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Daemon groaned, pulling his wife back into bed with both arms. She giggled, sleep tousled hair falling into her face as she stumbled backwards in their bed.
“Uncle!”
“It is too early. Come back here.” He tugged some more, using his strength to his advantage. Soon his beautiful wife was pressed back against his naked chest, still giggling quietly under her breath. He sighed contently into the crown of her head.
“Mmh, that’s better.”
He left a kiss in her hair, then dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. She smelled of him, sweat and sex, making his already hard cock twitch underneath the fluffy covers. Rhaenyra undoubtedly felt it, wiggling her delicious ass against him.
“I’m afraid we don’t have the privilege to sleep in anymore, husband,” she said with a smile in her voice. He only snuggled into her farther, enjoying having her in his arms. He felt as if he hadn’t spent the whole night holding her. As if he hadn’t woken her up twice, kissing her in the darkness, making her moan and scream into the night.
He felt as if they’d only gotten married a few moons ago.
And yet, as proven by their little daughter, it’d been years. It still felt unreal. Like a dream he could wake from any second. Which was why he cherished every moment with his wife and daughter.
Rhaenyra patted his hands joined on her belly. "I am serious, Daemon. We have plans, important plans."
He knew. The important plans included their little rascal and both of their dragons, something he looked forward to with the same force he feared it, but it was unbelievably difficult to let go of his wife. He was only thankful that no one but her saw him like this, almost purring like a happy cat whilst cuddling. He'd never hear the end of it.
His wife turned her head until she could press a kiss to his bare shoulder. "You and I both know there is nothing worse to face than the wrath of our five year old princess. It is in your best interest to let me go." She was trying hard to sound stern, but couldn't quite hide the happy smile that seemed to permanently reside on her face.
He slid his hands over her stomach, up, up, until he palmed her glorious breasts.
"I wonder who she got that wrath from."
"I don't have to wonder," she gasped as his fingers plucked at her hardening nipples. "It is perfectly clear to me - ah!"
She tilted her head back, resting it against his chest. It was so easy and natural to slip inside her wet heat. And yet, hearing her quiet moans and whines, feeling her tighten around him, felt just as exciting and thrilling as the first time. Utterly perfect .
Once they reached their peaks together again, he cuddled her some more, sliding his hands all over her. She was thicker and curvier now than she'd been when they'd gotten married, but she long stopped feeling insecure about it, not shying away from his touches. She knew he adored every inch of her, he showed her so every day, multiple times. She knew it was impossible for him to keep his hands off her.
Releasing her at last, she jumped out of bed to start her day. Daemon sulkingly marched to his own chambers to get ready. He always stayed in Rhaenyra's chambers overnight and any other time he could, but his abundance of clothing couldn’t be stored there. He hadn't slept away from her, not once in the years that followed their marriage. Even when his wife was cross with him and wouldn't let him into their bed, he'd rather cram his body into one of the many plush chairs spaced around her rooms than use the chambers that were supposed to be his own.
He hated them. There was nothing wrong with them per se, apart from some very important details; they were cold and far away and didn't smell like his family and his daughter didn't have any of her toys scattered there.
Visenya had taken her first steps there, in Rhaenyra's rooms. She'd spoken her first Valyrian words in the very same bed they'd just gotten from. Dragonstone was their home, but Daemon could easily narrow that down to those few warm rooms alone.
Once he was dressed and washed, he made his way towards his little princess’ chambers. They'd all break their fast together, like they always did, with Visenya wiggling impatiently on either his or Rhaenyra's lap. Then they’d move to take Syrax and Caraxes for their little flight. He couldn’t wait.
The doors opened and he only had time to grin before he heard the familiar Valyrian words.
"Kepa!" A squeak later and the silver haired princess was in his arms, hugging him around his neck. He turned his cheek and she smacked a kiss there, offering her own immediately after. With a fond chuckle he returned the gesture, making his kiss purposely loud, making her giggle.
"There's my little dragon."
"Can we go, Kepa ? I am prepared, look!" She wiggled her body in his arms, trying to present her clothes to him. He had to hold a chuckle back.
"We need to strengthen up first, byka dārilaros. "
“Kostilus! We must go right now!” She was gazing at him with wide, lilac eyes, pouting. He hid a smile. She should not be encouraged, he knew, but it was difficult to stay stone-faced when he was presented with such a perfect copy of his niece.
Except for the eyes. His heart ached with the most beautiful pain looking into his daughter’s eyes.
“And why are we in such a hurry, darling?”
He started walking with her in his arms, not needing to look where he was going. The halls of their home were familiar to him like the back of his hand by now. He could walk them blindfolded, and, he thought with a chuckle, a couple of times he had. It’d been a while since his wife surprised him in such a way, though.
“Because,” his daughter sighed dramatically, “I promised Caraxes we’d visit him first thing in the morning! I cannot break a promise, Kepa, is what you always say.”
Visenya blinked at him innocently, her tiny nose scrunching adorably. This time he did laugh out loud, just as Rhaenyra appeared on his left, joining them. She raised her eyebrows, leaning forward to kiss their daughter on her forehead.
Daemon eyed his wife’s red dress with a hardly suppressed smirk. How he loved that dress. Some of his most fond memories included that dress. When they’d sneaked away during Rhaenyra’s twentieth name day celebration. When they’d used it as a blanket on the beach so he could have his way with her right there. When she’d taken his hand and placed it on her still flat stomach, telling him she was with a child.
He kept looking at her, examining her expression with his heart beating a little faster, but she only smiled at their daughter as the girl kept insisting their dragons would be upset should they waste any more time.
“We’ll go soon, sweet girl.”
Visenya pouted some more in her father’s arms, but once they settled to eat, she instead launched a high-pitched retelling of her latest dream, in which she was sharing the bed with her own little dragon that had hatched only a few years ago, Meraxes. She then proceeded to beg her parents to let the she-dragon into her chambers to keep her warm at night, which they both vigorously refused. And their darling daughter was back to pouting.
He only hid a smile in his fist, managing to eat a few bites before Visenya asked for the eleventh time: “Can we go now?”
When asked who she wanted to share a saddle with that day, it was no surprise to anyone when she shouted, “Kepa! ”
Daemon didn’t bother trying to hide his smug grin. Ignoring Rhaenyra’s comment it was more about riding Caraxes than choosing him in particular, he mounted the dragon with his daughter clinging to him like a little leech.
He strapped her in, barely listening as her mouth never stopped moving. She wasn’t talking to him, anyway; her newest story was being told to Caraxes, and Daemon glared at his wife whose laughter was heard all the way from her spot on the ground.
She waved in return, turning away to climb on Syrax.
Little hand tugged at his hair, making him glance down at his precious cargo. “ Kepa, we must win this time.” Her eyes sparkled. He tapped her nose and bent down to kiss the top of her head.
“I let your mother win last time, dārilaros, but we shall show her no mercy today.”
She smiled, satisfied. “Meraxes and I will beat you both one day. You’ll see.”
With a tickle that made her burst into giggles, they finally took to the skies. Visenya shrieked in delight. Her braid smacked Daemon’s chin, yet he hugged her closer, feeling both ecstatic and tense, like he always did when he took her flying. His stomach took a sickening dip and he held his daughter tighter still, willing Caraxed to be careful.
No wonder Rhaenyra beat him in their racing so often, he thought to himself grumpily. He was an anxious bundle that kept Caraxes back from giving it his all every time he had their daughter strapped to him.
He refused to believe there was a different reason.
He watched his wife slicing through the air on her dragon, getting ahead of him easily, her silver hair whipped back.
Daemon sighed. He could hear her poking fun at him already. As if she wasn’t exactly the same with Visenya in the saddle in front of her. He tried to enjoy the ride. He tried to relish in the way his daughter’s happy squeals carried on the wind. When she tipped her head back to look at him, he hoped his smile wasn’t as strained as it felt. He brushed a kiss to her nose.
“Iksi paez, Kepa!” she yelled into his face. “Kesi ojughagon! ”
They’d made their route for racing shorter for the times they had Visenya with them, and he could see his wife from the corner of his eye, already turning to head back to Dragonstone.
And sure enough, the golden yellow dragon was already proudly on the ground when he and Caraxes landed. He accepted his daughter’s pat to his shoulder and a pity kiss on the cheek, then watched her run to her mother. He could swear he heard her promise to Rhaenyra she’d pick her next time, and a part of him felt relieved, while other part, disappointed.
Sigh. He should get used to it.
When Visenya was taken to her lessons, he stayed at the beach, hands on his hips, as he watched his niece slowly make her way to him. Her sly smile made him grumble, “Do not say anything.”
She laughed, stopping in front of him. Her arms went around his waist naturally, breaking his brooding posture.
“We must race alone soon. You’ll see your losing has nothing to do with Visenya.”
He glared, only making her laugh harder. “I was distracted by your dress. You picked it on purpose, didn’t you?”
He embraced her at last, settling both of his hands on her delectable backside. Her smile suddenly went sheepish and she looked away from his eyes, instead focusing on his chin. He thought he saw her cheeks turn pink, but before he could wonder what could possibly make her react in such a way, she spoke again in a quiet voice.
“Do you recall, uncle, when we decided to wait with another babe… to fully enjoy our first daughter’s childhood?”
He stared at her furrowed brows, suddenly having trouble swallowing. “Of course I do.” It hadn’t been an easy decision to make, but they’d made it together. They’d wanted to be fully present for their daughter, savor every moment.
Was Rhaenyra… content to not wait any longer?
He voiced his question out loud, and watched his wife’s cheeks flush even more. She still avoided his eye, leaning forward until she whispered the voice straight into his neck:
“I believe I am with child, husband.” Her arms squeezed his waist tighter, and he felt as if she squeezed his heart right along with it. He buried his face in her hair, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.
“Ñuha jorrāelagon ,” he rasped, adjusting his arms around her. The next moment he lifted her off her feet, tearing a surprised gasp from her mouth. Breathless giggles followed, and finally his beloved lifted her face, meeting his eyes with her own, glistening with tears.
“Are… are you happy, husband?”
He kissed her nose, forehead, each of her cheeks, and finally, her lips. “Iksan sīr biare, ābrazȳrys. ”
He fucking loved that red dress.
Iksi paez, Kepa. Kesi ojughagon. We are slow, father. We will lose.
Ñuha jorrāelagon. My love.
Iksan sīr biare, ābrazȳrys. I am so happy, wife.