Chapter Text
Rhaenyra POV
Ever since Baelon’s birth, and her mothers death, she’s felt a change in the keep. Her father, finally with a male heir in hand, has no real use for her now. Nor his brother.
She couldn’t blame Daemon for going off to fight the war in the Stepstones. Her father oh so happily disregarded him based on the words of Otto fucking Hightower. That he was a danger to Baelon. That he’d want his place as heir back.
When had Daemon done anything to hurt their family? Never. He did everything for them. Her father would see that if he wasn’t so blind.
And she’d come to realize he really was. Blind. Weak. Lead about by his advisors.
As soon as Baelon was born, Alicent was immediately sent to help with him. As he gets older, Alicent is constantly in his company.
She was her best friend. And she all but disappeared from her life. Leaving her alone. She’s sure it’s her fathers doing.
He’d sent Alicent to her when she was the only child of the King, but now, he has a male heir. One Alicent could very well marry some day if Hightower has his way.
They’re already pressuring her father to marry her off. Her father was nice enough to allow her the choice of her husband, and sent her on a royal tour to meet with the men of the realm. But she didn’t want any of them. They cared nothing for her. Only what having her grants them.
Dragon riding children. Targaryen, royal, blood. A large dowry.
She felt sick thinking of it. She knew her father would be mad she cut the tour short, but she couldn’t be happier with her timing.
Her Uncle Daemon was back. War over with, he returned to Kings Landing just as she did. It almost seemed like fate.
As she made her way to the throne room, where it seemed everyone was heading, she was so excited she could barely contain herself.
Her Uncle was always her favorite. He brought her gifts and took her dragon riding. He understood her in a way no one else did. She’d been so alone with him gone and Alicent fawning over her baby brother. Now, with him back, maybe she could actually be happy again.
She saw her Uncle enter the room, looking every bit the King and Conqueror her father truly did not. His swagger as he walked up to the throne. The shorter hair looked just as good as the long hair did on him. The crown on his head emphasized the cutting angles of his beautiful face.
Yes, her uncle was beautiful. She was well aware of that. And she knew he was as well. The tales of her uncle’s whoring are told all over the keep, after all. Maybe all through the realm.
But she was not immune to him either. As she got older, she began to see her uncle in a more…desirable light.
They were Targaryens. It was normal for their blood to call for one another. And she knew hers certainly called for his. She thought it might be the same for him as well. He’d never been overt about it, she was much too young then, but now a woman grown…
He always gave her more attention and love than he did anyone else. She knew he was wroth about his first marriage, citing that he should have been married to someone of Valyrian blood. She was the only left who fit that description, and they both knew it.
When topic of her marriage first came up, some assumed she would be married to Baelon. She and her father both put their foot down. He was much too young for her.
Though that didn’t seem to stop Hightower, she snorted to herself.
Either way, she didn’t understand why her father didn’t just marry her to Daemon. It made the most sense. And right before his return, she heard his wife had a hunting accident, followed by her swift death. She was pleased about it, in truth. It opened up her uncle for herself.
She watched as he was welcomed back by her father. Handing over his crown to him.
She thought that was a shame. Her uncle deserved a crown more than her father did. He’d certainly earned it.
As her uncle turned, their eyes locked. She watched as his eyes slowly ran down her body, then back up. The fire in his eyes made her breath catch. The smirk that slowly crossed his face made a smile come to her own.
Her father clapped his shoulder and demanded celebrations for Daemon’s return and victory. They walked away, but the heat of Daemon’s gaze stayed with her.
*****
Daemon POV
Walking away with his brother, a part of him wanted nothing more than to go back to his niece. He’d missed her in his time away. Had hated leaving her but was left with no choice after his brother sent him away.
He knew after his nephew’s birth, and her mother’s death, she would be even more alone. Rhaenyra was fire itself, and she deserved to burn freely. But everyone here wanted to stifle that fire.
Except him. He wanted to burn with her. He’d asked his brother and good-sister/cousin for years to annul his marriage and let him marry a Valyrian bride. When his brother pointed out the only Valyrian bride available was his daughter, he just raised his eyebrows at him. Who could take better care of her than him? He’d asked him.
His brother laughed in his face. Saying he wouldn’t marry his daughter to a known whoremonger. When he pointed out he only whored because he was stuck with the Bronze Bitch, his brother rolled his eyes and told him to go back to her and get children on her.
Never. He would only have true Valyrian children.
And now, his brother had promised him “anything” for his victory. He smirked to himself. Before he’d returned, he’d sent a man to ensure the Bronze Bitch suffered an accident. Leaving him free to ask for Rhaenyra’s hand now.
She had grown in his time away. Now a woman grown, in truth. And she was beautiful. The perfect Valyrian bride. Her long silver hair, amethyst eyes. Her body had filled out, leaving him to run his eyes down the new curves of her body.
Yes, she was everything he’d ever wanted. Not just in beauty either. They’d had a bond since she was young. Her first steps were to run to him. Her first giggle in his arms. Her first flight on Syrax done beside him on Caraxes. Her first flight on dragon at all was in front of him on Caraxes’ back. He could talk to her for hours and not get bored, which was something he could say for no one else.
He was truly looking forward to this.
When Rhaenyra came to the godswood, he could see the tension between her and his brother. She seemed very alone. As he’d expected. Her friend, Alicent, seemed to be spending all her time with the 5 year old Baelon.
No doubt Otto the Cunt Hightower was behind that. He’s sure with the heir secured, his brother refused to remarry. So Otto was left to get his daughter close to Baelon. Hoping for a future match. Knowing his brother, Otto would get what he wanted.
The thought of Hightower blood on his ancestor’s throne made him sick.
All he wanted was to ensure his families legacy. Ensure their dynasty was strong.
Sometimes he wondered if he should have supported Rhaenys. She’d surely be a better Queen than Viserys made a King. But he was his brother, and his loyalty was his. Despite how often he spurned him. Hightower’s manipulations were all too easy for his brother to soak up. Turning Viserys against him.
When Viserys retired, seeming weaker than he remembered him, he took Baelon with him. Leaving him in the godswood. He waited. Sure Rhaenyra would make her way over.
“Uncle.” She smiled at him. “Niece.” He couldn’t help a slight smile back.
He reached out, grabbing the pendant of the necklace he’d given her before her brother’s birth. Fingering it for a second, he couldn’t help but be glad she wore it.
It meant she thought of him while he was away. His one fear was that the time away would find her latching on to one of the many suitors being paraded before her. But she still wore his necklace.
He could see in her face she was slightly embarrassed. It was clear she’d been thinking of him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she thought of him at night, in her bed. If she fingered the necklace while she fing-
Okay, he had to stop that thought before he did something reckless.
He stepped away and over to the refreshments.
“What brings you here, Uncle? You could have stayed on the Stepstones, remained King?” She titled her head in a way that exposed her neck beautifully.
“Only the comforts of home.” He responded, vaguely. Trying to look away from her while people still mingled around them.
“I’ve never thought you particularly comfortable in this home.” She smirked. “There must be something you want? Besides aggravating my father, of course.”
He just sat back and took a sip of his drink. He wasn’t sure how to answer that, in truth.
“Speaking of your father,” he changed the subject, switching to High Valyrian as he did so, “he didn’t seem very pleased with you.” He raised his eyebrow.
She sighed, “I cut short the trip he arranged. I was supposed to be finding a husband. But all of the men were…terrible.”
Hearing hear speak their mother tongue was always a balm to his soul. They only truly spoke it together. They rarely had full conversations with the dragon keepers and his brother had long stopped speaking it unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t understand it. Even the Velaryons didn’t speak it. Sticking to common.
But he and Rhaenyra always spoke in Valyrian together.
“Being able to pick your own husband is no small feat. You should take advantage of it, Princess.”
“I do not want to become some maiden trapped in a castle and made to squeeze out heirs. My mother did so until it killed her. I will not subject myself to the same fate. None of these men parading themselves before me care about me, only what I could bring them.” She sat down beside him and he handed her his cup.
He could certainly understand that, still… “I was forced into marrying the Bronze Bitch. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone. What happened to your mother was a tragedy. But life is full of tragedies. I don’t want you to miss the best parts of it.”
“Like what?” She asked him.
“How would you feel about marriage and birthing heirs if it was with someone who cared about you and wouldn’t trap you in a castle, but let you burn as you’re meant to.”
It was a little bolder than he perhaps should have been, but he didn’t know what her thoughts on this were. Did she want him as he did her? Or was her mother’s fate terrible enough to drive her from the idea altogether?
She looked down, “Were that the case, I may come around on it. But the only one I think who would fit that description,” she glanced over to him, “my father would never allow.” She glanced back down to the ground.
So she did think of him, as he did her. He felt his lips form a smile.
He reached over and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face to look at him. “If your father has given you leave to pick your husband, and he’s promised me “anything” for my victory, there may be a better chance than ever before, Princess.”
She slowly smiled. “That’s true.”
“Meet me tonight. Let me get you out of this keep and have some fun, show you the truth of things.” He asked, hoping she would agree.
She raised an eyebrow. “How? My father-“
“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Leave it to me.” He got up and kissed her on the crown of her head.
“Stay in your room until you get the sign.” And then he was gone, off to make preparations for tonight.
She wanted him, that was clear. But her fear of marriage and children was sadly understandable after what happened to her mother. He just needed to show her that sex need not be feared. That she could find pleasure in it, in him.
Then, he could secure her as his wife.