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Summary
Rhaenyra’s decision to allow none but herself to nurse their son has come with no small measure of inconvenience. While they remain secluded upon Dragonstone, their duties are few, and the disturbances counted mostly in interrupted hours and lost sleep. But soon or late they shall have to return to court, and matters are sure to become considerably more complicated.
As far as Daemon is concerned, however, all the disruptions are more than worth it. He doesn’t think there’s ever been such an enchanting sight as Rhaenyra with the babe at her breast, relaxed against the pillows with her shift undone to the waist.
In part it’s the pure devotion and adoration with which she gazes down at their boy, and the expression of dreamy contentment that settles over her features as he gives suck. In part, it’s the sight of her breasts so full and ripe, and the glimpse of her soft, streaked stomach, testament to the changes motherhood has wrought on her body.
Series
- Part 8 of Long Live The Walls We Crashed Through