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RHAENYRA

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I will.

[ Obliging, for the moment, in his desire for more praise, but only so far, since out of the two of them, she is the one who is currently unharmed and therefore in a better position to tend to him. In years past, would she have done it so readily, though, especially if there were maesters more qualified to lend their healing touch? Would he have accepted her care, as wife, or considered it as something beneath her as queen?

This strange estate, for all that it has tested them with, has also brought them low, among those who have no knowledge of the war that they are preparing to fight against the other side of their house. With those circumstances stripped away from them here, is there still a need for them to be queen and king consort any longer? Or are the only roles that yet remain those of wife and husband?

Tenderly, Rhaenyra cups the side of Daemon's face, fingers sweeping over skin and back toward the newly shorn ends of his hair, careful in how she sifts through the strands. ]

Do you require assistance with your clothing? [ Since he is lacking an arm, and she has two good hands to lend; she can start running the bath in the meantime, ensuring it is at the level that might be considered scalding by those whose blood is not of the dragon. ]

[bloodstone]

[ Another time, another place, and perhaps he would be more sour, more bitter, more cruel towards her for her sweetness, for the tenderness she gives. For all that this place has given him more to be angry over, more to be enraged by, it has also given him more time to bask in the joy of being with his wife, of enjoying their time together, of being able to do no more than be the married couple they had always enjoyed being.

Daemon makes a better husband and father than he does a brother, it seems, and he permits himself the weakness of relying on his wife for the briefest of moments. He had bent the knee to her, after all, and had given her vow upon vow; he intends to keep those words.

Leaning into her touch, he sighs softly, turning his head to press a kiss to the soft edge of her palm. ]

I can make do.

[ It's not the first time he has been wounded and needed to undress, at least. ]

Will you join me?

[perzo]

[ Rhaenyra's starting is small, slight, but still apparent when it comes. The truth of the matter is that they have not asked each other for such things, in the past — that, for all the nights they have shared a bed and come together with the strong intention of making another heir, of strengthening their line, the nights of sole intimacy became fewer and further in between.

Never had she sought him out during his baths, and the same had been true for him, but he had tended to her so sweetly when she'd needed him the most, quiet and unsettled after her death and resurrection, bathed her with hands as careful and gentle as a maester's — hands that would sooner choose to hold a sword than give comfort to another. Yet comfort he had given, and through them she had been returned to herself.

Rhaenyra nods, quietly, in assent, when he asks — because he's asked, and because she finds she cannot deny him, even if the thought of denial had never crossed her mind to begin with. ]

I will.

[ If this will restore him too, she'll draw him into her arms, let him recline against her body as she curves herself around him, soothe him with kisses as she cleans the singed ends of his hair. There is little she would not do, now, in these moments that are reserved for them alone. ]