A/N: I wasn't originally planning to make this into a multi-chapter story, but after seeing episode 4, I didn't have much choice anymore.

This chapter is based on ep 2. The next chapter will be about ep 4 (that one will deviate), so look forward to that.

Rhaenyra's body shuddered as she finally reached orgasm. She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood filled her mouth.

"Fuck," she hissed.

When her orgasm had finally passed, she was breathing hard and her skin was glistening with sweat, clearly visible in the candlelight.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down.

It had taken her much longer than usual to release the tension within her body. Sure, there had been a minor disturbance when she tangled herself in her blankets, but even so, it shouldn't have taken her this long to climax. Her fingers had enough practice by now. It had been six months of pleasuring herself almost daily. So why had it taken her…

She cast a brief glance at the candles. They were almost fully gone by now.

Three hours? Four? How long did those candles last again?

Rhaenyra turned on her side and hugged her pillow. Things were a lot simpler before. In the past, she would have asked a servant or a Knight to tend to her needs with their talented tongues or fingers. They could usually coax out an orgasm in under half an hour. In the time it had taken her to draw out this one feeble orgasm by herself, her favorite Knight could have made her climax six times at least.

But he hadn't tended to her since that day

As the heir to the Iron Throne, she was being watched much more closely. Bringing in servants or Knights would be risky. Although she had considered asking Ser Criston too-

No, no. That was ridiculous. No need to fool herself. The real reason she was tending to her own needs was because of him. She… She was saving herself, in every single way. She wouldn't even let the servants see her nude body anymore. It belonged to Daemon.

She knew she was being stupid. Daemon was gone. Banished after the incident in that bar.

Why was he so stupid? Everything could have been perfect. If she married Daemon, both of them could be heirs. She could temper his worst impulses. And they would have pure Targaryen babies to continue their line. It didn't matter that he was already married. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives as well.

But his brashness had gotten him banished. Which had left Rhaenyra all alone, tending to the fire he had kindled within her. Dreaming every night of that day six months ago. Her, on her knees in the throne room, tending to him with her mouth. The taste of his…

Her breath quickened.

Damnit.

Her hand slipped back down to her pussy. Even though it was still sore, it was once again begging for attention.

Fucking Daemon. This was all his fault. He had left her in this pathetic state.

His fingers wouldn't be enough. They never were. She needed a different kind of attention. One only Daemon could provide.

She pushed two fingers of her other hand into her mouth. It helped her reminisce about his cock in her mouth. Him grabbing the back of her head and guiding her deeper. Making her gasp for breath.

Unfortunately, she couldn't do this herself. Her fingers weren't big enough to recreate the sensation properly. No, she needed Daemon's firm hand grabbing her hair and forcing her down.

Although even that wouldn't work anymore. She no longer gagged and choked like she did that first time. Her throat had been well trained from her fingers invading it over and over again, simulating the experience she craved so badly. At this point, he could probably thrust into her mouth with the same fervor as he fucked a common whore's cunt.

His fucking whore. Mysaria with her exotic accent and her white dress. Ugh.

She should just get on Syrax and burn that fucking whore alive. She should burn anyone standing between her and Daemon. She was the blood of the Dragon. The two of them were meant to be together.

If only-

A loud sound disturbed her. She jerked upright.

What the…

Was that… a dragon roar?

Her breathing quickened. She knew that roar. She'd recognise it anywhere.

Caraxes.

Rhaenyra quickly wrapped herself into a sheet and walked to the door. When she opened it, she found Ser Criston standing guard.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Ser Criston Cole bowed to her. "It's okay, Princess. There appears to be some minor disturbance at the Dragonpit."

"What disturbance? I heard…" She stepped forward.

"Princess." Ser Criston placed his hand on her shoulder. Her bare shoulder. "Do not put yourself in danger. We have everything under control."

"Remove your hand, Ser Criston." He shouldn't be touching her. Her body belonged to Daemon. And Daemon… he must be outside. She could feel him.

Ser Criston quickly pulled back. "Apologies, my Princess. But I cannot allow you to leave. I have to protect you, and I can't do that out there. It's the Hour of the Bat, you should be in your chambers."

A silence fell.

She took a deep breath.

She wanted to get out there so badly. But she knew that wasn't an option. Ser Criston would stop her.

"Princess," Ser Criston asked, slowly. "I know it's not my place to ask, but… is everything alright?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's just uh… well… you look a little… disturbed."

"There is an incident at the Dragonpit, of course I'm disturbed."

"Yes, but I could see the candles burning for hours before the incident. And I can't help but notice that you are not wearing your night clothes. And…" he hesitated.

Rhaenyra looked down. The sheet was starting to slip, almost exposing her chest. She quickly caught it.

"Is-"

"I'm going back to sleep." Rhaenyra walked inside her room, slamming the door behind her.

Daemon was here. She was certain of it. And she was going to see him. And no one, no one would be stopping her.

She just had to be patient. Wait for an opportunity to slip away.

In the meantime, she should keep her mind clear. No more touching.

Needless to say, she didn't sleep that night.

Rhaenyra sank into the warm water.

Ah. Perfect.

This day couldn't have been more perfect. She had seen Daemon again. And she had found out it was all a lie. He wasn't marrying that stupid whore, and the whore wasn't pregnant. No one would be carrying Daemon's babies. No one but her.

And, for the first time ever, she had come out on top. She had won the egg back from him. Her first ever victory.

She picked up the egg from the nearby table and placed it in the hot bath with her.

Perfect.

She had kept her cool out there, facing them with the dignity becoming of a Princess.

As usual, she felt all hot and bothered. But it was different this time. This wasn't the desire of a desperate girl, praying for Daemon's cock to take her maidenhead. No, this was the taste of victory. She still imagined Daemon, but this time, he wasn't taking her virginity. She was the one on top, guiding his cock into her.

Sweet, sweet victory.

Of course, Daemon still controlled the castle that rightfully belonged to her. And… And she was still wearing his necklace. After he put it around her neck, she had never taken it off.

She had done a feeble attempt at hiding it beneath her armor when she confronted him, but she knew she wasn't fooling anyone. He saw right through her. Her little… collar, was still snapped firmly around her neck. And it would remain there until-

No no. She shouldn't think like that. Today was a victory for her. She had the egg and-

The door opened. "Princess. I-"

She reflexively covered herself with her arm. "Ser Criston. I told you not to disturb me."

"My apologies Princess. But the King wants the egg back."

"We have it back."

"Back in the Dragonpit, Princess."

"The egg is mine," she growled. She grabbed it with both hands and pulled it closer to her. The spikes pushed roughly into her chest.

Ah.

Her chest was already extra sensitive from the hot water and the feeling of victory coursing through her veins, so those spikes felt particularly bad. But she wouldn't let you off this egg. This was the only proof that she had beaten Daemon.

"Princess," Ser Criston said. "Your father insists."

"No," she pouted. "I won this back from Daemon."

"Princess, please. Your father is already livid that you left without his approval. He wants to see you. Right now."

"I'm taking a bath."

"I-I've been trying to hold them off, Princess. But his patience is wearing thin. He needs to see you. And I need that egg back."

"Ugh. Fine, get out, I need to get dressed."

"I can send in the serva-"

"No. I can dress myself."

"This is silly," Ser Criston said.

"Leave," she ordered. "Now."

"Y-Yes, my Princess."

Ser Criston bowed and left the room.

A short lived victory in the end. The symbol of her victory would be taken from her immediately.

Rhaenyra touched her necklace. Who was she even kidding? Daemon was just teasing her. She was still his little bitch. And tonight, she would do the same thing she did every night. Desperately touching her needy little pussy, while dreaming of Daemon taking her maidenhead. Daemon pushing her up against the wall, his hand grabbing her hair, fucking her from behind like some common whore. Out there, she was a mighty Princess. Heir to the Throne. The Realm's Delight.

But with Daemon…

Rhaenyra took a deep breath to calm herself.

Time to face her father.