THE DANCE OF STORM AND SUN, PART II

After mocking whispers, biting down on his ear, and fumbling around between his legs, Althea had managed to break down Daemon’s resistance to her own resistance. But when he forced her off of him, she gazed back at him with a blushed face and eyes that looked just as startled as his own. And then, she laughed. Not a venomous or wicked chuckle, but a joyful laugh. Daemon didn’t understand, nor would he get a chance to. Lord Karstark raised his hand and the thundering footsteps surrounded the newlyweds. Northern men carried Althea off, kicking and struggling, and their female counterparts pulled Daemon out of his chair. They giggled as they led him through unfamiliar halls, tugging at his clothes and undoing his doublet. All the while, he could feel his feet drag along stone and his heart beat faster and faster.

The ladies brought Daemon, naked and red-faced, in front of a wooden door. He barely had a chance to regain his balance before they opened it, pushed him inside, and slammed it behind him. Their giggles and cackles joined in harmony with the men’s guffaws, harmless but embarrassing sounds now separated by wood and stone. But, in a second, those noises drifted off, and then he couldn’t hear them at all, for the gravity of his situation had finally revealed itself and numbed his senses to anything else.
The room was spacious, open to the world through its balcony yet closed off for their privacy. The bed stood in the center, and the thin curtains that hung from its upper panel swayed with the gentle caress of the northern winds. As for the sheets, well…Althea sat on the far edge of the bed, wrapped in their snow white embrace. It was almost as if she had put back on her house’s wintry cloak, seeking its protection.

For a few moments, Daemon stood with his back to the door in utter silence. All kinds of emotions flooded him – fear that Althea would hurt him, pressure to do his duty, hope that he would wake from slumber that night, embarrassment at the ladies who stripped him prior to pushing him inside. And, most of all, fear of the uncertain, for this was his first time standing before a woman naked with his hairs and manhood unhidden from her sight – not that she looked, curled up and back turned. Yet Daemon would always be himself, and after a few deep and quiet breathes he regained some of his composure.

There’s no turning back. Not for either of us. He slowly walked around the bed, forcing Althea to acknowledge him by walking in front of her, bare and doing his best to not let his meekness show itself on his face. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at his beautiful, fierce wife. Would she look back at him? She looked so … shy, submissive. ‘Proud and fierce at the table, smitten and submissive in the bed’, she had mocked. Yet that was exactly how she looked to him now – save for being smitten, of course.

“You’re afraid after all? I’ll admit how surprising that is after you had a taste of my ear,” he stated matter-of-factly, hoping to address their awkward tension with bluntness.

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‘I’m not tasting anything else of yours’, she said, and Daemon’s face blushed so red it made Lannister crimson look like a pale gray.

“Th-that’s not what I meant,” he stuttered hurriedly, almost biting down on his tongue when he spoke. Daemon, renowned for maintaining his composure and handling most situations with tact, had finally encountered his weakness. All of the awkwardness, lack of experience, unfamiliarity with his new wife – everything knocked him out of his comfort zone and onto a battlefield he had never fought on before. But even in his reddening embarrassment, Daemon’s eyes could not help but subconsciously trail along the ridges of the bed sheets Althea wrapped herself in. They naturally gazed at where their white cotton edges met Althea’s smooth pale skin...

Althea had looked away from his manhood when he first walked in front of her, but after concealed glances and shouting at him, it seemed she grew slightly more comfortable acknowledging it. But even if Daemon noticed, he knew better than to assume that she was ready for what they had to do. Not even he was ready, though he understood his duties and expectations well. When Althea looked up at his face, she would see the same expressions of anxiety and discomfort reflect back at her. It seemed to make her more comfortable, as if she finally found something in which the two of them shared.

It took Daemon a few seconds to understand what Althea wanted when she shuffled over. After realizing, Daemon took a quieted breath and sat himself on her right, his form still bare and fully revealed. He bent over, placing his arms and hands over himself to make his new wife a bit more at ease – if that was even possible at this point. When Althea asked him her question, even worded in a way to dance around the reality before them, Daemon softly muttered in response.

“Never. This is a first for me, too. I’ve always been afraid of it, but...I think it’s more than that. I’ve always focused on my house, on readying myself to be a lord. I never wanted to visit brothels. I’ve never wanted to lay with some whore somewhere. I thought that would be unbecoming of me, no matter what my father thinks on the matter.”

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Daemon replied to Althea’s jest with the weakest of chuckles. Whereas Althea felt more relieved, Daemon felt more pressured with each passing second. His heart screamed, as if it started to pull itself across his chest. Was he supposed to just strip those sheets off of her, without warning or restraint? Or was he expected to play the role of a gentle man and let his new wife have her awkward laughs before comfortably revealing herself? Whereas Daemon acted with a consistent cold determination, Althea acted with fickle passion. He still couldn’t read her, curled up in white at his side. No doubt those who still lingered outside the room eagerly awaited the sounds of a creaking bed and pleasured moans. Would they be growing suspicious at this moment? Daemon had a hard time calming himself, even if his outward appearance suggested nothing of the sort.

As his chuckle died, Daemon just sat in stillness, heart racing in his chest. When Althea next spoke up, and he turned to look at her, he saw her glance had changed. She was studying him, he realized. Not just the black bristle on his chin nor the frozen look of his eyes. She was also looking into him, sizing him up soul and all. And what did she discover? That he was a ‘soft man’. Daemon turned his head away from her, not entirely hurt but not pleased with her words. “Only when I have to be,” he lied.

But Althea could read men and emotions better than Daemon ever would. She reassured him that his softness was okay with her, that she could keep it a secret. He turned back to look upon her, his own glare filled with uncertainty and confusion. Why was she suddenly so...relatable, so open? “Not too long ago you told me you’d never be mine. You even bit me. But you’ll keep my secrets? I’d like it if you made up your mind.” She answered him with her own awkward admittance, and Daemon had expected her truth. As if his father would marry him to a woman who had already lost her virtue. Daemon’s eyes left Althea to watch the motions of her swaying feet as they escaped the folds of the sheets. Then, a soft laugh, and a slow start toward what they had to do.

“Would you take off those sheets, my lady?” he asked sheepishly, both out of a desire to do his duty and to not feel alone in his nakedness.

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She returned to her defensiveness, bringing the bed sheets tighter around her figure to shield from Daemon’s words. “N-no,” He blurted out, still surprised with how easily Althea’s mood shifted from reservation to fury. He sighed, letting his heart slow and his head cool. Daemon could not combat Althea’s fluid and powerful emotions in kind. He would have to resort to his calm and dispassionate levelheadedness, if he could. Their situation put him at a disadvantage, though neither he nor her truly felt at ease. “But biting my ear isn’t really acting with decency, my lady,” he said, grinning weakly.

And then, the fire between them died down once more. Silence and stillness and silver moonlight filled that space, and only after a long moment did Althea finally concede. The snow white fabrics uncoiled around her and slowly fell to the floor. At last, he could look upon her now. Though he knew she was voluptuous and very fair of face, the way her skin gleamed under the moon instantly captivated him.

The shimmer of light that reflected off her smooth black curls and the slight blush of her body – Daemon could feel his heart beat rising, among other things. No matter how cold he seemed, he was still just another man, prone to the allure of a beautiful woman – no matter how easily they clashed. It was only their first night together, after all. Still, as he gazed upon her naked form, Daemon could not deny his most basic desire. He wanted her, and suddenly thoughts of his duty gave way to thoughts of lust. He shifted his body to face hers, the black hairs of his chest and below revealed. He moved his arms out from between his legs and pressed down on the bed to support himself as he leaned toward his wife. His eyes trailed around the visible curves of her body, taking them all in. No more hiding, for either one of them.

Of course, he had to kiss her. Noble ladies, northern and southern, liked that kind of thing, right? Just be gentle, he thought to himself, and maybe she won’t kill you. Perhaps you can both still enjoy this. He brought his rough right hand to the left side of her face and cupped her cheek. It felt lukewarm, the heat of her blush radiating in his palm. His thumb then trailed to her chin and he raised it up softly, gently. His eyes gazed into hers and held their stare for several seconds before he closed them and slowly brought his face to hers, bringing their lips and breath into one.

ASHARA MARTELL

Before he drew into her, Daemon could clearly see the frightened tint in Althea’s eyes. In that brief moment, they gazed at each other bare in both body and heart. He saw her unconcealed anxiety, her walls of fiery spirit and confidence cast aside with the bed sheets. In turn, she looked upon a man who had the same fears but a sudden and strange surge of confidence, one spurred on by natural lust. When their lips locked and they breathed life into each other, he could feel her tongue lick the front of his teeth, and her hands run up the rough curls of hair on his chest. Her touch only energized him further, and the typically reserved Daemon Baratheon pressed himself up closer to Althea and her hand wrapped around his neck.

But she couldn’t deal with both the shortening of breath and her crumbling confidence for very long. Althea abruptly broke free of his mouth to regain her breath, resting her chin on his shoulder. He could feel her soft and curvaceous chest press up against his own, their hearts beating quickly and in disunion. It felt strange, and it felt good. Daemon had dreaded this moment earlier, for he feared it would come unnaturally to him. And he worried that Althea would struggle against his advances. Instead, she rested on him, afraid but willing, and far more submissive than he had expected.

His left arm wrapped around her upper back, while his right reached around her lower. He pressed her even closer to him, and gently began to lower her onto the bed. As they fell, he brought his left arm further up and cupped the back of her head, strands of black hair enveloping his fingers. When she landed, he rose up just enough to move himself more atop her, her chin falling off of his shoulder. Then, he brought his face back to hers for a brief moment, tongue playing with tongue, body pressed against body, before he himself drew back for breath.

“Am I hurting you, my lady?”


ASHARA MARTELL

She chuckled meekly, her face gazing up at his in an uneasy shyness. Daemon had many impressions of Althea throughout that night. At times, she was a ferocious vixen, and at others a surprisingly open and honest woman. But, as she lay naked right below him, blushing and coy, Daemon realized that she was not just an alluring beauty. Althea was cute, too, though he doubted other men had ever seen this side of her. That just captivated further in that moment, in her, and he felt himself harden down below. He waited silently for her response, staring down at her in awe and concern.

His lady responded in a manner both cuter and more tempting than her sweet chuckle. Her lower body shifted closer to him, legs widening and her knees rubbing against the side of his hips. Daemon slowly started to lower himself — and felt his body jerk to an abrupt stop as a series of loud bangs threatened their intimate moment. His head glared at the wooden door, as if stabbing through to pierce the hearts of the impatient and unwelcome guests behind it. ‘Don’t they still have a bloody feast to enjoy?’

Then, a soft and wet kiss on the tip of his nose. Slowly, his head turned back down to gaze at the gorgeous lady below him, moonlight brightening her pale skin and black hair. He had his answer. ‘They can holler and shout for eternity, Others take them. To think the very same women who bit my ear at dinner is lying below me like this. She’s…nothing else matters.’

Patient and controlled as he was, Daemon couldn’t bear to wait any longer. He enveloped Althea in his arms once again as he lowered himself back onto her, returning his face to hers. Slowly, carefully, he brought his hips to hers…and they were one…

ASHARA MARTELL

It’s getting cold.

Althea had returned to a cocoon of white, wreathed in snow colored sheets. She faced away from him and lay in the light of the moon. Daemon faced the ceiling of their room on the other side of the bed, still uncovered with his body partly obscured in shadow. His heart beat had steadily lowered since they finished, and Daemon felt his warmth flee from him as the colder night winds found their way into the room. But its frigid touch was nothing like the deafening silence that once again inched in between them.

His wife had returned to the same quiet as when they first met. It felt like an eternity ago, when Daemon and Althea stood face to face outside the great hall of her home. But so much had happened since. The sun set, they wed, and they bed. She yelled at him, teased him, mocked him, kissed him, and more – so much interaction and many new sensations must have drained her of feeling for the rest of the night, if that was possible. They had only spent part of that day together, but Daemon already understood that his wife possessed far too much emotion to carry on deadpan and unfeeling, no matter how tiring or painful their consummation had been for her.

Daemon shifted onto his side, gazing at her covered back. She looked like a mass of messy black curls sticking out of a mound of snow. It disheartened him to see her change her behavior so quickly. It made him feel that he had erred, that leaving behind his typically cold and controlled self to give into passion for one moment had called out too much of his instinct and pushed her away. Yet he recalled that she seemed to like it, leading up to and during the act. Daemon sighed. She held all the truths of the matter. He was the lord husband, but the master of this relationship would undoubtedly be the sea of emotions that refused to face him now.

“It’s not nice to let your new husband freeze alone on his wedding night.”

ASHARA MARTELL