Chapter Text
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Chapter 21.
"He doesn’t deserve to be happy at our expense, treating us like we’re his playthings."
King’s Landing, 113 A.C.
By Daemon Targaryen.
AN IRONIC SMILE played on my lips as I raised my arms at the exact moment I felt the cold tip of the Valyrian dagger touch my throat. The flickering light of the only two candles barely illuminated the darkness of the surrounding tunnel, although I could still see her clearly. The delicate silver eyebrow arched, and her lilac eyes slowly scanned me from head to toe.
“You used to be quieter than this, husband,” she whispered, smiling with disdain, and she sheathed the dagger at her waist. “How is Ser Harwin coping with the tragic death of his brother?” Rhaenyra asked, the irony dripping from every word. She leaned back against the wall and peered through the gaps in the stones. “Lord Lyonel has been excused from the upcoming Small Council meetings.”
My smile grew as I heard the false sympathy in her voice for the death of the Cripple. If I hadn’t known my wife so well for years, I might have believed Rhaenyra truly mourned — but she was the one who had asked Dhaerys to eliminate Larys Strong. My sister had not hesitated to comply with her niece’s request, nor to infiltrate King’s Landing and shove him down the stairs while everyone was distracted by our entrance into the Throne Room.
It had been a brilliant idea to assassinate Larys Strong at a moment of great euphoria in the Fortress and the city.
“Harwin is well, just worried about his father,” I murmured, stopping beside her. Rhaenyra looked at me and nodded. “They are preparing the body to take it to Harrenhal.” I looked through the cracks in the wall and found the Small Council chamber empty. “Does your little bird know the reason for this meeting without you, my love?” I looked again at the figure of my small wife.
We had arrived in King’s Landing two days ago, and I already wanted to leave. For a long time, I had desired and fought to remain in the Fortress my ancestors built and where I was born. Yet now I felt so suffocated and on the verge of causing a massacre down the halls. My niece was even more incredible and strong for having endured two years in this nest of vipers, fighting to survive and not succumb to the fat bloodsuckers.
“My little bird heard whispers from the worm with Queen Hightower that today they will discuss my future marriage,” Rhaenyra whispered, sarcastic. I froze, and rage began to boil inside me. “As the whispers say Dorne was involved in the war, apparently I will marry Jason Lannister.”
I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know my face had twisted into a mask of pure hatred, danger, and the desire to bathe Dark Sister in the blood of those filthy pigs. A small part of my brain registered when I began breathing heavily and how my hand coiled, like a snake, around the hilt of my sword. I was ready to open the secret passage and wait for them inside the Small Council chamber.
Why does Viserys still insist on selling his daughter — whom he says he loves so much, his last living piece of Aemma — to whoever bids the highest? Wasn’t he the one who gave Rhaenyra the freedom to choose her own husband and future consort?
The rage only grew and began clouding my rationality. I had no problem becoming the incarnate Maegor, as the loyal Hand lord and his supporters once called me, and sending that bunch of cunts to hell.
‘’Kepus?’’
Rhaenyra’s sweet and calm voice managed to break through the dark, violent, and bloody cloud that was my mind. Her little hands held my free hand and gave a comforting squeeze. My heart was pounding fiercely, and the blood rushed faster through my veins. Yet, her touch was also a balm for my hatred. Taking a deep breath, I lowered my head and faced a purple sea.
Rhaenyra stared at me with so much love and tenderness that a lump formed in my throat.
“Don’t worry.” She smiled and placed her warm palm on my cheek. I relaxed immediately against her touch. “The Isles are already yours, and I know what I will do with the King.” There was something wicked between the lines of her words. “The goddess Syrax whispered to me something written in one of Queen Visenya’s diaries.”
I furrowed my brow but shook my head. Nyra smiled and slipped into my arms. I held her tightly and kissed her forehead.
She was my entire world.
“All right, my love,” I whispered and kissed her lips.
It didn’t take long for Viserys and the members of the Council to arrive. After each took their rightful seat, the King began to speak:
“My lords, I have called this last-minute meeting to bring good news for everyone and for the Realm.”
Viserys exchanged a brief look with the fat green bloodsucker sitting to his left. Otto maintained a composed expression, yet I could see the glint of victory in his eyes. The worm really thought he could chain the Dragonstone princess into a marriage with that cunt Jason Lannister and put his damn Andal blood on the Throne. Viserys and his deliberate blindness would be the ruin of House Targaryen.
Damn the day King Jaehaerys decided Viserys would be the next king and stripped Rhaenys of her right of primogeniture.
“Well, after much thought and analysis of the current situation we find ourselves in, I have decided that the heir princess, my daughter, will marry Lord Jason Lannister within three moons,” Viserys resumed speaking. “This marriage will bring many benefits to House Targaryen, the Crown, and the Realm.”
My earlier fury multiplied, and it was Rhaenyra’s hand in mine that stopped me from murdering the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
“Your… Grace?” The Master of Coin’s voice was confused and tense. Lord Beesbury looked horrified facing the King. “Forgive me, my King, but didn’t you give the heir princess the freedom to choose her own future husband and consort?”
Standing in the corner, the Lord Commander remained silent, yet he agreed with the Master of Coin’s question. Ser Harrold already knew of and approved our marriage. In contrast to the two men, Mellos, Jasper Wylde, and Tyland Lannister fiercely agreed with the King’s choice.
“Lord Beesbury, it is true Your Grace allowed Princess Rhaenyra the freedom to choose her future husband and consort, but what did she end up doing instead?” the royal Hand worm questioned, his tone neutral and rhetorical. “The heir to the Iron Throne fled to join her vagabond uncle at war without our King’s permission.”
How I wished to tear Otto Hightower’s head from his shoulders and deliver his body to Caraxes. In the back of my mind, I could hear my dragon agreeing and purring with the anticipation of burning that cunt alive.
“Exactly, my lords.” The despicable king nodded and shook his head. He let out a loud sigh, as if suddenly very tired. “It is true that I gave her that freedom, my lords.” He looked at each face present. “I love my daughter dearly, but Rhaenyra has deeply disappointed me in recent moons by joining her uncle at war and by disobeying me when I ordered her to return with Ser Criston.”
I turned my head to stare at her and saw how my wife wore an ironic smile. She lifted her gaze and winked at me before turning her eyes back to them through the cracks. I frowned, and the damn curiosity was almost getting the better of me.
“But, she will be the future queen after my death, so duty will almost always come first in her life.” Viserys continued. “I have decided to grant her hand to Jason Lannister. He is the lord of the richest house and will also bring us a fleet of ships. I know she will learn to love him and will be happy in Casterly Rock.” He gave a forced smile. “We are facing serious economic problems, and this marriage will save us from the worst.”
Marry her off to that cunt Jason Lannister because the realm was in financial trouble? Gain a fleet of ships? Rhaenyra learning to love that insect as her husband? Being happy in Casterly Rock?
A bitter, incredulous laugh got stuck in my throat. All the economic misery was solely Viserys’s fault and his tendency to spend on useless parties and events. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had to fight to secure any funding for projects to help our people have a shred of dignity.
“My brother will arrive in a week to sign the marriage agreement, Your Grace.” Tyland Lannister commented, very pleased. “Our last letter — Jason told me he’s already ordered the construction of a Dragonpit for the Golden Lady, the Heir Princess.”
Caraxes’s roar sounded in my head with such intensity it was as if he stood beside me. My dragon was ready to leave the Pit and rain fire upon the Red Keep. He knew that, besides them wanting to take Rhaenyra from me, Syrax would also leave if this marriage happened.
“We’ll kill them, Daemon.” Caraxes growled. “We kill them all and leave. I will never allow them to take my mate from me.”
The feeling was mutual between the Bloody Worm and me.
“Come, my love.” My passion whispered and touched me. I stared at her, my mind still a little confused. “I’ve heard enough and want your help to get something now.” Her smile was wicked.
My lips curved into an equally wicked smile.
♛
I brought the goblet to my lips and savored the sharp flavor of the wine from Pentos. I sat in a comfortable armchair, my elbow resting on the table, silently watching my wife. We were in her maiden chambers, though I had to use the secret passages to be by her side. It was infuriating to have to act in secrecy and pretend that the Realm’s Delight wasn’t my wife. We were extremely cautious to avoid any whisper, true or false, about our relationship from spreading through the corridors.
Meanwhile, the fucking King waited for Lord Lannister’s arrival in the capital.
Rage and disdain still burned inside me just remembering how Viserys was about to sell his only living daughter as if Rhaenyra were some kind of merchandise. Fuck! I gripped the goblet tighter and took a deep breath, trying not to let the thirst for blood and vengeance get the better of me. Taking Dark Sister and storming into the King’s chambers to kill him wouldn’t help my wife in any way.
I turned my eyes back to my passion.
The room would have been completely dark if not for the fourteen lit candles and the small fire crackling in the hearth. A bit to the right, wearing a simple white dress, Rhaenyra was kneeling in front of the improvised altar, murmuring a Valyrian prayer. I remained silent and simply watched her carry out a blood ritual written in Queen Visenya’s journal.
We hadn’t stayed to hear what they said at the end of the Council meeting, and instead we made our way through the secret tunnels to the King’s Wing afterward. It was all too easy to discreetly enter Viserys’s room and collect a few strands of his hair from a brush.
My smile grew.
My wife took a piece of dragonglass, sliced her palm, and let the blood drip into the chalice. Then, she placed Viserys’s silvery strands into the cup, mixed them with a few herbs Annora had gathered earlier, and resumed whispering an inaudible prayer. The fourteen flames rose higher and more intense as her voice floated delicately through the silence of the chamber.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but it was out of admiration.
I’ve always been someone who loved my Valyrian roots and everything that still remained of Old Valyria. I believed in what I could see, touch, and feel—like the dragons. Beyond that, I’d become a skeptic when it came to magic and prophetic dreams, even though Daenys had been a dreamer and saved the Targaryen bloodline because of a vision. But my sweet niece had shown me that there was much more—that the magical side was real and could still be touched by us.
Rhaenyra stood up and walked toward the lit hearth. Curious, I sat up straighter in the armchair and watched her next steps intently. She knelt again and whispered as she poured the blood mixed with herbs and Viserys’s strands into the fire. The orange flames turned black like Tennebris’s scales for a few brief seconds, and then returned to their previous color.
The atmosphere in the room, once tense and slightly oppressive, began to feel lighter.
“Nyra?” I called softly, a bit uncertain ‘’I didn’t want to interrupt her.’’
My passion plunged her hand into the fire, and the flames seemed to caress her skin. I took a deep breath, feeling a deep mixture of admiration and devotion for my wife. Finally, she stood and walked toward me with a soft smile on her delicate face.
“Are you feeling well, my love?” I whispered, still with a touch of concern. Nyra hadn’t read much of Queen Visenya’s journals yet, but I knew blood rituals could drain a person and leave them exhausted. “Do you need me to do anything for you?” I took her small hand and checked the cut palm, finding the skin intact.
Nyra smiled sweetly and climbed onto my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. I wrapped mine around her waist and placed a kiss on her temple.
"You don’t need to, kepus," she whispered, her delicate fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck. "Now, the life and health of King Viserys are in my hands, Daemon." Her voice turned dark and serious. "He doesn’t deserve to be happy at our expense, treating us like we’re his playthings." Her beautiful lilac eyes locked onto mine, silver brows furrowed in fury. "You spent two damned years at war, and Viserys wants you to leave again."
Even before I requested the Stepstones, His Grace and his loyal Hand invited me to King’s Landing. Between false sweet words and “congratulations” for my victory in the war, Viserys offered me the Stepstones as a reward—but made it clear that the Crown would have no ties to my lands and that I was never to ask for help. I accepted immediately and demanded a contract be signed with all those terms.
After the contract was signed and the Stepstones were officially mine, the Puppet gently asked when I planned to leave for my new home. Otto was just as curious, though he masked the eagerness in his eyes far better. I had to suppress a laugh and hide my wicked grin behind the rim of my goblet. At first, I made a point of sipping the wine as slowly as possible to irritate them both, then muttered that I hadn’t chosen a departure date yet.
It was obvious how eager those two bastards were to see me gone from Westeros for good. Without me in King’s Landing, Viserys could more easily sell the Heir Princess, and the leech from Oldtown would have more freedom to scheme and place her grandson on the Throne.
"No, he doesn’t deserve it, my love." I smiled wickedly. "King Viserys, First of His Name, deserves to pay for all the harm he’s done to us."
♛
By Rhaenyra Targaryen.
The hall was plunged in complete silence and darkness at this hour of the night. The two lit candles in the candlestick gave just enough light for me to know where to go and step without risking a fall and drawing the attention of the White Cloaks. Silently, I moved and held back the urge to call out for my husband. We should already be in bed, losing ourselves in each other’s arms or wrapped around one another, asleep like our dragons.
We had returned to King’s Landing only a few days ago, and I could only agree when Daemon confessed that he already wanted to leave. The Red Keep had long ceased to be our home and had become a place of sorrow, rage, terrible memories, and a nest of betrayal and danger. So that Daemon and I could have even a shred of privacy, he entered my room through the secret tunnels and slept with me until the early hours of the morning.
And right now, we were supposed to be in my chambers, sleeping. However, Daemon’s note asking me to meet him in the throne room wearing only a white nightgown had lured me through the tunnels and out the secret passage into the hall.
And where was my husband?
I couldn’t help but raise both eyebrows and smile ironically at the sight I found when I rounded the platform. Lazily seated and looking like the very image of comfort on the Iron Throne, Daemon gave me a wide smile and looked at me with false arrogance. Resting one elbow on the arm of the throne, he leaned slightly to the side and stretched his legs forward, never taking his eyes off me. The damp, tousled strands of his hair gave him a mischievous air — a true and charming Rogue Prince.
The sight of him, so majestic, sent a fresh wave of heat and desire through my belly.
“If King Viserys or the loyal Lord Hand sees you sitting on the throne, you could be accused of treason,” I murmured cynically. A teasing smile danced on my lips as I placed the candlestick on one of the steps and climbed the rest. “Should I call you Your Grace now, uncle?” Licking my lips, I stopped between his open legs and tilted my head to the side.
It was a very risky and thrilling game we were about to start.
The candlestick Daemon had brought with him allowed me to see his expression clearly. We were definitely playing the same dangerous, exciting game. Without breaking our connection, I let the nightgown fall to my feet and knelt between his legs. Still silent, I only listened as his breathing grew heavier, uneven, and saw his hands clench into fists. My husband’s eyes were dangerously darker and more wicked, which made me give him a false innocent and sweet smile.
We could be caught by the Kingsguard while defiling the Iron Throne — and it would be an unprecedented scandal.
“Sweet niece…” his husky, low warning sent a shiver up my spine, and my nipples grew harder. “Princess…” Daemon leaned forward and placed his warm hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing over my parted lips. “Are you going to be a good girl for your kepus now?” His black eyes devoured me.
Caught in a mix of pure anticipation and wetness between my thighs, I nodded. A satisfied, wicked smile curved his lips, making that damned dimple appear. I licked my lips and delighted in the sight of him swallowing hard.
“Then suck me.” Daemon ordered, reclining comfortably against the Iron Throne again. “Be a good niece and please your uncle-husband.” His perverse smile made me shudder. “You are forbidden to touch yourself until I command it, my love.”
Biting down on my lower lip, I untied the laces and pulled his dark trousers down to his ankles. He lifted his hips to help me and sat back again, never taking his eyes off my movements. I felt anxious, feverish, my stomach fluttering and fingers slightly trembling. Though, my husband was in no better state. His expression was deliciously dark, his violet eyes gleamed with anticipation, and his breathing was ragged.
Seven hells!
My breath caught the moment I looked up and saw his erection resting on his toned, scarred pale belly. It was long, pink, with faint veins along the shaft, and thick. A trail of silvery hair led from his navel and circled around his cock. I’d discovered Daemon was very hygienic and trimmed them with scissors.
I took a deep breath and exhaled through my slightly parted lips.
“Kepus…” I sighed softly and held him with both hands, beginning gentle up-and-down motions. Immediately, I felt him shudder under my touch, and satisfaction flooded me. “So delicious, kepus…” Without looking away, I brought my lips to the rosy tip and gently sucked it.
‘’Fuck, Nyra!’’ He cursed louder as I ran my tongue around the tip in slow, circular motions, then sucked him vigorously. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as I tightened my grip around his cock and his hand tangled in my hair. ‘’Goddamn, my love!’’ Daemon threw his head back and bit his lower lip.
The sight of my husband, so loose and panting against the Iron Throne, sent a sharp ache deep inside my empty, wet channel.
My whole body seemed engulfed in dragonfire. On top of that, my arousal was so intense it felt like it would drip between my legs, and I desperately needed him inside me, filling me up. My fingers would bring some relief, though very little. Still, I would be a good and obedient niece to my beloved kepus and not touch myself—only suck him. Finally, I pulled away from his cock and smiled, my lips wet with his precome.
Daemon stared at me, barely blinking, his eyes full of lust and fire, and his smile wide.
‘’Am I being a good niece for you, kepus?’’ I whispered, licking my wet lips. His breathing grew heavier, and he seemed ready to attack me. I laughed inwardly with pure satisfaction because the infamous Rogue Prince was all mine. ‘’Uncle Daemon?’’ I tilted my head to the side.
Before my husband could answer, I gave a sly little smile and went back to swallowing his member carefully. I almost choked but managed to relax my throat and began moving slowly, still getting used to his size. Finally, I reached a pace that didn’t make my eyes water.
“Rhaenyra...” Daemon groaned hoarsely and a little loudly. The idea of the Royal Guards storming into the Throne Room and catching the Dragonstone Princess sucking her own uncle was depraved, exciting. "See what a good girl you are, dear niece. Sucking your uncle's cock so beautifully." His hand wrapped around my hair, making my head move faster.
He began to thrust his hips against my mouth, and I dug my nails into his thighs for stability. I could feel the texture, the taste, and how his cock pulsed on my tongue. His breathing quickened when I began to caress his balls. I moved my lips up and focused on sucking the pink tip, moving my hands on the rest. I couldn't help but smile. Daemon stared at me greedily, breathing heavily, a thin layer of sweat covering his face, flushed with pleasure.
“Fuck!” he roared fiercely.
Suddenly, Daemon grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap, taking my lips with his in a strong, urgent kiss. I sat on his thighs, one knee on either side of his hips, and wrapped my fingers in his short hair. There was a pillow underneath him so my knees wouldn't hurt. He placed his right hand on the back of my neck and his left hand focused on feeling and squeezing the flesh of my ass. I rose slightly above him and plunged my tongue into his mouth, exploring him.
We moaned together when his penis came into contact with my sensitive folds. Panting, I pulled away a little to look him in the eyes and smiled sideways. He hadn't come and was very hard against us both. His moist lips, eyes shining with lust, and tousled hair made him so beautiful.
“Beautiful, you're so beautiful, ñuha jorraelagon,” he murmured and held my face in his hands. “So mine.”
I shuddered when he pulled me against his chest and his erection came into contact with my folds. I gasped, my heart racing, and writhed in his lap for more contact.
“Oh, Uncle...” I exclaimed softly as I began to rub myself against his penis. I was so wet that it helped me move. “Husband...” I whimpered and squeezed his shoulders.
Daemon panted against me and helped my frantic movements. I frowned and bit my lips as soon as the tip of his penis touched my sensitive spot. It felt good to feel him like that against me, naked and raw, sliding out. However, I needed much more, I needed him to fill me completely and keep his seed inside me in the end.
“Damn... Nyra...” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the throne. “I need... to fuck you... love.”
My body vibrated with anticipation and heat spread across my back.
“Please...” I sobbed in desperation. “Fuck me, kepus.” I pressed my mouth against his neck and sucked on his fragrant skin. “I need your cock inside me... I feel so empty right now... Please, husband...” I rested my forehead on his broad shoulder and dug my nails into his arms.
So as not to moan loudly and attract the attention of the royal guards inside the Throne Room, I bit his shoulder when Daemon lifted me up by my buttocks and his cock entered me. In that position, he penetrated me deeply and filled me completely. So good! I dug my fingers deeper into his arms and moaned with relief. He was finally inside me, after a whole day without feeling him.
“Passion, can you move?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. His calloused hands grabbed my buttocks and his hot breath hit my neck. “Damn...” he exclaimed when I moved a little.
I sat upright on his lap and looked at him, throwing my hair back. My entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat. I smiled lasciviously, rested my hands on his shoulders, and began to move slowly. Neither of us dared to break the intensity of our gaze. His eyebrows were furrowed with pleasure and his cheeks flushed with exertion. I began to ride him harder and faster. In this position, Daemon penetrated so deeply inside me and hit a spot that made me shudder with pleasure.
“Husband...” I frowned and bit my lip to keep from screaming with pleasure when he touched the magic spot inside me. “Oh, Daemon...” I moaned, already feeling the familiar heat settle in my back. “Yes, Uncle... harder... More!”
Daemon grabbed my buttocks and began to help me bounce on his lap. I swallowed a cry of pleasure when he hit that special spot for the third time and my inner walls contracted around him. His expression contorted in pure pleasure. I threw my head back and grabbed my breasts, pinching my hard, sensitive nipples. He began to lift his hips to meet mine, and the sound of skin against skin seemed to echo inside the Throne Room.
“Look at me, my passion,” he asked, whispering and caressing my clitoris. Breathing unevenly and heavily, I tilted my head forward and rested my hands on his shoulders again. “Beautiful... You're all mine, Rhaenyra.” He grunted and slapped my ass hard, making it sting.
“Da-aemon...”
Daemon was breathing heavily, biting his lower lip, and his expression showed the extent of his desire, the pleasure of burying himself inside me. I felt his cock throb harder, so I contracted around him as I continued to move up and down. When the heat intensified and shivers took hold of me, I buried my face in his neck and squeezed his arms tightly. I pressed my mouth against his skin and moaned softly, finally coming. My husband came next, squeezing me between his arms and grunting softly.
“Rhaenyra...” He moaned against my hair and his jet flooded me. “Damn, baby...”
We didn't have time to talk or rest a little, because we heard one of the heavy main doors of the Hall being opened. I jumped off my husband's lap, completely naked, his semen dripping between my legs. My only reflex was to grab the nightgown abandoned at the foot of the Throne, the candlestick, and run silently toward the secret passage. The heavy footsteps and the sound of armor made me slip and almost fall.
I could still hear the ghost of a familiar laugh behind me.
I wanted to turn around and throw the candlestick at my husband, but there wasn't enough time. I hid inside a niche behind a Valyrian tapestry. Seconds later, Daemon appeared behind me, panting and laughing. He rushed to extinguish the candles, and we both stood in the dark, listening to the royal guards moving around the throne room. Kepus was in front of me, and I had to resist the urge to punch him because the bastard had managed to put his pants back on.
And me? Totally naked.
“Sir Erryk, can you see anything?” asked a voice I recognized as Sir Crispin's.
My heart raced as the footsteps approached us, and I saw Daemon reach for his waist, searching for the Black Sister. I snorted softly and rolled my eyes, since the sword was in our room.
“No.” The reliable twin's voice sounded a little more distant. “You must have heard too much, Sir Criston.”
Crispin muttered something, and finally, the two left. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the Throne Room door close. Before I could say anything, Daemon began to laugh softly and amusedly. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling good-naturedly.
“This isn't how I expected our night to end, my love.” Amused, Daemon pulled me into his arms and ran his hands down my back. “Did you manage to get your nightgown?”
“Yes.” I whispered and put it on. “We almost got caught, Uncle.” I widened my eyes. “When are we going to desecrate the throne again?”
Daemon let out a mischievous laugh.
“Whenever my wife wants to.”
♛