Chapter Text
One of the things Alicent liked the most about Dragonstone was her and Daemon’s bed. Strange, as she had once burnt it to cinders, but the bed made anew was just the same as the old.
The foundation was black stone that shone like polished onyx, atop was feathered down, layer upon layer, until one would never believe they were sleeping on a slab of mountain rock. Above the bed was the effigy of a roaring dragon carved into the wall, its tail snaking over its large diamond of a head. A fire pearl had been sunken within its raging eye.
For the years that Daemon had been at war, Alicent had slept in this bed alone. Now he was back, her comfort, making her feel safe during the howling nights.
That was, until the morning, when she would awake having been forced to the opposite end of the bed, teetering on the very edge, Daemon having made ground during the night like this was another of his military campaigns.
Alicent awoke while the day outside was still dark, a black line that split sea and sky hovered outside the glass windows that reached from the ground to the high ceilings. Black gulls had gathered on the stone balcony outside. As usual, the walls seeped their moist heat.
Immediately, Alicent set her teeth at the sensation of Daemon breathing down her neck, literally. He slept like someone who had no regard for the fact that others also shared the space and Alicent found herself smushed underneath his weight as he had half-mounted her during the night, one leg hooked over her side.
“Daemon,” she tried to keep her voice down, out of the love she had for him but would be willing to set aside if he suffocated her any further. “Get. Off. Me.”
Daemon remained asleep.
Alicent raked her chestnut hair from her eyes, now loose from its plait, and levied herself forward, inching from under him until she was half on and half off the bed, her palms balanced on the floor.
Well this is dignified. She irritably squirmed forward until her knees could safely come forward and brace upon the floor. She put a hand to her stomach.
She had known she was with child before they had left the Red Keep, but it was still early days. Her moonsblood had stopped, the sickness she had suffered in her first pregnancy had improved of late and she was again able to break her fast normally.
Alicent was not looking forward to, once again, screaming upon the birthing bed, clinging to consciousness as she gave life to her and Daemon’s second child.
And it’s all his fault. Alicent glared down at Daemon who had continued to sleep peacefully. We could have waited another year but this rogue would never be able to control himself for that long.
Daemon seemed to sense that he was being loomed over as he stirred, blinking awake. He looked up at Alicent standing over him in the dark.
“Wife,” His voice was heavy with sleep. “If you’re trying to frighten me then try harder than this.” He rolled on his side. “While you’re up, you can fetch some water.”
Alicent looked about her for a suitable missile. She spied the cushion that sat upon the embroidered lounging chair and picked it up, inspected it and then launched it at Daemon’s head.
The missile struck and Daemon grunted upon impact. He rolled on his back and looked the cushion over as if it had thrown itself before chucking it to the ground.
“Where do you get the energy to be so violent this early in the morning?”
“You pushed me out of bed!” Alicent hissed back.
Daemon looked down at the bed and then up at her. “No I didn’t.”
“You did!”
“I was asleep,” Daemon grated out. “Why didn’t you just climb over to the other side?”
“You do it every night.”
“That’s not true.” Daemon tried to return to sleep, lying back and closing his eyes. “You’re exaggerating, as usual.”
Alicent heaved a sigh. “You would force your own wife, who is with child, out of our bed. You’re nothing but a brute.”
Daemon exhaled, refusing to take the bait. “It's as you say.”
“I suppose I’ll just go and bathe if you’re going to be so selfish.”
“Do what you wish.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
Alicent snatched her robe from over the changing screen that depicted Dragonstone’s native flowers, painted in gentle pastels. “Fine.”
“Get me some water first,” Daemon said, now just wishing to provoke. “And hurry up about it.”
“Get your own water,” Alicent snapped. “And choke on it.”
Daemon smirked to himself as Alicent stormed out of the chamber, slamming the door behind her.
Alicent went to bathe herself, soaking in salted and perfumed water for over an hour, the eyes of the various carved dragons on the walls all staring at her. When she finally emerged, wrapping herself back in her robes, she had calmed down slightly.
Returning to the chamber, she found that Daemon was up.
He glanced at her as she entered. He was dressing, now lacing his trousers, though his alabaster upper half was bare. Alicent’s eyes flickered over the burns, the scars on his arms, his back, his chest, his neck. She had mapped them all herself, got lost in them a time or two.
Daemon now raised his brow at her. “Better?”
Alicent felt anger ebbing below the surface, anger that could easily be persuaded to rise again. “Perhaps.”
Daemon turned toward her. “I know what it is,” he said with confidence. “It's because you're with child that you’re more irrational than usual.”
“What a fine Maester you would make, husband,” Alicent spat. “As full of knowledge as you are.”
Daemon went to pick up his shirt, rolling his eyes as he did, but Alicent had already crossed the room towards him. She was unable to help herself.
First, she touched his bare chest with her fingers, skin still damp, she felt first for the burn she liked best, the one on his neck that travelled to his shoulder. The texture of it was rough, she admired the shape.
Daemon watched her silently as her fingers grazed lower, now the scars on his chest she traced. Alicent put her lips to one, then another, then she didn’t have the chance to seek a third as Daemon dragged her forward into his arms. He kissed her with the force that she’d come to expect, that she had craved in his years of absence. He kissed her like he was a man starved, normal breaths were impossible, he extracted every ounce of air that she attempted to take in.
Daemon broke the kiss just as Alicent began to feel as if she would faint. As his lips left her, she heaved in a series of desperate breaths. Daemon put his face in her dampened hair and Alicent closed her eyes as he nuzzled her. His arms kept her locked in place, she staggered on her tiptoes as he refused to release her.
“Alicent,” she felt his chest vibrate against her as he spoke into her ear. “You smell good.”
“I wish I could say the same for you.” Alicent quipped and she felt him chuckle. He nipped at her ear.
“Release me.” Alicent whispered.
“Why?”
“I need to dress.”
“Why?”
“Daemon.”
“I’d prefer you in nightclothes all day long,” Daemon was inching her robes upwards, exposing more and more of her to the darkness of their chamber. “Easier for me to find what I’m looking for.”
Alicent attempted to pull away. “You’ve done enough damage, have you not?”
“Don’t expect to be too often without my child in you during our marriage,” He finally loosened his grip on her, letting her sink to her heels. “I’ve been gone long enough.”
Alicent felt a pinprick of trepidation at what may appear to be a jest, but she knew better. That was a threat.
“Come and make up for it then,” Alicent said, drawing away. “You can dress me.”
Daemon finally pulled on his undershirt. He looked pleased with himself, she noticed. His cropped hair was beginning to grow in, he would need it cut again soon. “You have an army of maids for that.”
“I want you to do it.”
Daemon snorted, not taking her seriously.
“You pushed me from the bed,” Alicent said. “It’s the least you could do.”
“I’m not your servant, woman.”
Alicent sat back on the embroidered chair, the one missing its cushion. “You should be.”
Daemon paused. His fingers stilled at the hem of his shirt and he looked at her, his violet eyes filled her with something she couldn’t place. His eyes were so familiar and yet always looked as though they had been secreted from some other world.
Unexpectedly, he said. “Fine, I’ll do it.” Then he added, “How difficult could it be?”
“It’s not difficult,” Alicent was smiling. “First, I need my smock and some hose.” She pointed to the chest with its many drawers. “There. Top one.”
Daemon eyed her, twisting the cuffs of his shirt. “I don’t know that I like your tone.”
“What?” Alicent blinked at him innocently. “I’m simply telling you.”
Daemon sighed theatrically, scratching his neck, then went to the drawers. Alicent stifled a laugh as he rummaged about, not adhering to the maids’ efficient folding system. He plucked a smock and some woollen hose. “There.” He said.
“Hmm,” Alicent tapped her lips. “I’m not sure if I want those colours today.”
“You’ll wear it and you'll like it.” Daemon said, making his way back towards her. “Come. Stand.”
Alicent stood, letting the robes around her drop. Her damp hair was clinging to her shoulders and she maneuvered herself out of the nightclothes until she was naked. She fanned her long hair, batting her eyes demurely. “Forgive my shameless state, my Prince.”
Daemon, immediately abandoning his task, grabbed her upper thigh, his large hands moving to her buttock where he stopped and squeezed. He went for her mouth, another smothering kiss, followed, with any luck, by a satisfying rut…
Alicent put her hand over his mouth. “You bad servant.” She breathed. “You’re here to dress me, not paw at me. I should have you whipped.”
Daemon’s eyes were two lights in the dim. “That doesn’t sound wholly unenjoyable-”
“Daemon, you promised.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re making it up to me.”
“That’s what I intend to do when I take you upon this ugly chair-”
“I want to get dressed,” Alicent said. “Now put the smock over my head before I lose my patience.” She swept her eyes over him as he stood there, trying to assess if she was serious. “Hurry up.”
Daemon clenched his jaw. “Fine.” He unwillingly placed the smock over her head and held it as Alicent put her arms through. “You fucking cocktease.”
“Keep your revolting language to a minimum, servant.”
“You’re pushing your luck.” Daemon dangled the hose. “And this thing?”
“It goes over my legs, of course.” Alicent sat upon the chair and extended her legs, lifting the hem of the smock. “Get on with it, we haven’t got all day.”
Daemon muttered something, his usual colourful, curse-ridden poetry, and knelt before her. He held the hose as Alicent placed her foot inside, then he followed the length of her leg with his hand. Alicent sighed at the heat of his skin.
Daemon’s hand continued to travel, inappropriately, up the inside of her thigh until he was touching a place that was certainly nothing to do with his task of dressing.
“Daemon,” Alicent said warningly.
“I’m simply making sure the garm is sitting right upon my lady,” Daemon replied, his thumb moving in a circle. He smiled serenely as Alicent squirmed, reaching for his wrist. “Hopefully this puts you in a more favourable mood.”
“Get off me, you dog.”
“Come now,” Daemon expertly increased the speed of his finger and then, when Alicent’s breath hitched, he deliberately slowed. “I think that’s enough.” He dodged the kick that almost hit his thigh and licked his thumb. “If I continue, you’ll ruin your smock with this excessive wet.”
Alicent was determined not to lose. “Secure the hose with garters.” She forced out. “And best fetch my kirtle.”
“Fuck your kirtle.”
“Do something useful for once and fetch it.” Alicent sat back, moving her hair from her face, trying to claw back some dignity. She watched him find the items with ease and realised with wary surprise that the man observed more than she assumed he did.
Daemon knelt again on the ground and she braced herself for more of his antics, but this time he almost dutifully hitched up her smock and secured the first garter. He tied them tightly, but Alicent was almost endeared by the fact that he checked if they were too tight by testing underneath with his fingers.
“It’s like securing a saddle.” He commented, which made the endearment disappear.
“Would that make me a horse?” She snapped.
“And I’d only take a ride occasionally-”
Alicent kicked him with her heel and, this time, successfully connected with his inner thigh, dangerously close to something far more sensitive. Daemon grunted, then glanced up at her through his pale eyelashes.
“Work silently.” Alicent ordered.
Daemon looked like he was considering arguing, then he lowered his head and went about securing the second garter.
Alicent felt a thrill as she looked down at him. Having a Targaryen prince kneel before her and attend to her like her serving girl filled her with a thorny satisfaction. Even if it was her husband whom she loved, a little bullying was in order.
“You’re very good at this.” She patted his silver head, feeling him tense underneath her. “What’s your name, servant?”
“Daemon Targaryen,” Daemon ground out. “Prince of Dragonstone and your husband.”
“Daemon’s a fine name,” Alicent mused. “Though a bit grand for a mere servant. Perhaps I’ll think of a nickname.”
“I have enough nicknames.” Daemon muttered. “As do you.”
“You’re not very amusing this morning,” Alicent complained. “I thought you might entertain me. I could always do with another fool. That's what I could make you, if you chose to behave yourself.”
Daemon stood and, for a moment, Alicent wondered if he was angry. Then he put his hands underneath her arms and hoisted her to her feet.
“Your kirtle, my lady.” Daemon said in a voice that was too calm and put the garm over her head. When Alicent emerged again, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to fuck you so hard and so ceaselessly tonight,” Daemon said pleasantly. “That you’re going to forget what anyone calls you, including me.” He allowed Alicent to process, stepping away. “And now, let me guess, your overgown, is it not?”
“Um,” Alicent managed. “Yes.”
The kirtle he had selected was a rich burgundy and he now brought forth a black overgown with a woven pattern. Rather than flowers, this pattern was of tooth-like points that could either be daggers or the jagged outline of a mountain.
“This will suit you.” Daemon said and, after helping her with it, stepped back to look her over and nodded. “It does.”
“No corset,” Alicent said. “I notice.”
“I don’t like you wearing those when you’re with child.” Daemon pressed into her back, his hands travelling to cup her stomach. He put his chin on her shoulder. “I want you in something loose.”
Alicent covered his hands with hers. “You worry too much,” she said lightly. “There is a way to lace that which means it can be worn even by women about to birth.”
“Forgive me for not knowing the intricacies of women’s dress.” Daemon held her close. She imagined herself melting into him, the two of them becoming one. “In any case, you look regal in anything.”
“Regal?”
“Yes, regal.” Daemon put his face in her hair, his favourite thing to do. “Ever the Queen.”
Alicent smiled. “You silly boy.” Her voice was barely audible, even the waves crashing far away upon Dragonstone’s beach were louder.
“Ñuha ōños,” Daemon whispered, his secret name for her. “I may start dressing you every day.”
“I want you to carry me to bed,” Alicent murmured. “Let us rest a while.”
She let her mind go as he lifted her from the floor into his arms and traced steps back to the bed that she loved so much. He placed her in its folds and lay beside her.
His hand found the centre of her chest, the thump of her heart, and he let his hand rest itself there. Daemon closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Alicent lay awake, watching the dawn spread.
The light, unfurling like a breaking wave, was akin to the sensation of her own body. She imagined a sun cracking like an egg inside her and, when she breathed in, she tasted the honeyed warmth of summer.