Admittedly just my version of the boat scene, but whatever. Contains suggestive and sexual content.

...

She couldn't say why she ventured to his cabin but she found she couldn't help herself. It was a wonder he was even on the ship at all seeing as how he could very well have ridden Visenyx or Rhaellys. It gave her pause when she saw the iron engravings of his sigil on his cabin door. The three-headed Targaryen dragon. There was a time when that image caused turmoil and conflict within her. When did that change, I wonder? When our alliance began? When I found he wasn't his father? Perhaps it never changed and I've just lost my mind again. Gods, help me. I shouldn't be here.

Regardless, she gave several raps to his door. While waiting, she considered where they had been. The kingdoms of Dragonstone and Winterfell had yet to join but were closely united in a common goal; she had taken to traveling with King Daeron's party. She had journeyed to King's Landing in the place of her queen with several wights in tow, all chained together. Neither Queen Cersei Lannister nor Arianne Martell nor the woman calling herself Rhaenys Targaryen had been receptive to their proposed temporary alliance. Yet when they saw the wights in motion, they all began to understand the dire situation. They pledged their aid immediately and agreed to table their conflicts for the time being. Or so they claimed. They then traveled by ship for Eastwatch.

Even more pressing, she remained before his door and took a breath. I won't knock again. I'll give him a moment before I leave. She was just about to do so but dismayed at hearing it open.

Time seemed to slow as it did so. There he was; a tall, moderately muscular man of brilliance that still took her breath away. He wore a regal black surcoat flanked with red throughout and underneath, emblazoned with his red Targaryen dragon over his front, black satin leggings with similar gloves and steel clasped, black-dyed, high black-furred boots. His long, Valyrian hair was half-braided and folded in the back; his torn left ear was displayed proudly and left uncovered. His violet eyes found her greys immediately and he seemed unsurprised as he held the door open.

"Lady Jeyne …"

She swallowed and dipped her head. "Your grace."

He watched her longer. He enjoyed watching her and took the opportunity to do so at that moment. Finally, he stepped aside. He knew she wanted to enter from her hesitation. Warily, she stepped inside and cleared the doorway. She turned to face him and found he was already staring back at her when she did so. He pushed the door closed and turned the key to lock it from the inside.

"Seven, help us" said his Hand, Tyrion Lannister, whom stood at the steps leading from the hallway to the deck. He had seen Lady Jeyne go inside. He hoped foolishly for no foul play but if it did, he trusted his king would make the right decision. Not that his king had always listened to his better judgement.

The king watched her still, waiting for her response. He reached down and began tugging off his gloves; he let the left drop to the floor.

Jeyne swallowed. Her voice was low. "I just wanted to say that you did splendidly today. But it could've waited. I shouldn't have come."

"But I'm glad that you did." He dropped his other glove to the floor. His right hand reached out, adorned with rings on his fore and middle fingers that were high jewelry of Mereen and Yunkai.

"What are you doing, your grace?" she asked, his hand in the corner of her eyes. He stroked her cheek and lower jaw before brushing her earlobe and settled on caressing the back of her neck beneath her hair. She gripped his wrist with her left hand, conflicted but allowed his caress.

"I've wanted to touch you for so long. With mine own hand." He drew closer.

"We can't…" she whispered.

He kissed her gently at first. Her lips drew with his and he saw her neck undulate to meet him, so he deepened his lock. Their mouths parted temporarily and both were near breathless. He rested his forehead on hers; she enjoyed the heat emanating from his skin already. Her eyes were open, stunned while his were closed.

"Jeyne" he whispered to her. "Please."

His want of her stole the remains of her inhibitions and all that was left was the hunger for him. She brought her lips into his the second time and even parted them with her tongue. Neither knew who guided whom to his bed first but before they realized it, they were on their sides maintaining an ongoing kiss. She quickly forced him onto his back and straddled his hips. She reached back to unlace and yank off each of her long heels in turn as Daeron sat up and lovingly kissed her temple and the space beside her eye. She untied the laces to both her dress and underdress between her shoulder blades beneath her long, oiled hair. She pulled the dresses down to her hips and no lower because she was seated. He pulled down the cups of her winter rose-colored blue brassiere, freeing her sizeable breasts of their confines. He sucked her right breast into his mouth, nipple and more. She moaned at his sudden attention. He palmed the left, kneading it shortly before tracing his fingers along the crossed scar over her heart.

He released her right teat from his mouth and looked up at her. "The next time I ask about this scar, I will have the truth of it. Do I have your word?"

She didn't answer immediately so he gave a light bite to her right nipple. "Do I have your word?"

"Gods, yes!" She pushed off of him and flopped on her side. She kicked her stocking-covered feet at him as well as the loose, lower half of her dresses. "Now, help me out of this!"

He laughed at her and reached out to tug it off. "Silly northerner."

With both of their efforts, they freed her of the dresses and he flung them to the ground at the foot of the bed. She pulled the brassiere over her head and tugged her smallpants and stockings down her legs, exposing her sex. He looked at her inner thighs briefly before he started for her. She pushed him lightly beneath the throat to hold him at bay and gave a few soft tugs at the neckline of his surcoat.

He smiled and took her meaning. She reclined on her side, watching him as he moved from her and sat on the edge of the bed. Facing away, he unbuckled and tugged loose his boots and dropped them to the floor with a thud. He then untied his sash belt and surcoat, removing them both and dumping them on the floor. He pulled his black undershirt over his head, exposing his well-muscled and scarred back. She had seen it before from afar but never up close like that. Large, dark welts and gashes spread from his shoulder blades to his lower back. He paused upon realizing that he exposed himself to her, worried at how she would respond. She was already on her knees, crawling for him.

He flinched when he felt her cold hands on his shoulders. The two of them had risen high but both were damaged creatures who unbeknownst to the other, shouldn't have been there for more reasons than the apparent. Her breasts squashed between his shoulder blades as she leaned up and kissed his left ear. She then crouched down and caressed the upper region of his scar tissue. It had grown coarse yet strangely giving like the softflesh of a dragon underbelly or neck. She planted a loving kiss to it. He turned on her suddenly, his eyes grown austere.

"I'm sorry" she offered, taken aback.

He pulled away slightly and yanked off his leggings. "It's fine." He went to her and guided her to the center of the bed while she reached down between his legs and felt him; he was well hard for her. He lifted her right leg up and out of the way, forging his way and guiding himself into her folds.

She yelped at his sudden entrance and clutched desperately at his back and his bed furs. It had been a while for her. Luckily, kissing him and anticipating their joining had made her wet enough for him. There was pain at first but her body quickly grew used to him and she began to attain pleasure from his eager thrusts. She cried out in tune to the tilt of his hips; he remained close, panting into her ear. One of her hands clutched the back of his head, stroking his hair while her right leg clasped around his buttocks. She could only hold on for dear life and endure his desire. His bed rocked back and forth, creaking beneath them. He didn't last very long in truth. She hadn't considered that he might finish in her until his hips began to smash into her in much shorter, quicker jabs. His whole body seemed to strain and his rippling muscles pressed into her. She could feel his warmth filling her in continuous, strong bursts; feel it pool inside her, competing with his softening member for space. She became aware that his chest lay softly against hers and that she could feel his heartbeat; she quite liked that his was almost in sequence with hers.

He placed his palms flat on the bed on either side of her and elevated himself. They both wore coats of light perspiration and heaving chests due to the exertion. They both studied the face and the eyes of the other, trying to read what the other was thinking and feeling. She noticed that strands of his hair had come loose and were obstructing her view of his eyes so she reached up to attend to them. He swatted her hand away and pulled himself free of her. He moved to the far left corner by the foot of the bed, lowering his head into his hands.

She sat up on her tailbone against the pillows, flexing her toes. She was disheartened. Ever since a knowledgeable age, she had vowed to never be seeded with a bastard. She then found herself with the chance of having a king's natural child. What surprised her was that she wasn't as upset about that as she ought to have been. She found that she was more disappointed in the fact that he immediately pulled away from her as soon as the deed was done as if he immediately regretted it. His rejection really hurt her she found.

She crawled to the side of the bed towards her small clothes, choosing to sacrifice her small pants for she would rather not have those on than be seen by anybody without her breasts supported. She settled back on the edge of the bed and swabbed herself with the article. She caught any running seed spilling out of her and reached inside to scoop out as much as she could.

"Perhaps we shouldn't have done that" Jeyne said aloud while she worked. Daeron gave no answer, simply rubbing the crown of his head and keeping his head down.

When she was satisfied, she scooted down off of the bed and moved to gather her brassiere. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Your grace."

"No" he said, raising his head finally. "Come here, Jeyne."

Reluctantly, she walked over to the front of him with her small clothes in hand. He looked up at her and she saw that his eyes were wet as he had been silently crying.

"Your grace …"

He reached out and pulled the smallclothes from her stunned fingertips, leaving them next to her dresses. He reached out to her, first caressing her slim hips on both sides. One hand slid around and rubbed her firm, strong back while the other snaked around and squeezed her left buttock. She sighed from his fondling.

"Stay with me." he pleaded. "Please."

He looked up at her face, searching for an answer. She hesitated before closing her eyes and nodding.

He pulled her close and began to plant a number of kisses across her slim stomach. He admired her strong yet feminine form. He had never seen one quite like her though he had similar offerings. It was Jorah Mormont who told him women are built strong in the North. Jeyne was a fine example of that in his eyes. His hand shifted from her buttock, to down between her thighs and her sex. He rubbed her with increasing intensity and friction. She hugged his head tightly against her stomach, squirming against him as she felt close. Her moans and breathing quickly rose in tone and frequency until a peak.

"Oh, Gods! Fuck!" She screamed and followed that with a single, relaxed sigh.

She found herself leaning onto him without necessarily thinking of it and he gladly held her by the hips. He kissed her again on the navel.

"I want you again" he told her. "Lay down on your stomach."

She surprised herself when she didn't deny him and moreso when she found she didn't want to. He allowed her to pass him where she crawled onto the bed. He followed her shortly afterwards, leaning over her.

"Don't spill into me again" she requested, looking back over her shoulder. "Promise me you won't."

"I promise."

He steadied himself to enter her bore down on her hips.

.

Later when they were both finally spent, he rested beneath the sheets alone with his right knee propped up. He stared up at the ceiling and ran his hands through his hair.

"At times like these" he murmured, "I usually call on a servant for water."

Jeyne sat up and propped her elbows on the mattress. She was covered in his fur blanket, resting on the floor. "But you can't" she said, "because they would see us. I understand. You're an animal, by the by. I feel for my sister should you marry."

He looked at her. "Come up here."

She shook her head.

"Lady Jeyne."

She shook her head again.

"You're disobeying your king?"

"You're not my king. I know you're playing sly. As soon as I go up there, you'll jump me again."

"So the wolf can't run with the dragon. Good to know."

"Oh, fuck off!"

They both erupted in laughter.

"Oh, I'm finished, I think" Daeron said when they died down.

"You think?"

"I'm done. Finished. Will you just come up here? You look so lonely down there."

With a sigh, she bounded onto the bed in his fur. He grabbed her around the thigh and yanked her closer.

"I got my fur back!" he exclaimed. He ran his hands down her spine and bottom. He leaned over, kissing her neck.

"I knew it!" she shouted.

"Calm down, woman" he replied. "I just want to hold you. It's just when I look at this form, those eyes, everything; I can't resist."

They faced each other on their sides beneath the furs and sheets. Their smiles eventually faded and they considered each other seriously for a moment.

"Daeron" she said finally, drawing his attention especially since it wasn't often that she outright called him by his name. "How do we go back? How do we stand in your court at Dragonstone or in the halls of Winterfell and act like nothing's changed?"

He looked down, away from her, thinking on it before looking back. He shook his head. "I don't know."

She sighed in despair.

He reached out and caressed her face. "But I know this. I can't give this up."

Her eyes grew wide and she pulled her head away. "You can't-"

"As of now, I'm unattached."

"You are! To my sister!"

"Not yet."

"I will not be a mistress!"

"You won't! I'm not asking you to be!"

"So you want to see me in secret for …"

"As long as I can."

Jeyne sat up away from him. He leaned over and put a palm on her lower back and just rested it there.

Jeyne shook her head. She couldn't believe she was actually considering it. "We don't have a lot of time."

"I know."

"Gods" she groaned, cursing herself. "I'm no better than my aunt Lyanna. An affair with a Targaryen." She looked back at him. "This isn't love, you know. I don't know what it is but it isn't that."

"Love … is a terrible thing" he mused out loud. "Maybe this is better."

Jeyne slid back to the bed and Daeron readjusted to pull her into him so that his arms wrapped her from the rear. She placed her own arms over his while his face nestled in her neck.

"I'll have to leave soon" she whispered. "Somebody will see."

"Stay a while longer" he told her. So she did.