Chapter Text
Rhea doesn’t mean to kiss him. She usually curbs her more reckless and wild impulses. After all that is why she is the widowed Lady Stark and not the wife of the Rouge Prince. In the North Rhea was able to ride, rule, fight, and be herself. But she would be a liar if she looked at her beloved children and did not wonder what could have been. Seventeen year old Ben, thirteen year old Alaric, and seven year old Robar. Serious Ben who was about to be married within the year to Aria Manderly, wild Alaric who could give the wildlings a run for their money, and shy Robby who clung to his mother after the death of his father. Rickon was a man who Rhea respected and formed a friendship with. She had loved the man for giving her children and letting her be herself. But she had never felt passion or longing for the man. Theirs was a marriage of respect and mutual interest.
The only man Rhea has ever felt that for was about to be betrothed to his niece. A second son who would one day be King. A man who Rhea had never kissed let alone shared any physical contact with aside from a spar or a dance. A man who had haunted her dreams for years. A man who she spurned because she knew she would never be enough for him. A man who wanted our blood dragons. Not dragons of Runes and the Old Blood of First Men. But Rhea was a widow and he was not year betrothed. All she knows is that this will be her only chance to live out her greatest regret. Here in the godswood while the rest of the courts reveals in the ball and tourney that will take place tomorrow. Here in this moment she will be free and it will have to be enough.
Her hands are wrapped in the front of his shirt, his arms around her, and their tongues duel. He pushes her against the weirwood tree. This moment seems like an eternity. But too soon the kiss is broken so both can breath. His forehead rest against her own. His dark amethyst bore into her own. Questions she doesn’t want to answer are there along with anger and desire. Rhea sighs, closes her eyes for a moment, and then brings her hands to cup his cheeks.
“Why would you do this now!!!??” His voice is harsh with anger and strained with desire. Rhea opens her eyes and looks at him. Daemon Targaryen looks and sees sadness, desire, and something gentle he dare not name in her bronze eyes. Her hands cradle his cheeks as she closes her eyes again and brings her lips to his own. It is gentle; a farewell and a proclamation all at once. He immediately misses her presence when she stands on the tips of her toes to kiss his forehead. A benediction that ends with her moving her hands away. “I wanted to know what it was liked to be held by you Daemon. Just once.”
Her confession levels him and he steps back. His hands goes to the pommel of Dark Sister out of habit. It gives him strength and is a familiar action. He is about to yell at her until he sees the look in her eyes again. Her eyes are shining with unshod tears and the vulnerability sheds his anger into pieces. All of the history lays between them. Rhea Stark looks at him and Daemon doesn’t want to look away. “You are about to have everything you ever wanted Daemon. The crown and young dragons that will come soon. I wish every happiness for you and your bride.”
And with that Lady Rhea Stark walks past him and goes back to her son and bannerman. Back to her beloved brother Yoren and cousin Aemma. She is through being reckless. She has broken her own heart and will mend it back together with the love of her children and duty to her House.
She leaves behind a dragon who would never choose her. She leaves behind her dreams and regrets. She leaves behind a man who feels the memory of her lips burnt into his memory.