They are the ones whose souls desire freedom. They are those who can both destroy the world and allow it to flourish. They are dragons. Dragons dancing in fire. But the flame is not deadly, but bountiful.
The story of Dayraena of House Gelarion, rid...
Milky curls covered the woman's body like a blanket. They hid her neck, her breasts, and part of her thighs from the man's scrutiny. Then the violet eyes fell upon the most beautiful face he had ever seen. The graceful features were imprinted in his memory forever. From the moment he met this perfect woman her image never left his mind. The plump pink lips were ajar. They drew the eye to them and beckoned, as if desiring kisses. Her long eyelashes twitched, indicating that the owner of the lovely features was waking up.
She opened her eyes.
The man froze, staring into the unusual and dearly loved eyes. One sparkled with a dark blue fire, and the other with a dark purple. He, mesmerized by the magical eyes, seemed to stop breathing. Even though the dragon prince had seen them every day for several years now, he still couldn't get enough of his wife's multi-coloured eyes, which looked at him with love and warmth. There was always fire blazing in them, even when the woman was calm. A magical fire. Dangerous fire. Sometimes even icy fire, but so... beautiful and alluring.
The man went crazy looking at this woman. Beautiful and beloved. His woman. Dayraena Gelarion changed not only his life, but his own. Spunky and loving, calm and sincere, wise and feminine. He loved no one in his life as he loved this woman.
Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince, rider of the Blood Warm Caraxes, owner of the Dark Sister. Bold, cunning, clever, at times reckless, brash and fiery. He is a man who would not bend his knee to anyone but a king, but to Dayraena Gelarion the man was willing to bow not only his knees but also his head.
He and Lady Gelarion first met at the wedding of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velarion. That's where their story began. Dayraena caught his attention as soon as he entered the hall. The loveliest of the ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, or maybe the whole world, went to him. Daemon Targaryen. And now, in Pentos, in the mansion the prince had bought for him and Dayraena, he was enjoying a peaceful life with his beloved.
Damon smiled gently at the awakened woman. Dayraena, previously lying on her side, rolled over onto her back, stretching sweetly. The white waves slid off her body, exposing it completely to Damon's gaze. He pulled the woman to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. Dayraena snuggled into her husband, merging with him in a sleepy, lazy, tender kiss. Her dainty fingers buried themselves in the prince's silver hair, squeezing lightly. Daemon liked it when she did that. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away slightly, meeting his lover's misty gaze. The prince's hand slid across the smooth white skin to the woman's thigh and threw her dainty leg over himself, helping her to sit up. Dayraena leaned her arms on the prince's torso and smiled contentedly, looking down at Damon. There were no thoughts in her head, only warmth and joy in her soul. The man licked his thin lips, looking at the woman's adoringly perfect body.
"Ñuha gevie abrazyrys..."(my beautiful wife)
He whispered, running his fingertips over her rounded thighs. Dayraena covered her eyes, enjoying her husband's caress. Milky curls flowed down her shoulders, her breasts, her back, and then lay on the prince's stomach, tickling her skin lightly.
"Ñuha merbugon vakzyrys..." (my insatiable husband), she said softly as she felt the man's strong hands squeeze her hips. Her lips parted in a kind grin. They'd enjoyed each other almost all night long, and Daemon couldn't get enough. He didn't want to leave the woman he loved for even a moment. Though Dayraena enjoyed the prince's attention, the stormy nights wore her out, and sometimes she slept until noon.
A pleasant warm breeze blew in from the balcony and tickled her naked skin. The translucent curtains swelled, yielding to its pressure. From outside came the singing of birds and the voices of servants who had gone to prepare their lords breakfast. Bright sunlight streamed into the couple's chambers, flooding everything around them with light.
Damon took the snow-white long strand in his hand and ran it through his fingers. He loved her hair, and she knew it, so she hardly ever cut it. Damon sometimes even brushed it as Dayraena sat at the table, admiring her lover's reflection in the mirror. They were perfect. Dragons that found peace in each other's hearts.
Dayraena intertwined their fingers, pressing her hands against the crumpled sheet and leaning closer to her husband. Her nipples touched his chest and her plump lips kissed his neck. Daemon covered his eyes, reveling in his wife's actions. She left kisses in various places, going down to his collarbones, but then pulled away, peering into the man's face. Sparks of desire danced in her variegated eyes, but now was not the time to let her excitement go to waste.
"It's time to get up, ñuha jorrāelagon," Dayraena whispered, but was in no hurry to get off the prince.
"Can't your sister wait a few more hours?" sighed Damon. His hands were released from his wife's grip, and now rested on her waist.
"When else can I see her? You know how much I care for her..." she spoke softly. Her soft, velvety voice enveloped her, making her listen to every word.
"But you still have time until tomorrow night."
"And you and I have many decades. You'll still have time to get enough of me."
Damon sighed, realizing that he couldn't hold on to his wife. It almost never had. Dayraena was the only woman besides Rhaenyra who could defy him and disobey him. Only Lady Gelarion could control Damon and only he could do it to her. The woman slid from the prince to the floor and with her always soft, smooth and quiet gait walked to the mirror and picked up her comb.
"I'm afraid I'll never stop wanting you," Damon grinned, rolling over on his side and watching the woman's actions. Her skin and hair seemed to glow in the sunlight, and Dayraena seemed utterly unreal. Goddess.
The willful dragon had long ago recognized the woman's power over his body, mind, heart, and soul. Most beautiful and beloved, gentle and understanding. Next to this woman, the brash and hot-tempered prince disappeared, giving way to a caring and loving husband. He allowed only her to see himself this way. Only Dayraena of house Gelarion.
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