The Bathhouse Deflowering

The orange light of dusk filtered in through the shuttered windows. The bathhouse was deserted, save for Rhaenyra, who was basking amidst the bubbles in the middlemost of the great stone baths of the Red Keep. There were three large ones in total, each situated in its own recess in the stone floor, and sitting nearly side-by-side. She had her arms resting behind her, on the raised lip of her own bath. She suspected she might have gone overboard with the bubbles, they filled so much of the bath that in places it was difficult to see the water. Washing had been the first thing she'd done once she'd disrobed and gotten in, and now she'd been sitting in quiet contentment for long enough that the suds had crept up her midriff and onto her bare breasts, covering much of them in a layer of white foam. The casual observer might see the enticing swells peeping out from it at the bottom, but little else.

Her eyes were closed, and she was trying her best to let her thoughts and worries drift away on the steam rising off the water all around her. The servants she'd sent away, seeing no reason she couldn't simply attend to herself for the duration of her soak, and wanting to be able to undress and warm herself in peace. Thus far, that had been a most successful endeavour, but all that changed with an unsettling shiver that ran the length of her spine. She sensed it rather than heard it: the subtlest shift in the air, barely a hint of a whisper, but unmistakably there. Someone had entered, somehow without so much as a sound. She kept her eyes shut; she'd never admit it, even to herself, but the sudden, silence arrival of another left her startled, perhaps even...frightened. Who's there? she wanted to say, but the words would not come. "I wonder if you're asleep, or if you're simply trying to ignore me." When he spoke, it was so sudden she almost jumped, her heart thundering behind all those bubbles, until she began to recognise it. "I wonder if you're asleep, or if you're simply trying to ignore me." It was a rich, familiar voice, one she'd thought about almost as many times as she'd heard. "...Uncle?" Rhaenyra's lips parted in surprise, her eyes fluttering open as she sat there, trying and failing to will herself into a response.

Daemon Targaryen regarded her imperiously, giving her a thin gash of a smile with a mouth that looked as if it had been carved into his face with the point of a knife. He wore a flowing white undershirt and a pair of black breeches, his feet still clad in leather riding boots. The shirt was unbuttoned too much, allowing a wispy section of fine, light chest hair escaping through the gap in it. "Trying to ignore me, then," he remarked. His eyes were flecks of amethyst, narrowed in a kind of benign scrutiny. "I suspected as much."
"I..." Rhaenyra cleared her throat, attempting to push past her surprise and re-establish the usual tone of airy, rhythmic bantering that so often defined their meetings. "I could...hardly be expected to know you would be so bold as to interrupt a lady when she is bathing." The smile she returned found her lips easily, she did not need to pretend to be happy to see him. He raised an eyebrow, the hairs on it so pale the muscles beneath were more visible than the thing itself. "Lady? What lady? I see only my foolish niece before me." He raised a hand and gestured toward her. "And what a vision she is."
Rhaenyra had the urge to look down and check if anything was showing that should not be, but she knew it would only let him see her insecurity if she did. She shifted slightly on the spot. "Indeed, but not a vision you should be partaking in... I think. It is bold of you to be here at all."
Daemon shrugged, breaking eye contact to glance briefly at one of the walls. He does not wish to linger on me too long, lest I see the hunger in his gaze, she thought to herself, and then, We are much alike, mine Uncle and I.
"'Tis true," Daemon was saying, when her attention returned fully to him. "I have never wanted for boldness; I suspect it's a trait my beloved brother has long envied me for."
Rhaenyra pursed her lips; she misliked that. Her uncle was prone to these little jabs at Father, and despite her... admiration for him, she had never quite been able to accept his willingness to make them. "The King has weathered his fair share of storms with grace and dignity," she said, defensively, "and there are many in his court who trust and believe in his wisdom."
Daemon waved a hand dismissively. "They trust him because he is their King, no doubt they would trust a lackwit if you stripped him of his motley and placed a crown upon his sloping brow." He sighed wearily. "I suspect no other has ever believed in him quite so readily as the Late Queen." He bowed his head solemnly. "But of course she is the Late Queen. Your mother is missed by us all, of course, but the truth of the matter id that the dead make for poor councillors." Daemon's smirk faded, his demeanour momentarily taking on a mournful quality, and then it was gone, and the fire was back in him. "But enough about old wounds and the chattering of the glorious dead. I suppose you're wondering why I've come."
"Well, it had crossed my mind. Am I correct in assuming it has something to do with the drawing of a bath?" Rhaenyra looked over at the adjacent recessions in the floor, both of them empty at present. Of course it didn't, she knew very well it didn't. He was here for her, and they both knew it, but that was not the game. The game dictated each of them pretend they did not know the thinking of the other, and that all that followed was a succession of spur of the moment decisions and innocent slippages into impropriety. It was not a game whose rules they had ever discussed, it simply was. To acknowledge it was to risk destroying it completely, not entirely unlike a soap bubble. Daemon made a face and shook his head. "In a manner of speaking, but only in a manner of speaking." He paced up and down the far edge of the bath, the heels of his boots clacking loudly on the floor. "My intention was to clean myself, but when I arrived and saw your woman on the door, it became clear to me that all was not as I thought it would be."
Rhaenyra cupped her chin in her hand, gazing at him in a distinctly dreamy fashion. "You might have summoned some of the other servants back to fill one of the others."
"Aye, I might have, but I feared the deed would take up what remained of the day..."
"And my woman on the door?"
"Her duties called her... elsewhere."
"Ah," Rhaenyra was giddy with excitement, but on the surface she was all subtle, smouldering intensity. As Daemon moved back and forth, the warm orange light evenly played across his face, and when Rhaenyra gazed at the floor, she noticed the shadows had grown longer. They did not have much daylight left to them, that much was true. "Mmm," Rhaenyra eyed him coquettishly. "What will you do instead, then? Would it be such a trouble for you to come back on the morrow?" Her legs drifted into view, cresting the foamy white mountains that covered most of her body. Two bare, delicate feet broke through them to rest o'er their tops, and with the motion came the popping of the bubbles gathered around the tops of her legs, and the hidden glory just above. The foam broke and slid away to reveal the diagonal creases that joined upper thighs and groin, shaping the patch that concealed her modesty into a sensuous, eye-catching triangle. The bubbles quivered there, the innermost ones popping excitably as they touched the skin of her virgin cunny. Daemon swept his hair back over his shoulders as he shook his head, pretending not to notice his niece's increasing exposure. "More trouble than you might think. Fighting pirates is difficult work, Rhaenyra, and I've been fighting for weeks.
Tis dirty work in every sense, and it's been too long since I last had a proper bath. At present, I would like nothing more than to clean myself and soak for a while in the heat..." he trailed off, staring down into the bubbly body of the bath. "I'm sure you can, in light of all I have suffered, understand the depths of my desire..." His eyes were on her creases, and then they drifted across to the triangular bush of bubbles that stood between her flower and the open air.

Rhaenyra felt herself blush. Oh, yes, she most certainly could. "I...I do, to be sure...but I'm sure you understand that there is more at play here than just your... cleanliness."
Daemon raised a thin, wispy eyebrow. "Oh? What might that be, pray tell?"
"Things you have not thought of; appearances of... propriety!" Rhaenyra swallowed. "Considerations of... my virtue!"
"Ah," he closed his eyes and nodded sagely. "That. But you wound me, niece. Tis not true at all that I have not thought of such. Why, I've spent many a night alone in my tent, making considerations on the subject of your virtue. My dreams were occupied with it more often than not. Some mornings, it was the first thing that came to mind when I woke, and I was thinking of it still when one messenger or another came to me with the latest missive from the Sea Snake's camp."
Rhaenyra inhaled, droplets of sweat gathering at her collarbone like shimmering jewels on a priceless necklace. He is brazen about his wants, even moreso than usual. It will not take much to draw him in.
His eyes were glittering shards of amethyst, crystallised within the dark, earthen furrows of their sockets, and she understood then what he wanted more than anything else, in this first phase of their little game. He wants to feel as if he is drawing me further inward against my will, that his silver tongue is crafting a circle all around me.
He wanted a naive girl he would have to take, rather than a wily princess who could give as good as she got. Here, finesse would be required, else he might tire of the game prematurely, and she knew exactly how to go about it. She allowed herself to become the nervous, bashful virgin. "I... I do not think that is quite such a good idea, Daemon. I am still a maid, after all, yet to be wedded. If people knew we had shared a bath... there would be concerns, people would begin to talk."
A dismissive wave of his hand. "Let them, the only ones who matter would know the truth."
"The whispers would find the King's ear," Rhaenyra pointed out.
"We would find it first." Daemon cocked his head. "Where the throne is concerned we are, both of us, closer at hand than most, are we not?" The amethysts of his eyes were alive with an easy, wicked delight. Is that how I look, when I am in my mischief? Rhaenyra wondered, as she watched the light twinkle and dance within them. She was enjoying this sparring match, but he was backing her into a corner, marshalling arguments like cavalry and vanguard on either side of her. "But Daemon—"
Suddenly, his hand was Dark Sister, he made a blade of its edge and made a chopping motion, as if physically cutting her off with it. "Niece," was all he needed to say, and she was as putty in his hands. It took everything she had not to wriggle excitedly on the spot. She had to maintain her cool, because that was the game and the game was paramount to the fun of the whole thing. They were close, now. Close enough that she could already taste him. There was one course of action that remained to her, just one hollow bit of protest and then the real business could begin. She would have to get it right, though. It would have to seem so authentic as to be unimpeachable. There would need to be a measure of truth in it, too, someone else's if not her own...

That was when she thought of Alicent, of her silly, virginal objections to even the lightest and least consequential of pranks, picturing the downwards curve of her mouth, the furrow in her brow, the hesitancy in her body language. Rhaenyra imagined herself as the shrinking violet, her capacity for humiliation so great and so sensitive that she would become impossibly flustered at the mere suggestion of impropriety. "Oh, Nuncle..." she whined, putting on a show of looking terribly embarrassed as she wrapped her arms around her bare, bubbly breasts "I'm...I'm all naked... They would question it, even call it untoward. 'There goes the Rogue Prince' they would say, he who shared a tub with his..." Here, she sank a tad lower into the water, lowering her face closer to the steam to make it glow a tad brighter. "Niece."
Daemon smirked, and when he spoke next it was in the melodic tones of High Valyrian. "You think I care one whit what the whisperers would say of me?" He threw back his head and laughed, loudly and deliberately. "Can you truly be so foolish as to think I spend my days fretting about which matters the realm chooses to gossip?"
"I know who you are, nuncle. I can hardly bring myself to forget..."
"I can be glad of that then, at least. But I wonder if you've forgotten the noble bearing of our forebears? You crow and titter like a babe at play, and call me 'nuncle' as if the blood we share should be some... some..." He grasped for the proper phrase. "Point of shame! I ask you, do you think the Conqueror feared sharing a bath with his sisters?"
Rhaenyra batted her eyelashes in a nervous pattern. "But Daemon..." She pouted innocently. "Aegon's sisters were his wives..."
Daemon smiled and grabbed the hem of his shirt, then threw it up over his head and onto the floor. As he straightened up, the lines and contours of his bare chest gleaming like marble in the dying light. "No, he said, softer than she'd ever thought possible for him. "Aegon's wives were his sisters..." He attended to his boots next, unlacing and kicking them off with alarming dexterity. "The bonds of blood and the bonds of marriage are not one and the other, not for us," he continued, fiddling with the drawstring of his breeches. Rhaenyra held her breath in barely-concealed anticipation, as she watched him do it; she'd long ached with curiosity regarding what Daemon concealed beneath his clothes. His tirade will surely have his blood up, she guessed, and perhaps another thing or two with it.
There was a long pause, Daemon's grip the only thing keeping his breeches held up. He wants me to want it, Rhaenyra realised. He wants to see that I want him as badly as he wants me! She met his eyes, and saw in them a desire stark and furious as dragonfire. Breathing hard and lusty, Rhaenyra smiled, and let out another giggle. The laughter was nervous, airy, girlish, but the eyes were determined and sultry. Let me see you, little man, she tried to make them say. Let me see all of you.
"I... I think I'm beginning to see what you're saying, nuncle."
"Good," Daemon said, lapsing back into the common tongue. "For there is only truly one way to see it." After the demonstration of Valyrian, it sounded clumsy and brutish, a language of turnip farmers and goatherds, of rain and peat and miles upon miles of lumpen, lifeless countryside. Daemon returned her smile, and, with a flourish, he pushed his breeches down to let them puddle at his feet. Rhaenyra's eyes bulged as her uncle's cock sprang free, and her mouth seemed to fill quite suddenly with a large quantity of excess saliva. Daemon's prick was a princely polearm if she'd ever seen one, a sizeable pillar of girth that dangled perhaps halfway down his upper thighs. A lightly-pruned thatch of coarse white hairs crowded o'er the top, and the wrinkled sack hung close at hand beneath it. The thing itself was crowned by a covering of skin, pulled taut over a thick, round head that bulged within it like a fist inside a glove a size or so too small, and further up the shaft veins ran along and around like cracks in a drum tower's brickwork. What was more, Rhaenyra was sure that whenever Daemon snuck a glance at her breasts, her bubble-covered cunny, or even her face, it grew a half-inch or so longer and rose quarter-centimetre or thereabouts higher, and her thing would ache all the more to receive him. She began tracing circles in the water's surface, shifting a patch of bubbles this way and that without looking. She wasn't sure exactly how to take it, at once flattered, aroused and terrified. She supposed it was the rare sort of weapon a girl might wish to find herself impaled upon, or else using to teach herself the dangerous art of sword-swallowing. She supposed he was going to get in with her now, and then... well, she didn't want to speculate too much on what would happen after that, it just might spoil half the fun!

[Author's Note: I always enjoy and appreciate feedback in terms of what's working and what isn't, so please feel free to like and/or leave comments!]