FicWad

High in the clouds, wind whipping through her hair on Syrax’s back was the only place Rhaenyra could find peace. The corridors of the Red Keep were filled with gossip, and the Small Council meetings were just old men discussing things they would never ask for her input on, so why should she pay attention? Sometimes the only part of her birthright she cared for was Syrax.

She tried to push the thoughts away. It was peace she sought – and that included peace from her own mind.

But it would not stop churning. Today’s vexation was her uncle. He had returned – again – after being gone – again – and she didn’t really want to see him.

Syrax made a happy sound and Rhaenyra turned to see Caraxes coming after them, Daemon on his back. She groaned. The sky was endless; did he need to follow her?

She spurred Syrax on, who seemed to think they were going to play tag as she swooped through the sky, looking back at Caraxes as he followed.

There was a small island ahead, small enough that likely no one lived there, and Rhaenyra directed Syrax toward it. She landed long enough for Rhaenyra to hop off before bounding into the sky again to join Caraxes.

Rhaenyra knew her uncle would follow her, but it did not hurt to have a head start, so she stalked into the trees. The island was smaller than she had realized, however, and she soon found herself on the other end of the island, where Daemon was waiting.

“A lovely day for dragonflight, is it not, princess?” he asked.

“I was hoping for some solitude today, uncle,” Rhaenyra said wearily.

“Troubles on your mind?” he asked. “Your attempted suitors, perhaps?”

“They have been less troublesome since I mentioned I was most fond of written correspondence,” she said.

“And how many letters have you received thus far?”

“I don’t know. They make the most wonderful scraps for the fireplace in my chambers.”

Daemon laughed and Rhaenyra could not deny the spark it sent into her gut. It was a childish infatuation that she had tried in vain to quell. Whenever he left, she was sure she would get over it. But then he would return, and she was back where she began.

“It is good to see you smile,” he said. “I was under the impression that you were cross with me about something.”

Her jaw tightened at the reminder.

He looked at her curiously. “You’re still cross with me, then,” he said.

She hated how well he could interpret her emotions. Sometimes it felt as though he could see right into her mind and read her thoughts like one would read a book.

“I’m not cross,” she said.

“Then what are you?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Are you not happy I have returned?”

“You will only leave again.”

“But think of this,” he said. “When I return again, I will bring you another gift.”

“I don’t want your gifts!” she burst out. “I want–” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “I want your honesty.”

“Honesty?”

“Does this mean anything to you?” she demanded. “Whenever you return you– you bring me gifts and you look at me the way that you do, and you speak to me as though you care about what I think. But then you always leave. And then I have to get used to no one caring again.”

He just looked at her, eyes pained.

“So, please, be honest. What is this?” She gestured between them. “If this is nothing, then tell me, so I can move on.” He looked away. “I do not want to spend my life waiting for you to return and then dreading the day that you leave again.”

When he met her eyes again, he looked almost afraid. Rhaenyra had never seen fear on his face before.

“Uncle, please,” she nearly begged. “Tell me I have been imagining things. Tell me you do not care for me in that way. Tell me–”

“I cannot,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked.

Daemon closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. “Because it would be a lie,” he said softly, looking at her with such openness in his eyes that Rhaenyra felt like the breath had been punched from her lungs. She reached up to touch his face, but he turned away. “We shouldn’t,” he said, then amended. “I shouldn’t.”

Rhaenyra set her jaw. “Why not?” she asked again.

“Your father wouldn’t approve,” he said.

“You and I have both done many things he didn’t approve of,” she countered.

“People would talk.”

She looked around at the empty shore and the vast empty sea. “Who? I think that Syrax and Caraxes will hold their tongues.”

He smiled lightly, then shook his head. “You’re a child.”

“No,” she said. “That’s not fair. You don’t get to play this off as though you’re protecting me. You’re afraid.”

He stepped in close again. “Afraid of what?”

“I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. “But I can see it in your eyes.”

He was breathing heavily now, eyes dropping to her mouth more than once as he looked at her. Finally – finally – he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

In the rare moments that Daemon had allowed himself to think of himself and Rhaenyra coming together, he had wanted a gentle, soft first kiss. This was anything but. This kiss was frantic and breathless; he poured all those months of wanting and frustration into it. He no longer feared that his desire would scare her, now he just wanted her to know it.

Kissing was a lot like dragonriding, Rhaenyra decided. It sent energy coursing through her body like blood, it silenced thoughts of anything else, and made her feel like she was on top of the world. Daemon kissed her with such fervour it was all she could do to keep up.

He had her up against a tree now, hands gripping her waist tightly. It was all so much that it took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile.

Daemon pulled away, a grin playing at his lips as well. “What?”

“You want me,” Rhaenyra said, somewhere between disbelieving and smug.

Daemon’s eyes darkened and he moved in close to whisper in her ear. “I’ve gone nearly mad wanting you, princess,” he murmured. “I dream of you every night and when I leave you, I have to tear myself away.”

Rhaenyra held him close to her. “So don’t leave,” she whispered.

He pulled back again so he could look her in the eye. “I will never leave you again,” he vowed.

Rhaenyra felt more weight lift off her shoulders than she ever knew was there. The enormity of her relief nearly brought tears to her eyes. “If you do,” she said. “I will come on Syrax to hunt you down.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he said and kissed her again.

They coupled in the meadow under the trees as their dragons soared overhead. They splashed in the stream and then let the sun dry their naked bodies, and then coupled again. It was not until night began to fall that they realized how many hours had passed.

As they dressed and called to their dragons, Rhaenyra did not ask what would happen now. Daemon was still married, and he had been right about her father. But all that seemed unimportant now. Those were obstacles they would overcome when they came to them. All that mattered was that Daemon was here, and he was not leaving.