114 AC - King Landing - Third Person POV
One night, Rhaenyra slipped into her Red Keep chambers, her heart restless after another day of courtly pressure. On her bed lay a bundle of coarse commoner's clothes—a roughspun tunic and cloak—and a letter in Daemon's bold hand: *Wear these. Be ready at midnight. Adventure awaits.* Puzzled but intrigued, Rhaenyra's lips curved; Daemon's recklessness always promised excitement. She changed, the fabric scratching her skin, and waited, her sapphire necklace hidden beneath the cloak.
At midnight, Daemon appeared, his black cloak blending with the shadows, his grin roguish. "Ready, niece? Let's see the city's heart."
Rhaenyra nodded, her voice cautious. "Where are we going, uncle?"
Daemon's eyes gleamed. "Follow, and find out."
He led her through Maegor's secret tunnels, their torches flickering on damp stone. Emerging in Flea Bottom, the stench of sweat and offal hit Rhaenyra, but she kept pace, her curiosity piqued. Daemon guided her to a ramshackle stage where mummers performed a crude play: a boy crowned as "Aegon," usurping a silver-haired queen. Rhaenyra's stomach twisted, her voice low. "This mocks me, Daemon. Why show me this?"
Daemon's voice was sly. "To see the smallfolk's whispers, Rhaenyra. They dream of Aegon, not you."
Her eyes narrowed, but she followed as he led her deeper into the city, toward Silk Street's gaudy lanterns. Brothels glowed, their air thick with perfume and laughter. Rhaenyra froze, her voice sharp. "Silk Street? Daemon, what's your intent?"
Daemon's grin widened, his voice smooth. "To show you life, niece. Come, choose a pleasure, loosen that crown's weight."
Rhaenyra's heart raced, Aemma's warnings echoing—Daemon's ambition, his hunger for the throne. She saw his game: to compromise her, bind her to him, or ruin her claim. Her voice hardened. "No, uncle. I'm no fool."
Before he could react, she bolted, weaving through drunken crowds into a shadowed alley. Clasping her necklace, she whispered "Sanctuary," apparating to Edinburgh Castle's great hall. She collapsed into a chair, her breath ragged, her commoner's clothes askew, her mind reeling from Daemon's betrayal.
---
Rhaenyra sat in the dim hall, her hands trembling as she tried to calm her racing heart. Footsteps approached, and a voice called, "Rhaenyra?" She jumped, her hand flying to her chest, but sighed in relief seeing Dominic, his black robe open.
"Dom," she breathed, her voice shaky. "You startled me."
Dominic's eyes flicked over her roughspun clothes, his voice gentle but curious. "What are you doing in those rags, Princess?"
Rhaenyra blushed, her voice halting. "Daemon… he left me a note, told me to wear these. He took me through the Keep's tunnels to Flea Bottom, showed me a play mocking my claim. Then… he led me to Silk Street, urged me to… indulge. I saw his plan—to ruin me, bind me to him. I ran, apparated here."
Dominic nodded, his voice grave. "You did well, Rhaenyra. Daemon's ambitions are a wildfire—boundless, destructive. Escaping him was wise."
As he spoke, Rhaenyra's eyes traced his face—his steady gaze, his quiet strength. Her heart, still raw, surged with need. She stepped closer, her voice soft. "Dom… thank you." Rising on her toes, she pressed her lips to his, tentative but bold.
Dominic froze, stunned, but his hands found her waist, kissing her back, his lips firm yet tender. Heat flared between them, Rhaenyra's hands clutching his robe. She pulled back, gasping, her eyes wide. Dominic's voice was low, a warning. "Rhaenyra, if you cross this line, there's no going back. Are you sure?"
Rhaenyra's voice was steady, her violet eyes burning. "I'm ready, Dom. I choose this."
He searched her face, then nodded, pulling her close. Their kisses deepened, urgent, as he lifted her, carrying her to his solar. In the candlelit room, they shed their clothes—her roughspun tunic, his robe—their hands exploring, her silver hair spilling over silk sheets. Dominic's touch was reverent, his magic weaving a contraceptive spell, ensuring no consequences. Rhaenyra's gasps filled the air, her body arching under his, their connection a blaze of passion and trust. As they moved together, time dissolved, Edinburgh Castle their sanctuary.
After, they lay entwined, Rhaenyra's head on his chest, her voice soft. "I needed this, Dom. Not just… this, but you. Someone who sees me, not the crown."
Dominic's voice was warm, his hand stroking her hair. "You're more than a throne, Rhaenyra. Always will be to us."
---
The next morning, in the Red Keep's small council chamber, Ser Otto Hightower stood before Viserys, his voice grave. "Your Grace, grave news. Prince Daemon took Princess Rhaenyra to Silk Street last night, parading her through brothels. The city buzzes with scandal."
Viserys's face purpled, his voice a roar. "Daemon? Defiling my heir? Summon him!"
Daemon strode in, his black cloak swirling, his grin defiant. Viserys's voice thundered. "Is it true, brother? Did you drag Rhaenyra to Silk Street's filth?"
Daemon shrugged, his voice cool. "I showed her the city, brother. She's no child—let her taste life."
Viserys slammed his fist on the table. "You've shamed her, shamed our house! You're banished, Daemon—leave King's Landing by dawn, or I'll chain you in the black cells!"
Daemon's eyes flashed, but he bowed, his voice mocking. "As you will, Your Grace." He strode out, his ambitions smoldering.
Viserys summoned Rhaenyra, his voice tight. "Daughter, did you lie with Daemon? Speak true."
Rhaenyra's eyes met his, her voice firm. "No, Father. He took me to Silk Street, but I fled when I saw his intent. I swear, I'm untouched by him."
Viserys's eyes narrowed, his voice hard. "I don't believe you, Rhaenyra. The realm's honor demands certainty. You'll marry Laenor Velaryon, and that's my command."
Rhaenyra's jaw clenched, her voice low. "Father, you wrong me." She stormed out, her fury barely contained.
In the godswood, she sat beneath the heart tree, its red leaves stark against her crimson gown. Alicent found her, her voice soft. "Rhaenyra, is it true? Did Daemon…?"
Rhaenyra's voice was fierce. "He took me to Silk Street, Alicent, but I slipped away when I guessed his game—to ruin me for the throne. I did nothing with him."
Alicent knelt, her hand on Rhaenyra's. "I believe you, Rhaenyra. I'm sorry—for Daemon, for the court's whispers."
Rhaenyra's eyes softened, her voice quiet. "Thank you, Alicent. You're my truest friend now."
That night, Viserys ordered Grand Maester Mellos to deliver moon tea to Rhaenyra. Mellos presented the vial, his voice grave. "Princess, for your honor."
Rhaenyra's eyes blazed, and she hurled the vial against the wall, its contents splattering. "I won't drink it! I've done nothing with Daemon! Nothing happened that needs this poison!"
Mellos paled, retreating, his voice stammering. "As you say, Princess."
---
The next morning, Rhaenyra faced Viserys in his solar, her voice steady. "Father, I swear on Syrax—Daemon took me to Silk Street, but I fled when I saw his ambition. I didn't lie with him. I refused the moon tea because nothing happened. You've wronged me with doubt."
Viserys sighed, his voice heavy. "Rhaenyra, I… I'm sorry, daughter. The court's whispers clouded my trust. But the realm needs your marriage. You'll wed Laenor."
Rhaenyra's eyes hardened, her voice firm. "I'll agree, Father, but on one condition: remove Otto Hightower as Hand. He placed a spy on me, heir to the throne, and that deserves a punishment."
Viserys hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. Otto's dismissed. Lord Lyonel Strong will be Hand."
Rhaenyra sought Alicent in her chambers, her voice soft. "Alicent, I told Father the truth—Daemon's plot, my escape. He's sorry, but I must wed Laenor. I demanded Otto's removal as Hand—for you, for us. He's been crushing you with Aegon's claim."
Alicent's eyes glistened, her voice relieved. "Thank you, Rhaenyra. Father's ambition… it's been a weight. You're my sister now."
---
The Targaryens sailed to Driftmark, where House Velaryon welcomed them with sea-salted feasts. Viserys, Rhaenyra, Alicent, and the small council met Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, their hall adorned with seahorse banners. As the elders discussed dowries and fleets, Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon strolled the cliffs, their voices low, unheard by others.
Rhaenyra's voice was frank. "Laenor, I'll marry you, but I know your heart lies elsewhere. I won't cage you. Love who you will, and I'll do the same, discreetly. We'll give the realm heirs, but our hearts stay free."
Laenor's eyes widened, then softened, his voice grateful. "You're a dragon, Rhaenyra. I agree—freedom for us both, duty for the crown."
They clasped hands, their pact sealed. The marriage was concluded in Kings Landing, Rhaenyra in crimson and silver, Laenor in sea-green. Syrax and Seasmoke soared above, their roars blessing the union. Corlys toasted, his voice hearty. "To Rhaenyra and Laenor—dragons of sea and sky!"