Chapter Text
Rhaella trembled under her blanket, her small body curled up tightly as the thunder roared ominously outside her chamber windows in the Red Keep. The fierce storm had begun just moments after her muna, Daenerys, and Missandei had kissed her goodnight, leaving her alone with the daunting sounds of nature's fury. The young girl felt the chill seep through the room, causing her to clutch her blanket closer, but it provided little comfort against the fear that clutched at her heart.
Her stuffed toy, a dragon named Syraxes, seemed to offer the only sense of security in the cold, echoing room. With a surge of brave determination unusual for her tender age, Rhaella slid out of bed, her small feet hitting the cold stone floor. She grabbed Syraxes, pressing him close to her chest as she tiptoed towards the door.
Peeking outside, she noticed the absence of Ser Bear, the loyal Kingsguard who was usually stationed at her door. In his place was a new guardian, Ser Gendry, a strong and silent type, known for his bravery and loyalty to her parents. The storm seemed a trivial matter to him as he sat, head bowed, likely deep in slumber. Rhaella knew if he were awake, he’d gently but firmly escort her back to bed, but tonight, fortune seemed to be in her favor, or so she thought.
With as much courage as she could muster, Rhaella quietly opened the door and slipped out into the dimly lit hallway of the castle. Her heart thudded painfully with each soft step she took, flinching with every thunderclap. The path to her parents’ room felt longer and more treacherous than ever before.
Upon reaching the ornate doors of her muna and kepa’s chamber, surprisingly unguarded tonight, she hesitated. Usually, Ser Bear would be there, a reassuring presence, but tonight his absence both puzzled and relieved her. Gaining a bit of courage, Rhaella pushed the doors open and closed them quickly behind her, seeking refuge from the storm.
The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candlelight, but strange noises immediately caught her attention. Confused and curious, she moved closer to the bed, where the sounds seemed to emanate — grunts and moans that she couldn’t quite understand. Her young mind struggled to make sense of it, her innocence shielding her from the true nature of those sounds.
The soft golden glow of the candlelight barely illuminated the room, casting long, dancing shadows that flickered against the stone walls of the chamber. Rhaella, clutching her stuffed dragon Syraxes tightly, moved cautiously towards the familiar yet strangely alien noises that filled the room. Her small heart raced with a blend of curiosity and remnants of fear from the storm still raging outside.
As she rounded the corner of the bed, the sight before her eyes was confusing and startling. Her mother, Daenerys, was beneath Ser Jorah Mormont, both of them naked and entwined in a passionate embrace. Ser Jorah's muscular body moved rhythmically, and Daenerys moaned softly from the intense pleasure of their union. The sounds of their lovemaking had masked the noise of Rhaella entering, allowing her to approach unnoticed.
Rhaella, with wide eyes, navigated closer to the bed, drawn by a mix of confusion and the need for comfort. She observed her mother's swollen belly, the thought of a potential sibling briefly crossing her mind, adding a layer of innocence to the heavy atmosphere.
A loud clap of thunder shook the room once again, startling Rhaella and snapping her out of her trance. In a reflex of pure fright, she scrambled onto the bed, seeking the safety she longed for. The sudden movement jolted Daenerys and Ser Jorah out of their embrace. Daenerys, still catching her breath, reacted quickly, her maternal instincts kicking in despite the awkwardness of the situation.
"Rhaella! What are you doing here?!" Daenerys asked, her voice tinged with concern and a slight annoyance that her private moment had been disturbed. She swiftly pushed Ser Jorah, causing him to tumble onto the floor beside the bed with a thud.
Timidly, and almost feeling like she was in trouble, Rhaella responded, her voice barely above a whisper, "I was scared... of the thunder."
Daenerys’s expression softened immediately, shifting from the passionate lover to the protective mother in an instant. "Come here, my love," she cooed, opening her arms wide for her daughter. Rhaella didn’t hesitate; she quickly snuggled into her mother's embrace, burying her face into Daenerys’s warm, welcoming chest, finding the comfort she sought as they pulled the covers up around them.
"Syraxes was scared," Rhaella whispered softly to Dany, hugging her stuffed dragon even tighter.
"But she's a dragon, dragons can't be scared," Dany responded gently, stroking her daughter's hair reassuringly.
"But I was scared, does that mean I'm not a dragon?" Rhaella’s voice trembled a little, revealing her innocence and confusion.
"When you get big like Rhaenyra's Syraxes then you'll learn to be fearless," Dany explained patiently. "What did Kepa always say about fear?"
"You can't be brave until you learn to fear?"
"Precisely!" Dany beamed, ruffling her daughter's hair affectionately. Rhaella smiled back, her fear momentarily forgotten. However, another rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, causing Rhaella to scooch closer to her mother. "Don't worry, mama will protect you, okay?"
"Promise?"
"Promise, my sweet."
As they settled in, Rhaella felt the bed shift slightly, though none of them had moved. Then, her mother’s breathing grew heavier again. "Mama?" she called out softly.
"I'm here, sweet pea," Dany assured her, her voice a soothing balm.
"What were you and Ser Bear doing before?" Rhaella's curiosity couldn't be stifled.
Dany seemed to struggle with her focus, her face flushed as if caught in a trance. Suddenly, there was a gentle push from behind her. Her right hand clenched the sheets behind Rhaella tightly. "Wha- oh!" Dany squealed, momentarily caught off guard. "Me and Ser Bear were just—uhm, exercising! That's all," she managed to say, clearly flustered.
"Because mama is fat?" Rhaella asked naively, her question innocent yet direct.
"No no, sweetie, just—ah!" Dany was interrupted by a sudden sensation, forcing her to catch her breath. "Something to pass the time," she gasped lightly.
A forcible tremor seemed to run through Dany's body, causing her to bite her fist, stifling a moan. "Are you okay, mama?"
"I'm fine, sweetie. Why don't you go to sleep, okay? I'll be right here," Dany said, her eyes now tightly closed, her face a mask of mixed pleasure and restraint as her right hand sealed her mouth, muffling another moan.
Rhaella, still half-clinging to her mother yet now more confused than ever, nodded slowly, her eyes heavy with sleep and unanswered questions. As she drifted off, the storm outside seemed to mirror the storm of emotions and sensations swirling around the dimly lit room.
#
Jorah's heart pounded fiercely in his chest, the thrill of their secret liaison under the same roof as the sleeping child adding a layer of adrenaline to their forbidden activities. He pressed his body closer to Dany, their skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat as the storm outside provided a natural cover for their quiet moans.
His large, calloused hand cupped one of Dany's breasts, squeezing gently yet firmly as he felt the hardening nipple beneath his touch. His other hand wandered through her silver-gold unbraided hair, pulling her head back slightly to gain better access to her neck. He planted soft, wet kisses down her throat, each one a silent promise of his restrained desire.
The pace was slow, deliberate—each thrust deep and meaningful as he tried to maintain the delicate balance of pleasure without waking Rhaella. Dany turned her head to lock eyes with him, her expression a mixture of pleasure and caution. "**Be quiet,**" she whispered, her breath a hot whisper against his lips.
Their lips met in a desperate, muted kiss, Jorah's tongue gently probing hers as he continued to move within her. The sound of the rain and the occasional thunder masked the subtle creaking of the bed and their suppressed sighs. Dany's hand found its way to Jorah's cheek, holding him as if she could anchor herself from the waves of pleasure that threatened to make her moan aloud.
His rhythm remained slow, every movement calculated to maximize their pleasure while minimizing the noise. Each slow, deep thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through Dany, her body responding fervently beneath his touch. Jorah felt a surge of affection and lust intertwine, driving him to the brink of his control as he navigated their silent escapade.
Jorah's heart momentarily caught in his throat as Rhaella shifted in her sleep. When the little princess turned away, facing the opposite side of the bed, he and Dany took the silent cue to change their position. With a careful and practiced ease, Dany slowly lifted herself, allowing Jorah to gently roll onto his back without making a sound.
As Dany positioned herself atop him, Jorah could only marvel at the sight. The dim light of the stormy night cast shadows across her body, highlighting the curves and edges of her form in a soft, ethereal glow. She was a vision of clandestine beauty—her eyes heavy with desire, her lips parted slightly.
Jorah held his breath as Dany carefully mounted him, aligning themselves with painstaking caution. She placed her hands on his chest for balance, her fingers tracing the outline of his muscles subtly, sending shivers down his spine. Once secure, she began to move ever so slowly, grinding against him in a rhythm as controlled as it was torturous.
He watched, utterly captivated, as she rose and sank with an unhurried grace. Her breasts swayed gently with the motion, and the look on her face was one of deep focus mixed with undeniable pleasure. It was a dance of shadows and whispers, every movement calculated to keep their activities silent yet brimming with intensity.
Jorah gripped her hips gently but firmly, guiding her movements, synchronizing their pace to ensure maximum pleasure without any risk of waking Rhaella. The sensation of Dany sliding over him, combined with the visual feast of her body in motion, was an exquisite torture. He used every ounce of his willpower to suppress the groans that threatened to spill from his lips.
Their eyes met and held, a silent communication passing between them. In her gaze, he saw not just the queen he served, but the woman he loved, here in this stolen moment, finding solace and passion in each other's arms amidst the chaos of their lives. Amid the stillness and the soft sound of the storm, Jorah felt a connection that went beyond the physical, securing him to this woman, his queen, in ways words could never convey.
As the storm gradually subsided outside, the sounds of rain and wind giving way to a tense silence, the intimate atmosphere in the room deepened. Under the muted echo of the storm's retreat, Dany's struggle to maintain silence became even more crucial. Jorah watched with a blend of admiration and intense desire as she bit down on her lower lip, the effort to stifle her moans visible in the tight set of her jaw and the slight furrow of her brow.
Her free hand occasionally flew to her mouth, pressing against her lips as a particularly deep thrust coaxed a muffled whimper from her. Her silver-gold hair, usually so perfectly styled, now cascaded around her shoulders and back in a wild, tousled mane that bounced with each controlled, slow movement. The sight was unbearably erotic, the rawness of her appearance contrasting sharply with the usual regality Dany carried herself with.
Her breasts moved rhythmically with each subtle motion, the soft light playing over her skin highlighting the gentle curve of each breast and the hard peaks of her nipples. Jorah's hands ached to touch, to caress, but he held back, knowing any additional stimulation might break the careful sound barrier they upheld.
Her stomach, taut and occasionally clenching with the waves of pleasure that Jorah's maneuvers elicited, glistened slightly with a sheen of sweat. The sight of her abdominal muscles flexing subtly in the low light sent a surge of desire through him, making it increasingly difficult to maintain his own silence.
Every detail of her in this moment—the way her hair framed her face, the desperate look in her eyes as she sought to remain quiet, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest—was etched into Jorah's mind, a testament to the intensity and the forbidden thrill of their encounter. As the natural sounds of the night returned, filling the space left by the storm, Jorah and Dany continued their silent ballet, a dance of love and desire played out under the cover of night's returning calm.
As their movements gradually built to a crescendo, the tension between control and release became almost unbearable. Dany's body began to tremble above him, her motions becoming less measured, more desperate. Jorah felt the swell of his own climax approaching, an inevitable force that demanded release. Together, they reached the edge, their bodies synchronized in their need.
With one final, deep grind, they both shuddered, the wave of org*sm washing over them. Dany's eyes clamped shut, a silent scream of release etched onto her beautiful face as her body spasmed in pleasure. Jorah bit his arm to muffle his own moan, his muscles tensing violently as he spilled into her, the ecstasy overwhelming in its intensity and silence.
After a moment of sheer, pulsating aftershocks, Dany hastily, yet gently, dismounted from him, her breath still heavy. She shooed Jorah away with a hurried wave of her hand, her cheeks flushed with post-org*smic glow as she slipped off the bed to wash herself. Jorah, his heart still pounding from their shared release, quickly gathered his scattered clothes. He was about to head to the door, his co*ck still partially erect and swaying as he moved, when he froze. Rhaella was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and unmistakably awake.
Jorah’s face turned a deep shade of red, embarrassment flooding through him as he caught the young princess's gaze. Offering a bashful, apologetic smile, he shuffled towards the door, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on him.
Once outside, the cool air of the hallway hit him, and the gravity of what might happen if Jon ever found out about this night loomed over him like a dark cloud. The thought of facing a painful punishment made his stomach churn. Despite the danger, a part of him whispered that the stolen moments with Dany were worth any consequence.
But for now, Jorah pushed these thoughts aside, focusing instead on the lingering warmth and satisfaction of their encounter, letting the future worry about itself as he made his way back to his own quarters.
