Chapter Text
Daemon is sitting with the kids when Rhaenyra comes through the door. She glances at their family, all nine of them strewn about across the sitting room, and smiles. She stops briefly to caress the top of baby Visenya's head, then continues to their bedroom.
Her head is bowed, hair fraying from the neat style she'd left the house in. Daemon caught shadows under her eyes before she'd turned around as well.
In the few weeks since the death of her father, and the strenuous birth of their daughter, Rhaenyra has drawn in on herself. She’s been working herself raw.
Daemon can see the exposed parts of her where she scoops out her own person, Rhaenyra, and makes room for her new title, CEO.
Gently, so as not to disturb the sleeping newborn, Daemon frees one of his arms and taps Luke who's sitting next to him.
Luke blinks, he'd been dozing a bit.
"Hold your sister for me?"
Luke nods and Daemon places Visenya in his arms.
Before heading to his wife Daemon stops in the kitchen to grab a lemon cake. The treats were a gift from Joffrey, Baela, and Jace, who'd stopped on their way home at Rhaenyra’s favorite bakery. They were supposed to be a surprise for dessert, but Rhaenyra had missed dinner and dessert entirely.
The whole family could tell how stressed she was. They saw how the grief had never had time to settle, how ill prepared she felt to run their massive family business. It weighed on her. The children, ferociously protective of their mother, tried everything they could to lighten the load.
With the lemon cake in hand, he went to their bedroom. She wasn't there. Her heels were kicked off near the entryway. Her hairpins were tossed carelessly on the bed, her vanity, and the bedside table. Evidence of Rhaenyra was all over the room, yet she wasn't there.
Daemon is walking over to the bathroom, when a shuffling comes from in their closet.
He sets the lemon cake down and follows the noise.
Daemon finds his wife sitting against the back wall of their closet. Her legs are crossed and she sits with her head in her hands. When she hears him enter she looks up, cheeks blotchy and her eyes rimmed with fury.
"They want Aegon to take over as CEO." She spits.
This isn't news. Everyone has been able to see the working plots of Viserys’ widow and her father for years. Still, their efforts to depose Rhaenyra increased tenfold once she actually stepped into the role when her father passed.
Their first big move had been when Rhaenyra went into labor only a few days after she officially took over. The Hightower's suggested, insidious under the guise of being supportive, that Aegon be named interim CEO as Rhaenyra recovered and took maternity leave.
Instead, only two weeks after her father’s funeral, with her first daughter still in the NICU, Rhaenyra was back in the office.
Since then, she'd been at war.
Daemon kneels in front of her. She bares her teeth, a warning.
"They implied to me that they might take it to a vote at the next board meeting."
"And would they have the votes?" He reaches for one of her hands and sighs in relief when she doesn't jerk away from him.
"It would be close." She snatches up his other hand and squeezes both in hers. Her eyes are wild, breath coming at a frenzy. "Too close. They could take it all if they could convince two more board members."
Daemon nods.
There are ways, they both know, that Daemon could make sure board members stayed on his wife's side. Or at least, could convince them that joining the other team would have unwanted consequences.
So far, Rhaenyra has been the moral one. She's stopped him from finishing her war early. She's fought every battle herself this far and he commends her for it.
"They've made it their life's work to make mine a living hell. At every point. Every crossroad. They fight me! Every decision I make is wrong. I can't—” her voice breaks in a snarl "I will not let those vultures take this from me. This company is his legacy. I am his legacy. He chose me."
"He did." There had been a time when Daemon himself had been sore over Viserys' choice. That time has long since passed. In its place is pride in his dear niece, his chosen wife.
Resentment too, now burns for the plotters. Daemon has been itching to take them out.
Rhaenyra though, must make that call.
Daemon needs to be needed, loves to be leaned on. But the decision must be hers.
Now, his love looks at him, bursting at the seams with hunger. He'll carve her pound of flesh.
She must see it in his eyes because she drops his hands.
"No. Daemon. We've discussed this. Not unless absolutely necessary." Rhaenyra stands on shaky legs. Daemon knows she only needs a bit more convincing.
He touches her hip and she shakes further. She looks down at him, all weary eyes and sullen cheeks. She is beginning to see the necessity.
He shuffles close on his knees and lays his head on her front. She stills. His hands snake under her skirt to the backs of her thighs and he squeezes hard.
Rhaenyra gasps and winds a hand into Daemon's hair. He braces himself to be pulled away, but she only tugs his hair back so he's looking up at her.
He pushes her skirt up further. His hands wander her nylon-clad thighs. Rhaenyra swallows audibly when he reaches her hips, fingering the top of her stockings.
"Don't." She warns. He hooks his fingers into the waistband. Without warning, he rips them. Her nylons rip with a high, stretchy sound.
"The doctor said—" she tries again, though her legs spread when he digs his fingers into the waistband of her panties.
"Six weeks." He says huskily. Her obstetrician said no sex for six weeks, so that she could fully heal after having the baby. Though they were quickly approaching the end of that six weeks, Daemon has no intention of fucking her right now.
He pulls her panties down in a quick motion.
One hand circles around to the back of her bare thigh and the other reaches down to pull one leg out of her panties and bring it up around his shoulder.
He kisses the inside of her exposed thigh.
"Do you trust me to do this for you?" There will be no vote. There will be no further questions of his wife's leadership. No more plotting.
Rhaenyra nods, then relaxes against the closet wall.
Daemon lifts her other leg up. He supports Rhaenyra entirely on his shoulders.