Note: This story is based on the TV show. Rhaenyra is much younger in the books, but she's been aged up for the show. It's not super clear how much though. For this story, I assumed she's around 20, just like the actress playing her.

Rhaenyra froze when she saw him sitting on the Iron Throne. He was doing it so… casually. Not a care in the world. Her guard was taken off guard too.

"Gods be good," he gasped.

Rhaenyra quickly recovered.

"It's all right, Ser," she told him. "Close the door."

Her guard hesitated only briefly. It was clear he didn't want to leave her alone with Daemon, but it was hard to disobey an order from the Princess.

With the door closed, Rhaenyra started walking towards the throne. Her steps echoed in the large hall.

"What do you think you're doing, Uncle?" she asked, switching to High Valyrian.

High Valyrian made her feel more comfortable. More… in control.

Rhaenyra was always in control. Even her father couldn't make her relinquish it. Sure, she pretended to be his loyal cupbearer, but she never truly surrendered to him. And even though her mother insisted she had to make an heir in her 'royal womb', Rhaenyra had other plans.

No, Rhaenyra was in charge. Always.

Except when he was around. Daemon always threw her off balance.

Daemon was exactly like her. In control. In charge of his own destiny. Doing whatever he liked.

There he was. Just casually sitting on the Iron Throne that belonged to her father. Even Rhaenyra had never done that. She had come close one time. She could have done it. She was all alone. No one would ever find out. But in the end, she was too scared to go through with it.

Daemon rose and walked down the steps towards her.

"I brought you something," he said, in the Common Tongue.

He took out a necklace.

"Do you know what it is?"

Of course she knew. "It's Valyrian Steel." Like Dark Sister.

She reached out and touched the necklace. It was beautiful.

Rhaenyra tried to take it, but he pulled it away.

"Turn around." His voice was calm, but firm. There was no doubt as to what this was.

An order.

A test.

Rhaenyra hesitated. No one had ever spoken to her like that. Not to the Princess. Not to the Realm's Delight.

She was Rhaenyra Targaryan. She didn't surrender. She didn't obey.

If she did it now, there would be no way back. She'd belong to Daemon. Forever.

She shouldn't. She should refuse. Make a cheeky remark. Do something. Anything.

The two of them were the same. Blood of the Dragon. Dragons do not ask. They take what is theirs. If they meet resistance, they fight. Even if they lose, they never truly surrender. They keep fighting. Because once you bend the knee, it's over. The power balance has been decided and tipping it in your favor again becomes impossible. They will never obey you ever again.

She could not lose. Not even to Daemon.

Rhaenyra looked up, determined to resist, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw only fierce determination. There was no doubt whatsoever in his eyes that she would disobey. He expected her, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryan, daughter of the King, the Realm's Delight, to obey his commands.

He was nothing. Daemon was all but a prince in exile. He would never become King.

And yet…

When she looked at him, she felt weak in the knees.

She realised they weren't the same after all. They never had been. This was over the moment she walked in. The moment she saw him sitting on the Iron Throne, doing what she never had the courage to do. She put on a brave face to the world, but hidden beneath all that armor was a scared little girl. A girl waiting for a handsome Knight to sweep her off her feet.

And he knew. He knew all along.

She wanted someone to be vulnerable with. Someone she could surrender to.

Rhaenyra turned around. She held up her hair so Daemon could put the necklace on her. A chain. How appropriate. It might as well be a collar.

Then, he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. She cast her gaze down. He lifted her chin up so she was forced to look into his eyes. His powerful eyes.

Then, in the same confident voice, he ordered: "Take off your dress."

There was no hesitation this time. Rhaenyra hurried to obey.

However, she was used to servants dressing and undressing her, so it took her several agonising minutes to figure out how to take it off.

Daemon didn't lift a finger. He just calmly watched her struggle with her dress.

Finally, her nervous fiddling managed to get the bindings loose enough. The dress fell to the floor and pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it.

"Keep going," he spoke.

She did as she was told. In a moment, she stood completely naked before him.

She felt even more vulnerable like this. Rhaenyra wanted to cover herself, but she knew that wasn't allowed. He wanted to see her body.

Then, Daemon walked back up the steps to the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra felt tears sting in her eyes. He did not like her. She knew that her body wasn't… wasn't as well developed as some other women. She knew Daemon was used to gorgeous-

Daemon sat down on the throne and gestured for her to come closer.

She hesitated. Did he want her after all?

"Come here, my beautiful Princess," he said.

Rhaenyra swallowed hard. She wanted to reply, but her throat was suddenly extremely dry.

Slowly, she walked up the steps towards him.

D-Did he want her to straddle him? Was this how she would lose her maidenhead? On the Iron Throne? With Daemon?

Rhaenyra was not a complete virgin. She had messed around with Knights and handsome servants. But apart from her fingers in the darkest of nights, nothing had ever gone inside of her. She had always imagined her first time to be with someone special.

But even in her wildest dreams, she hadn't imagined anything like this.

"Kneel." Daemon opened his legs wider so she could kneel between them.

Rhaenyra sank down to her knees.

"Do you know what to do next?" he asked.

She did. Alicent had told her about this. The art of using her mouth to please a man.

Rhaenyra had never imagined she would do anything like that. She had felt the hot tongues of many talented Knights and servants between her legs, working her to a delicious climax. But the idea that the roles would ever be reversed was laughable. She, Princess Rhaenyra, sink down to her knees and-

"Princess?"

"I'm sorry. I-I know what to do."

He smiled. "Good. Begin."

She nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."