"A dragon might not be the only thing you ride tonight."
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Where the Dance of Dragons is stopped before it truly begins-with Rhaenyra as the Heir to the Iron Throne, Daemon Targaryen decides to stick it to Alicent and Otto Hightower one last time...
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The Princess woke up feeling nauseous with a pounding headache. She didn't know why—at least not at first—but now, she was paying the price for her misdeeds last night.
Her head was spinning, and she felt as if she were navigating through a thick fog as she tried to blink and focus her vision. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt like sandpaper in her mouth. She tried to sit up in bed, but the movement sent her reeling.
She let out un-ladylike groans of discomfort, not caring of her dignity.
"Rough night, my little dragon?" Daemon called to her, and she had only then noticed him sitting in a chair beside her. He had a book in hand, shirtless and reading—and she realized he was shirtless because his shirt was on her body.
She was naked underneath.
Daenaera sat up slowly, as best she could. Her shoulders slumped and a hand going through her scalp, massaging her temple. Her tired eyes looking the man over, slowly the confusion set in. "Did we...?" She trailed off, voice barely above a whisper.
Daemon chuckled, flipping to the next page of his book. "What, you don't remember? We did many things together—in many different positions," He added, smirking slightly.
Daenaera blushed, and she looked down at her own self. She was wearing his shirt, and wore nothing underneath.
She remembered small glimpses of their night together—and she could have sworn that the last thing she remembered was Aegon bringing her wine. The rest was foggy from there.
"Did we...have an argument?" She wondered, as she could have sworn she remembered such a thing but it wasn't coming to her fully. "I could have sworn—"
"Merely a small disagreement. I promise you, Dany, we made plenty of our apologies to one another in the night," He assured her.
As she quieted, Daemon shut the book and leaned forward in the chair, looking at her fully now. His eyes scanned over her with wonder, almost a hint of something more as he admired her tired form. He smiled, actually smiled as he brushed her hair behind her ear.
"Tell your hand-maidens to bring you warm, chamomile tea with your breakfast. It will sate your headache from the wine last night. And, drink plenty of water throughout the day," He explained in a gentle manner. His hand settled on her thigh, lifting up the hem of his shirt to show the marks left on her thighs from their ventures last night. His eyes gleamed with pride. "Did I hurt you too badly?"
She looked down at the love-bites littering her thighs, blushing before shaking her head. "No..." She mumbled, worried eyes lifting up to him, "...So, everything is alright between us? You are sure?"
