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"What have you brought me, uncle?"
Daemon could still hear the childish lilt, that eager anticipation. She had always been insatiable—Rhaenyra, his Rhaenyra. No longer a child, she stood now, unfurled and defiant. Her confident gaze swept over the men-at-arms and knights, all assembled under a dozen banners. His army, gathered from the Riverlands—for her.
He recalled how her appetite had only grown with time. Each gift was a step forward, each new demand bolder than the last. A dozen jugs of exotic candied fruit from the Summer Isles on her third nameday. A golden bracelet and porcelain dolls from Qohor for her fifth. Then came the silks, the jewels fit for a true princess.
Every time, she would be the first to greet him, eyes flashing with that familiar eagerness, ready to claim whatever he’d brought. For her seventh, it had been a necklace of rubies and gold; her eighth, a tiara adorned with garnets and diamonds; by her tenth, a saddle for Syrax, and at twelve, he’d crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty.
By fourteen, he’d sought out a Valyrian steel necklace—an heirloom of their lineage.
Daemon still remembered the day he’d presented her with a necklace. She had carried it for years, he knew. A tangible symbol of their intertwined destinies. His claim. Even then, beneath the surface of their denials, the twisted root of their bond had taken hold.
Her desires had gained new clarity.
She had wanted his heart. And his hand in marriage.
He gave the first at once, the second in time.
His blood on her lips, his seed in her womb, his children in her arms.
From innocent trinkets to the crown.
From her first questions to his solemn vow.
His loyalty, entire and undivided.
"And to whom are you sworn?"
Rhaenyra might cloak her desires in the language of duty, but Daemon knew better. She craved the throne with a ferocity that mirrored his own.
The difference? She’d been born to it.
Their eyes met, and she smiled, a gleam both predatory and knowing in her purple gaze. Taking his hand, she led him towards his chamber, gratitude mingled with a new, unsettling hunger.
His entitled queen. She’d never deny herself the pleasures she craved.
In that, too, they were one.