I love this! The series was heartbreaking and I enjoyed the hell out of it, but my soul loves indulging in the fantasy that these two got to live the life that they deserved in the end instead. So very well done @mondieuwordnerd
Warnings: Daemon being Daemon, smut (unprotected p in v, knife kink, blood), adultery, talk of pregnancy.
A/N: can I ever thank @magpie-to-the-morning enough for beta'ing this nonsense? Probably not but I can mail her a box full of goodies and tell you to go read her fics.
masterlist | ao3
chapter 2 | chapter 3
The shock on her face twisted into anger and then into a distinct look of distaste as her eyes dragged over you. "Husband," she said coldly, her gaze falling on the man wrapped in your arms. "Would you mind informing me who your companion is?"
Again Daemon sighed, turning to face the woman. "Whoever she is, Laena, she is mine. As is the daughter we share."
Any reply you could possibly think of was stuck in your throat, bile rising in your gut as you looked from Daemon to his wife and back again.
Wife.
What did that make you? His mistress? His whore? Certainly Laena wouldn't be out of order for referring to you as the latter, even if you had no knowledge of her existence prior to this moment. Of course Daemon wouldn't tell you anything that didn't serve his goal. Anything that would have had you putting up more of a fight simply wasn't relevant to him.
Embarrassed, you made to move from his embrace. Daemon tightened his hold on you, a brief show of dominance, meant to remind both of you who was truly master of this house. "Qēlos will stay here, with us. As will our child. And you will treat the girl with kindness, Laena. For she was mine before the twins."
The twins?
"Qēlos? You would speak to her in the tongue of our ancestors?" Laena looked stricken, the color draining from her umber skin, rage and disgust at war in her dark eyes.
"I will speak to her as I see fit. And I will not be questioned."
Suddenly, with a terrifying swiftness, the emotion drained from her eyes and she clasped her hands over the large swell of her pregnant belly, a cold smile twisting the corner of her lovely mouth. "Of course, husband."
Daemon peeled himself from you as Laena made her way in the opposite direction, toward what you assumed were her private quarters. Or more likely, Daemon's private quarters.
"You're married." The words tasted like ash in your mouth. "You're a father nearly four times over."
He sighed, no doubt debating if he could get away with a lie before settling on the simple truth. "I am."
"You would embarrass me like this?" You hissed.
"What is there to be embarrassed about? We've both led lives in the years we've been apart. You can't be surprised I wed in that time. I was married when I met you and you weren't bothered by it."
"That was a time of war, Daemon! No one makes the best choices in the midst of battle." War didn't absolve from what you had done beyond Lady Royce's back, but what was done was done and her ghost didn't haunt you, not anymore. Quietly, you added, "You should have told me."
He sneered at that, turning again to face you. "Why? So you would avoid kissing me in hallways or so that you could avoid being caught kissing me in hallways?"
A flush slapped you across the cheeks, hot and angry.
Because he was right. Now that you had let him in, even the slightest bit, even if just for a moment, pushing him back out would feel akin to cutting off a limb.
—
Two weeks passed and you ignored every summons from Daemon. You took dinner in your rooms and passed into Valaena's suite using the passage you'd found behind your wardrobe, the rock dug out into a tunnel, no doubt used by the last lady who had stayed here. You were surprised he hadn't simply burst in, intent on taking what he wanted.
Sitting on her balcony, you pulled your daughter into your lap, resting your chin against the crown of her head. Caraxes whistled somewhere in the distance and a smile pulled at your lips, the strange sound more soothing than anything else. The ocean crashed below and Valaena sighed, a weary, put upon sound. You chuckled at how out of place it sounded.
"Are you happy here?" She asked.
You opened your mouth to answer, closing it when you realized you didn't have the right words to convey your feelings to a nine year old.
She poked your hand where it rested around her middle and you huffed, obliging her.
"I miss our cabin and I miss the island, but yes, love, I am happy enough. What matters is that you are happy here."
"I think I am. Rhaena is kind to me. But I don't think Baela likes me, she glares quite a bit."
"Having sisters is hard. Be patient and I'm sure she'll come around." Sitting back, you pulled her to rest against your chest and she tucked her head beneath your chin. In moments like this you remembered what it felt like when she was small, a tiny thing in fact, so helpless in your arms. "Maybe show her some of your paintings." The sun began to dip below the horizon, streaks of red and orange bleeding over the gray waters of the ocean. "It is beautiful here, isn't it?"
Valaena fidgeted with the fabric of your dress. "It is. Father took me to the beach the other day. The waves were taller than he was." The joy in her voice made you smile even as irritation burned in your gut at the idea of comfort growing between them. But that was unfair; he was her father and she deserved to know him.
"That must have been quite a sight!" You hoped she didn't catch the jagged edge of your false excitement.
A knock at the door startled you and Valaena was off your lap and dashing across the room before you could call her back. She threw the door open to reveal Daemon, his hands clasped behind his back and a grin on his face.
"Father," she said sweetly, tucking her chin in a moment of shyness.
"Byka zaldrīzes", he said fondly as he looked down at her, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger to lift her face. "How are you faring this evening?"
"Well enough. Mother and I are just out on the balcony."
She turned toward you and you feigned a brittle smile, sharp and thin. Daemon raised a brow as he regarded you from across the room.
"Ñuha qēlos," he said with a dip of his head.
"Why do you call her that," Valaena asked, looking between the two of you.
Daemon smiled as he answered. "Because your mother is the brightest star in the sky. There was a time when her light led me straight to her. And that is how we ended up with you."
"Daemon," you said under your breath, heat rising in your neck.
"That's very romantic," your daughter replied, her eyes as she regarded her father.
"Speaking of romance, may I borrow your mother?"
Valaena just shrugged and gestured to you before walking toward her bed and heaving herself up onto the mattress. "Maybe Rhaena could come read with me? She could bring Baela, I suppose."
Daemon chuckled at her tone. "I'll have them sent over." Looking toward you, he held out an arm, obviously pleased that he had finally managed to corner you. You walked to the bed and pressed a kiss to Valaena's head, whispering an *I love you* before approaching her father with all the enthusiasm you would show a rabid dog.
Closing the door behind him, he tucked your hand into his elbow. "We'll dine in your room this evening."
"Oh, will we?"
"Do you ever get tired of denying me?"
"Stop acting as if I have ever denied you anything before this, Daemon. From the moment I met you, I was giving in to you. You aren't entitled to my time. You have a wife to keep you occupied."
"Your time." He considered this, as if the concept was entirely foreign to him. After a moment he dropped your arm, but before releasing you completely, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. "Until you deem me worthy of your time, then," he said with a mock bow, leaving you in the hall, the feeling of his mouth burned onto your skin.
---
The Lady Laena was lovely. She was bright, clever and funny. A dragon rider herself, she mounted a great beast named Vhagar, the very picture of a primordial goddess.
From your perch on a slab of driftwood, you watched her cross the beach, somehow graceful despite her heavy belly. Her guards meandered behind, hands on their broadswords.
"Good afternoon, Lady Laena," you greeted with a dip of your head.
"And to you, my Lady," she answered.
You smiled," I am no Lady."
"Do not diminish yourself for my sake, Lady Star," she replied with a wave of her hand, an emphasis on the title.
"But it's true. I was not a Lady on Lys, nor a Lady in the Stepstones."
She hummed as she dropped beside you on the driftwood bench, staring out over the turbulent sea. "And what did you do in Lys?"
"I was a poet. I was lucky enough to study the art for a time and made it my living."
"And how did you end up in the Stepstones?"
"Even an artist can be sold to the highest bidder. My father made a match and I found him deplorable. So my options for escape were either to hide and work in a pleasure garden or to leave all together. I chose the latter."
"And you chose the islands?"
You looked down across the windswept beach, the breeze fluttering through your hair, the weak sunlight dancing over the waves. "I've always loved the ocean, the great vastness of it. And it's the last place anyone would have looked for me. I went back to Lys before Valaena was born and found the city much changed. My father was dead, his second wife gone. When my daughter was six we went back to the Stepstones and were happy."
Laena pinned you with a stare, her gaze striking. "And how do you find Dragonstone?"
A weak smile tugged at your lips. "I do like the ocean. And Valaena is happy. That's my only concern."
"Baela adores her. Rhaena takes her own time; she doesn't appreciate what she doesn't understand. She is not unlike her father in that way," Laena said with a chuckle. "It's not impossible to see why you're so important to Daemon."
"He never makes anything easy, does he?"
"This pregnancy is proof of that." Laena snorted as she smoothed her hands over her stomach, arching her back to relieve the pressure on her joints. "I think it's a boy."
"May the Gods smile on you both." You meant it too. Liking Laena was easy. It didn't stop the stab of shame of the strange inkling of jealousy that curled and cooked in your gut
"I know my husband has taken lovers over the years. He is a Targaryen, and they do what they will."
You turned to face her fully, your mouth dropping open to respond, to apologize, to do anything to dispel the awkward tension of fucking another woman's husband. But she silenced you with a raise of her hand.
"I accept you, Lady Poet.” Her smile was small but genuine. “Your daughter is my own daughters’ sister and she entered the world before they did. I would hope that we could find an understanding between us, perhaps a friendship.”
For a moment you couldn’t respond, something aching fiercely in your chest, the cage of your ribs tightening around your heart. Gently, you laid your hand over hers, nodding in agreement as you stared out over the waves.
—
You found Daemon at the cliffside. He stood and watched Caraxes as the wyrm dove beneath the waves, bursting forth in a great shower, the water like diamonds as the sunlight hit it. The air was warm, the sun shining bright on the grass and twinkling off the water.
“It can be quite lovely here,” you said by way of greeting. Daemon just hummed in response, not taking his eyes from his beast.
A month had passed since your conversation with Laena, and true to his word, Daemon had kept his distance. Valaena was more enamored with him than ever, her relationship with his twins growing by the day. Even Laena showed her great kindness, more than you had hoped for. It appeared that you were the only one in all of Dragonstone who felt stuck, mired in the mud of the past and unable to move forward.
“Will you walk back with me?” You asked, looking up at Daemon from under your lashes, suddenly afraid he would deny you.
He peered down at you, raising a brow even as he offered his arm. “Lead the way.”
The pair of you walked in silence, enjoying the way the grass tickled at your ankles and the warmth of Daemon beneath his tunic. You were dressed in typical Lyseni fashion, your arms bare in your silver dress. He struggled to keep his eyes off you and you were surprised that he even made the effort to try.
He escorted you over the gently rolling hills and then through the halls of the keep. When you arrived at your door the air felt heavy, with tension, with promise, with lingering anger that never seemed to fully dissipate no matter how much you wished to forgive him.
"You don't have to go." Your voice was small but still he turned back to you, his face downcast, a lock of hair falling from the leather wrap to hang over his brow. You nearly laughed at his feigned innocence as you pushed open the door and waited for him to enter.
For a few long moments neither of you spoke. Daemon leaned against the side board that held a carafe of wine, a few books scattered across the wooden top. He flipped through the nearest one while you sipped at your wine, a sweet Dornish red that had your cheeks flushing in no time.
"I've enjoyed my last few weeks here."
Daemon snorted at that and your ire rose in your throat. You slammed your goblet down on the table that stood between you.
"Is that funny to you?"
"Not at all. You make no qualms about enjoying your time away from me." He sounded petulant and you were unable to swallow down your words.
“What angers you most Daemon? That you couldn’t break me like you would a horse? That Valaena lived freely for the first nine summers of her life, away from court?”
"You deprived my daughter of a dragon's egg in her cradle. You kept her from her birthright!" Daemon shouted, his fair cheeks slapped with an angry red as he turned on you, his finger pointed in accusation. "You kept her from me!"
"We are sheltered here at Dragonstone, but you can’t tell me that one day King's Landing won’t demand you go back, and your family with you!" Slapping away his hand, you pressed forward into his space, your voice lowering dangerously. "I protected my daughter from the snake pit that you call family. I will not have her used as a pawn to further anyone's goals or gains. Valaena is mine."
"If she is yours alone, why did you give her a Valyrian name? She is mine. As are you." The look in his eyes sent your blood boiling, a shiver skittering up your spine in dire contrast. In the three years nearly a decade ago that Daemon had visited your bed, you had never seen this side of him. You had only seen your lover, battle worn and weary, aching for a soft place to land. You didn't know this man, this had-been heir and would-be king. And what terrified you even more was that this was the unbreakable spirit you had seen in your daughter each time she encountered what most considered to be an immovable force.
She was her father's child.
"I will take her from this place. You can't keep us here, Daemon!"
He was on you then, his hand grasping at your jaw, his fingers biting into the meat of your cheeks. Your back met the stone wall, the rock digging into your bare shoulders. The moment felt like a cruel mockery of the last night you had spent with him, back against the door in your little cabin.
"Threaten to take my child from me again and I will have you bound and left in the crypts." His eyes bore into yours and you saw nothing of the man you had loved. Your lip drew back in a snarl, your tongue ready to lash him with insults. But suddenly his mouth was on yours and the words died in your throat, replaced with a low moan. He tasted just as you remembered, a hint of spiced wine lingering at the edges.
There had been others since, but none other than him had the ember in your belly exploding into wildfire, into dragonfire, raging and rushing through your veins. He could kiss all the sense from your head, all the conviction from your heart.
The hand that wasn't gripping your jaw wound around your waist, pulling you flush with his chest. Your fingers curled in the linen that covered his arms, the planes of his body still familiar after all this time. Trailing down his abdomen, your hands came to rest at his hips, fingertips ghosting over the hilt of the blade he kept there.
As quick as lightning, you had the blade out of its sheath and pressed to the pulse point in his neck. For a split second you thought you saw admiration in Daemon's eyes before it was replaced by something far darker.
"Do you mean to kill me, lover?" His voice was soft, a purr in the dark.
"I will do what I must. Or have you forgotten me?" His gaze traveled over your body, lingering on the curves visible through the nearly sheer gown you wore. You sucked in a breath, pushing the knife harder against the skin of his neck. A drop of blood welled at the tip, and then another, rolling like rubies down the fair skin of his throat. The sight nearly stole your breath, heat coiling in your center.
He swiped a finger over the dripping cut, taking a moment to study the blood on his fingers before swiping them over your mouth and between your lips. The taste of copper exploded over your tongue just as Daemon's other hand dug into the skin of your back. "As if I could ever forget you. You are mine, as I am yours."
His second kiss was as unforgiving as the first, all teeth and tongue and the breathy whimper of your name. He took the blade from your hand as your grip loosened on the hilt, your arms winding around his neck as he notched his thigh between your knees. Muscle memory took over and you ground down against him, nipping at his bottom lip. He licked into your mouth and you blossomed for him before you could think better of it, letting him spin you away from the wall and walk you back toward the bed.
Daemon's mouth didn't leave yours until he had you laid back against the furs and silk sheets. Gripping the neckline of your nightgown, he tore it apart, the sound of ripping fabric snapping through the room. The light of the fire cast shadows over your naked body, your skin bathed in gold and red as your chest heaved. He took the knife and placed the tip just over the swell of your breast, slicing a clean line over the plump flesh. Leaning forward, his tongue swiped over the wound and he groaned at the very essence of you.
You tried to remember that just a moment ago you felt as though you hated him. You resented him, certainly. Resented his family and the claim he had over the child you shared. And a part of you feared him in a way you never had back on the island. But with that fear was laced a sliver of admiration, of anticipation of what delicious torture his hands would mete out. And there was still the power that you had found so attractive then, magnified now that he was back in his home.
Daemon loomed over you, reaching back to tug his nightshirt over his head. His body was still beautiful, still the body you had dragged your mouth over countless times. Your hands itched to trace the muscles that lined his stomach, to dig into the flesh that was pulled taut over his hip bones. He fell upon you, pressing wet kisses across your neck and scraping his teeth over your collarbone. It was how it had always been, overwhelming and enrapturing.
His breath was warm on your neck as his hand traveled between your bodies to part your folds. "Did you think of me these last years? When you touched yourself in the dark? When you brought other lovers to your bed?"
You had. And in this moment you hated yourself for it. Instead of answering, you bit hard against his shoulder, bucking against his hand as he circled your clit with rough fingertips. "Did you think of me when you fucked your wife?" You spat.
Daemon drew back, his eyes catching on the way your chest rose and fell with each heaving breath. Blood still dripped from the shallow cut on your breast as he stretched you open with two thick fingers, curling them forward. "Yes."
You hadn't expected the word, the simple, agonizing honesty that accompanied it. The world fell away, narrowing to only the places where he touched you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, dragging his lips to yours, groaning his name into his mouth. He quickly rid himself of his breeches, settling into the bowl of your legs, his arms resting on either side of your head as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you.
He pushed the hair from your eyes. "There has been no escape for me like that I have found in your embrace." His voice was soft, whispering over your skin, his lips dragging over your jaw.
"Then take what you will."
He wasted no time burying himself in you, the stretch bowing your back beneath him. His name was a sob, choked off in your throat as you adjusted to him. Slow strokes stoked the fire in your belly, softly murmured praise winding you tighter and tighter. He was not the same and neither were you and what you had was no longer love in the way it used to be, but you knew you could never be parted from him again.
Sitting back on his heels, he found purchase against your waist as you arched your back. One hand slid up the column of your belly to rest against your sternum, holding you down. You threw your head back, your eyes closed tight against the pleasure.
"Open your eyes and look at what you do to me," Daemon growled, his voice catching as your body bent and you clenched around his length.
His cock disappeared inside of you, returning wet with your arousal. It was too much, the divine stretch and the obscene image. You reached for him, pulling him close and crashing your lips to his.
"How do I tell you all the ways in which you've haunted me?" He whispered against your mouth. Your nails dug furrows down his back, a warm line of blood welling beneath your fingertips. He thrust hard, so deep you knew you would never be rid of him.
You hitched your hips and rolled him beneath you, mesmerized by the way his hair lay across the black and red silk of your sheets. Sinking down on his length, you reached forward and placed your hand at the base of his throat, fingers squeezing gently. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and the sight had you dizzy, his hands on your waist the only thing keeping you upright.
Rolling your hips, you dragged your clit over his pubic bone, embers dancing over your skin as your release built within you. One hand left your hip, ghosting over the skin of your belly, your chest, your jaw. He pressed his fingers to your lips and you opened for him, clenching around his cock as you twisted your tongue around his middle and ring finger.
"You'll be the end of me," he ground out from behind clenched teeth, the hand that still gripped your waist flexing almost painfully. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he dragged them back over your breast, his thumb brushing your pebbled nipple, before dropping lower. He rubbed quick circles against your clit and your vision blurred, your eyes rolling back as your head dropped. You released your grip on his throat, instead clutching his shoulders in an attempt to remain upright.
"Daemon…I…please," you whispered, your nails digging half moons into his flesh.
"Look at me, gevie", he crooned, his voice rough. "Let me see you fall apart."
You looked down at him and found him wrecked, his pupils blown wide and his lips parted in a moan. Your orgasm slammed into you with the force of a great storm, your heart ricocheting in your chest, your breath exploding from your lungs as you cried his name. Fire danced over your skin as goosebumps erupted and it was all you could do to let Daemon catch you as you fell, sliding your body beneath his as he stretched over top of you, thrusting deep. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he came, a growl rumbling in his broad chest. You felt him within you, deep and hot and aching, and knew there would never be enough of this, enough of him.
Time passed and you floated in and out of a doze, warm and comfortable, Daemon's face pressed into your chest the way he used to. You pushed at his shoulder, rolling him to his back.
"Marry me," he murmured softly after you had draped yourself over his chest. "Marry me and make our daughter trueborn. Give me a dozen more children."
You shifted, resting your chin over his heart and looking down at him with a raised brow. "You're already married, Daemon. With your fourth child on the way."
"Having two wives is nothing unheard of. It's happened in my family many times over."
"And how will your wife feel about this? How will your brother feel about it?" As soon as the words left your mouth you realized how badly you wanted it, wanted him, even after all this time. It was stupid, it wasn't practical or particularly well thought out, but in every way that mattered, Daemon was the love of your life. And he was the father of your child, a child who deserved to have a family. If Daemon promised to keep her safe, you would choose to believe him.
He brushed a knuckle over the apple of your cheek, a wry grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You leave Laena and Viserys to me. Marry me, ñuha qēlos, be the only thing I have ever had that is only for me."
Prince. Commander of the City Watch. King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. Protector of the Realm. “The Rogue Prince", “Lord Flea Bottom”, “Prince of the City”.
…the king’s ambitious, impetuous, moody younger brother. As charming as he was hot-tempered, Prince Daemon had earned his knight’s spurs at six-and-ten, and had been given Dark Sister by the Old King himself in recognition of his prowess. As King Viserys had no living son, Daemon regarded himself as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and coveted the title Prince of Dragonstone, which His Grace refused to grant him. Though the king did not wish Daemon to succeed him, he remained fond of his younger brother, and was quick to forgive his many offenses. Viserys never claimed another dragon after Balerion’s death, nor did he have much taste for the joust, the hunt, or swordplay, whereas Prince Daemon excelled in these spheres, and seemed all that his brother was not: lean and hard, a renowned warrior, dashing, daring, more than a little dangerous. — “Fire and Blood” - chpt. Heirs of the Dragon
Been thinking about your beach tag Raven…been thinking about it a lot.
ME TOO 😭
Carrillo, all rested and relaxed and a little sex-drunk, waking up slowly. Perfectly combed hair ruffled and curled by the sea breeze and lazy, dimpled smiles in the sunshine. Warm skin in cool waves, spreading sunscreen on broad shoulders, strong hands gently washing your hair when you shower off the salt water.
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