𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓸𝓷

Chapter 69 She's my wife-mine, not yours!

Daemon walked down the hall through the Red Keep, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floors. As he neared Rhaenyra's chambers, he heard the faint sound of giggling—a baby's laughter. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the guards standing watch. They exchanged a look before one opened the door and announced his presence.

"Prince Daemon!" the maids exclaimed, bowing before him. Some quickly hurried away while others remained, assisting Rhaenyra as she tended to Visenya.

"Uncle," Rhaenyra greeted him with a soft smile as she picked up one of Visenya's toys. "What brings you here?" she asked, her gaze curious but warm.

Daemon said nothing at first, his attention drawn to the small, innocent figure of the baby. Rhaenyra noticed his silence and moved toward Visenya, her protective instinct clear. "This is Visenya," she said softly, almost introducing her daughter to him.

Daemon walked up to them, his expression hard. "Like Aegon the Conqueror's wife," he muttered.

Rhaenyra nodded, but his words had an edge to them, and she could feel the tension building. "Four years ago, you complained about not wanting a child to define you, to bind you in the castle. How far you've fallen," Daemon remarked coldly, his tone laced with judgment.

Rhaenyra frowned at his words, her temper flaring. "Yes, you are right. I was afraid—afraid of having a babe after what happened to my mother," she admitted, though her voice carried both sorrow and defiance. "But Aegon assured me everything would be alright. He promised he would not force himself on me like my father did to my mother."

At the mention of Aegon, Daemon's expression twisted with disdain. He rolled his eyes, clearly displeased. "You are a dragon, Rhaenyra," Daemon said, his voice lowering, "and dragons are not to be tamed. They are meant to spread their wings."

He moved closer to her now, his words becoming softer, almost seductive. "Aegon is no true Targaryen," Daemon said, his voice dripping with contempt. "He doesn't understand the fire in you. He lacks the blood, the power. You deserve more than to be bound to him."

Rhaenyra's brow furrowed, but Daemon continued before she could respond. "I could treat you better, Rhaenyra. As my wife, we would not be ruled by weakness. We would take what is ours, reign as dragons should."

His hand reached for her waist, pulling her closer. Rhaenyra felt the heat of his touch, the closeness making her breath catch. His voice dropped to a whisper. "We're the true blood of Old Valyria. Together, we could be untouchable. I could give you everything."

For a brief moment, silence filled the room. But then, with a sharp, swift motion, Rhaenyra slapped him across the face. The sound echoed as Daemon's head turned from the force of the blow.

"You dare?" Rhaenyra's voice trembled with rage, her eyes blazing. "I am your future Queen, and if you ever lay a hand on me again, I will feed you to my dragon without hesitation."

Daemon's head snapped back, but instead of anger, a slow smirk spread across his lips. He raised a hand to his cheek, feeling the sting from her slap, but his eyes glinted with admiration. "There she is," he muttered under his breath, "the Rhaenyra I knew. Stubborn, fierce, untouchable."

His gaze lingered on her, clearly amused by her fire. He stepped back, easing away, though his smirk remained. "Perhaps one day you'll realize how wasted you are on Aegon. You're a dragon, Rhaenyra. And one day, you'll want to spread your wings."

With those parting words, Daemon turned and walked out, leaving Rhaenyra standing in her chambers, her body trembling with anger—but her heart firm, resolute in her devotion to her husband and her throne.