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Daeron didn't spend a lot of time in King's Landing. For a Targaryen prince, it may have been surprising he felt out of place in the Red Keep. Yet he had always felt more like a Hightower. Spending majority of his childhood in Oldtown certainly didn't help matters.
But as a prince, even one who was only a third son, he did have to pop up in the capitol here and there to make sure the realm didn't forget him. That was why he was here, in the Great Hall, pretending to be interested with a pot plant in the corner and trying to not make eye contact with blustering lords who wanted him to wed their daughters. It was the feast of Princess Laena's first nameday, Jacaerys’ and Baela's firstborn (and currently only child).
Aegon, with all his shamelessness, was seated at the royal table and had pulled a servant on his lap. The girl didn't last long before their mother glowered at her and she had made haste to leave his pouting brother's lap.
"Prince Daeron!"
He surpressed a sigh when Borros Baratheon approached him, grinning from ear to ear.
Daeron smiled tightly. "Lord Borros."
"I say! I haven’t seen you in, what, two years?" The Baratheon stepped back and took a long, theatrical look at him. "My, how you’ve grown. You are the spitting image of your brother."
Daeron was unbelievably bored already. Him and Aemond didn't look alike at all. It was also very obvious to him why Borros even mentioned Aemond.
"Your brother is expecting his second child with my daughter Cassandra. I still have many unwed daughters, like Floris-"
Ugh.
He couldn’t escape this. Daeron already knew that the next time he returned to the keep, he would be wed. His sister would make sure of it. Probably marry him off to one of her bannermen's daughters. The fact that he had made it to nine and ten without being wed was a miracle in itself.
As Lord Borros continued talking about his daughters qualities, Daeron glanced around the ballroom. How could he escape this? He was unexpectedly saved by Baela.
"It's been a while since I've seen you," she said, giving him a radiant smile. She ignored Lord Borros, instead holding up her daughter's hand. "Laena, say hi to Daeron!"
The toddler gave him a toothy grin. "You're pretty!"
Daeron smiled at the child as Baela finally turned to Lord Borros. "I hope you don't mind me speaking to my cousin, Lord Borros?"
The man looked irritated, but couldn't exactly say anything to her. He shook his head and walked away after giving a small bow, grumbling under his breath
"Thank you," Daeron said truthfully.
She tilted her head. "Don't thank me yet. There is something I want to understand."
He blinked. "Yes?"
"I thought you were the most innocent of your brothers," she said. "Yet I find out you go around trying to seduce recently widowed women? Especially one who used to be married to your nephew?"
Daeron stared at her. "What?" he asked.
"You’re surprised I know about it, I see," Baela said, rolling her eyes. "You must remember that us women we share everything with each other." She huffed.
Daeron was speechless. What was she talking about?
"This is something I would expect from Aegon," she continued. "This flirtation with my twin sister. It's a bit unseemly, don't you think?"
"Who told you this?" he demanded.
He had to know who was spreading such vile rumours. He couldn't remember ever speaking to Lady Rhaena?
She looked at him as if he was stupid. "Rhaena, of course."
Daeron took a step back in shock. He scanned the hall until he located the Widow of Driftmark whose eyes widened when she knew he spotted her. What in the Seven was going on?
"You should apologize," Baela drawled. "Mooning after my sister when her husband died only a year ago. You made her very uncomfortable."
"I see," Daeron said. "I should apologize immediately."
Without waiting for an answer, he made his way through the dancing couples to reach Rhaena. If he had looked back, he may have noticed Baela smirking.
As he finally approached Rhaena, she held out her hand right when he opened his mouth. "Cousin, you finally got the courage to ask me to dance."
"Yes," Daeron said flatly. "I did."
Irritated, he took her hand. Better to get this over with before Baela started spreading even more nonsense. As he walked to the dance floor, her hand still in his, her felt a stare boring in his side and turned his face to see Daemon Targaryen glowering at him. He deadpanned at the man before focusing on Rhaena.
It is your daughter who was responsible for this situation, not me, he thought.
Rhaena either did not notice or did not care. Daeron placed a very respectable hand on her waist. She immediately placed a hand on his shoulder, fingers smoothing the fabric like she was memorizing it.
"Are you angry?" Rhaena asked as they swayed to the music. "I wanted your attention."
"You've got what you wanted," Daeron said, glaring down at her. "And now your sister thinks I'm some kind of craven who chases after his dead nephew's widow."
Rhaena hummed. "I couldn't just approach you and ask you to dance. It is the man who must ask, and honestly, I am much too shy."
He gave her an irritated look. Rhaena reached up and started playing with the curly bit of his silver hair at his ear. "Don't be upset," she whispered. "I truly just wanted to get to know you better."
Her eyelids drooped. Was she giving him bedroom eyes? Or was Daeron just imagining that? He opened his mouth and then closed it again.
"You know," Rhaena murmured, "you really are the most beautiful of the Dowager Queen’s children." Her gaze flittered over the features of his face. She gave him an appreciative nod. "You always had such beautiful features." She sighed. "And great lips."
"What is going on," Daeron asked, his voice sounding strained even to himself. "What are you doing?"
"Come with me," she said calmly.
Without waiting for an answer, she tugged at his hand and they left the Great Hall. Daeron let her pull him along out of pure shock. He was too afraid to look back. If he had, he would have seen Baela smirking into her cup or the King Consort Daemon rising halfway out of his seat, glaring.
Once they slipped out of the Great Hall, Rhaena didn’t slow down. Daeron stumbled after her.
“ Lady Rhaena, where are we-"
She stopped abruptly. Daeron nearly walked into her. Her violet eyes swept over him with far too much purpose for a woman supposedly still grieving. She lifted her hand and brushed her thumb across his bottom lip.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Just as soft as I imagined.”
Daeron made a strangled noise.
Imagined?
Seven help him.
“Lady Rhaena,” he managed, “I think there has been a grave misunderstanding.”
“Oh, there has,” she agreed, a twinkle in her eyes. “You misunderstood how badly I wanted your attention.”
He gaped at her. She pulled him along again. He realised belatedly that she was taking him to her chambers.
The moment the door shut behind them, Rhaena turned. Her fingers were already at his collar and Daeron jerked back so fast his back hit the door.
“C-cousin,” he choked. “What in the world-what are you doing?”
Rhaena’s eyes filled with tears so quickly it startled him.
“I miss being touched,” she whispered.
He froze.
“It’s been one year, Daeron. One year of being alone. One year of everyone treating me like glass.” She stepped closer. “And now you are back in King's Landing. I want to feel alive again.”
He swallowed, face burning. “I-I’m sorry for your loss, truly, but I don’t understand-”
“You have never thought of me,” she said softly. “I know.”
He opened his mouth ( to deny it, of course) but she lifted her hand and touched his cheek.
“I’ve always liked you,” she murmured, inches from him. “Since we were children. I used to stare at you the rare occasions we were both at the same place."
He blanched. How had he not known? She leaned up just enough that her breath warmed his ear.
“And now that I’m not wed anymore,” she whispered, “I see no reason to not give into my desires.”
Daeron sputtered, “W-what exactly do you mean-"
Rhaena pressed her forehead to his chest like a grieving widow seeking comfort. Anyone walking in would absolutely misinterpret this.
She knew it.
Daeron knew it.
“Oh gods,” he breathed, horrified. Too aware of how this looked.
Rhaena stepped back and looked at him. At nine-and-ten, Daeron was no boy anymore; Oldtown had honed him into a man, broad-shouldered and capable.
"Tell me you don't want this," she challenged.
Her fingers trailed up his chest. She pressed her body flush to his, her breasts soft against his chest. Daeron's breath hitched, his hands clenching at his sides, but he didn't push her away.
Rhaena smiled, victorious, as she sank to her knees before him, her hands expertedly unlacing his breeches. "Let me show you how much I've wanted this," she murmured, tugging the fabric down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, already swelling to half-hardness under her gaze. It was impressive with a slight upward curve and a flushed head that beaded a drop of precum. She licked her lips.
Daeron's hand shot out to grip her shoulder. "Rhaena, stop. You're a highborn woman. You should only do this when wedded... ngh."
His protest died as she leaned forward, pressing her breasts together around the base of his shaft. She'd had unlaced the front of her gown, freeing her full, heavy tits to the cool air. She spat into the valley between her breasts, slicking the skin, then began to slide them up and down his length, enveloping his cock inbetween her warm flesh. He groaned, low and guttural, his head falling back against the door.
"Fuck," he rasped, hips bucking involuntarily. Rhaena squeezed her tits tighter around him, the friction making his cock throb. Precum smeared across her brown skin, mixing with her saliva to create a glossy sheen. She watched his face, the way his violet eyes darkened with lust, his jaw clenched in restraint.
"Look at me," she commanded, voice husky. He obeyed, gaze dropping to where her breasts milked him, the head of his cock peeking out with each upward stroke, brushing her chin.
'You've never had a woman use her tits like this, have you?' she teased, flicking her tongue out to lap at the tip when it emerged. The salty tang made her moan, her own arousal soaking her smallclothes. She pumped faster, her tits bouncing with the motion, dark nipples grazing his thighs. Daeron's hands fisted in her braids, not guiding but holding on as if to anchor himself.
"Please,' he begged.
She smirked, denying him release by slowing her strokes, torturing him with the edge.
"Not yet," she said firmly, rising to her feet. Her gown pooled at her waist now, breasts heaving from the effort. She dragged him further in the chambers and then pushed pushed him back onto her bed. Daeron sprawled there, cock jutting obscenely from his open breeches, slick with her efforts. Rhaena straddled his thighs but didn't sink down. Istead, she hiked her skirts higher, revealing the glistening folds of her pussy.
"Eat me," she ordered, shifting forward to hover her cunt over his face. Daeron's eyes widened, a flush creeping up his neck, but the sight of her wet and swollen, begging for his mouth. It snapped something in him. He gripped her hips, pulling her down onto his waiting tongue to give her The Lord's Kiss. Rhaena gasped as he licked a broad stripe through her folds, tasting her sweetness, his nose bumping her clit.
"Yes, like that," she praised, grinding down. Daeron devoured her with growing fervor, despite his earlier hesitation. His tongue plunged into her cunt, fucking her with wet, insistent thrusts, then flattened to lap at her entrance, sucking greedily. She was drenched, juices coating his chin and lips, dripping down his throat as he swallowed. Rhaena's thighs quivered.
"Deeper," she demanded, fingers tangling in his silver hair to hold him in place. He obeyed, humming against her clit, the vibrations sending sparks through her core. One hand slid up to pinch her nipple, rolling the hardened peak while his other kneaded her ass, spreading her cheeks to expose her more fully.
Her orgasm built fast, heat coiling tight in her belly. Daeron's tongue circled her clit relentlessly, teeth grazing the sensitive nub before he sucked it between his lips.
"Daeron, yes!" Rhaena cried, her body shuddering as she came, pussy clenching around nothing, flooding his mouth with fresh slick. He lapped it all up, growling into her flesh. She rode out the waves of her peak, hips circling until she was spent, then slid down his body.
Now, she positioned herself over his cock, the head nudging her entrance. Daeron's hands roamed her sides, reverent and desperate.
"Rhaena, we shouldn't" he started again, but she silenced him with a kiss, tasting herself on his lips as she sank down. His thick length stretched her wide, filling her inch by inch until she was seated fully. They both moaned.
Rhaena fell in a slow, grinding rhythm, her cunt gripping him tightly. Her breasts bounced with each descent. Daeron thrust his hips up to meet her, hands digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. Rhaena leaned back, hands on his thighs for balance, letting him watch his cock disappear into her slick heat.
"So big... filling me so good," she panted, circling her hips to grind her clit against his pubic bone.
Daeron fucked up into her harder now, restraint shattering, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the room. Rhaena's walls fluttered around him.
"Daeron, please," she begged. "Come inside me. Fill me with your cum. Make me yours."
Daeron's thrusts grew erratic. With a roar, he slammed up one final time, seed flooding her womb.
Rhaena shattered around him, wailing. They panted, his arms wrapped around her waist as aftershocks pulsed. Rhaena's eyes rolled back as she felt his cum inside her, trickling down where they were joined.
"Oh," she sighed out, looking down at him in adoration. "That's a good boy."
Daeron nuzzled her neck, too tired to reply. He didn't see Rhaena smile, victorious.
It has to take, she thought. His seed has to take.
"Did you," Daeron started, one hand gently stroking her back. "Did you love him?"
"Like a stepbrother," she replied honestly. "It was not a love marriage for either of us, but we knew we would have a comfortable marriage. Luke..." she swallowed. "He never mistreated me. He was my brother and my friend."
"I see."
She truly did miss him. Never did she expect for news to reach her that he had perished during one of his sea travels, leaving her to be the Lady of Driftmark.
The smart thing would have been to leave her chambers. They had woken briefly hours earlier, but Rhaena had murmured at him to stay; tugging at his sleeve and he had obeyed. In his defense, he could barely keep his eyes open then. That's how tired he had been.
That's why he ended up in this situation. What happened is that a maid had knocked on Rhaena's door. When the woman had understandably not replied, because she was asleep, she had opened the door. Approaching the sleeping quarters the sight on the bed had shocked the maid greatly.
Rhaena was sleeping on her stomach; the same gown she had worn at the feast the night before, bunched around her waist, baring her breasts. Beside her, Daeron slept sprawled on his back. His breeches were undone, his cock half-exposed. One hand rested loosely around Rhaena’s wrist.
The maid screamed in horror, shocking the couple awake. Rhaena groaned into her pillow.
"Fuck," Daeron said as the maid ran out the room. "Fuck, fuck."
He jumped from the bed, fixing his breeches. Rhaena sat up with a yawn, pulling her gown back up to hide her breasts.
"Calm down. I'm no maiden," she said with a small smile. "Last year, I was still wed."
"And now you're not," he shot back. "And I slept with you."
"She'll probably inform the queen and the king," Rhaena mused, stretching like a cat.
Daeron cringed. The King Consort was her father. He was going to die. Today. He could practically feel Daemon sharpening Dark Sister right now.
“The correct thing to do is wed me,” Rhaena said simply. “You can’t keep my honor intact if my father kills you. He knows that.”
Daeron turned to her, staring at her in disbelief.
“…Did you plan this?”
Rhaena looked at him with wide, innocent violet eyes.
Then she smiled bashfully.
“Maybe.”