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Daemon was back.
Uncle Daemon.
Changed, Rhaenyra could say.
His hair was shorter and his face was softer.
His lips were even softer when they kissed her the other night, against his hard hands and dexterous fingers, and while she longed to see if his cock was just as hard as his hands, that wasn’t what had happened that night.
He teased and teased, kissing and grabbing, and when she was nothing but a puddle, needy and hungry, he simply… stopped.
Daemon brought her back home without a single word.
“Princess?” she heard a knock on her door.
She raised her eyes, turning to it, and tied her robe around her body.
It was too early in the morning for anyone to need her.
“Yes?”
“Prince Daemon,” the Kingsguard announced.
Rhaenyra stood straighter and stepped aside, so they couldn’t see her.
“Send him in,” she commanded.
The door opened slowly, and the guards didn’t peek inside, and Daemon entered her chambers with a slow step, as if he owned it, and only glanced at her when the door was closed again.
“Good morrow,” he hummed, only turning his head to her.
Rhaenyra watched him, quiet. Unsure.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His eyes traced her face and then her body, and his lips twitched in a tiny smile.
“I brought you a gift,” he told her.
That got her attention.
A gift?
“I had it made especially for you,” he raised the little bag in his hand.
“Gold?” she asked, moving her feet closer to him.
Daemon’s lips curled more.
“Better.”
She stopped in front of him, reaching for it, but he pulled it back from her grasp when she raised her hand to grab it.
“First,” he interrupted her, breath sweet like wine when it reached her face and her nose. “You take that off.”
She looked down at herself, silk robe tight about her body, over her stays and shift.
“I heard about your new stays, laced with gold,” he teased her. “I think this will look lovely on them.”
Rhaenyra frowned, unsure.
She was wearing them, indeed.
“Please?” he pouted mockingly at her.
She stepped away from him, still thinking of it, but threw caution to the wind.
People already thought they had done much more than this.
Fuck it.
She untied the silky piece and shrugged it off slowly, feeling Daemon’s eyes following her with each movement, and felt it pool on her feet before turning around and meeting his gaze with hers.
“Gorgeous,” he hummed.
Finally, Daemon reached for the bag and opened it, pushing his hand inside and pulling what looked like a single string of pearls. But the pulling didn’t stop.
Daemon pulled and pulled, slowly and never taking his eyes from Rhaenyra’s. It felt infinite.
Until it ended.
The string was heavy on his hand, so long that she knew they would even serve as chains. Covered with small pearls, uniform and pale, all beautiful. It must have cost a fortune.
“I asked for a string of pearls as long as Caraxes’ wings,” he told her. “But they didn’t have enough of them. I had to settle with this short thing, so I could deliver it on time.”
She chuckled. What a request.
He raised it slowly, showing it to her, and licked his lips as his eyes ran over her figure.
“A match made by the gods,” he purred.
Rhaenyra stepped slowly to him, and Daemon lowered his hand, tracing a single finger over her stays.
“Is it real gold?” he asked.
She looked down at the piece.
“Yes,” she raised her chin. “The drawing, but not the stitching. Gold isn’t as good as thread to keep it together.”
“What a shame,” he hummed.
She simply shrugged and watched him, waiting.
It was a gift for her, wasn’t it? So why hadn’t he given it to her already?
Finally, he rose it and slowly rested the string on her neck, too close to her body. Rather than watching him do it, she felt his hands moving around her body, surrounding her hips and waist, and he adjusted them over her chest before looking at her face again.
Daemon stepped back and eyed her from top to bottom.
“ Vok ,” he decided. Perfect . “A perfect match.”
She let herself smile in response. High Valyrian was their language. Something they shared with one another and no one else.
“May I look?”
“Of course,” he agreed.
Rhaenyra strode to her mirror and gazed at herself, hearing and feeling as the ends of the pearls dragged by her feet as she did.
It was truly beautiful, yes. But very intimate, too.
“It will get better with nothing underneath it,” he told her.
She turned to him, shivering but keeping her eyes hard.
“What do you want from me, uncle?” she asked.
Daemon looked taken aback by her question.
“Ao vujitan nyke,” she strode to him. “Ao renigon nyke.”
You kiss me. You touch me.
“Se par ao henujagon nyke,” and then you leave me.
He clenched his jaw.
“And then you come here,” she continued. “And wrap a string of pearls around me, like I’m a gift to be unwrapped.”
His eyes dragged and lingered, hungry and shameless.
“So tell me,” she requested. “Skoros gaomagon jaela hen nyke?”
What do you want from me?”
He kissed her again.
Daemon moved so fast she could barely see him as he did, pulling him flush against his body, squeezing Rhaenyra in a bruising kiss, almost hurting her as he did, but she didn’t quite care.
She could feel him hard against her lower belly, and she was so warm, she wondered if he could feel the fire under her skin.
Daemon’s big hands moved to her hips, pulling them closer to his own, as if unconsciously telling her what he wanted. What he really wanted.
Rhaenyra was damp between her legs already. Last night she had been so deprived of pleasure after it was dangled in front of her like a carrot in front of a stubborn horse, and here he was, dangling the carrot in front of her again.
Would it be to deny her once more?
She pulled away when she was too breathless to continue kissing him, and Daemon moved his lips to her neck, sucking and licking, kissing and tasting her.
“Jaelan ao,” he grunted into her skin. I want you . “Jaelan naejot ipradgaon ao, naejot qogralbar se leghagon ao.”
I want to devour you, to fuck you and fill you.
Rhaenrya trembled, whimpering, weak on her legs, but refusing to let him into how much he affected her.
Oh, to be devoured by him. To have him come to her like a man starved, surrendering to her once and for all.
“Iksi isse ñuha tistalion,” she grabbed him by his clothes. We are in my room. “We have my bed.”
He pushed a single hand under her shift, caressing the soft skin of her hip over her little hairs.
But he didn’t push her to the bed.
“Gūrogon nyke," she whispered. Take me .
But she didn’t bag. She would never beg him. She could never beg him.
"Nyke dao r ," he hissed. I can't .
Rhaenyra tried to look at him, but Daemon didn’t move from her neck, moving his hands further up, pushing the shift up.
"Jaelan naejot gūrogon so," he moved his lips down, still taunting her, kissing the top of her chest. I want you. "Jaelan naejot leghagon ao. Urnēptre ao around lēda iā iemny sīr rōva tolvys kessa pendagon skoverdi hen ñuha riñar eman dīnagon iemnȳ ao."
I want to fill you. Parade you around with a belly so big everyone will wonder how many of my children I have put inside you .
His fingers moved down to the apex of her thighs and he touched her folds with a single digit, parting them before meeting her bud, circling it and making her gasp.
“Jaelan naejot vūjigon ao isse se Lentsīkudo isse naejon hen mirre hen lī vali qilōni dared naejot pendagon pōnta could emagon ao,” he raised a hand up, tugging on her stays, maybe to try and free her tits.
I want to kiss you in the sept in front of all of those men who dared to think they could have you.
She whined, lit on fire.
" Emagon ao va ñuha lap va se Dēmalion Āegenko isse naejon hen mirre hen people qilōni mirre doubted ao, se qogralbar ao hae pōnta obūljagon naejot īlva."
Sit you on my lap on the iron throne in front of all of the people who ever doubted you, and fuck you as they fall to their knees to us.
Us . Not her. Not him. Them. Us.
She wanted it. She wanted it more than she would ever tell.
" Skori mazeman ao ," he spread her legs with one of his. " Kesan leghagon ao lēda sīr naenie riñar kesi mazverdagon se rovaja Targārien kiōs bona ēza mirre issare ."
When I take you I’ll breed you with so many children we will make the largest Targaryen generation that has ever been.
Daemon took his lips from her skin, and Rhaenyra opened her eyes as he pulled away slowly, eyes burning with the fire of desire and fury.
" Tolī riñar than zaldrīzoti naejot kipagon ," he promised.
More children than dragons to ride.
Slowly, he fell to his knees, and pulled one of her legs over his shoulder.
“So no, Rhaenyra,” he stared into her eyes, the way he said her name making her weak. “I can’t take you.”
Daemon pulled his hand from between her legs, and quickly replaced it with his mouth.
She gasped so loudly it echoed through her chamber, and Rhaenyra covered her mouth before her moans could grow.
He devoured her with gusto, as if her cunt was the only pool of water he had ever seen after flying through a desert, squeezing her tightly by the kips, holding her close, so tightly she couldn’t escape him.
Not that she would ever want to.
She shut her eyes tightly closed, panting and she threw her head back, not knowing what else to do, going positively mad.
Daemon’s lips and tongue were everywhere. Hungry and demanding, not giving her space to think. Inside her, licking her, on her folds, pulling on them with his lips, circling and playing and sucking her bud.
When Rhaenryra peaked, he held her right through it, eating and eating her.
She didn’t even come down properly before he brought her into another explosion.
Just then, when her aftershocks made it impossible for her to stand on her own, he stopped.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her from underneath. His pupils were blown, and his chest was heaving, but that wasn’t what made her hunger grow more than it diminished.
His lips and lower face were covered with her wetness, shining, dripping from his jaw. Right under her eyes, he pulled a golden handkerchief and wiped his lips and face dry before pushing his hand between her legs, collecting some of her spend from her cunt.
“There,” he whispered. “Sir eminna aoha yknagon leda nyke.”
Now I will have your smell with me.
Rhaenyra shuddered, and he pushed her leg away from his shoulder, but before he could pull away from her, she pulled him and kissed him again.
His lips were salty and tangy with her taste, and she didn’t let him pull away this time, moving a hand down to his pants and untying them, pushing her hand into his briefs to grab him.
He was hard and wet on the tip underneath the fabric, and she smirked when she felt, him moan a little bit into her lips.
“Daemon,” she bit his lower lip. “Kostilus .”
Please.
She didn’t know what she was asking for. Please, fuck me?
Please, let me make you feel good?
Still, she stroked him up and down.
“Rhaenyra,” he hissed.
“Kostilus,” she repeated. “Gurogon nyke.”
Take me.
He grunted, moving his hips, fucking her hand.
“Qobralgar nyke,” she moved her nose on his.
Fuck me.
His cock throbbed in her hand, and Rhaenyra whimpered.
“Leghagon nyke.”
Fill me.
He came, warm on her skin, as he tightened his hands on her hips, and Rhaenyra smirked when he rested his forehead on hers, grunting very quietly as he shuddered.
Daemon kissed her again, softer, until she was once more breathless, and slowly pulled her hand from inside his clothes, and when she looked down on her own hand, it was covered in his white spent.
His eyes followed her closely when she licked it, finding it even saltier than her own, his jaw tight.
He only moved when her hand was clean, though.
Daemon stepped away from her and picked up her robe, offering it to her without a word, and waited until she was dressed. He stepped to her, tying it around her body and covering her up again, and brushed her hair back.
She watched him doing all of it, and raised her chin when he adjusted his own clothes. Finally, he reached for her and raised her chin with a single finger.
“Kesa sagon ñuhon,” he promised. “Kesa undegon.”
You’ll be mine. You’ll see.
He walked away, knocking on the door with the back of his hands, and threw her once last look as the guards opened it.
“Kesan undegon,” she answered.
I’ll see.
He left, closing the door behind himself, and Rhaenyra felt the weight of the pearls around her body along with the heat of the neckless around her neck.
Nothing could even stop Daemon. She knew that.