In the soft light of their now shared bedroom, her uncle took her hand and said, "I have something for you." Rhaenyra looked at him, and her heart skipped a beat. He had always been the one to give her the most wonderful gifts, whenever he came back, he always had something for her. As she grew she always thought that it was his fault that she loved everything shiny, and had a tendency to think gifts meant love.
"What is it, husband?" she asked, and loved how his eyes gleamed at the honorific. He didn't answer, instead took her hand, and started walking.
(If they could get through the rest of their lives, without him ever have to hear her call him Daemon, that would be all he could ask for. He never wanted her to have a reason to do that, he thought as he led his beautiful wife over to the travelling chest).
She followed him, breathing shallowly, not wanting him to notice how excited she was. When had he found the time to get her a gift? They had after all spent every waking moment together since Driftmark. He stopped in front of a large travelling chest, and gestured for her to open it.
Rhaenyra kneeled down and opened it slowly. Inside was hundreds of different things. Black pearl necklace, ruby rings, emerald earrings. It was full of gifts, and she looked back at her husband with wonder, "My love, what is this?"
He grinned, before squatting down beside her, carressing her face. "It's all the gifts I couldn't give you for the last ten years."
(If anyone had asked Baela and Rhaena about the chest, they would tell them that it was their father's secret treasure. They had watched him all their lives putting things in there that they never saw again. In the beginning they thought it was gifts for their mother, put aside for a later time, but they never, ever saw them again.)
Rhaenyra looked at Daemon, for once speechless. Her head was spinning. It wasn't the gifts in themselves, (even though she loved them!), but the implication that Daemon had been thinking of her all these years they've been apart. He hadn't locked her away in a faraway part of his heart, like she had done to him. He had collected things that reminded him of her, and here they were. A tiny fortune of thoughts, a tiny heap of his love for her.
House of the Dragon, Daemon/Rhaenyra, Treasures of my heart
"What is it, husband?" she asked, and loved how his eyes gleamed at the honorific. He didn't answer, instead took her hand, and started walking.
(If they could get through the rest of their lives, without him ever have to hear her call him Daemon, that would be all he could ask for. He never wanted her to have a reason to do that, he thought as he led his beautiful wife over to the travelling chest).
She followed him, breathing shallowly, not wanting him to notice how excited she was. When had he found the time to get her a gift? They had after all spent every waking moment together since Driftmark. He stopped in front of a large travelling chest, and gestured for her to open it.
Rhaenyra kneeled down and opened it slowly. Inside was hundreds of different things. Black pearl necklace, ruby rings, emerald earrings. It was full of gifts, and she looked back at her husband with wonder, "My love, what is this?"
He grinned, before squatting down beside her, carressing her face. "It's all the gifts I couldn't give you for the last ten years."
(If anyone had asked Baela and Rhaena about the chest, they would tell them that it was their father's secret treasure. They had watched him all their lives putting things in there that they never saw again. In the beginning they thought it was gifts for their mother, put aside for a later time, but they never, ever saw them again.)
Rhaenyra looked at Daemon, for once speechless. Her head was spinning. It wasn't the gifts in themselves, (even though she loved them!), but the implication that Daemon had been thinking of her all these years they've been apart. He hadn't locked her away in a faraway part of his heart, like she had done to him. He had collected things that reminded him of her, and here they were. A tiny fortune of thoughts, a tiny heap of his love for her.