Claiming the Dragon

Devotion

Ser Harwin's voice followed the princess out of the gate as her horse broke into a gallop. Her blood was boiling after her training session; after Ser Criston's smart comments. Who was he to imply that she was nothing more than a spoiled brat? Syrax was readied in mere moments and the Rhaenyra mounted her saddle swiftly, the dust swirling about as they lifted off.

Her limbs ached from the cold of the bay after mere minutes on dragonback. The princess wondered if, perhaps, she should have donned a surcoat to better shield herself from the elements, but t was too late; King's Landing was already shrinking into the distance. Before she knew it, they were nearing Dragonstone. When she caught sight of Caraxes perched in the distance she breathed a sigh of relief. Daemon...

Not wanting to bother with the walk, she landed Syrax on the bridge near the castle and rapidly dismounted. The guards on watch hurried to open the doors to her and she marched inside as her dragon chirped her happiness and immediately made her way toward Caraxes.

"Do you know where Prince Daemon is presently?" Rhaenyra inquired. The guard beside her apologized and shook his head. "I'll find him myself, thank you." she insisted, dismissing him. She passed by the throne room, finding it empty and continued on, her boots echoing through the halls as she marched. The princess finally reached the Chamber of the Painted Table, and found him seated there, head in his hands, looking exhausted.

"Are you planning on brooding here indefinitely, then?" Rhaenyra's High Valyrian echoed off the walls, startling him.

"Rhaenyra," he breathed, rising. He raised a curious eyebrow at her as he took in her disheveled appearance.

"I don't like it when you're so far away from me," she informed him, circling the long table, skimming her hand along the wood. He watched with darkened eyes as she slowly worked her way around the edge.

"Nor do I, Princess." he responded in the common tongue, making his own way around the table, toward her. "I can barely stand court as it is, much less that cunt—"

"No, but you love me, don't you?" she countered smartly.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation, his violet eyes meeting hers only a few short paces away.

"I've always adored this table..." she commented idly, sliding her hands enticingly over the wood once again as she finally closed the distance between them. Her skin was itching with the need for his touch. The prince smirked down at her., amused by her comment.

"I do, as well. Though, don't suppose it was commissioned to be used as we have." Daemon answered, caressing the wood.

"No. It was used to plot wars," she remarked, her fingers tracing over Dragonstone on the map. "Though, I think our use of it has been far more enjoyable..." Daemon's hand immediately encircled her neck and he tugged her toward him, his mouth crashing forcefully down on hers, reopening her cut from the morning's training. She bit down on his lip, drawing blood that mingled with her own in a deep kiss.

"What have you been doing? You're filthy." Daemon whispered against her skin.

"Gods, I've missed you, husband." she whispered back, not bothering to answer his question. She was preoccupied, consumed with her desire, and already pulling at his tunic.

"It's only been three days, dear wife," he answers with a smirk, trailing kissed down her dust-covered neck. The princess made quick work of his shirts, attaching her mouth to his chest the moment his skin was bared to her.

"Three days is too long. I've missed your touch, your smell, your taste," she whispered against him. "I need you, my love." He ripped her tunic open, and her under blouse followed. A sharp intake of breath later and Daemon's mouth was wrapped around her left nipple. A soft groan escaped her lips as thrums of pleasure coursed through her body, an aching need quickly settling between her legs. She leaned back against the ledge of the table, grinding against his firm thigh.