οΌ³ο½‰ο½˜

𝓁𝒢𝓉𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 π“‚π’Ύπ“ˆπ“‰π’Άπ“€π‘’π“ˆ

β•šβ•β• ❀‒°❀°‒❀ ══╝

In the time she spent waiting for Daemon to return, her Doordash order of wine had come. She had spent twenty minutes searching for a corkscrew, opening up drawer after drawer to no avail. Eventually, she realized it was a twist-off, and after realizing she forgot to pack her wine glasses, she drank straight from the bottle.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was drinking wine and scrolling through the #daemontargaryen tag like a simp. She supposed it was unhealthy and obsessive, and it made the longing only grow. It was also compulsive; if she could stop herself, she wouldn't have straddled and practically assaulted him an hour ago. He made her feel unhinged as if he could take her apart and she'd say 'thank you', only for him to leave without putting her back together.

Her lips thinned, and she closed her phone, sinking her head into her knees as she dragged them to her chest and held the wine bottle to her skull. It was half empty, as was her fucking head. She didn't know what she was doing, here in a new apartment that she should feel excited about, but instead, she was miserable and lonely and hungry. Her love was a real, living creature, and she could not control a thing. She wasn't distracted by him. Her phone was distracting. The noise of NYC was distracting. He consumed her.

She rested her forehead against her knees again, tapping it against them.

Where the fuck is the food? Rhaenyra thought with a bitter scowl to the door. She stood with an angry, "fuck this," and grabbed her phone, dialing Laena to keep herself from blowing up her uncle's phone.

"Wow, two calls in one week. You got me feeling special," Laena said once answering the FaceTime call. Rhaenyra plastered a smile on her face, taking a big gulp from her wine. It wasn't at all sweet, but instead, bitter and dry. Yay, just like me, she thought with a sideways glance toward the door.

"Just thought I should give you a tour," Rhaenyra said, smiling wide as she turned the camera around.

"Ohh, this season on Cribs, brought to you by MTV," Laena said, tucking her pen into strands of silvery curly hair. She moved aside her books, her notes and sat crisscrossed on her bed with the camera pointing up so Rhaenyra could see up her nose. Laena was absolutely stunning, bubbly, and perhaps the kindest person in the entire world.

"What?" Rhaenyra said with a brow raised.

"The streaming services had destroyed the reference. Continue," Laena said with a bright smile, showing off perfect veneers.

"So, I had these lights put in recently," Rhaenyra began, pointing to the vintage lights that hung like a giant bulb, just next to the spiral staircase that led up to a small balcony inside, with just a single floor panel that looped around half the single room. She explained to Laena her plans, of placing a telescope there to see the stars.

"In New Haven?" Laena said, her head tilting. "With all the Connecticut lights, will you see anything?"

"Probably not, but I still want one," Rhaenyra said, watching as Laena smiled, her eyes crinkling.

"What's up, buttercup?" Laena asked, noticing the wine bottle, now a quarter full, still in Rhaenyra's hand.

"Oh, uh," Rhaenyra began, stuttering with a laugh that she hoped was nonchalant. "I don't have wine glasses." To truly drive home her mental health, she hiccuped in between explaining.

"Been there, done that," Laena said, standing and stretching, causing the camera to face up towards the ceiling. "I'm gonna open up my own bottle since we're drinking."

She got through half of the loft before hearing the door open and her uncle walk in with a bag of takeout. He was very late, having left her with stewing emotion that she didn't know what to do with. If she was bitter or angry, she wasn't about to let him know. He barely said a word, just walking by her and placing the food on the island.

"Oh, is that the Rogue fuck up?" Laena announced, causing Rhaenyra to roll her eyes with a smile as she turned the camera towards Daemon. Daemon Targaryen blinked, glancing at the phone and sneering. He took two steps, and Rhaenyra felt her heart already nearly overpower her, a pull of tug-of-war from wanting to hold him and slap the shit out him.

"Laena," Daemon's voice was deep, and he practically bent over Rhaenyra's shoulder to talk to her. His arm was against her back, his breath traveling the path of her neck and Rhaenyra could see her blank expression staring back at her from through the call. She refused to show a thing, even as she breathed in his cologne, mixed with a perfume she didn't recognize.

Of course, Rhaenyra thought, hurt now added to the cauldron that was her terribly confusing relationship with her uncle.

"Daemon, you've been very active in the tabloids lately," Laena said, her chin resting in her palm as she set the phone up to rest on her PopSocket. They both watched her pour a glass of wine, leaving no room at the top.

"Oh Laena, your daddy's money is truly traveling in the right channels if you spend your free time reading gossip columns about your cousin," Daemon said, his chuckle traveling across her neck once again. It only furthered the hurt that gathered in her gut as she noticed there was a lipstick stain on his collar through the camera of the two of them, reflected back at them.

"Rhae," Laena said, taking a sip of her wine. "I think I liked it better before he came in. Please take us to a different room."

Rhaenyra felt a smile arise, despite her own jealous bitterness. "It's a loft, Laena. What you see is what it is."

"Bruh," Laena said, her eyes narrowed to truly take in the background. "No walls? What if you wanna bring a boy home? You really gonna get down and dirty facing the table where you eat your dinner."

"Very specific, Laena," Daemon said, rolling his eyes as he began to walk away, his fingers brushing along Rhaenyra's waist before he left. She was certain he was punishing her for something at this point, but she grinned and bore it as she kept her expression blank.

She watched him unpack the two boxes that filled the air with the scent of salmon. "I suppose I could bring them into the bathroom, so long as I want to give the fridge its privacy."

"Good choice. Backdoor in the bathroom is fun," Laena said, visibly grinning as she dragged her tongue in between her teeth.

"Are you trying to make him uncomfortable?" Rhaenyra asked, now glancing to her left, down the length of the island, to see Daemon unpacking the food with a nonchalant roll of his eyes.

"It's truly not easy to do anything to rile the infamous Daemon Targaryen," Laena said, snorting as she took another sip of wine.

Rhaenyra could only agree since it seemed she was the only one ever getting riled while he stayed sane, and collected, even when she was at her most crazy. "I think I should take Leanor around the town. Show him around my favorite spots in New York next he visits."

Laena immediately straightened, "You keep my brother out of your nightlife. He's easily influenced."

Daemon pulled up his phone, leaning one hip against the island with a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "I think I'll invite him to some clubs. Introduce him to the nightlife and the tabloids that like to capture it."

"Rhae, sic him!" Laena snapped, and Rhaenyra laughed in return.

"What am I, your dog?" Rhaenyra replied smoothly.

"Get him girl, go," Laena continued.

"I'm going to hang up instead. I smell salmon," Rhaenyra replied with a fond smile. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't corrupt your brother."

Daemon snorted, as if the very notion was beneath him and as if everyone in the family didn't know who he was. Rhaenyra wanted to take a long bath, relax in the luxury tub she had installed, and forget all about how terribly hard it was to want something that you know would hurt.

"Love you, babe. Fuck you cousin," Laena said, scowling toward where she figured Daemon was.

"Prettier than her brother. What a shame about that attitude," Daemon retorted, walking around the island to find two forks. Laena's nose wrinkled, but they said their goodbyes and the call ended.

Rhaenyra took a deep inhale of air, letting it fill her, releasing it and turning back towards Daemon with a smile. "Pretty sure she will one day learn that Leanor hardly needs your help in corruption."

Daemon glanced up at her from leaning against the marble of the island. His elbows held him up, and he looked ever the dark prince with his perfectly styled hair and a wicked smile. He had fixed himself up since the hours she last saw him, and somehow came back looking so iniquitously handsome that she could lose the ability to breathe. She stepped closer, testing her own bravery as she grabbed the takeout, opening it to reveal differing containers of perfectly packed pan-roasted salmon, french lentils, and a carrot puree that smelled so amazing that she could almost ignore that he smelled like Dior.

"You'd be surprised what I can do in a few short hours," Daemon said with a smile as he dragged his fork through the carrot puree.

Her dad had a habit of eating with his mouth open so everyone could hear each chew, which always tested Rhaenyra's anger issues. She strived to find differences between her uncle and her dad, as if the more she found, the better she felt. She took a bite of the carrot puree next.

"I would not," she said with a half-shrug, casting a glance over to the loft, anywhere but at him. "I am not surprised by much of anything you do. I find comfort in the unpredictability of you."

Somehow, the silence in the empty space of the loft was louder than the noise, so she turned her stare back towards him to see his hand had stilled from near his plate. She watched him press his other hand against his cheek, digging into his hair as he finally looked away. "After we eat, I better head back to Noho." Daemon's Penthouse in Noho was immaculate, a place with a grand piano and spacious rooms. She dreamed of playing on it, of hearing him play, of kissing his neck as he brushed his fingers along the keys.

"You don't have to," Rhaenyra said, glancing at her watch that said 10:32 pm. It would take hours to get there from Connecticut, and despite her knowing that he should go, she still wasn't ready to release him. Here, so far away from her family in the city, she felt like she could breathe. She could breathe him in, and then learn to slowly let him go.

"Rhaenyra." His voice was low, and it rumbled in his chest like a growl that forced her to meet his eyes again. She knew, in those moments that they stared at one another, that she was absolutely smitten, and that adoration was so obvious that she didn't know how to hold it in.

"It's late," Rhaenyra said, her voice casual and flippant as if she could not care less. She stabbed her fork into the salmon, cutting it and watching the steam rise. "You can stay. I have extra blankets," she suggested with a careful glance toward him. She didn't want to make him run away, and to do that, she had to prove she could keep her hands to herself.

What must he have thought of her? A little girl with a crush so obvious that she was nearly at the edge of precipitating an entirely new calamity. The position she must be putting him in when he obviously wanted things to continue as they had been. She's the one making it weird.

Still, he was about to reject her offer. He was going to leave. "I'm feeling nervous is all," she lied, something she rarely ever did. "About staying here alone on the first night."

He clicked his tongue, but cut a piece of salmon in lieu of answering. The silence stretched for precious moments. His moves were lazy, languid, and relaxed, but his eyes were dark and dilated and had promises she didn't understand. "Just for tonight."

"Just tonight," she agreed, smiling brightly.

She liked to pride herself on her restraint the rest of the evening, where they sat up together, watching documentaries as background noise while they talked. She was farther away on the couch than she liked, but if she reached, she could touch him. That's why she kept her hands intertwined with one another on her lap.

"You still have pictures of you and Alicent," he said, both of them drinking from the wine glasses that he found on one of her high shelves. She had to deal with his teasing when he saw she drank straight from the bottle. "Is it not easier to get rid of them?"

Rhaenyra paused, watching the wine slosh in circles around the circumference of the glass as she swirled it. It was easier to be around him if she made certain she wasn't still, if she remained in constant motion, always active. She felt her hand freeze at the question.

"It's not easy," Rhaenyra admitted, actively not meeting his eyes. "To completely cut out someone who once participated in every area of your life." She took a long sip of wine, practically reaching the dregs of her glass. "It's even harder when she reminds me of what we once were." Or that a part of me loved her and still does.

Daemon only waited patiently since listening to her had never been his problem. It was in the difficult moments, that's where he'd say things so cruel that they'd stick with her for years. Or he'd suddenly disappear when she needed him.

"I used to tell her everything," Rhaenyra whispered, staring down at her wine. "It's hard to find people you can call a friend in this life where people always look for what they can take from you." She finally met Daemon's eyes from across the couch, the documentary on the history of aircrafts playing in the background as she drank the last of her own wine. Thanks to her rampant emotions when waiting for him to return earlier, she was now completely out. "Do you understand?"

He held out his wine, and she smiled slightly, grabbing it from his hands and feeling his fingers brush against her own when she pulled away. "If you could go back. If you could erase it all, what would you want to tell her right now?" Daemon's question filled the space between them, and she answered with a lazy blink.

That I love you, she thought, the words intrusive and true and not something she often breathed life into. She buried it again, piling it underneath her.

"I'd tell her not to marry my father. I'd tell her that my parents had a rare thing, not easily replaced. That she might spend the rest of her life trying to earn a fraction of the love that she deserves." Rhaenyra ran her hand down her face, her throat feeling tight. "She shouldn't have to ask to be loved."

She stared down into Daemon's wine, reminded that his lips had been pressed against it. She had memorized where they had been when she had taken it from him. She raised the glass to her lips and pressed them to the exact spot she had watched him drink. Somehow, it eased the ache in small ways she hoped would satiate her.

"You think she actually married for love?" Daemon asked, laughing and his fingertips raised to his lips, looking away.

Rhaenyra's brows drew in, gulping as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip to wipe away the film of wine. "What do you mean?"

She handed him back his glass, now bolder with her touch as she pressed her fingertips against his in the pass-off. It made her feel like a toddler, getting giddy over something so small. He swirled it with a smile before taking a drink of it from where her lips had been.

"If you think Otto Hightower and his thirsty pursuit of legacy has no role to play with his daughter's sudden placement at your father's side." Daemon gave her a knowing smirk as he met her gaze. "You have to open your eyes."

"Are you saying that Alicent married my father," and ruined our friendship, "out of obligation and duty?"

Daemon only shrugged, "I am the last one who can answer any inquiries on love. I only tell you what I see, which you should as well if you mean to take over once Viserys is gone."

Rhaenyra's jaw clenched, but she bit out the words. "We don't yet know if I will. Alicent is to have a boy. He may very well supplant me."

Daemon, never one to lie to her or sweeten a truth with honeyed words, only said, "Have you thought maybe that might be best?"

Rhaenyra's nose wrinkled, and she crossed her legs, careful not to sit as she had before during the poker match where she made a fool of herself. That was past Rhaenyra, and we destroyed her, she thought with a bitter frown. "I wasn't supposed to inherit anything. I never asked for more than what I was told was mine. When Baelon was to be heir, I did not complain. I was made heir, and I have done everything my father has asked of me. I have asked for nothing that wasn't already mine."

Daemon paused, and she was reminded that he was once her father's successor, set to inherit the multibillion-dollar enterprises of investments, residential real estate, hotels, resorts, residential towers, and golf courses in various countries. Not to mention their rise in tech hubs across the world. She did not feel guilty for supplanting him, especially since he had dabbled in multiple practices that hurt others. She wasn't blind to who he was. She knew about the bribery, the defamation, the poor working conditions, and his frequent tax evasion. He single-handedly destroys small companies attempting to invest in green energy because it did not benefit the oil industry that was signing his checks.

"I'd take her pictures down," Daemon said carefully, his fingers tapping against the glass. His leg was tapping, no part of him completely still, yet there seemed to be a calmness about him as well.

Rhaenyra bit her tongue, inhaling and exhaling before she said, "You think she'd push for my replacement?"

"I think that she is young and easily manipulated," Daemon said carefully, the documentary's background noise filling the room. "Either you let go of who she was and get to know the person now, or yes." Daemon shrugged as if he couldn't be bothered either way. "She will likely betray you. You are only a friend, and these days, not even that. That is her son. What loyalty does she owe you?"

Rhaenyra's jaw clenched, and her irritation became a living creature, building and growing. Daemon held out the wine once more, and she grabbed it, downing it in one gulp. "Alicent is not her father, to whom you hold a grudge."

Daemon gave her a half-shrug, "Her father is a vile leech. A parasite who feeds on whoever has power. It's who he is. You can't change him any more than you can me. You'd be surprised what a parasite could do to someone who loves and respects it. Who nurtures and feeds it, as Alicent Hightower will." Rhaenyra's fingers squeezed against the glass, before letting out a breathy scoff and looking away. "I don't think you yet know how to play the game your father has given to you. Best learn."

"If you could," Rhaenyra said, after a lingering silence. "If you could replace me. If you had the chance, would you?"

Daemon's silence was telling, as was his hesitation to answer when she addressed only one of the many slights between the two of them. "I don't know."

Rhaenyra let out a laugh, pressing her hand against her face, her fingers just above her eye as she shook her head.

"Does that still comfort you? My unpredictability?" Daemon asked, and she met his dark stare from across the couch, with just her hand as a slight shade.

"I wish it didn't," she whispered, now looking away. The words were simple, but the vulnerability in them made her feel weak and naked.

Daemon leaned forward, his thumb brushing along her jaw to the height of her cheekbone. The simplest touch had already melted her, but it was the heat in his eyes that silenced her. "We are the house of the dragon. The last of the Targaryen line. You, Viserys, and me." He leaned closer, his thumb dragging down to her bottom lip, and she felt her lips open ever so slightly, easing into his touch. "Nobody else matters but us."

"Alicent's children will be Targaryen," she said, her voice breaking, her eyes staring into his. His thumb was still on her lip, his other hand was tangled into her hair and cupping the side of her neck, in her hair. He was in her lungs, her eyes were heavy, staring from his eyes and to his lips.

Daemon's lips twitched up as if to say, 'So?' Rhaenyra felt no guilt, just him, always him, enrapturing and breaking her and touching her.

He had been staring into her eyes, but she caught him looking down, hot and aware of every brush of skin, the air they both shared. His hands were still pressed into her face, cradling her, fingertips tangled in strands of silver hair as his other cradled the back of her neck. His thumb brushed along her bottom lip, one last time, sliding across the length of it in a way that she felt pulsate in her skin and straight down. She let out a sound, a breathy sigh, all indicating how she didn't know what she was doing.

She had kissed before, she had sex the first time when she was 17, she had hickies and snuck out, but no one had ever made her feel a fraction of what was igniting in her now.

He was so close, she could smell him, and her eyes fluttered shut as his forehead rested against her. His nose brushed against her own, lips drawing near and she felt suffocated. She couldn't breathe. She wouldn't be able to unless he kissed her.

She reached forward, one hand clutching her wine glass and the other resting against his thigh. She was done waiting, she was done wondering, and she felt the slightest brush of skin before she was kissing air when he moved his head back.

Her eyes opened, and he wasn't staring at her lips any longer. "You should head to bed," he told her, his voice rough, as if he were both begging and demanding it of her.

Her own eyes narrowed, her body warming with humiliation and confusion. She felt it buzzing beneath her skin, choking her, asphyxiating her. He stood, running a hand through his hair, his steps continuing backward as if he couldn't get far enough. She was growing cold, the AC's chill hitting against her bare legs, spreading and making them erupt in gooseflesh. She didn't even know what happened, how she could ever put herself in a position where it happened. She set her wine glass on the ground by her feet since she had yet to get a table, her hand shaking as she did.

"You are a coward," she said, watching him turn to look at her. The dangerous glint in his eyes didn't scare her, and her back straightened in response to it.

"I'm practical. You're a child with romantic fantasies that I will not deliver on," he told her, now turning to her fully, even as the words hit her like a battering ram. Her cheeks were hot, her body flushed, her heart slamming against her ribcages so hard that it was a wonder that they didn't break them. "I don't see you that way. I don't want you that way."

Rhaenyra's lips pressed together, the hurt and anger now in a melting pot with everything else. She had no idea which would come to the surface if she spoke. "A coward," she repeated, he tilted his head, cat-like, the offense so potent that he might as well have been exhaling it.

"Go to bed and we won't speak of this again," he told her as if it were that easy.

She took a deep breath, one hand cradling her face as she attempted to think. It was taking everything to keep from crying. "Fine. We won't speak of it again, uncle." She didn't know where she found the strength to say the words, so say them out loud, but there they were, and more so, she meant them.

She let out a last breath, her embarrassment draining her. It drove her crazy how many ways these feelings could hit her, make her happy, or miserable, sick to her stomach or a stab to her heart. It made things brighter and sharper, yet blurs all sense of boundaries or lines. It made her feel like a fool.

She knelt down grabbing the wine glass with steady hands. "It was just the wine." She held the empty cup out to him as if it were a peace offering. "It's messed with my head tonight. I am already over this insignificant, inconsequential attraction. I don't even remember where it came from." She didn't know how she managed to get the words out, only that they hurt her more than they'd ever hurt him. She held up the wine cup higher, so it reached his chest. There were only three steps to the wall behind her, two steps to the right she'd reach the rice paper divider to the bed where she could sleep this off and awaken tomorrow as if this never happened.

He reached it, the empty cup they shared, with his hand hovering over hers as their eyes met once more. There the spark reignited, and he grabbed the cup, tossing it to the couch where it bounced. His hands were in her hair, and his lips were pressed into her own just as she exhaled out and he inhaled in.

"What are you doing?" Rhaenyra whispered, eyes struggling to stay open as she breathed in and out in rapid gasps as his hands tightened. He walked them backward, one step, two steps.

"Trying to make you remember," he whispered back, and then her back hit the wall, and she was lifted up, the sound of her cardigan sliding against brick and the press of their lips was louder than the TV.

He was truly the devil, Rhaenyra thought, tightening her legs around him, bringing him forward until she was grinding on him to get closer. One kiss blended into the next, his hands in her hair, both stroking her and cradling her neck, making it arch until he was swallowing the sounds she made. She felt something in between her legs when she arched into him, something hard and growing, and when she rubbed up, the sparks of pleasure and want made her eyes roll back.

"Fuck," he whispered against her lips just as they dragged over her jaw, trailing a wet line to the groove beneath her ear. His tongue was pressed along her skin, his teeth taking the flesh of her ear into his mouth, his lips against her earring as he worked his way up.

One hand remained against her arched neck, but the other had trailed down her back, over the skirt that was wrapped around her waist and hiked up so he could easily feel underneath, should he go further down. He did not, and his palm stayed on her back, fisting the material of her top as he pulled it up. She let out sounds that she didn't know she could make when his palm finally went up her shirt, the warmth of them against the groove of her back. He rubbed up the length of her spine, working up to where her bra remained clasped. Just as he didn't touch beneath her skirt, he didn't unclasp it.

"Fuck," he muttered against her neck, his lips against her collar bone, pulling the material of her top down. He kissed as if he did not want to, but his touch was unyielding as if there wasn't anything more inevitable than them. Every brush of skin heated another part of her body, and she clutched his back, arching her own, her head resting against the bricks as she lost all sense in each sensation.

He separated from her, dropping her legs. There was something vulnerable in his, in his fingers that traveled up her waist. She reached to pull him back, but he leaned back to avoid it. His nose tapped against her own, forehead against hers, when his eyes briefly shut. She barely got a chance to breathe, before he had slammed his palm against the wall and pulled away.

Her skirt was hiked all the way up, just below her chest, her hands still in the motion of reaching up for him as he ran a palm down his face.

He didn't say a word, just grabbed his coat and left her confused.