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"They will know," he says to her, "when we arrive at Driftmark."

"Know?" she asks.

Daemon touches her lip with his finger. "We both bear the mark of marriage."

"I had not thought of it," says Rhaenyra, "until now." She rests her head against his chest, which rises and falls with the sounds of the sea. The candles that surround them burn low, having melted through the night.

"It is for the best. For they shall have a harder time questioning the legitimacy of our son."

"You're right," she says, "though I do worry about Lady Rhaenys and Lord Corlys. In their eyes, we shall have murdered their son. If they do not already suspect us, they will be now be certain."

"It can be explained away," replies her husband, his voice soft in the dawn. "There were witnesses who saw him fighting with his knights."

"They will suspect."

"With the Queen's outburst, it made sense for you to flee with the children. You learned of Laenor's murder and feared you may be next. And with the loss of Vhagar, I should want to strengthen our house."

"And combine our dragons."

"Yes," he replies. "Remember what you said to me at Driftmark. Let them whisper. Let them fear what we are capable of." His eyes twinkle in the starlight.

"We shall both wear black. And so shall our children. We will behave with decency – I must not cling to your arm as we lay my late husband to rest."

"No, you mustn't," he agrees, "though I shall remain close behind you. If any choose to cross you, they shan't live long to regret it."

"It is better," Rhaenyra muses, "to be feared than loved."

"And yet you are loved." Her husband's eyes gleam and then he is atop her.

"Daemon," she sighs as his fingers slide into her hair and grip it hard, forcing her head back so she can meet his eyes. She tries to raise herself to meet his lips, but he holds her down. It is… frustrating.

"Daemon," she says again as she struggles in his grip.

"I was just remembering," he says with a soft smile, "how fierce you were all those years ago in Flea Bottom."

Heat floods between her legs as she recalls it – how he had kissed her then before turning her 'round and pinning her to the wall.

"I had expected to find a blushing maiden," he says, "yet you were not afraid of me."

"No"

"No," he murmurs, turning her head so he can run his tongue along the side of her neck. She shivers in his arms, watching the wax melt onto the sand. "Nor were you afraid of me even after. At your wedding feast. What was it you said to me?"

"Do not pretend," she says, returning his smirk, "as though you do not know my words by heart."

"There she is," he breathes as his hands find her waist. He flips her roughly onto her belly, skimming his fingers along the crook of her thigh. "So beautiful you were that night. When your mouth parted. I think I should like to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock."

Rhaenyra clenches at his words. He is taunting her. She shall taunt him back with her silence. The sea waves crash in the distance.

He runs his hands over hers as he pins them down – just as he had against the wall of the brothel – before he returns them to her hips. She groans as she feels him press his cock against her entrance. "Rhaenyra," he murmurs, sliding a hand beneath her, lightly circling her most sensitive piece of flesh as she twitches against him, "How do you wish to be taken?"

She smiles against the blankets.

"Do you wish to ride me as you did earlier?" he asks softly in her ear. "Do you prefer to be atop me? Does that angle suit you?" His other hand finds her breast and gropes her softly before his fingers find her nipple.

She gasps.

He presses against her then yet not enough to part her walls. "Or do you wish for me to take you like this?"

Still, she does not reply.

"If you will not speak," Daemon says, pulling from her, "We will have to find some other way of learning what you desire. Shall we check? Which idea of mine you like most?"

He runs a finger along her inner thigh before sliding it inside her.

"How did you feel, Rhaenyra?" he asks as he curls it upwards, "taking me on the bridge? Did it make you feel capable… to watch me lose myself beneath you?"

She groans.

Daemon brushes her hair to the side so he can place his hand around the back of her neck. "Or perhaps you prefer to feel afraid," he murmurs above the waves. "Better to be feared than loved, you said. Do you wish to have reason to fear me?"

He squeezes lightly before pressing his lips to her neck. His fingers fondle the steel she wears 'round it before he pushes her down flat.

"Perhaps you wish to be taken just like this, face down upon the blankets. Tell me… would you like me to hold you down while I fuck you?"

She clenches around his fingers.

"Your body talks as well, you see," he murmurs as he rubs his thumb in circles around the raised flesh. "I did suspect. You've always responded well to the idea of being pinned. Of being taken from behind. I don't have a wall as I did at the pleasure house. But the ground will suffice." He swirls his finger inside her before removing it. She feels morning air against her folds before he replaces it with his cock.

Rhaenyra cries out at the fullness of it. With his free hand, Daemon presses down on her shoulders so she is flat on her belly. She feels him flex inside her and she slowly shifts her hips back and forth, urging him onward.

"Not yet," he says softly. "We shall do this at a pace of my choosing."

Rhaenyra moans in frustration.

"Right now, you're going to lie there and feel the pleasure of my cock inside you."

She clenches around him as he speaks.

"And then I'm going to fuck you, Rhaenyra, as you writhe beneath me. How does that sound?"

He pulls out ever so slightly before sliding back in, making her gasp.

"Stubborn girl," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her shoulder. Rhaenyra can feel his mouth twist into a smile against her skin. "I can do this all morning, you know. Having fucked you twice already in the night. I will outlast you, Rhaenyra. That much is certain." He slides his hand beneath her, lightly circling the apex of her folds. He brings his fingers to his mouth and wets them before sliding his hand back between her legs. "Perhaps when we return to the castle, I should take you inside the Sept, while the Gods look on. Shall I clear the candles from the altar and hold you down upon it, whilst you squirm? Would you like that, Rhaenyra?"

"Daemon," she sighs. His skin is hot against her.

"Tell me."

"I want," she says with a groan. "For you to prove it." She feels him twitch inside her at her words.

"Prove what, my niece?"

"You said you would outlast me. If you're so sure. Then finish me." She waits.

Then he pulls out all the way to the tip and slides back in. Rhaenyra squirms in his arms as he holds her down. He takes her hard enough to make her cry out. Yet all the while, his finger lightly strokes the tender flesh of her front, stirring the pleasure she feels until it coils deep within her.

She comes quickly. She knew that she would, having let him work her up into a frenzy with his touch and with his words. When she returns to herself, he has stilled within her.

"Turn around," he says and adjusts her so that she lies upon her back, staring up at him in the early morning light, shivering as the sea air hits her skin. His blond hair is strewn about him, his eyes pitch black in the dawn.

Rhaenyra parts her lips to speak but before the words can leave her, he has pressed his mouth to hers.

Daemon cups her face with his hands, pulling away to stare at her lips with a reverence as he fills her once more. Their lips both part as he sinks inside her, his skin warming hers. They cling to one another, shivering in the mist.

"Your mouth," he moans before taking her lower lip between his teeth, reopening the wound that lives there. The pain radiates to her core, intensifying her pleasure. She has to turn away from him to breathe. "Oh gods," she cries as he fucks her, "Daemon." She clutches him desperately as she loses herself. He takes her again and again.

"That's it, Rhaenyra," he gasps in High Valyrian, his fingers returning to the necklace he gave her, "Open yourself to me."

Something about the language from her uncle's lips… it is her undoing. She comes again, screaming, as she bucks against him. "Never take it off," he groans before pushing deeply into her and spilling his seed. His hands fly up to cup her face as he stills inside her, his eyes never once leaving hers.

As they lie together catching their breath, Rhaenyra feels the years lifting off her, the fire within her swirling. The sky is a painting of orange and pink. She is a girl of six and ten under the rising sun.