[ Some of Rhaenyra's initial imperiousness dissolves in the wake of that kiss — tender, but searing, and conjuring a whimper from her in kind. For so long, she'd only ever attempted to meet Daemon with defiance, even when he draped her in his gifts and looked at her far longer than an uncle should consider his niece. Yet she's learned, in the wake of their reconciliation, that it is not a sign of weakness for him to discover that she can soften in his arms. She would much rather they not be queen and king consort behind closed doors, but much closer to wife and husband. ]

I would. [ She says it insistently, but her voice loses some of its resolve with a subtle hitch of breath, the consequence of relief at having him by her side again. While she could not have begrudged him his desire to avenge the deaths their family has endured, she had dreaded the outcome, and mourned his loss as deeply as any other their line had sustained over the previous fortnight.

Her fingers curl in his, reflexively, as he brushes that kiss over them, but then she intentionally slips free of his grasp. ] I'm going to tie you to our bed so that your every moment, whether it be waking or sleeping, is dedicated to my service.

[ Based on the slow, intentional arch of her eyebrow, it's clear that this is a threat — or promise — she intends to deliver on, at least for the length of this night between them. ]