One hand over the other, joined by a ribbon.
"Father, Father, Mother, Mother, Warrior, Warrior, Smith, Smith, Maiden, Maiden, Crone, Crone, Stranger, Stranger..." They both spoke at once, as if with one voice.
The Sept of Baelor was full of nobles. It was not every day that two members of House Targaryen were married, especially in such a tense atmosphere. Everyone wanted to see Daenerys's legendary beauty; many men looked at her skin with greed and desire.
The well-looking appearance within House Targaryen was, without a doubt, legendary. But who was the prettiest flower in that garden? She could intimidate all the men who saw her. She was once guarded by the rogue prince and is now guarded by the prince of scrolls.
No noble dared to try anything; they only looked. The memory of Darkstar alone was enough to silence them all.
"I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days."
"I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days."
Both members of the royal family had their eyes fixed on each other as they pronounced their vows.
Jaehaerys looked at his wife. She was gorgeous and delicate, more than a head shorter than he was. He had looked at her so many times. Her silver hair was gathered into an elaborate arrangement on her head. She looked good, although he would have preferred her to wear her hair loose and flowing.
Daenerys looked at her husband. He was handsome and strong. She could feel his firm hand beneath hers. She felt safe. Even if a dragon came to eat her at that moment, she would not be afraid as long as he was by her side. She had grown accustomed to seeing him in loose, comfortable clothes. She had begun to imitate his habit when she read. But seeing him in that wonderful doublet looked just as good.
"What is joined before the eyes of the Seven, let no man put asunder," the septon cried.
The prince bent down to kiss her, and it was soft and demure. Daenerys had never kissed Daemon before, just holding hands. Jaehaerys's lips were smooth, and he tasted slightly of fruit; his breath was fresh. 'He didn't drink wine today. He know I don't like that.' The kiss was sweet yet aggressive. She was overwhelmed by his skill.
The queen mother's cough broke them apart. They had lost themselves in the moment. Jaehaerys raised their hands so that everyone could see them. He raised it just enough so that it wouldn't be uncomfortable for her.
They moved on to a feast where they were the center of attention. The lords gave them gifts, mostly beautiful but useless trinkets. However, one gift from the Manderlys surprised everyone except the groom—it was a ship. Jaehaerys just smiled, as if he had expected it.
The Lannisters presented a beautiful, ornate sword that Daenerys thought her husband would never use. The Tyrells gave her a silver steed so beautiful that it seemed to glow in the torchlight. They gave him a black horse to match. Its coat was so dull that it looked like a shadow next to the silver steed.
There were gifts exchanged. Daenerys gave him a black cloak with a dragon sigil embroidered in blood red. She had done her best to embroider it, but it paled in comparison to what she received. He gave her an entire library, not yet finished, but he spared no expense.
He showed her the designs for the castle. There was an area of the castle exclusively for her: a library overlooking a vast garden. He did all this because she had mentioned that she liked reading while looking out at the gardens in the fortress.
If the lords found it inappropriate or foolish, they did not voice their opinions; Jaehaerys had earned himself a reputation.
Daenerys could only find one fault with her husband. Just one. His alcoholism. He could hide it well, but most of the time, he was drunk. When she asked him about it, his answer was simple: "It helps with the headache." Even when he fought Daemon and Gerold, he had been drinking. She didn't know whether to call him a fool or be more impressed that he won both fights without getting hurt.
"You look happy," she heard her mother say. She smiled and squinted her eyes as if she had fulfilled a dream, as if it were her wedding and not her daughter's.
"I am," she said. "I'm just a little nervous about the bedding," she admitted.
"Oh, it might hurt the first time, but you'll get used to it," her mother said, misinterpreting her words.
Daenerys wasn't afraid of that. Ros had talked about it in such a way that Daenerys was looking forward to it. She was nervous about the bedding ceremony, in which the nobles undressed her and carried her to her bed. She didn't want dozens of men's hands on her body. She remembered Myrcella and Aegon's wedding. The girl looked like she wanted heads to roll. Even though they didn't get along, Dany didn't wish her ill.
"It's because of the bedding ceremony," she finally said, hoping for support.
"It's the custom," her mother said, not paying much attention to her.
"There will be no bedding ceremony," she heard her husband say. A few nobles turned to look at him; one even glared at him with something resembling resentment. Her husband returned the gaze, making Lords as docile as kittens.
"Jaehaerys, you don't have to—"
"There will be no ceremony," he interrupted his mother.
Rhaella nodded.
Daenerys felt the familiar warmth in her chest that grew every time her brother did something to make her feel good, a sweet side of him that few get to know. She never felt it with Daemon; only Jaehaerys could make her feel that way.
His decision caused discontent, and an idiotic noble even went to complain to the king. Rhaegar dismissed him, claiming that he would respect his younger brother's decision.
Soon, they went out to dance. They opened the dance, of course, and it was a sweet moment before they separated to dance with others. Daenerys danced with Lord Jaime, Oberyn, and even his son, Joffrey, who whispered obscenities at her.
"Unless you want to end up like Darkstar, keep your tongue in your mouth, prince," she said, feeling more confident than she had in years.
The little man glanced at Jaehaerys, who was dancing with Queen Elia, but his eyes were fixed on Daenerys. The boy cowered, bowed, and left.
She ended up dancing with other lords who were respectful, not because they were gentlemen, but because they feared her husband.
Jaehaerys danced with all the ladies of the court: From Ashara and her daughter to Cersei, who seemed to want to scratch the face of the prince, and Princess Myrcella. He even shared a dance with Serena. The girl seemed to look at him with admiration. Daenerys still didn't know how Jae managed to get Cersei to let her daughter go to Harrenhal as a companion lady.
They even saw him dance with Queen Lyanna, who did not seem to hold a grudge against him for her son. Instead, she seemed grateful.
"The bedding ceremony will begin," they announced late into the night. A nobleman, drunk enough to dare, announced it.
Daenerys found herself lifted into the air over Jaehaerys's shoulder, she couldn't help but laugh happily. The prince walked among the men who dared to try to touch her. More than one unfortunate fool learned the power of the prince. Soon, they reached their wedding bed. A few idiots followed them, but her husband's knights chased them away.
"We never talked about this," he said, laying her on the bed. From her seated position, she felt small in front of him.
"Shall we lie down?" she asked, feeling his hand caress her cheek. She leaned in to feel his touch more.
"I don't want us to have children yet," the prince confessed.
"Why?" Her words came out with more pain than she intended.
"You're too young, Dany," he said, calling her the way she asked him days before.
"Mother was fourteen when she had her first child," she said stubbornly. "I'm older."
"Still too young." The risk at her age wasn't that great, but it was still there. "You forget that our mother suffered several miscarriages and stillbirths."
"Do you think it's because she had them too young?" the princess asked, calming down a little.
"Yes, when your body finishes developing..."
"I blossomed years ago," she said.
"You started to blossom." He smiled at her, remembering when she had similar tantrums as a child. "But you still need to mature and spread all your petals."
"I talked to Ros... I wanted to," she admitted, sounding vulnerable. She hadn't desired another man, not for the act itself. With Daemon, she saw sharing a bed as something she would have to do, a duty.
"Oh dear, we don't just sleep together to procreate children," he said, making her look him in the eyes.
Daenerys felt him kiss her tenderly and sweetly as before. But that feeling was lost over time, giving way to desire and lust. Everything Ros had told her came true. The prince didn't rush things. He took the time to get to know her body and how to pleasure her before he was inside her. Dany blushed at the feeling of his rough tongue exploring her body. That was when she had her first climax—or at least, she thought she did.
When he finally claimed her as his wife, there was a slight stinging sensation that eased with time. Her mind was elsewhere for a moment as she experienced the pleasure of being a woman for the first time. The peak of pleasure she had felt before was just a prelude—not an orgasm. The climax left her weak but wanting more. She had to convince him to continue even though he said she was too weak for him.
She almost forced him.
During her conversation with Ros, she only heard stories about the maid's time with the prince. Next time, though, she would ask Ros for advice.
Her lord husband had repressed desire, perhaps from holding back himself for so long. She needed to relieve him; it was her duty, and she took pleasure in doing so.
It was her pleasure to do so.
For hours, she doesn't care about anything, nor the goods, the lords, the lands, and the smallfolk. That moment was just for them.