Chapter 3- The Dragon's Dream
They stayed with one another and danced in mellifluous circles for long past the appropriate duration of a single song. Rhaenyra could not help but feel voracious envy over what a pair they made: her uncle and her Velaryon cousin. She felt a selfish, possessed rage that was anything but justified. She was the one marrying another man that night. Having any say over Daemon's affairs was warped beyond reasoning, but none the less, it took all her will power not to cut in and demand he stop making a fool of her emotions.
While in animated conversation with her, he passed Rhaenyra a glance that would reassure her for the rest of her days. Just like herself, his life was a show being earnestly watched by the audience. He, too, was trying to play his role well so his moments alone would be heavenly forbidden. Sharing a look that promised they were in this together augmented more intimacy than they shared before. Even their kissing on the street of silk had been lacking the emotional seal that would give her hope that they would burn together for the rest of their days.
She was still smiling to herself when a pair of dark eyes clipped her from the side. Cristen was no doubt keeping his dire promise to chaperone her activities. She knew the floor would have to break away beneath them before she broke up her rendezvous with Daemon- but she had to curb Cristen's obsession with her long enough to slip away. Before she could think of anything bright, her husband to-be weaved through the crowd to reach her. He awkwardly danced in a circle around her, which made them both giggle from the silliness of it. Laenor was truly the sweetest man in the world. It was an honest shame that both of their hearts went another way.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, still grinning and bobbing.
"Certainly," she replied. "Did you bring…?"
Laenor nodded to somewhere in the crowd. "Joffrey is enjoying another round of punch. This isn't an easy night for him, as you can imagine."
"I can. I really hate to do this, but I am having a problem."
"And what type of problem is that?"
"Well…you know."
Laenor had been familiar with the situation enough himself to catch on. "Your true lover doesn't like any part of our political wedding, does he?"
Laenor was under the impression that she and Cristen were still together and he was the mystery man that led her to agree to marry a homosexual. Rhaenyra figured it was easier for him to believe that than the honest truth. She nodded.
"I know it is a lot to ask, but can you go over there and talk to him for a while? Maybe if he got to know you better, he would stop being so broken up over this whole thing."
"You mean: if he got to know I am gay."
Laenor spoke of his defection with a smile. Rhaenyra nodded eagerly and said, "Oh, would you? I just need him to understand that things aren't what he thinks."
"I can talk to him. Even better, I will bring Joffrey over as well. Joffrey can relate to him better than anybody."
"Thank you thank you thank you. Already you are turning out to be an incredible husband."
"Why thank you, my incredible wife."
The cousins smirked and parted ways. Little did Rhaenyra know, it would be the last time she saw him with genuine happiness about him.
Laena was also by herself. Daemon had already made his exit to the meeting place. Rhaenyra slipped off to do the same. The deserted hallway that would lead to the staircase down was vacant, so in order to make her departure more natural she danced on light feet around the outskirts of the dance floor. Once she twirled past several temporary partners, she stepped into the darkness and was obsolete in her own wedding celebration. She couldn't imagine a situation in which Viserys would require her during this time in the night where she belonged only to her guests. As another odd element in her favor, something about Alicent's frigid courtesy gave her the feeling that the king would alienate Rhaenyra to avoid a conflict he was only subconsciously aware of. She opened the door to the stairwell a crack, slipped through, and closed it hastily behind her. There were no torches lighting the way down: just one promising life at the bottom of the creepy tunnel.
Daemon lives down here? He can't be serious. This is more dismal than Dragonstone.
Speaking of the devil himself, she gasped when she felt his arm lace around her side and pull her into him. She felt exasperated from his touch, yet she mustered up the courage to feel for his chest and press her head to it. Hearing his heartbeat was something she wanted to do for the rest of her nights. She started to giggle-to her horror- and she was horrified that he might find the reaction childish. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard it from him too. It seemed like the exact reassurance she needed to kiss him blindly in the dark. He returned the kiss before pulling away to lead her the rest of the way down the stairs. Rhaenyra frowned to herself. Of course she understood the urgency, but the way he withdrew so abruptly was too deplorably familiar.
"Where are we really?" she asked him.
"What do you mean really?" Daemon pretended to be drastically stunned. "We are in my fine chambers. Once I found this place, I promptly made it my own. It keeps me close to my brother when I am needed, and it naturally keeps the whisperers of the Red Keep out."
"There aren't bedchambers under the Iron Throne," she replied, as though her matter-of-fact tone could transform the room at the bottom of the stairs into something that would prove her point.
Daemon shrugged. "Okay then. Guess there is no chamber then. Where else should we go to…entertain?"
When they rounded the corner and stepped into the light, they were swept up in the coziness of a torch lit bedchamber. Everything about the room represented him on a material level. Even the tidiness of the space had his sly signature on it; anything personal to him was sequestered away so no one could conclude his interests or necessities. She perused the room idly before wandering over to the bed to study the embroidered patterns on its quilt. On the contrary, Daemon could not pretend anything else had captivated his interest. He followed her like a ghost. She moaned and backed into him slightly when he hugged her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. Her body remembered the exact sensation of him doing this last time and how the agony of him pulling away after that had traumatized her to the present.
He is going to be the death of me. He actually is, she thought incredulously. How can I trust him?
"Daemon!"
She flinched just as he started nibbling her ear and trailing his hands up to her breasts. He responded by grasping her more tightly and resuming what he was doing. He hadn't done that last time. Everything he did going forward was getting to know him again for the first time.
"Daemon…" Her voice came out as a strained whisper.
"I love when you say my name, Rhaenyra," he sighed through her tresses of silver hair. "But may I ask why you are?"
"I don't understand why you held back last time. I wanted you. You wanted me…I thought. So why didn't you want me then like you want me now? And give me a real answer, because this is the last time I am asking."
She turned around and made her arms ready to shove her true love away if his answer was pathetic or hurtful to her. It seemed like sadness flashed in his gaze upon recognizing her defensiveness was to protect her from him: an apparent monster out to prey on her youth and inexperience. She felt wretched for the crime of just imagining she harmed him, and her feelings were pushing her to overcompensate and make him happier than he ever thought possible.
"I wanted you more than I have ever wanted anybody," he said, touching each word as though it were dangerous.
Rhaenyra smiled softly without being able to help it. She couldn't have hoped for a better response and was happy to try and take his hand in hers so they could start making love already. Anxiety flushed under her skin when she felt him tense. He didn't pull away because he knew it would be perceived as another rejection- but he wasn't comfortable either.
"Is this how you want me? I don't understand. You keep proving over and over that you don't really want to have sex with me."
He took in her fearless candor stoically and said, "My dear, no. It's not that at all. Just listen to me, alright?"
He squeezed her hand to prove that her touch wasn't repulsive. Then to her astonishment, he dropped to one knee while holding on to her hand.
"You are going to be the rightful queen of the realm someday. The fire is strong in you, and I have no doubt you were born to lead in our great name. But you must know…the darkness in me is always going to want your crown. Even when so many years pass that I forget I ever had a claim, it might awaken within me one day. And I don't want to be…married, or close to you in any way if that happens. You shouldn't take that chance, and I shouldn't make you."
Her eyes trailed past him and to the floor. He resumed holding her hand out of fear that a sudden movement might blow the fragile moment apart. Rhaenyra was caught in the same dilemma. She knew she should be alarmed by Daemon's blatant admission, but she had a feeling there was more to it that impulse was not letting her see. Whatever was eluding her was part and parcel with the mysteries she could not grasp while the maids were getting her ready for her wedding that morning. Daemon's vague demeanor combined with his standard ambitions for the crown were two sides of the same coin. If only she could put together what that stood for. Precious time was always burning away while she thought it through: the entire world combusting from the tension between two Targaryens.
Suddenly she had it. With who they were and everything they did, they did it ignited and burning.
"Maybe it was never meant to be my crown," she mused thoughtfully.
Daemon was affronted enough to pull himself to his feet and say warily, "Don't tell me you are going to resign the crown in favor of Aegon?"
"The only Aegon I am speaking of will be the true Conqueror. I say perhaps the crown was never meant to be mine alone. Like Aegon and his sisters of whom he married, we are meant to burn together. The crown can't be usurped from you or stolen from me because it was meant for both of us in unison. Don't you see it, Daemon? It was never meant to be mine alone."
She was so excited to believe in herself that she couldn't imagine Daemon disagreeing. She knew she was being too young and brutally trusting, but this was a matter of love and of life that she knew she understood. Daemon was still wrestling with it, but she could see in the softening of his demeanor that his agony over their affair was coming to an end as well.
"You really love me. Don't you?" he asked tenderly.
"Well don't you love me?"
Say it first. You owe it to me to say it first!
He took her other hand so he was in possession of both of them, pulled her into him, and kissed her lips. She was growing accustomed to having conversations with him in this way.
"I love you to serve you as your consort when the time comes. I will never take your crown from you or give anyone reason to doubt that you earned it. I love you enough to serve you and defend you in your destiny as queen." He cleared his throat to stall before launching into his next point. "We both know that Laenor won't be able to give you the heirs expected from you this night going forward. I'll put a baby in you that is Targaryen through and through."
She did not wish it, although hearing him say that was inducing. After so much talk, she was beginning to doubt sex was a real activity they could do together. She would burst into flames if she didn't find out soon how Daemon would do it. She was certain it was nothing like how Cristen did, and it was killing her how she had no other examples to go on. Daemon would be dutifully fixated on what he was doing and would be confident that he was doing it well. He would be soothed and vulnerable while having no idea he was letting himself go so boundlessly. If they made a baby in the process didn't repulse her like it had when she imagined any other man in his place.
"Okay," she agreed.
"Well okay. Let me…make you…my wife then…"
He abandoned his words altogether to make out with her instead. When he guided her into sitting on the bed, she laced her legs around him while sucking his lip. Unable to resist, he laid down on top of her and kissed her more forcefully. The hand he had idly resting on her knee worked through the fabric of her wedding dress to her heated skin. She felt the sensual tickling as he teased his fingers up higher. She reciprocated the game by running her hands down his chest down to his belt. She would have stopped there automatically had he not encouraged her with his vitreous violet stare to keep going.
Okay, Daemon. I love you too.
