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Nothing could ever prepare her for driving in a car, alone with Daemon Targaryen. It had nothing to do with how much she wanted to be bent over in the back seat. The moment her arse was planted in the front seat, she was reminded of how he crashed her Rolls-Royce into another, and she was reminded again when he hit 70 in a school zone.
She had been worried her self-control would be the death of her, but now she was fairly certain it was going to be a heart attack. That was if she was lucky. "Slow the fuck down!" Rhaenyra finally snapped, and he was casually sitting back as if nothing on this planet could bother him. The Tesla was beautiful and spacious and she couldn't even enjoy it.
Instead, she was clutching her pillow to her body as if it were a second airbag. "Calm down. It's just a bit over the speed limit."
They both glanced at the speed meter where it read 97. "I will not sit up here and wait to die!" Rhaenyra unbuckled, and he didn't slow as she crawled to the back seat.
"You are so dramatic," Daemon stated with a snort that didn't at all make him attractive.
"The center rear seat is the safest place in the car," she said, strapping herself in and holding her pillow in front of her. Daemon laughed from the front, and moments later she felt the car begin to slow. "You can go two miles an hour, I'm not sitting up there. Every seat but this one is the death seat."
"I was just playing," he told her and they made eye contact from the rearview mirror. Now that they were slowing, her heart had begun to slow as well. "You can come back up." As if emphasizing his point, he lightly pats the front seat with his palm and a grin that made her want to both smack his face and sink her teeth into it.
She breathed out through her nose, clearing her mind of those thoughts, and said, "No. Imma nap for two hours."
She laid her pillow to her left, and went to rest her head when she nearly fell forward from his sudden break and consequence rise of speed. "My bad, my bad," Daemon said, despite her having nearly punched herself in the face.
"Uncle," she began already feeling the extent of his presence in the small car.
"Just crawl back up here. You're making me feel like an Uber driver," he said carefully, and she let out a soft hum, reaching over to her bag where her water rested.
"No. I don't trust you," Rhaenyra said instead, her eyes narrowed as she brought her thermos to her lips and went to drink. This was when he hit the brakes again, likely pissing off the light traffic of NYC at six in the morning. Water splashed from her thermos, drenching her top and sloshing down her neck. Of course, she always filled it with ice, and pieces of star-shaped frozen water promptly went under her shirt and burrowed into her bra.
"Oops," Daemon said, nonchalantly, but her jaw only clenched as she reached into her bra to pull out a star. She made eye contact with him in from that same rearview mirror, the pressure of his intense gaze filling her as she pulled out the single piece and tossed it at him.
"Very funny, uncle," she said, noting that he had changed to the speed limit in the small neighborhood. She extended her seatbelt and leaned forward next to him. "Do you have a napkin, or have you truly forsaken me?"
He scoffed, reaching past her into the glove box and pulling out a small box of napkins. She could smell him as he moved, the aroma of his cologne making her dizzy, and pushing away what an dick he had been since he arrived. Likely since he was born. She reached over for the box, giving in to the urge. She pressed her lips to his cheek in thanks, and she wanted more at the first touch of his skin. When she pulled away, his grip had tightened on the steering wheel before he relaxed.
"Thanks," she said with a sneer before she poured the remainder of her thermos onto his lap.
He barely made a sound, he just pulled over, parallel parking with ease as she made a squeak, trying to back away when he turned around. He unbuckled his seatbelt, his black slacks soaked and his irritation palpable. "Rhaenyra."
"You started it," she said quickly, attempting to move further away, but forgot she was still strapped in. He already got out of the car and opened the back in the time it took her to unstrap her seatbelt and attempt to go out the opposite door. She barely got it open before he had gripped her by the waist and tossed her on her back, sprawled onto the back seat.
She let out a nervous laugh, the door she had opened already closing as he caged her into his legs. "I just had this car reupholstered," he told her, indicating the high-grade leather that felt especially amazing now that her legs were pressed into it at this very moment. She chose the wrong day to wear a skirt, not only because it was freezing outside, but mostly due to his hand on her upper thigh, holding it to his hip.
"You started it," she repeated, her voice cracking as the feelings she didn't want began to rise inside her, before they all lowered straight down and heated. She couldn't breathe, her chest was rising and falling so fast that she was nearly worried he might think she was having an asthma attack. One of his hands was on her thigh, the other was on her waist, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest she had ever been.
"You're right," he said lowly, his eyes dilated upon her, staring down, through her, and in those short moments, she wondered if what she had was a sickness. A sickness that he caught because an uncle didn't hold their niece like this. They certainly wouldn't be squeezing their niece's thigh and their fingertips wouldn't be grazing the underside of their arse the way his were at this moment.
Then again, it wouldn't be the first time she misread him. Daemon wasn't a static creature, and instead, morphing and changing, and molding into new ideas as they occurred to him. Did any of that foreknowledge help in any way, shape, or form? Of course not, because here she was, fluttering her lashes and 'adjusting' her hips as if she wanted to get away. Instead, she ended up rubbing against the knee that was currently in between her thighs.
It was only all the years of practice that kept her face absent of emotion. He was no longer smiling, glancing down between where their hips nearly met, before moving back to her face. They were both covered in water, and under normal conditions, this would have been a turn-off considering the water was freezing temperatures and the droplets were quite literally dripping from him to her.
He lowered his head, and he must be testing her, he must be trying to kill her. Instead of doing what she wanted, he rested his forehead on her own, his nose grazing against hers, a sigh escaping her lips and grazing his. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to ruin it, didn't want to know what he was thinking right now.
And, of course, because her life was this tragic, her phone went off with a ringtone set aside for her dad. It didn't even go off twice before he had let her go, dropping all pretenses of affection as smirked at her, as if he were again unimpressed. Where he touched went cold, and she slowly sat up, already seeing him nonchalantly walk out of the Tesla and light a cig. His back was to the car, leaning against it by the time she noticed that her dad was trying to FaceTime.
She looked at herself in the mirror, wincing at her messy hair and white blouse, drenched in water. She fixed it quickly, thankful her makeup looked flawless thanks to the setting spray that she bought especially for crying on her pillow.
She answered the call, watching as Viserys Targaryen's face was practically pressed into the camera lens. She could see only his forehead and one eye. Despite the sexual frustration and the confusion, nothing killed a sex drive like talking to daddy.
"Rhaenyra!" Viserys yelled into the screen, making her lips twitch up.
"Dad, you didn't need to get so close to the camera," she told him, not the first time having done so.
"Is this better!" Viserys screamed, as if they were both in a concert instead of in quiet spaces. He did hold the phone away from him, his smile so bright that she felt her heart warm with affection.
"Also, you don't need to shout," she said in a whisper. "See, if you can hear me, I can hear you."
"Yes, yes," Viserys said, only a little lower than before. "Alicent told me all that, but these damn phones."
"You said you were gonna call around noon," Rhaenyra said, pointedly not looking to Daemon who stood so close, still smoking his cig. She watches his hand drag up to his lips, from what little she could see with his back turned. Her heart swelled, just looking at him was enough. She looked back down at her hands.
"I was worried, driving on your lonesome," Viserys said, acting as if she were driving to California instead of New Haven. He had practically begged her to take the jet, but she had told him no. She was sure she had good reasons at the time, but now, after what just happened, she wished she reconsidered.
"Uh," Rhaenyra began, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "Actually, I am not alone."
"Oh good. You're with Laena, that is a relief," Viserys said, having made many points on his concerns that she lived so far away. It was only two hours she would say, but to him, that was two too many.
"Actually," Rhaenyra began, before remembering Alicent's words about her father's low opinions of Daemon. She also remembered his scathing voicemail that still embarrassed her. She shut her mouth with a clenched jaw. "Anyway, how was the Singapore deal?" Her father had to have some things to say on it by now, considering his last two weeks had been trapped in a separate country to oversee the new factory he had constructed there.
"I can have Otto send you some of the contracts. They have yet to be signed, we still need to make final checks for discrepancies," Viserys said in return, and she nodded swiftly.
She may not have cared for Otto on a personal level, but she held some level of respect for him considering he was Alicent's father. That respect had dwindled since the last two years, especially when she heard some unsavory rumors of his ladder climbing methods. Not that she minded a man who could climb, but not one that would use her as a step stool to get on top.
They talked business, as usual, for another minute. She suspected they both wished that could change, that they could go back to what they were two and a half years ago before they lost a mother and a wife. A brother and a son. Before he decided to never so much as bring up her name, as if he buried her memory the same day they burned her.
"I better let you go," Viserys said, towards the end, and by now, Daemon had already leaned back into the car with a smirk, watching as Rhaenyra attempted to end the call. She was now on her fifth 'love you, bye' before the call ended.
"Send Otto my love," Daemon said, having never made his disdain for Otto Hightower a hidden thing. 'A backstabbing cunt' were his words, at least to Rhaenyra's memory. She tilted her head, still covered in water, her skirt was slightly hiked up, but she didn't much mind. His eyes were on her face, only for a moment before he held out his hand. "Come on, front seat. I'll let you pick the music."
"Really?" Rhaenyra Targaryen's smile widened, and she grabbed his hand, letting him help her out of the car. "Anything I want?"
"You are a little demon," he commented with a smile and a flick of her nose when he let go of her hand. "I'm curious to hear the music of hell."
Rhaenyra finally hiked her brown plaid skirt back down, but in doing so, her blouse, that was snagged on one of the buttons at the front of the pencil skirt, was dragged down with it. It certainly hadn't been intentional, but she was aware that she all but flashed him her bra before fixing it.
He acted as if he saw nothing or as if he felt nothing, a complete change from the look he had in the car. He opened up the driver's door and got inside. She looked up into the sky, at the clouds and the rising sun over the horizon. She sent out prayer to her mother, despite how much she didn't want her watching over any moments between her and her uncle, for the strength to resist. She just had to get through one day. One day, and then maybe this space, being surrounded by the pressures of law, the Socratic Method, the routine, maybe it would make it all easier.
Rhaenyra entered the passenger side, and he already handed her his phone with a smirk. It was open to Spotify, to classic Hip Hop, and she made certain to avoid eye contact when she took it from him. Looks like we are just not going to talk about that, she thought, scrolling through different playlists. I'm good with that, she thought as the car glided from park and into drive. He had slowed down, definitely not to speed limit, but no longer making her feel like she was in Mario Kart.
She had begun to type in Disney musicals when she saw a text message pop up from the top of the screen. She hadn't meant to read it, respecting privacy and all that, but it was there and she was human.
Nedra V: where did you go this morning?
Nedra V: I miss you.
delivered 7:22 am
The sound of Mulan's 'Let's get Down to Business' filled the car and Rhaenyra set the phone face down on her lap. Her head turned, overlooking the great big city ashead of her, lips drawn into a small frown that forced its way through her defenses. She could see herself staring back at her from through her reflection, see the makeup that could only do so much. She could highlight her cheekbones and erase her pores, but it didn't transform her.
It didn't change her last name, a mirror of his.
He reached over, grabbing his phone from her lap, making her jump as he opened up to the messages that Nedra sent. He scoffed at them, ever the shameless one. "So then, demons listen to movie soundtracks?" Daemon said, eyes narrowed on her. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
"You said choose whatever I want. Wait til you hear the five remixes of Under the Sea," Rhaenyra said with a smile that did not touch her eyes. She didn't have a single right to be mad or hurt or jealous that he had spent the night with a woman that was not her, that he'd likely been in her house when she called him last night.
When sheβ
Rhaenyra looked away, back out the window as she attempted to put aside unreciprocated feelings, feelings she was doomed to suffer with alone.
"Of all musicals," Daemon said, shaking his head from side to side.
"Uncle," she said, leaning against the glass of the car. "Wake me when we get there."
She felt his eyes on her, felt them peruse her, and a part of her wanted him to speak. To tell her what he felt in those small stolen moments between them, those moments she thought that whatever it was brewing in them was reciprocated. That they were both stewing together in silent longing.
However, this wasn't a Disney fairytale and he was silent in return.
She hid her face into the pillow, feeling foolish for wanting to cry. She felt all the more foolish for how much she wanted to send him such a message as free as 'I miss you'. Which she did, even when they were in the same car, breathing the same air, she missed him.
She didn't have the luxury to indulge these fantasies or let them fester. Instead, she let them drift away as she closed her eyes, praying to fall asleep to the tune of the cars passing by.
She was close, so close, when she felt his fingers brush along her hand that rested at her side. She felt his fingertips along her pale skin, her knuckles, before settling to cup it from under his hand.
The entire action didn't feel fair, dreamlike even, but wasn't able to deny herself. She interlocked their hands, feeling him stiffen for a moment before settling in her grasp she when she was finally pulled to sleep.
ββββββ’~βα―½β~β’βββββ
The place was crowded in boxes, stacked high in the corners of the living room. Her father had offered a moving team to unpack it, but besides having the furniture moved in, she didn't want anyone going through her things.
Hence, why she nearly dropped her bag when she spotted Daemon approach a box with a curious glint. "Not that one," she said, just as he opened the sloppily folded cardboard to reveal an entire box of manga.
He glanced over to her with a snort as he pulled one out. "Well, these are filthy," he commented, already flipping through a random one as she considered burrowing herself into a hole and dying. Certainly it would be easier.
"Any other box uncle," Rhaenyra said, eyes scanning over her new place where she was to live. The ceiling was industrial panels, matching the multicolored brick walls of different shades of brown. The hardwood floor was a gorgeous oak, a complete 180 from her place in NYC that looked like a Victorian aristocratic had designed it. The leather couch was an L shape, the only piece of furniture she could decide at the time. "You have a knack for finding exactly what I don't want you to find."
Daemon snorted, still flipping through the manga with a bored expression as she walked past him to inspect the new bedroom she had redone last week. The entire right wall was covered in brown shelving, a Japanese divider placed behind her bed. There was some light spilling in through the panels of windows.
Her dad had said the place was a bit small, just one big room without walls. She rather liked it, having been raised in big houses, with so many walls and empty bedrooms. At least now she could see everything, and the emptiness wouldn't surprise her.
She heard more boxes opening, feeling a smile slowly begin to force its way to her face. She walked past rice paper divider that separated her bed from the living room. She spotted Daemon already lifting a box of dishes and placing it in the kitchen, atop the marble island that reminded her she needed to learn to cook.
"You don't have to help me," she said, walking toward him as he opened the box without looking at her.
"As self-sufficient as I know you are," he told her removing the dishes all covered in bubble wrap. He had removed his coat, so now she could see the outline of his muscles through his black button-up. Two buttons had been undone, reminding her of her drunk thoughts so many weeks ago. "You don't have to do everything on your own."
She walked next to him, unable to help herself from standing shoulder to shoulder with him. She couldn't have him in any of the ways she wanted, but she could have him here. She unwrapped the well-packed dishes, and at her prompts, he put them away.
If she blocked off all her thoughts, if she put them away, tucked them to bed, she could imagine they were a couple. Just two people. In New Haven they weren't committing any crimes, they were here, breathing the same space, and everything was okay.
She picked up another box, making a show of how heavy it was. Daemon only tilted his head, as if to say, 'do it yourself'. Rhaenyra sneered, lifting the box of spices and other condiments, waddling like Alicent in her last trimester, back to the kitchen.
"So dramatic," Daemon said, and only at the last second, when she was nearly finished, did he grab the box from her hands. It was the last of the kitchen items, so he went back towards the living areas and began to lift another box from the stack.
"Careful uncle," she said as she set up the magnetic spice rack. "Hate for you to find the stripper lingerie. Don't want to traumatize your sensitive disposition."
"What am I? 14?" Daemon fired back, making her smile. How he was able to do that so easily was beyond her. She was a broken little thing. "Don't know how you can fit an entire pole in one of these boxes."
"Don't be silly," she replied, spotting his back muscles move as be lifted another box, separating it from the rest. His top certainly was going to be the death of her. She didn't know his work out routine, but with the way his shoulder blades looked, she imagined he dabbled in archery. "That's being installed Monday."
"My apologies," he said now turning his head to look at her. If she hadn't be watching his muscles so intently, seen as he was about to face her, she might have been caught staring. Alas, he missed that in favor of her looking down to dig through the box.
And thus went the day, digging into the evening, filled with bits of laughter that made it all almost seem innocent. Innocent, if not for subtle glances and advances she could not help. That she wanted him to see her a woman, not a little girl, she couldn't deny.
She couldn't help bending down in front of him, getting close to look over his shoulder, leaning into him and placing her head against his chest as she whined she was hungry.
So, since there was no food, she ordered Doordash wine with daddy's black card. There were only three more boxes left by the time they sat on the couch, playing poker.
"You said you knew how to play," Daemon said, watching her fold again.
"I do," Rhaenyra stated, her lips pressed tightly together as she waited for him to shuffle the cards. She watched him carefully, shoulders tense as he passed out the next five cards. She grabbed them from where he placed them on the couch, eyes narrow as she leaned her hip further into the back. She had one arm draped over the back of the dark brown leather, her legs folded atop one another as she cuddled into the cushions.
He looked far more dastardly, sitting on the middle where both sides met in an 'L'. She would normally spend these moments thinking absolutely filthy things, but as she looked at her hand and had to fold again, whilst battling against a straight flush, she only felt irritated. His arrogant smirk made her want to find the knives in the kitchen and cut him.
"Could have fooled me," he commented with another shuffle of the cards with his long, beautiful fingers.
Stop that, she thought with growing frustration.
"Perhaps you should ask Viserys for some lessons," Daemon stated, and somehow even his advice made her want to reach over and strangle him. Wrap her hands around his beautiful neck, grind her hips intoβ
Fucking stop that, she told herself, now unnecessarily turned on.
"Your father did teach me, after all," Daemon stated, and that comment rang alarm bells in her mind. Her eyes narrowed on him, scanning every nook and cranny of his long-sleeve button-up. Normally, he would roll up the sleeves, torturing her with his strong forearms.
She tossed down her cards, rolling up the sleeves of her yellow knitted cardigan. The five cards bounced against the cushions, three falling off and sliding against the hardwood floor. She stepped on one as she half stood, one leg on the ground while the knee of her other leg dragged against the cushion. He inclined his head, eyes dark and dangerous, scanning down her body and to the short pencil skirt that ignored all her efforts to pull it down.
She felt his eyes against her blouse, now long since dry from the car ride. In this light; the white crop top was see-through. His nostrils flared, and both brows raised as she approached him.
"Didn't know what a sore loser you are," Daemon said with a smirk. He placed his own cards in front of him, one leg was crossed over another, but he was also leaning heavily on one side so he could face her.
"My father taught you?" Rhaenyra asked, head tilting and causing some silver hair to fall over her shoulder. It was mostly pulled back in an intricate waterfall braid that her mother taught her how to do, but with the car ride and the moving, some strands had fallen out. Her skills in braiding were stunning, but nothing compared to her mother's handiwork.
"He is the older brother after all. He was bound to teach something," Daemon said, and her smile turned devious as she moved closer. Finally, he let out a deep chuckle, bits of bemusement in his expression growing when she all but leaped on him. "What are you doing?"
Rhaenyra grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him down and watching his back hit the cushion. She already began to run her hands over his arms, over his sleeves, her intrusive touching earning a groan from him. "My father taught me too. And he's a cheater."
Daemon finally let out laugh, attempting to knock her away as she leaned over him, but all he managed to do was cause her to fall over so her body draped over his own. She crawled forward, her lust and competitive brain now in synchrony as she straddled him. Her hands moved over his chest, searching for cards, moving further down, only to see that he had stopped fighting her.
She looked back up, meeting his darkening gaze. The silence sizzled between them as her eyes scanned over his messy hair, light strands out of place, to the third button of his top that she had unintentionally undone. He looked nearly as undone as she felt. Both her hands still rested on his lower stomach, his chiseled abs underneath her touch. She was sitting on him, able to feel both his slightly raised legs from behind her.
She paused, not looking away from him as she continued to move her hands down until she reached his pocket. She nearly forgot what she was looking for by the time her fingers grazed his sleeve, feeling bits of skin when she reached beneath the material. She didn't look away when she pulled out a queen of hearts.
His lips twitched up, but his eyes were lidded as she raised the card to her face. There was no satisfaction at being right, nothing that could compare to the emotions that were drumming at her. It was a sundry of desires, each going in so many different directions that left her without the ability to do anything.
"See," she whispered, and she knew he saw her tremble when he raised his hand between them and grabbed her wrist that held the card. "You are a liar and a cheater."
His lips twitched up, and before she could do much else, think much else, he had knocked her on her back. He stood next, and despite the space he put in between them, the pulsing heat still scorched her. She turned her head, watching as he pulled out more cards from his sleeves. "I'm a lot more than that, kid," he told her, and every word he gave her made her mouth dry.
She raised her leg, allowing the skirt to hike up completely, showing off silk undergarments before she sat up to adjust it. It was only because she was watching him that she saw the subtle perusing of her body, as if he didn't want to look, but did so anyway.
"You were hungry," he said, interrupting anything clever that she likely wasn't going to say. "I'll bring you back something."
He would normally kiss her forehead goodbye, but it seemed like her stunt had successfully driven a barrier between them. He just turned away and grabbed his coat. She stood, pulling her skirt down more. "I can come with you," she told him, checking her watch to see it was nearly dark.
She wasn't ready for him to go.
"Don't worry about it. I have to make some calls anyway," he said, slipping on his coat. He took his phone out from it, and she saw him already scrolling through his contacts as he walked past her to the door. She stayed where she was, physically biting her tongue as she saw him scrolling through contacts of names. Any one of them could have been a lover or a business associate, but the only one that came to her mind was 'where did you go this morning'. The text he had left unanswered.
"Anything in particular you want?" Daemon asked, even as her heart sunk further. She forced a smile, refusing to look like a child who pined for him. She walked over to the last of her boxes, the books she had yet to shelf.
"Anything you like," she said, bending over to pick up one box. It weighed more than she did, but she had muscles from her frustrated gym sessions, so she lifted it without a word. "We are made from the same stuff. I've yet to see a thing you liked that I did not."
Daemon was in front of her when she turned around to walk toward the mahogany bookshelf with the sliding ladder. She expected him to joke about her strength, but he said nothing, only grabbed it from her and walked it the rest of the way. "You shouldn't be proud to be made of the same anything as me, Rhaenyra."
He dropped it to the ground next to the shelves. She didn't have anything to say to that, and he looked to be done talking. He already raised his phone to his face, walking past her. "I'll be back soon."
When he left, she was practically biting her entire tongue off, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. She rubbed her palm over her face, the torrent of emotions rising up like water dropped on a live volcano. She felt close to erupting, to losing her mind, and missing him despite him having only just closed the door.
Rhaenyra forced herself to walk to the box and open it, each book doing nothing to ease the ache.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
You know you are down bad if you start crying to "Let's Get Down to Business"