Fire and Steel

A Dragon's Glory; Daemon Targaryen

IT'S PRINCESS RHAENYRA'S BETROTHAL DAY. You look at yourself in the mirror as your handmaid is sprucing your hair up with shinning rubies and golden accessories, and another is decorating your hands with jewelleries. Red and gold, the colours of your house; Lannister. The gown hugging your frame ever so delicately is crimson of colour, its velvet touch is so smooth on your skin. Two rounded, golden earrings adorning your ears; the right one is lion-shaped, and the other takes the form of the three-headed dragon of your husband's royal house; Targaryen. And both sigil are ruby-eyed.

You take pride in belonging to both houses; the lion you inherited, and the dragon you're married to. In occasions as such, you don't waste the opportunity of flaunting your post off; your glory.

When you're done, you study your appearance in the mirror. Satisfied by the results, you hum approvingly and praise your handmaidens' good work. Then, one of your ladies-in-waiting steps into your dressing chamber, dipping her head in courtesy. "The Prince is waiting for you, my lady."

You find your prince husband waiting for you in your shared corridor, the one links your chambers to his. Daemon grins the instant his eyes fall upon you.

"Oh, my lioness..." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, "You look ravishing, love."

"Why, thank you..." You kiss his both cheeks, giggling when he tries to plunder your freshly-painted lips into a kiss, "You look gorgeous yourself, my dragon."

You do indulge him in a peck on his lips, but of course such teasing gesture doesn't rise to his contentment as he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His rough fingers caressing your stomach in circles. He draws out, kissing the tip of your nose, then stares at the bump in your belly.

It's been months since Daemon's back at court, and you can't be any happier. He's now a lot more behaved. Perhaps the fact he's going to be a father soon eased his usual wildness. Nevertheless, you cannot say the same thing about his appetite for you, especially after you stomach started to swell. It drives him mad knowing that you're carrying his child within your womb. He takes you almost every night if you're not tired.

"Gods," He grumbles in a low voice, "You're growing prettier each day..."

"My toes do not agree with you, though, darling. They're disappearing," You hum jocularly, "They look hideous."

"Nonesense." He asserts, cupping your cheek, "I like your toes, they're the second-best thing about you."

Your eyelashes blink coquettishly. "Might I know what's the best thing?"

"The best thing..." Daemon looks aside for a moment, pondering, then he gazes back at you with a mischievous grin, "Two things, actually."

A strong red colour flushes across your cheeks, "Daemon!" You chide him, throwing your eyes in a quick scan in fear of someone lurking around while your husband savouring your embarrassment.

Accepting his offered elbow, you shake your head a tad, murmuring, "You're incorrigible."

"I'm afraid I am." He chuckles, his steps are cautious and slow to not hurry you, "You like it, though. I know you do."

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a half smile, your fingers tenderly brushing his arm. "I would not have it any other way, my love."

"I'd find my way to you, darling, trust me." He pinches your cheek playfully.

"Of course you would." You chuckle.

Daemon tugs a strand of your mane behind your ear, asking, "Feeling better?"

You nod, "Do not worry, my love, I'm perfectly fine."

You stroll your way towards the throne room, making sure to arrive at the feast before the announcement of any arrival of lord paramount. In better circumstances, you two should have been by Rhaenyra and the King's side from the very beginning of the banquet, but due to the sudden fatigue you suffered this morning resulted by your pregnancy, Daemon insisted on not being in hurry, telling you that his brother and niece would understand. And should you not be excited about his niece's wedding -and perhaps the most enthralled one of them all- so much, your husband would forbid you from attending today's celebration. You know he means well, and he only cares about your health and the babe's. But you assured him that mere nausea and tiredness wouldn't render you in bed. He wasn't quite convinced, but Daemon acquiesced to your determination, nonetheless. However, you had to make him a promise; that should you feel any kind of discomfort, you'd immediately retire to your chambers and have rest.