The hunt ended with much blood.

The men left again at daybreak to continue their hunt for the white hart. Viserys had rolled away from her, still dizzy. She'd remained abed until Aegon and Aemond were brought by Alicent, demanding her attention. She'd greeted them with hugs and kisses, the boys eager for breakfast. Aegon asked quite specifically for more porridge with no spoon, as well as the soft inside of a loaf of bread.

When the men returned, they had with them a brown hart, still magnificent though not white. She'd sat with a sobered-up Viserys, the boys asking questions over and over about how they found the hart. Aemond continued to ask what was next, but the hunt was to be over.

Then, from the edge of the forest, there was movement. The white mare and courser returned, dragging with them a dead boar. Amalia gasped at the sight of Rhaenyra, who dismounted before them. She was covered in blood, as if the boar had exploded in her face. Amalia left the boys with Otto and Viserys, the first to rush over.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, panicked. She put a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder, and the girl shrugged it off.

"No," she said simply, slipping away. Ser Criston followed along diligently, the large boar offered to the cooks for their feast that evening. Amalia did her best to pretend she wasn't embarrassed, having been brushed aside by Rhaenyra in front of the entire court and then some, returning to her seat with as composed a look as possible that said 'Teenagers, you know how they are' rather than 'See again how my stepdaughter despises me.'

She rubbed her belly as she sat, an urgent twitch low in her spine. Viserys gave her a look, but she shook her head. No, the babe would not come now. But soon. He put a hand on her belly, watching Rhaenyra disappear into her tent.

When they returned to the castle, she immediately retired to her apartments, Aegon and Aemond toddling around with little balls of parchment they were throwing around to see who could manage a hit against a chair's back. Her guard announced her father coming to see her, and the boys giggled in delight, "Grandsire, grandsire!"

"Boys," said Otto with a smile. He came to sit beside Amalia, who was reclined on a couch. "Did you enjoy the hunt, Your Grace?"

She hated when her father called her that. "You don't need to say that," she replied. "Amalia is fine." Lia, I miss when you called me Lia, when I was your little girl and you would have never let anyone hurt me. When I was Lia, you wouldn't have hurt me, either. "Would that I'd at least been in condition to ride a palfrey along to watch it all. The boys wanted to see it."

"They will soon enough," said Otto. He smiled at Aegon, who was showing Aemond how to improve his throw. "He is the future of the Realm. You yourself witnessed the scale of the celebration, how it united the men. When you bore the King a son, you ended fifteen years of uncertainty and doubt. To have given him another, well, Aemond is even more reason to celebrate his brother. I imagine the babe you carry is another strong boy."

No, I want my little girl, I want my Helaena. Girls are not bad, Father. I was your little girl once, the one who listened to you and wrote letters with you. Gwayne, Norman, and Bryndon never did that, they never complained with you or discussed matters of the Realm, they never tried to learn from you and they certainly never gave you any ideas to put forth to the Small Council. I did and Helaena could, too, if she wants.

Her father continued, "Aegon, like his namesake, was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. If Viserys were to name him heir, the Realm would fete him for it." He saw she was not smiling. "Does this not please you? Do you not want your son to be King?"

"He will not be King," said Amalia firmly. "I would raise my son to be King if he were Viserys's firstborn. But he is not. I will not raise a boy to steal his sister's birthright."

"You cannot ignore the certain truth that if Rhaenyra were to step over Aegon to ascend the throne, the Realm would tear itself apart."

"I don't see it as her stepping over him, rather, stepping ahead into her own right. If you feel this way, tell Viserys that and explain your reasons, though you should hope to have good evidence, because all I hear, Father, is your desire to have your blood on the Iron Throne." She forced herself to stand. "Is that not why you pushed me towards him? You once supported Rhaenyra as heir when Daemon's evil was too near. Three babes I have, three more to separate the throne from Daemon. Viserys wants more, he probably will have me squeeze out as many as Alysanne did. I won't be surprised if I whelp every year for fifteen years after that equal period of uncertainty. But it is his choice. It is not for you or my uncle or Jason Lannister to question the King's continued decision and speak treasons."

"I speak only truths," said her father in a hard voice.

"Yet, you knelt alongside my uncle, our whole house, and the Lannisters as well. We all swore obeisance to her."

"That was before Aegon. He is the one being robbed of his birthright. He's the firstborn son of the King. To deny that he is heir to the throne is to assail the laws of gods and men."

"Of these men and these gods," she snapped. "The Dornish do not care about the sex of the child, the firstborn always inherits the title of Prince or Princess. My own mother was clever, she was good and kind. I was once your star pupil. The Good Queen Alysanne will be remembered for centuries after we are forgotten. If a cock were a requirement to rule, the gods would never give kings daughters."

He didn't seem to understand (or care) how this enraged her. "The road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear. Aegon will be king. You must guide Viserys towards reason. He'll never find it on his own." He got to his feet. "I bid you a good night, daughter."

He started to leave, but Amalia reached out to hold his arm, another sharp pain running through her. Breathing heavily, she told him, "Fetch the Maester. Tell him the Queen is going into labor. King Viserys will have another daughter by morning. A daughter, Father. How awful for him."

Helaena was born red-faced and squalling. Viserys was thrilled when Amalia handed her to him, Aegon and Aemond rushing up to her and wishing to see their little sister. They gave her gentle caresses on the top of her head. From the doorway, Rhaenyra had watched them. Amalia kissed Helaena's head, holding her daughter's hand. She was perfect. She would be loved as her sons were. Amalia would make sure of it.

_

The year that followed was strained.

Though she'd heard of Daemon and Lord Corlys smashing the Triarchy, naught had been seen of them. Rhaenyra had buried herself away learning about the men of the Realm that might be suitable husbands, while Viserys arranged for her a tour of the kingdoms to meet the suitors face-to-face. She was in the skies often, but Syrax was not permitted to accompany her on the tour.

Amalia tried to give her help where she could. She'd send her cakes and books to read about how to be a good ruler. If she passed her, she'd try to compliment Rhaenyra. The girl would pretend to listen but would leave soon enough. She liked Helaena better than her half-brothers, but still would rather not be around Amalia for too long. Leaving for her tour had seemed a welcome break from the rest of them.

There was little time for Amalia to do much else. Between tending to three children all less than four years old, somehow finding the time to see Alicent, being asked to weigh in on matters with Viserys before he inevitably pushed her to his bed again, and still attending her prayers and small events to be seen by the smallfolk and express her care with gifts and kind words, Amalia could not give Rhaenyra more thoughts than what the girl wanted of her. In fact, Rhaenyra seemed to think Amalia could do with a bit less.

"How was today, my darling?" asked Viserys kindly as she came to his chambers, exhausted but knowing that he was eager to bed her again. The past months, many attempts had been for naught, yet he still wished to be in her. Grand Maester Mellos believed that perhaps her body would not be ready to welcome another child into her womb until the most recent one had been weaned; her breasts had hardly had a moment's rest since she had Aegon.

Even so, Viserys whispered in her ear how he hoped for more children. She did not entirely mind it anymore, for the children made her very happy and kept her from thinking too long about her infuriating father. She only worried that further sons only helped Otto, Hobert, and Jason among many with their beliefs that Viserys should spurn Rhaenyra.

"My day went well," she said, blowing out a few candles. "Aegon and Aemond had a run in the gardens while I carried Helaena through the flowers. She was more interested in spiders, butterflies, and beetles. My brother Gwayne sent a raven stating that he would be glad to come from Oldtown to begin training the boys in swords as he was with old Ser Ryam Redwyne."

She shuffled towards his bed, seating herself on the edge while he stripped himself already. "Then, I went to prayer. There were many women there today, it seems the past month has been especially cursed with miscarriages and stillborns. We prayed together, I gave them my words of comfort and hope. They seemed to think my fertility could pass onto them... it at least put a smile on their faces. Alicent told me that one of the Lannister boys has been attempting to court her, though she is not certain whether she likes him. I'll need to speak with her about that on the morrow."

"You are a queen and mother as loved as my grandmother was," he said. "All you are missing is a dragon."

If I had a dragon, lots of people would be dead by now. "Speaking of dragons," she said, "the boys want their own. When will they be old enough to see the ones in the Dragonpit? I was told there were hatchlings of Dreamfyre and Vhagar brought from Dragonstone and other eggs lingering within. Aemond especially cannot wait to take to the skies."

He smiled. "Of course they wish for this. Perhaps a few more years before they are allowed so near, but I might take them myself to see the beasts up close. Would that Silverwing still resided here, she was always friendly with everyone."

"Perhaps a trip to Dragonstone," she offered. "The boys do miss Rhaenyra. They might like a little adventure while she returns."

"Our children will all be dragonriders. Even Helaena." As he felt Amalia crawl beneath the sheets, he pulled her to her side, lifting her nightgown and her leg. She imagined Daemon was the one keeping her thighs apart and pinching her nipples, the one panting heavily in her ear. She arched her back into him, closing her eyes and letting herself fall back into the fantasy.

She awoke to him slipping out of the bed urgently. "What is it?" she asked groggily, sitting up. "What's happened?" She noticed Ser Rickard Thorne in the doorway, her father behind him.

"Daemon," said Viserys. Her blood ran cold; had she said something? But then he added, "Caraxes was just sighted entering the Dragonpit. Otto, call the court to the throne room. My darling, ready yourself and ready the children."

She was quick to rise, returning to her apartments. She scrubbed herself quickly as one of her ladies pinned up her hair. She slipped into a red dress, the colors of House Targaryen, then went to wake the children. Helaena was already stirring, wiggling her little hands up at a spider that hung far overhead. Amalia scooped her up and dressed her in a similar little gown, then had Aegon and Aemond do the same in kind.

When she reached the throne room, Viserys stood over the Iron Throne with his grandsire's crown on his head and Blackfyre in his hands. She ushered the children to the foot of the throne, beside the Kingsguard, and urged them to be quiet. Helaena must have been awake a long time, for she fell asleep on her shoulder while the boys whispered to each other, the sounds masked by the men and women who streamed in, eager to see what the King would say to his brother.

She was surprised to see Rhaenyra among the women entering the room, though the girl would not look at her or her father. At last, Daemon arrived alone, clad in armor and with a pale crown on his head. His long hair had been cropped short. Amalia felt her grip tighten on Helaena. He looks handsome. On his belt was Dark Sister, in his hands another sword.

The Kingsguard drew their weapons as he neared the thorne. They blocked his path, and Daemon carelessly walked into the point of Ser Harrold's sword. He held up the free sword, offering it to his brother. "Add it to the chair." He let it clatter on the floor. Ser Harrold sheathed his sword to pick it up.

"You wear a crown," observed Viserys. "Do you also call yourself 'King?'"

Daemon explained, "Once we smashed the Triarchy, they named me 'King of the Narrow Sea.' But I know that there is only one true king, Your Grace." He knelt and bowed his head, much to everyone's surprise. "My crown..." He removed it from his head. Up close, Amalia could see it was made of driftwood bound together. "And the Stepstones... are yours."

"Well, where is Lord Corlys?" asked Viserys, careful not to become too excited.

"He sailed home to Driftmark."

"Who holds the Stepstones?"

"The tides," answered Daemon, "the crabs, and two-thousand dead Triarchy corsairs, staked to the sand to warn those who might follow."

Amalia glanced at her father, knowing this would not be enough. The Stepstones could easily be taken again by the Free Cities if nothing was put there to defend them. She saw Viserys descend from the throne, Blackfyre tapping on the stones. He took the crown from Daemon, observing it. He handed it to Ser Steffon, then asked his brother to rise. When he did, he put a hand on his arm, and Daemon dropped his head on his shoulder. The crowd clapped happily.

"The Realm owes you a great debt, brother," said Viserys. He called, "I will have food brought to the godswood. Let us celebrate... my brother has come home."

He pulled Daemon to the edge of the room, where Amalia stood with the children. Daemon traced his eyes from her head to her feet, making note of Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond. "You remember my wife," said Viserys, "Queen Amalia of House Hightower. My sons, Aegon and Aemond. My daughter, Helaena. If the gods are good, we will soon be blessed with another child."

"My Prince," greeted Amalia. Her mouth felt dry, her limbs would've shook if she weren't holding Helaena. Her boys looked up at their uncle in wonder, Aemond's eyes wide at the sight of Dark Sister.

"Your Grace," said Daemon. Most of the time when he spoke to her– always few words in passing– he did so in a mocking tone. That was not the case today. It couldn't have been surprising, for surely he knew of their marriage long ago. But some part was intrigued, that she knew.

"Uncle," said Aemond, pudgy little fingers pointing at the hilt of Dark Sister. "I want to see."

"Aemond," chided Amalia, reaching a hand down to caress his head. "You must remember your courtesies. You are speaking to your elder and a prince, not simply your uncle."

"Please," corrected Aemond. "Please, show the sword, Uncle Prince."

Daemon's lips twitched in amusement. "After I've had a moment to freshen up, you may examine the sword as long as you want... Aemond." He surely noted that the boy had been named after him, as he must have known Aegon was named for his brother. Helaena, he knew the story behind as well. He glanced at Viserys, "I suppose the next girl would be named for mother, the next boy after father or grandsire?"

It didn't escape Amalia's notice how bitter Daemon sounded. Did he not like that Viserys got to have more children and name them after their parents? Did he feel the pressure of more children pushing him further down the line of succession? Did he still wish he were heir? Did he wish his marriage had not been forced, that he might've felt free to make children of his own?

Amalia wasn't sure whether that was something Daemon wanted, surely someone like him could have bastards everywhere, and somehow she didn't think him the type to neglect them if he knew they were out there... so, did he intentionally not have offspring but wish to? She didn't know, but she had a feeling he didn't entirely like that Viserys did. No, she would never name a son of hers for Baelon. Not after Aemma. Did Daemon even care about that?

"Perhaps," said Viserys. He'd already told Amalia his names for future sons. Daeron, Jaehaerys, Aenys, Daemion, Aerion, Aerys. For girls, Elaena, Alyssa, and even Alyrie for her own mother. She knew if it were entirely up to him, he'd use every single one of those names. Then, he'd have thirteen children as Jaehaerys did. And how many of Jaehaerys's thirteen made it to adulthood? How many had children of their own? How many lived past their twenty-fifth name day?

By the time Daemon was escorted to his rooms and given a moment to rest and dress himself, the cooks and bakers had set out small bites to be had by the court, who passed through only to eat and mostly left the godswood, somewhat curious to Daemon's return but not entirely willing to be so near to him.

The boys ran around with some other children born to ladies and lords that were spending their time in the castle. Helaena was being taken care of by Alicent, who wished to participate but have an excuse to shrug off her Lannister suitor if she wasn't feeling up for a conversation. Amalia stood with Viserys and Daemon, her father nearby, the brothers discussing the stark differences between them.

Daemon, always abroad and winning tourneys. Viserys, at home winning only the love of his family. Viserys did not doubt that Daemon had been his mother's favorite, from the three of them. As they were speaking, Rhaenyra made herself known, coming to speak with Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

"Thank you, Princess," said Daemon politely, though Viserys made a face, discontent with the fact Rhaenyra had cut her tour short and delivered herself home.

With everything so tense, Amalia asked Rhaenyra kindly, "Have you seen the baker's latest creation? Teeny apple cakes that can be carried in the palm of one's hand. To think, I used to sneak an entire one to you and Alicent when you were little. Would that they'd had little girl portions before."

Rhaenyra did not seem all that amused, but she surprisingly responded with, "Helaena will be lucky to grow with the teeny cakes. Though..." She noted where her half-sister was trying to catch a beetle buzzing around Alicent's hair, Alicent white-faced and hating bugs, "She is more like to care for tiny insects than tiny cakes..." She saw her father's reproachful look persisting and excused herself. Amalia almost smiled when she saw her going towards Alicent and Helaena, perhaps to take her sister or to rescue Alicent, or both.

Daemon cleared his throat. "How fare your wounds, brother? Any improvement?"

"Some, yet almost none," admitted Viserys quietly. "Amalia tends to them as well as she can." It churns my stomach, but I do, because I need you to live long enough to teach, protect, defend, and love Rhaenyra as she needs to be. "She has a gentler hand in bathing me and a steady one for the poultices. The children love their bathtime with her, you ought to see them giggling and pretending they are 'water' dragons."

"It seems all your children think about are dragons," noted Daemon.

"Aemond, at least," said Amalia. "Aegon is learning to be more interested in other things, and Helaena prefers flying creatures who buzz. But my Aemond looks only to be in the sky."

Daemon watched her closely. She didn't like the way his stare made her feel. Judged, as if he knew what she had in the back of her mind, those fantasies with his face. She wasn't sure when she stopped hating him– or if she had– but she knew that desire had grown and feared he'd find out about it. Her skirt was tugged. "Mother," begged Aemond. "He promised the sword."

Daemon started to laugh. He unsheathed Dark Sister and knelt. "Careful, boy, don't touch the blade. Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel."

"You are touching it," said Aemond smartly.

"I know how to use it. Do you?" He shook his head. "That is what I thought. What of your brother? Does he know swords?"

"No," said Aemond. "Mother says soon." He tugged her skirt again. "Uncle Prince could teach us."

"If he has the time, perhaps," said Amalia. "And if you and Aegon are attentive to your lessons. I will not have the septas saying you are daydreaming again, otherwise, the books will keep you company more than the swords. To fight well you must be clever, is that not so, Prince Daemon?"

"It is," he agreed, still looking at her. "Your mother is an intelligent woman, Aemond. Listen to her and you will be ready. I imagine if she'd been given a sword, she'd wield it well."

Aemond giggled. "Mother has a sword."

Daemon's gaze pressed at her, but she did not glance back. "Does she?"

"Yes. She says her tongue is her sword."

Daemon looked at her until her eyes met his, forced because he would not look away. "A good sword to have as well, young Prince."

She only lasted about an hour longer there, listening to the King and his brother talk. She saw Alicent and Rhaenyra having a conversation, Helaena between them. That seemed to be going well. At last, she decided the children were due for their nap, whisking them all back to their rooms and having them rest. She left them with her handmaidens, choosing to take a walk and clear her own mind. Daemon's presence here was too much, it made her skin grow hot. He was sure to hear her crying out tonight when Viserys came to her room. What if now she let his name slip?

He came upon her, perhaps by chance or perhaps intentionally, when she stopped at a balcony near the unused half of the guest wing, looking out towards the Dragonpit. She remembered how she used to watch Caraxes come and go, how fascinated she was by the dragons and by him. When she saw him drawing near, she started to tug at her fingers.

"You look ever so pleased to see me," said Daemon. Their conversation earlier was the longest they'd ever had since meeting each other. "Though, the last time I was here, you gave me the same look of loathing your father does."

She pursed her lips, not sure what to tell him. "All my life I've heard terrible things about you. Discomforting things, some from your own tongue."

"You seemed to form your own opinion around these things you heard."

Amalia turned to him. "Do you have any idea why that may be?" Perhaps he never knew why she loathed him. "The things you said to insult my father, using my mother's death? The cost of coin to keep his bed when it was half-used, the law for wives who died to avoid their husbands. Surely you remember driving a lance towards Gwayne. His face has healed but he was in quite a state that day."

"I wasn't aware you knew of those things," he murmured. "Your father has looked down on every woman I've ever seen him speak to."

"Yet, he would tell me things about you. Things you said about my mother and Lady Rhea. I was raising my siblings, seated in my mother's chair. Of course he told me."

"I remember that day," he said. "When Aemma died. You were inconsolable. The servants said you screamed and raged trying to stop Viserys. You comforted Rhaenyra a whole night, I saw you."

"Then, you went and called Prince Baelon the 'Heir for a Day.' You went and took residence on Dragonstone. You hurt them deeply. You never spoke a kind word to me before. You'd say harsh things, told me to say hello to my cunt father for you, asked me whether all Hightowers had that same look about them, like they had dung stuck under their noses."

"I never meant to insult you." He sounded like he meant it, but still she thought him ignorant. "I wanted to hurt your father."

"Then you should have. But not involved his children. We did nothing to you. When I came to this castle, I admired you, Prince Daemon, though even then the first day I saw you, you did not seem quite so friendly. My mother told me to be kind to you, she sympathized with your many losses . But after my mother died, all I knew you as was another cunt."

This made him raise a brow. "You agree that your father is a cunt?"

She turned away. "I said nothing of the sort."

"I surmised you thought it. One of my Gold Cloaks told me you looked distraught the day you married my brother. I didn't think a woman who seduced her king would be so."

Amalia's anger flared. She snapped, "I did not seduce him. I will not stand here and tolerate you calling me a 'whore' like every other person in this castle. I will tell Viserys and I will have him make you a eunuch. Better yet, I have guards sworn to me now. I will have them cut you head to toe."

He smirked. "I don't doubt you would like that. You have your father's clever mind, his same wicked tongue, but you know right from wrong, you cling to faith and morality while he twists both to his gains. I don't doubt you'd have me gelded easily if you had a real sword. I only meant... I can see your father put you up to it. I saw it coming a mile away."

If you saw it coming, you could have protected me from it. But why would I have mattered to a man like you? She replied, "Yet still you hurt me and my brother, having us suffer for the sins of our father." She rolled her eyes to herself. "That is my life, it would seem. Other people make mistakes, get hurt, and I am there to clean up the pieces."

He could clearly see how little she liked her father, yet surprisingly his line of questioning about Otto ended there. "Are you at all happy with Viserys?"

Amalia couldn't believe this was a question. "He is my King and I serve him well. From him I've received three beautiful children."

"That did not answer my question." He was certainly more direct than Viserys was. "Are you happy?"

"I've accepted I will never be happy," said Amalia bluntly. "Not ever. Rhaenyra despises me, the King is ill and I worry for him. I worry for the little girl I cared for becoming Queen. You might not like it, but I want her to survive it. I want her to sit that throne as her mother would have wanted, as she should, for she is the King's firstborn."

This surprised him. "You want her to be Queen?"

"Yes. Assume whatever you want, I know you will think things of me regardless, because I am a Hightower and a woman. I gave the King his spares, should anything happen to her. But she is the rightful Queen."

Whatever he truly thought of this, he did not say it. "You are a dutiful wife. A good mother to the children. Yet, still, you suffer. Your father's influence will not leave, will it?"

She tugged harder at her fingers. "I'll be happier when all turmoil has passed."

"Selfish of him to push you to Viserys, knowing you would immediately latch onto someone else you could try to fix. Someone else that was vulnerable and needed a person as strong as you. No, you'll never be satisfied. Not even when the turmoil is over. Not until someone takes care of you."

Why he cared, why he knew so much, she didn't know. She started to walk away. "Good day, Prince Daemon, I am sure my children will wake from their nap soon."

He did not move, but she felt his stare doing what his legs did not. Why did he want to be friendly? Was that merely meant to see if she would prove an obstacle to hurt Otto? Was it to assess whether she could be trusted with Viserys? As afraid as she'd been of the King when they married and as much as she disliked him for a time after Aemma, she would be utterly stupid to want to hurt him now.

When Viserys called her to his chambers that night, she found him in his bath. Silently, she scrubbed him while he talked about how good it was to have his brother back. He was happy, it seemed. He asked what she thought and she said simply that the children had liked him, and she hoped Daemon would be glad to stay home and enjoy time with his family.

He seemed to like that. Thankfully for her, he was feeling too weak to bed her that night, asking for help to lay on his bed face-down with more poultices on his wounds. They were growing worse– some looked as though she had clawed him open. But she'd never dug her nails into his flesh in pleasure.

Weary, she reached her apartments and went around snuffing out the candles. She laid in her bed, curling up and wondering about what Daemon asked her. Was she ever going to be happy? Would Viserys make her so? Did she really crave someone to take care of her? She thought that might be nice, for someone else to worry about everything and handle the things she wished another would. Yes, she thought that would make her happy indeed.

Her dreams chose to torture her that night. She saw flashes the first several times she woke up, bits and pieces of dreams she could hardly remember and knew only to contain Daemon's face. Then, there came one where she thought it was real, for Daemon had been right in front of her.

"You should not be here," she had told him, for he'd been looming over the edge of her bed. "I will call my guards."

"I'd cut them all to ribbons," said Daemon. "Tiresome foreplay but foreplay nevertheless."

"Get out," she said. "I won't have anyone in my bed tonight, least of all you."

"Well, I certainly didn't expect my brother to be here," he said, as if shocked. "You can't quite have two lovers here at a time, can you, Your Grace? It's a bit selfish."

"Selfish." She had wanted to slap him. "I'm not the one who's been out gallivanting while someone else looks after the family. You ought to leave, My Prince. This is not the place for you."

"I've had space in your head," replied Daemon. "Will I not be given space in your bed?"

"Wouldn't that make you the happiest little dragon?" Somehow, she'd laughed in the dream. Next thing she knew, he'd had her legs spread and his head between them. He'd given her love bites on her inner thighs, saying it didn't matter– Viserys would never see them if he didn't do this to her. Then, he had her on her back while she clawed at his, admiring the scars of his many battles. He kept moving her into all the positions she liked, even new positions she knew existed but had never used with Viserys.

She'd awoken in a cold sweat. This had to end somehow. She could not keep thinking of Daemon, not like this. If she continued to nurse these thoughts... if he did come onto her, she feared she could not resist him.