Daenys Velaryon is the oldest child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, but she shares the same true lineage as her brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. As the oldest child of the heir to the throne, she has duties to fulfill, duties that she is ex...
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Year: 129 AC
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"It isn't polite to stare."
Daenys raised an eyebrow and responded in High Valyrian, "I am simply admiring."
Aemond scoffed, "There is nothing to admire."
"On the contrary. I find that there is...quite a lot to admire actually."
It was the hour of the owl, and in the dead silence of the night, they lay there an arm's distance apart, observing each other. The only sound was that of Daenys's thundering pulse as she traced the contours of Aemond's face as though committing every exquisite detail to memory. She marvelled at the subtle intricacies of his beauty—the sharpness of his jawline, the graceful arch of his brows, and the way his lips curved into a questioning smile at her concentration. His hair was a spill of starlight across his pillow and without a second thought, she stretched her arm out to cover the distance between them, letting the fine strands slip past her fingers.
The tips of her ears turned pink as she hesitantly allowed her gaze to stray from her husband's face, lower across the angular lines of his collarbones, and then lower still to the smooth pale expanse of his chest, only half obscured by the duvet that they shared.
Her eyes turned apologetic when they wandered over the crescent-shaped marks adorning his bicep, and her cheeks flared crimson.
"Sorry about that."
Daenys leaned forward then, her breath a gentle whisper against the warmth of his skin, and pressed a soft, reverent kiss upon the marks she had left.
Aemond gave her a wolfish grin, "You did not sound particularly apologetic when you made them. And besides, if this is something we apologize for, then it seems as though I have a great deal more apologies to make."
The silence was comfortable, at least until Daenys's eyes wandered to his eyepatch. The one-eyed prince, sensing her scrutiny, tensed imperceptibly, a flicker of vulnerability passing over his face. His hand instinctively reached up to touch the patch, a habitual gesture born of years spent concealing both his injury and the emotions it stirred within him. Yet, before a word could escape his lips, Daenys, her voice soft and sincere, interjected with a reassuring warmth that enveloped him completely.
"You needn't share anything you're not ready to. But if you've seen all of me, I wish to see all of you too. Only if you're willing."
Aemond's breath caught at her earnest request.
Mistaking his stillness for refusal, Daenys shifted her gaze, staring at some distant spot beyond his head, although she couldn't really make out anything in the darkness of the room.
