. Several chests made their way to the harbor to be shipped to Dragonstone, always accompanied by one or two of her ladies and escorted by her knights.
A lot more practical than her, Daemon had much fewer belongings that needed to be sent ahead of time. The tunics, cloaks, jackets, pants and boots for the occasion were all newly commissioned by Rhaenyra and she was relieved that aside from her own, the veritable army of seamstresses were also able to finish Daemon’s clothes for the occasion in such a speed.
Construction was well under way in Dragonstone and the Stepstones and with his spoils of the war already on Dragonstone, there was not much left to do for Daemon’s household. The knights took to training with the guards, gold cloaks and kinsguards in the yard. Early hours where the sun just broke through the horizon were now the signal that the residents of the Red Keep had of upcoming clashing steel. Due to the large number of knights now sparring, the sound was thundering and piercing.
After that they did indeed seem almost a bit lost. There was only so much they could do besides follow the maesters knowledgeable in ravenry, easily identified by their black iron link. Instead they took to follow Daemon around like puppies, ready to attend to his needs.
But the truth was that Daemon has been so independent from a full household that the few that he now had were, to him, redundant. Rhaenyra understood it. Daemon has gone longer not having a household than having one. And if his knights were at a loss of what to do, likely because they also had never pictured themselves serving in a household then Daemon was almost equally so.
“I understand your need and desire to oversee your operations yourself. There is some truth in saying that if you wish a job well done then to do so yourself, but we will marry and once in Dragonstone our duties will exponentially increase. One of the reasons I increased my retinue to the extent I did was to delegate what I can, we shall have more time for each other.” Rhaenyra tempted.
Her sense of worth had fluttered like the wings of a bird all her life. While Rhaenyra knew that Daemon desired her, else they would not have had three pregnancies in six sun turns in the Dreams, she was now growing familiar with the fact that he was fond of her company as well.
“That was a very strong argument.” Daemon chuckled but his shoulders relaxed. “I was quite impressed with Ser Robert Darklyn in the war and truly the training of the guards in Dragonstone is what has been taking most of my time. The Gold Cloaks are well managed by now, the captains are performing reasonably enough.”
Rhaenyra refused to let nervousness take hold of her. “I trust your judgment and skills, Daemon. Especially when it is about our safety.”
Neither mentioned that Dragonstone has been infiltrated in the Dreams. They learned, they knew better.
“Dragonstone will be impenetrable by the time I am done.” Daemon tightened his hold on her hand as they walked through the godswood.
A promise to not let it happen again.
Much like Daemon a few moments before, Rhaenyra felt her muscles loosening. Vaegon has been teaching her warfare before her tour but the priority, by far, was economy and state management. Not from the perspective of a lady wife, but a lady in her own right and of her own lands.
Rhaenyra knew the importance of not remaining ignorant of such matters. But while she knew she could become somewhat accomplished in the field, she was also aware that she was never going to come close to Daemon’s knowledge and raw experience when it came to warfare.
It simply made sense that Daemon was the one to overtake the security of the island.
“It will be quite important once the guests start to arrive.” Rhaenyra agreed, squeezing her own hold on his hand.
Daemon then started to laugh. “Have you notified the stables?”
Rhaenyra tried to form an admonishing look but her lips were twitching too much for the desired effect. “We are prepared even if Lady Trianna decides to bring her elephants.”
“Fourteen courses for each feast every night.” Daemon quickly swept the papers in front of Rosamund who blinked at them.
Rhaenyra sent her an apologetic glance before rolling her eyes at her betrothed.
“I did like to integrate a little of our culture in a discreet way.”
“A number is so subtle I don’t think anyone will notice, Princess.” But it sounded more like a complaint than a compliment.
It made Rhaenyra smile in amusement. If it was entirely Daemon’s decision, they would perform the Valyrian rites, probably either in front of the entirety of Westeros or just with their fellow Valyrians completely in High Valyrian and spend the rest of the eight days in their then shared chambers. He said as much many times by that point.
“The second to last day we will already be celebrating with bloody foreheads, lips and hands into the night. The rest of it ought not to offend too many sensibilities.” Rhaenyra’s amusement only increased at his grumbling.
“It is not like the rest of it is not daring enough.” Amanda interjected quietly as she reached out to take Rosamund’s notes out of Daemon’s hands.
She returned them to a nervous and relieved Rosamund. The only other copies were Maris’ and Elinda’s and Rosamund never understood Maris’ writing.
Daemon ignored her ladies, too focused on her much to her growing shyness. He extended his hand to caress her face and Rhaenyra felt blood warming her cheeks. Still, she closed her eyes to enjoy the gentle touch.
The calluses on his hands have long since become familiar to Rhaenyra. Although there were other ways to fake blood on the sheets, their nights together have been relatively innocent so far. They had never spent so much time together since Rhaenyra could remember and it was a wonder and a relief that neither seemed to grow bored of the other.
Lips and hands exploring as they held each other through the night. Sweet words and touches. Solemn conversations about the present and the future. Oaths never taken in the Dreams being uttered in the hour of the wolf.
Rhaenyra knew what she was talking about when suggesting more time together as incentive. There were few opportunities of leisure for her and her ladies and knights and so Rhaenyra had not experienced someone seeking her out for the simple pleasure of her company since Alicent herself. And now she would always question those moments, forever tainted as they became.
Rhaenyra could have jested about it, but she was too blissfully happy for even considering it as Daemon made one last promise before they were finally joined in blood.
“Soon.”
