For all of the frustrated Daemyra fans after 1x05, here is my salve:
He spots her amongst the throngs of people and hones in on her like a predator would its prey and stalks towards her with all the confidence and charm and mastery a dragon would, plucks off the moth of Sir Harwin enraptured by the beauty of her dragon flame and circles around her possessively, dangerously, wantonly.
âIs this what you want?â
He tries to hold back his jealousy as the dragon inside of him strains against the shackle of his decorum. The dragon inside of him that wants to take her - all consequences be damned.
She bites back with resentment, fangs bared, âI was not aware what I wanted mattered to youâ.
He feels the sting but chose to ignore it.
âThis is not for youâŠâ
She looks at him pointedly, knowingly, piercingly.
âLaenor is a good man and a fine knight. He will bore you senselessâ.
He speaks seductively, caressing each vowel and consonant in High Valyrian to draw her in, to get her to submit as he inches closer to her, their bodies almost touching.
âMarriage is only a political arrangement I hear.â Her voice drips with sarcasm but the bitterness is waning and her body opens towards him out of a need she cannot understand.
âMine was recently dissolved.â He gleefully announces, eyes sparkling as he told her - any Ill feeling between them now laid aside.
She feels something indescribable take ahold of her as though made mad by passion and longing and his close proximity that calls to her like a siren.
âSo take me then. Has this not been your purpose?â She taunts, her power and mental gymnastics shining.
She coos and draws her face closer to his own, relishing in the gravity she has over him.
âI am not yet married but the hours pass swiftlyâŠ.â
He feels unhinged at what she is implying and he has to call on every fibre of his being not to throw her over his shoulder that instant and snatch her away.
âYou are surely armed,â she drawls.
Their eye-contact is so intense that he feels he is fucking her right there and then and that she has the puppet strings of his heart and the keys to his inner demon; toying with his sanity as his eyes and consciousness cloud over with all-consuming desire.
She commands him, âCut through my fatherâs kingsguard. Take me to dragonstone and make me your wifeâ.
He doesnât need her to say anything more.
He grabs her possessively by her neck and pulls her form to his own and she bends for him like a willow, melting into his touch as he brings their two heads together.
Their lips are a hairs-breath away and his thick cologne overwhelms her as she is intoxicated by his presence and the tickle of his breath on her cheek.
He looks down at her adoringly and admires her for a moment as close as he can possibly get before a fervour infects him and he seizes her lips with his own, his grip tightening on her neck as he thinks darkly âmine⊠only mineâ
She opens up to him and his ministrations fully and is lost within his embrace and his lips and his warmth and his heavy cologne all at once as all caution of their surroundings is thrown to the wind in the headiness of unadulterated rapture.
As she is floating in this frozen moment, she is ungracefully ripped from it by a sudden commotion from behind them.
Daemon brandishes his sword on instinct, the other arm wrapped around her waist territorially.
The crowd parts for them in the middle as they observe Ser Criston and Joffrey Lonmouth sprawled on the floor brawling.
Turning momentarily to spy an enraged Viserys and shocked Velaryons, Daemon makes a split second decision and takes advantage of the commotion by throwing a still dazed and breathless Rhaenyra over his shoulder and sashays them out of the Great Hall with as much finesse as he can muster.
Just as he is about to cross over the threshold, the Kingsgaurd are bellowed into action and Daemon manages to twirl and single-handedly cut 2 of them down like butter as he balances Rhaenyraâs lithe form.
His goldcloaks are outside and he whistles for them to come to action. 50 of them springing up out of their sentinel positions and descending on the Kingsgaurd on their tail.
Rhaenyra gasps as she watches everything escalate in the distance as Daemon carries her off, his arm tightly securing her waist.
âDid you plan all of this?â She asks incredulously.
She canât see his face but she can practically feel the cocky curve of his mouth as he says, âWhen do I plan anything?â
His tone then becomes dark and husky and she trembles as he states, âYou are mine Rhaenyra. You belong to me, with me and in my bed. You asked me to bring you to Dragonstone and that is what I will do. I will make you my wife in the tradition of our house and put a baby in you. That clear?â
She always knew Daemon was unhinged but to hear him so hell-bent was a novelty for her and one that equally terrified and aroused her.
She felt a heat pool between her legs and she shifted uncomfortably in his grasp that he only tightened.
He was heading to her room she realised from the familiar walls and surroundings she was passing - albeit strange looking at them in a backwards motion.
âWhy are you taking us here? Donât we need to escape?â
âWell observed, but to essentially abduct you in plain sight through the main gates would be suicide, Rhaenyra. I have 50 goldcloaks loyal to me and willing to die for me but not an entire army at my disposal⊠not yet anyway. Weâll leave through the secret passages down to the dragonpit and take off on Ceraxes and Syrax. Not before taking 4 or 5 dragon eggs of courseâŠâ
â4 or 5?! What the Seven Hells for?â
He entered her chamber soundlessly and brought her to her bed before throwing her off of him and onto it.
She could see his face now and it was dangerous and devilish and his eyes starved as he drank her in.
âFor the number of babes Iâm going to put inside you.â
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