Chapter Text
Rhaenyra knew her time had come to an end. She wouldn’t give her executioner the satisfaction of seeing her fear. This war had taken everything from her, but it would not rob her of her dignity. She closed her eyes, and that’s when time stopped. A voice came to her, whispering of a second chance. She could go back to the one moment she felt had signaled the end of her family. She could make different choices and live the life that resulted from them. Rhaenyra didn’t think twice in accepting the offer. It had to be better than the life she was living and the death she was about to endure.
112 AC:
Rhaenyra sat up in her bed, chest heaving, heart racing from the rushing fear through her veins. It took her seconds to settle down, to look around and see that she was in the Red Keep. She was back in her royal chambers. Scrambling out of bed, she searched for the mirror. The reflection was one she scarcely recognized. She was youthful and unchanged from the rigors of time or from bearing children. There was sadness in her eyes that could have only come from the recent passing of her mother. This was it. This was the moment she could change to alter the course of her family.
Rhaenyra still had her knowledge of the life she had lived up to the moments just before she was due to die. In the ten years she had lived at court, she had discreetly made inquiries of the servants that had attended her father. Each told her of the evening visits from Alicent. The young woman was unchaperoned for each. Rhaenyra had a chance to stop her father from marrying and making the worst mistake of his life.
Dressing in a black dress accented with red dragon scales, Rhaenyra left her room, heading for the Small Council Chamber where her father would be. She was in such a rush that she missed Ser Criston Cole falling into step behind her. It was hard not to want to run from him. This was not the man who had turned on her. She had to tackle one problem at a time.
At the door to the Small Council chamber, Rhaenyra signaled for him to stay where he was. She pushed open the door making her presence known. They all stared at her, with varying flashes of annoyance in their eyes at being interrupted. She wouldn’t be deterred. “I would like to speak to my father alone,” she said, politely at first.
“Rhaenyra, what is the meaning of this?” Viserys asked in surprise, not anger.
“Princess, we are in the middle of important matters that concern the realm,” Otto said dismissively.
“I am Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne. When I say get out, Ser Hightower, I am not to be ignored,” Rhaenyra said with fire and fury in her tone. The other men around the table heeded her command, gathering their things so they could make a speedy departure. She flicked a glance to her father who was sitting in his seat – stunned. He’d never seen her act this way before.
Otto remained where he was. He wouldn’t be hustled out of the room because the princess was in a foul mood and decided to throw a tantrum. She stared him down, the fire in her eyes growing, showing that the dragon was fully awake inside her. It was a look he’d not seen.
Rhaenyra stayed where she was, her eyes never wavered from Otto. She wanted him to see that she was not intimidated by him. Before, she remembered respecting him. Now, she saw him for the greedy, power-hungry cunt that he was. He cleared his throat, stood up, and walked by her, heading for the door. When it closed, she waited a little longer. Her father was looking to her for answers. She would give them, but only when they were alone. Rhaenyra went to the chamber door and pulled it open. On the other side, she found Hightower. She shook her head in obvious disgust. “When I said get out, it didn’t mean linger by the door like a common pervert.” To halt him from offering up a pathetic excuse, she looked to Ser Harold and said, “If he doesn’t move away from this door, drag him out of the Keep and hold him at the gates until I summon him back.”
“Yes, princess,” Ser Harold responded in his clipped manner.
Otto nodded, showing to be obedient to her wishes. He would have to redouble his efforts in maneuvering Viserys into marrying Alicent.
Rhaenyra closed the door, trusting that Ser Harold would do as she ordered him should Otto return. Now that they were alone, she returned to the table where her father sat, still confused by her hostile display. “Whatever you have going on with Alicent Hightower, it stops now,” she stated without the fire and the fury from a moment ago.
“Rhaenyra…” Viserys was at a loss. He had thought no one knew that Alicent was visiting him, helping him through his grief.
“No,” Rhaenyra said, shaking her head. “You have to stop. You can’t see what is really happening here.”
The confusion faded and a spark of fire flashed through Viserys. “And what is going on here?” he asked, rising to face her.
“Otto’s lust for power,” Rhaenyra stated. “He doesn’t care about you, father. He only cares about having his blood on the throne. You marrying Alicent will give him that…”
Viserys took a moment to study his only child. She had this certainty about her that only came from divine intervention. “You’ve seen this in a dream,” he said.
Rhaenya’s determination faded as she dropped down into the chair that belonged to the Hand of the King. “I lived it,” she replied in a softy, shaky voice. She hadn’t had a chance to stop and process the shock that was creeping in.
Viserys sat down next to her. He could see whatever she was thinking had disturbed her. There was no sense in arguing with her. Instead, they were going to talk. “What happens if I marry Alicent?” he asked calmly – even though that was the last thing he was feeling.
“If you marry her, you’ll get the son you always wanted, but you do not make him your heir. When you die, they steal the throne…” Rhaenyra said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “After that, a civil war ensues because they refused to honor the succession. Your legacy and that of your grandfather dies.”
Viserys wasn’t going to dismiss Rhaenyra’s claims outright. The Targaryen family had always been gifted with foresight. For now, he was going to believe that Rhaenyra’s claims were a product of that. “If not Alicent, then who do you suggest?”
“Laena Velaryon,” Rhaenyra stated. “Wait until the war in the stepstones has been won, and Daemon will win it, then bind the Sea Snake and his family to us. Laena will be of an age that you won’t find disconcerting and you’ll find her more of an equal to you.”
“If I do this, you must marry as well,” Viserys bargained. He was willing to wait. His heart had yet to heal from Aemma. Otto seemed usually determined to see him re-married. He chalked it up to concern for the realm…. He also had to consider that Rhaenyra was right, that what she claimed had happened, and she was given a second chance to change it. It pained him to think Daemon had been right all these years and he hadn’t wanted to listen.
“Wed me to Daemon,” Rhaenyra replied. She didn’t know how long she would be able to remember her life with her uncle. Before those memories vanished, she wanted to cement her betrothal to Daemon.
“He’s already married,” Viserys stated with a bit of a bite to his tone.
“A marriage he never consummated,” Rhaenyra fired back. “You know he loathes Rhea Royce. Free him from it and let us marry. Let us wed in the tradition of our house.” She saw the instant furious denial he wanted to issue. This was what she wanted. Her and Daemon.
Viserys set his jaw. His quick snap of temper faded when he saw the earnestness in Rhaenyra’s eyes. Her asking for Daemon was part of her future vision. “You and Daemon…?”
“Father, we’ll be happy,” Rhaenyra responded warmly. “If you allow it, our house, my succession will be shored up. No one would challenge us. We’ll have the loyalty of the Velaryon’s as well.” At least, that was her hope. If this happened, the only ones that would oppose it would be the Hightower’s, but they would be alone. She had to make sure they remained alone. Otto had to remain without support.
“I swear to you on your mother’s memory that I will wed Laena… and you will have Daemon,” Viserys swore to her. He wanted her to know he took her words seriously. If there was one person in al the realm he could trust, it was Rhaenyra. His child did not lie, and she wouldn’t go telling tales. If marrying Alicent led to a civil war, then he would do what he could to prevent it.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON:
Alicent had been summoned to the godswood by Rhaenyra. Nerves made her stomach toss and turn as if she were on a ship. She always made sure she followed the rules. Her actions the last few months were in direct contradiction of that. Now she had a new fear as she stepped outside, seeing Rhaenyra by the godswood tree – her back turned. She wore a red dress with black scale accents on the sleeves. “Rhaenyra?” she called out, swallowing hard.
Rhaenyra thought about how she would approach this situation with Alicent. She could clearly recall the moment she had been on the receiving end of this type of summons and then soundly accused of fucking Daemon. That night had ended another way. One that Rhaenyra wouldn’t repeat. Turning around, she schooled her features into a look of compassion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
Alicent blanched. “Rhaenyra… please…” she started to beg. There was no need to ask what she was talking about. Alicent knew. This was about her visits to the king.
Rhaenyra went to her, not interested in torturing her friend. “I could have helped you had you only come to me. What your father had you do was wrong.” That last word had Alicent’s head dropping and her shoulders shaking as she tried to repress her sobs. “I’m not angry at you,” she said at last.
Alicent looked up, hope blossoming inside her. “You’re not?” she asked.
“No,” Rhaenyra answered. She wouldn’t waste her second chance on nursing old wounds. Her purpose was to make different choices and one of those would be to bind her friend closely to her. “When your father sends you to the King again, you must not go. Instead, come to my chambers,” she proposed.
“Rhaenyra you don’t know my father. He’ll be angry I disobeyed him,” Alicent rambled, careful to keep her voice quiet.
“I’ll protect you even if he will not,” Rhaenyra promised, reaching out to place her hand on Alicent’s shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. She was already planning Otto Hightowers deposition as Hand of the King. That position should have gone to Daemon, and she would see to it that he was given the honor.
115 AC:
3 DAYS BEFORE DAEMON’S RETURN
Rhaenyra knew her father would honor his word and free Daemon from his marriage. She was sent to secure the signature of Rhea Royce. Flying on Syrax to the Vale was done in a matter of hours. She landed, already knowing mounted knights were riding to meet her. Syrax settled down, patiently waiting for her rider to conduct her business, but made sure to keep a watchful eye none the less.
Rhaenyra saw the woman riding at the head of the small contingent of knights and called out, “Rhea Royce?”
“Princess, you’re an awful long way from King’s Landing,” Rhea responded, swinging down out of the saddle of her horse.
“Not when one rides a dragon,” Rhaenyra responded with a friendly smile. The Lady of the Vale came closer, and she could see why Daemon hadn’t been taken with her. There was nothing against Rhea – she was beautiful in her own way. Rhaenyra could see there was nothing there that would catch his eye. True, Rhea had a fire all her own, but it wasn’t the dragon fire that coursed through Rhaenyra’s veins.
“Why have you come all this way?” Rhea asked carefully.
“I’m here to offer you freedom from your absent husband,” Rhaenyra replied conversationally. There was a flicker of suspicion in Rhea’s eyes – and of interest.
“Why now?” Rhea asked, talking one step closer. A distant rumbling growl had her pausing. The head of the dragon appeared, pinning her with a warning glare. She wasn’t to take another step.
“Does it matter?” Rhaenyra inquired earnestly. “You hate him, and he hates you. Wouldn’t you leap at a chance to be well rid of him? You could find someone who suits you, who suits your tastes.”
At the time of their marriage, Rhea had the potential of becoming queen of the seven kingdoms. That alone had induced her to maintain their farce of a marriage. Now, with him being disinherited, and off in the stepstones, she had no reason to remain married to him.
Rhaenyra watched as she weighed the options. While the lady continued to think, she pulled out a piece of parchment that would annul the marriage without casting aspersions on either party. The text boiled down to both parties having irreconcilable differences that led to a failure to perform. Rhaenyra held it out to her, saying, “Sign this, and it’ll be done.”
Rhea looked at Rhaenyra and then to the folded parchment in her hand. “Why are you bringing this here and not your father?” she asked.
“Do you want to do this quietly or make a public spectacle of it?” Rhaenyra replied, putting a little bit of annoyance in her voice. “If you would prefer to bring this matter before my father in the Red Keep…”
Rhea held up her hands. “No, quiet is fine.”
“Once you sign, and I’ve obtained Daemon’s signature as well, your marriage will have never existed. I would urge you to forget all about it,” Rhaenyra suggested.
“Why does this matter so much to you, princess?” Rhea asked as accepted the quill she’d been handed. With a quick flick of her wrist, she signed her name. Finally, she was free of Daemon Targaryen.
“Daemon is my family and I want him happy,” Rhaenyra answered without hesitation. Leaving the lady to her daily hunt, she returned to Syrax, and took to the sky on dragon back.
KING’S LANDING:
Daemon flew over the city, seeing nothing had changed in the four years he’d been away fighting. Landing at the pit, the dragon keepers ushered Caraxes into the cave. His dragon grumbled the entire time. It made Daemon smile. He turned from the pit and headed towards the Red Keep. There was an odd sense of anticipation racing through him the closer he got. His brother would be waiting – and hopefully Rhaenyra as well. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to hear her voice, and be rewarded with her smile.
Through the streets, the townsfolk gathered to watch Daemon, to cheer his return. He was once again Prince of the City. The red gates were open, permitting him inside. Daemon nodded to the soldiers of House Targaryen, and they nodded to him in return. From memory, he walked through the keep towards the throne room where two white cloaks were waiting. They opened the door, admitting him. A crowd of nobles had gathered with Viserys on the throne waiting for him.
Daemon didn’t falter as he walked towards the throne. A sword pressed into his armor, warning him to stop. He raised the war hammer and then dropped it. “Add it to the chair,” he said, his voice echoing through the room. Then, shocking those assembled, he bent the knee. “There is only one true king,” he confessed, removing the crown that had been forged for him at the end of the war. “I offer you my crown and swear allegiance to you.”
Viserys glanced to his right, seeing Rhaenyra in the crowd – having arrived late as usual. Her eyes were all on her uncle and for the first time, he could see she was in love with him. It was the same soft look he had had for Aemma. Rhaenyra had done everything he’d asked of her for the last three years. He held true to his bargain and married Laena – who he was surprised he got on with. She showed interest in his studies of their ancestral lands. They spoke at length about their dragons, about why he never bonded with another, and their nights helped to soothe the sadness in his heart. Turning his attention back to his brother, he said, “Welcome home.” They embraced, showing the court all was right with them.
*~*~*~*~*
After the events in the throne room, the royal court had retired to the godswood for a little celebration. Daemon stayed near his brother and his new bride, telling him how happy he was that all was right with their family again. Every so often he would search the faces gathered looking for Rhaenyra. She was staying on the fringe, watching him. Something about her had changed. She had a maturity her that had been starting to blossom during their last encounter. It was alluring and he found it hard to look away from her.
After a while, Rhaenyra couldn’t stand staying away. She slowly made her way over to her father and Daemon. He watched every move she made, wearing a little, knowing smirk. It was one she had seen on him many times before. Her heart fluttered. Daemon could always do that to her. “It must be good to be home,” Rhaenyra said once she stood by her father side. The last time they’d been face to face had been on the bridge of Dragonstone. Back then, he seemed petulant. Now, he was reserved and almost tired. His hair was different – still long but matted and adorned with one thick braid.
“It is, princess,” Daemon replied politely and with warmth in his voice. When their eyes connected, everything else faded away. He longed to be alone with her. And it was then he saw she wore the necklace he’d bought for her. That moment in the throne room felt as if it had happened ten years ago rather than four.
Rhaenyra stepped in close to Daemon, taking his hand as she moved into give him a hug. She squeezed his hand, pressing a folded bit of parchment into his palm. “It’s so good to have you home, uncle,” Rhaenyra whispered, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. Then she moved back still wearing the same warm smile she always graced him with.
Daemon closed his hand over the parchment without looking down. He inclined his head, signaling to her that he had her note. When he was given a moments peace, he’d read it.
“Father, I’m going to take care of that matter we spoke about this morning,” Rhaenyra said, turning to Viserys.
“Now?” Viserys asked, showing his disappointment that she wanted to leave already.
“It shouldn’t go another day,” Rhaenyra responded confidently. She’d been waiting for this day for three years.
“Perhaps I should go with you,” Daemon offered. There was something about her stance that told him she was preparing for a fight of some sort.
“No, I’ll be alright. You should stay and enjoy the attention,” Rhaenyra replied sweetly. She turned to leave, keenly aware that Daemon’s eyes were on her. Even after Ser Harold and her sworn protector, Criston Cole, fell in step behind her, she could still feel him watching her. Keeping the smile on her face, she made her way to the Tower of the Hand. The day before, she and her father had spoken at length over what to do about Lord Otto Hightower, and it was agreed that he be relieved of his service to the realm and sent back to Old Town. In his place, Lionel Strong would be elevated to the position as he had been the one to urge for closer ties to House Velaryon. That sound guidance was going to be rewarded.
TOWER OF THE HAND:
Otto had opted out of the celebration for Daemon. He had important matters to see to for the realm and little deals to make to secure his position of power. When the knock came at the door, he was in the middle of reading a message from his brother. There was nothing important in the missive, so Otto didn’t feel overly guilty in setting it aside. He got up from the table and went to see who dared to disturb him. Upon opening the door, he was shocked to find Rhaenyra in the company of two King’s Guard. “Princess?” he asked, truly at a loss for words.
“Might we come in?” Rhaenyra asked politely. She had to keep her voice from sound too chipper. Today she was getting rid of the man who had manipulated her father and the small council for years. He’d interfered with her family for the last time. He’d dared to try and take more power than he deserved.
“Has something happened?” Otto asked, stepping back.
Rhaenyra stepped into the tower, seeing the iconography of House Hightower. “You’ve served as Hand since the final days of my great-grandfather, Jaehaerys,” she started. Walking slowly around the room, she looked at the items he’d collected over the years he’d lived in King’s Landing. She paused at the table, seeing partially concealed parchment scrolls bearing the Lannister Lion and the green flame of House Hightower. Rhaenyra kept moving. “In light of that long service, my father, the king feels you deserve to rest.” Now she turned to face him. She saw the quick flash of rage. None the less, she smiled softly at him.
“Have I displeased the king in some way I’m unaware of?” Otto asked, pretending ignorance.
“Not at all,” Rhaenyra lied flawlessly. “You are advancing in age, and in light of that, wouldn’t you like to spend your days in pursuit of hobbies that make you happy?” she asked sweetly.
“I can still be of use to the realm, princess,” Otto pushed.
“You may feel that way, but the crown does not. By royal decree, you are to pack your belongings and return to Old Town.” Rhaenyra stepped up to him, holding out her hand for the symbol of his office. “Alicent will stay as my Lady in Waiting,” she informed him. This was her chance to free her friend from the machinations of her father. From the look on his face, she could see she’d backed him into a corner. He’d need time to find his way out of it and back into the king’s good graces. Today wouldn’t be that day.
“Why did he send you to do this?” Otto asked, showing that he was feeling insulted.
“My father has entrusted me with more responsibilities, this being one of them,” Rhaenyra answered cryptically.
For the time being, Otto was out of moves to make. He had no choice but to hand over the pin before doing as he was told. “I’ll leave as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure you will,” Rhaenyra agreed. She closed her fingers over the broach as she walked to the door. To Ser Harold, she whispered, “Watch him and make sure he doesn’t leave until he’s packed and ready to depart.” Harold nodded. Leaving the tower, Rhaenyra headed for another set of apartments that belonged to Lord Lionel.
GODSWOOD:
Daemon was finally granted a moment alone. He went over to the godswood tree, pretending to collect his thoughts even as he opened his hand, seeing the message from Rhaenyra. He unfolded it, seeing the language of their people written in her perfect hand. She invited him to her apartments when the sun set – via the secret passage. In her little missive, she said they had much to discuss. He was intrigued that’s for sure.
Daemon looked up again, seeing that sun was setting. Most of the guests had retired – including his brother and his wife. No one would notice when he slipped into a secret passage. He made his way through the labyrinth from memory. Each step brought him closer to Rhaenyra. It sent waves of eager anticipation through him. In the years they’d been apart, she’d matured into a woman, radiating power and purpose. It was hard not to notice she had plans of her own. He wondered if they included him.
Arriving at the door, Daemon knocked on the stone, and then stepped out of the way, leaning against the metal railing. She might not even be back in her chambers yet. The sun was only starting to set when he read her note. Closing his eyes, he recalled the last time he saw her. They were on the bridge of Dragonstone, she was facing off against him, daring him to kill her. He would never do anything like that to her. Otto – certainly – and anyone else who got in his way. Not Rhaenyra.
Stone scraping against stone had Daemon opening his eyes. There she was, framed by the orange glow of sunset dressed as a page. He chuckled, shaking his head. “You look as if you’re preparing to sneak out,” he commented.
“I wanted to be comfortable,” Rhaenyra responded, shrugging her right shoulder nonchalantly. She took his hand, pulling him into her room. Without letting go, she guided him over to the sitting area. Once there, she motioned him into a chair.
“What’s this about, niece?” Daemon asked, mildly amused.
“Your hair, uncle, is atrocious. It needs to be tended to properly,” Rhaenyra replied, picking up a comb.
“Is this why you wanted me to come to you in secret?” Daemon inquired, chuckling again.
“No,” Rhaneyra answered honestly. “We have much to discuss and I didn’t want anyone to see you. Tongues tend to wag. I’m in no mood for it,” she added, stepping up behind him. Up close, his hair was worse than she thoughts. It was best to tackle it in small sections. Picking up the first clump of hair, she started combing the tangles out carefully.
Daemon gave himself over to the attention. Silently, he winced each time Rhaenyra accidently tugged his hair. He missed the feeling of someone brushing his hair. Again, he closed his eyes, settling himself into this moment. Before too long, she was untying his braid, combing the strands with her fingers. Still, she was silent. After she freed the snarls from his hair, she ran the comb through the strands, the teeth scraping along his scalp in a pleasing manner. “I forgot how good it felt to have someone brush my hair,” he muttered, tilting his head back, looking up at her.
Rhaenyra leaned down pressing her brow to his. They stayed like that for long moments, neither wanting to break the spell falling over them. Then, she straightened, and finished tying half of his hair back, securing it with a metal clasp made of silver to look like a dragon’s claw. Rhaenyra set the comb down before taking a seat next to Daemon. With a careful expression on her face, she handed him the folded parchment that already bore Rhea’s signature to annul their marriage.
Curiously, Daemon accepted the document. Opening it, he started to read and then looked at Rhaenyra. Before an argument could form in his mind, she held up her hand.
“You were never going to inherit her lands or her wealth,” Rhaenyra stated. At her wedding to Laenor – which would never take place now – Daemon had told her that his marriage had been dissolved. She knew it was something more than that. It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to begin that Daemon had killed Rhea. “The moment you sign this, you’re free.”
“Why now?” Daemon asked, sitting back, placing the parchment in his lap.
“The Vale and the Crown realize this marriage was a waste of time. Nothing will ever come from you and Rhea staying married. What would be the benefit of keeping you tied to one another?” Rhaenyra responded.
Daemon furrowed his brow, nodding, making a sarcastic noise. He read the endless Maester double-talk feeling his eyes going cross. It all boiled down to neither Rhea nor Daemon being able to perform their marriage duties due to extreme hatred. It wasn’t unheard of for a political marriage to be annulled on these grounds. “Curious that you’re the one to offer me this and not my beloved brother.”
“Sign it and then we’ll talk,” Rhaenyra replied. Confident she would get what she wanted, she stood up, and retired to the balcony where she looked out over the city. A moment of disgust rose up inside her as she recalled the people proclaiming Aegon II king. Rhaenys had told her of the masses that had been at the dragon pit to see him crowned. That would never happen now. Still, the thought of it made her hands curl into fists.
Daemon wanted to be rid of Rhea and this document was the best way to get what he wanted. Still, murder had merit – but only if it ensured he would inherit everything she had a claim to. Now that was looking unlikely. So, he was going to play it Rhaenyra’s way. He signed. Pushing the document away, he got up, and went to pour himself a drink. Daemon paused, hand nearly gripping the handle of the pitcher. Instead, he took a moment to study her. Rhaenyra’s back was straight, her shoulder tensed. She looked as if she were already carrying the burden of the crown. This was not the young woman he used to know.
Rhaenyra listened to Daemon’s footsteps coming close to her. She turned, seeing the glass he offered to her. Accepting it, she took a sip of the fine summer wine, waiting for him to speak. He was watching her intently. It was as if he could see right into her soul. Rhaenyra looked away from him, setting her sights on the dragon pit in the distance. She could feel Syrax there, feel the need to take to the sky. All her problems would seem inconsequential from a great height.
“You’re different,” Daemon stated gently. He set his cup aside – alcohol wasn’t what he wanted. Reaching out to her, he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. She leaned into the touch, sighing sadly. “Tell me what’s happened to you,” he said, taking a step closer to her.
Rhaenyra turned to him again and this time she gave into the impulse to rest her hand against his cheek. “You won’t believe me,” she said quietly.
“Try me,” Daemon replied, giving her a wicked little smirk.
This was a moment Rhaenyra had wanted and dreaded for three years. She wanted to tell Daemon everything and feared he would balk at her claims. He wasn’t like his brother. He might not believe what she had to tell him. She could pick and choose her words carefully, but daemon would see right through him. In the end, he was her greatest ally against anyone who didn’t have Valyrian blood. Before she confided him in, she moved in close. Her hand rested against the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It had been too long since she’d had his lips pressed to hers.
Daemon didn’t fight. He sank into the kiss, giving himself over to it. His arms wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She ruled his mouth, infusing him with a passion that went well beyond her years. Daemon broke the kiss, whispering, “Rhaenyra…”
“Daemon…” Rhaneyra responded, slightly out of breath. She wanted to repeat her words to him from that night on the beach at Drifmark. However, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to get lost in reconnecting with him until he knew the truth. Stepping back from him, she placed her hand over his heart. Even as she opened her mouth to explain, the words died on her tongue.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Daemon said, urging her to confide in him. They never hid things from each other.
Mindful that Criston was at the door, Rhaenyra kept her voice down. “Everything I am about to tell you is from a life I already lived. I was given a second chance to change things for the better of our family.” Even as she said it, she knew how crazy she sounded.
Daemon felt a myriad of emotions at once. Everything in him wanted to deny what she had just said. Except, the truth was in her eyes, in her actions, and in the way she kissed him. There was passion, a hunger to it that went well beyond her eighteen years. He took her hand, holding it until she looked at him. Speaking softly, he said, “Tell me.”
“You believe me?” Rhaenyra asked, thrown be his ready acceptance.
“Talk to me first, and then I’ll decide,” Daemon replied honestly.
Rhaenyra nodded, still holding his hand. She stepped in close to him again to keep from raising her voice. Looking out at the city again, she said, “The first time, Otto started making moves towards the throne. He sent Alicent to my father in secret with the hopes that he would marry her. He did and she gave him the son he longed for.”
Daemon leaned down, pressing his brow to the top of her head. All her life, she’d been overlooked as Viserys sought to sire a son with Aemma. That claimed his good sister’s life. It led to him being disinherited and Rhaenyra being made the heir. “Viserys proclaimed his son heir?”
“No,” Rhaenyra responded. “That I could have understood. Instead, he didn’t change the succession. Eventually, it led to Otto, Alicent, and my deranged half-brother to steal my throne. It sparked a civil war that claimed many lives. Yours. And then, eventually mine.”
“And how do you intend to stop a war from brewing?” Daemon asked.
“I’ve already taken the first steps when I stopped father from seeing Alicent. Instead, I urged him to wed Laena after you won the war. Today, I took another by stripping Otto Hightower of his place at court. He’s no longer Hand of the King. That position I conferred on Lord Lyonel Strong this evening,” Rhaenyra answered. She saw the glimmer of pleasure race through Daemon’s eyes at the mention of Otto’s political demise. “I want to make sure Otto has no support moving forward.”
Daemon stepped away from her, leaning back against the railing, watching her curiously. This was not the princess he faced off against on the bridge. This was a queen he was staring at. He could see her on the throne, ruling in a way that would elevate their house to even greater glory.
“Would you like to hear more?” Rhaenyra asked. She didn’t want to overwhelm him on his first night back. There was still time for her to make her next move – and hopefully she would have Daemon making that move with her.
“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Daemon replied, giving her a little wicked smirk. He was interested in how devious her mind had become. It was evident that this Rhaenyra was not simply four years older. She had a lifetime of regret, of pain, and anger to change.
Rhaenyra drew out the moment a little longer. She returned to the sitting room, going to the table where a pitcher of wine sat. Her fingers had nearly wrapped around the handle, when Daemon stopped her. Instead, he picked up the jug, pouring for her. He stood behind her, his presence surrounding her. She leaned back against him.
Daemon set the pitcher down, slipping his right arm around her waist. Her hand covered the one that rested over her hip. They stayed like that for minutes – savoring the silent intimacy of the moment. He lightly kissed the side of her head; the silky strands of her hair tickled his lips. The feeling of being truly home tightened his chest. He rested his temple against hers.
Rhaenyra sank into Daemon. It had been too long since she’d last been in her Prince’s arms and she missed the feel of him. “When the time is right, I’m going to introduce Ser Harwin to Alicent. They’d make a good match and if all goes well, Lord Lyonel will gain a daughter.”
“But what will you take?” Daemon asked, not bothering to put distance between them.
“Larys,” Rhaenyra replied. When Lyonel and Harwin had been killed, she suspected Alicent, but only later realized that Larys had to have a hand in it as well. Second sons were ambitious, and he was no different. He spent his time sitting, listening to the ladies as they talked, making sure to remember everything. “I know the danger he’ll pose…”
“And you want to rid yourself of that threat before it becomes one,” Daemon finished for her. He commended her ruthlessness.
Rhaenyra turned to him, showing her commitment to this course of action. She was giving up her beloved sons before they were born. She was stripping him of the joy of having two beautiful, fierce daughters with Laena. “I need you, uncle,” she said the words that had been dying to pass from between her lips. “I want to bind myself to you in the tradition of our house.”
Daemon stepped back. He was intrigued by her offer. “Were we married before?”
“We were for six years before the civil war started. Father, even though weakened by his failing health, never denounced it,” Rhaenyra answered.
“Only six?” Daemon inquired, arching his right eyebrow.
“Time and different choices made it impossible to come together sooner,” Rhaenyra replied, holding his gaze.
Daemon resumed his seat in the chair. “If I wed you, will you tell me anything I want to know about your first life?” he asked.
“Do you want to know how you die?” Rhaenyra asked in response. It had to have crossed his mind.
“No,” Daemon lied. Rhaenyra gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. “What would we be giving up?”
“I would be giving up three beautiful boys that I loved move than anything. You would lose the joy of have two amazing twin daughters,” Rhaenyra answered. She would miss the feeling of family she had with their children. Dragonstone had felt like a home with all of them there. She knew she was giving that up to ensure her survival, Daemon’s, and peace in the realm.
Nonchalantly, Daemon replied, “Can’t miss something I never had.”
Rhaenyra went to him. She cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “Daemon you were a loving father not just to your girls, but to my sons as well. We even had two little boys who were loved by us and their siblings. We were a family.”
“I won’t marry you to recreate what you had the first time,” Daemon stated.
“I’m not looking to recreate that life,” Rhaenyra assured him. Leaning down, she kissed him softly.
Daemon leaned back, looking at her, searching her eyes for the truth. She wasn’t deceiving him. Standing up, he loomed over her, seeing her shiver in desire. Words at this moment were not needed. He kissed her, infusing her with all of his pent-up passion. Her arms draped over his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair. She held him tight against her.
Rhaneyra gasped when Daemon picked her up, carrying her towards the bed. This was what she had wanted from the moment she saw him walk into the throne room. The rough and battle-hardened warrior fell away. All that was left was her dragon prince filling her with the fire that burned between them.
TBC...