Fourteen
𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝒻𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇
╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝
How it happened, Rhaenyra did not know. One moment, she was minding her own business, the next, she was a mother. Not literally of course, since the closest she'd ever get to pregnancy would be flushed the next day with Plan B. Now, she was holding Aemond Targaryen like a football and Aegon was throwing a tantrum on the ground near the door.
Also, he was absolutely wrecking her dress. The football, not the kid who was sobbing after she called him an accident. Then, she had gone on to explain what an accident was. "I didn't mean it," Rhaenyra said, not meaning that.
"I wanna go home!" Aegon screamed, and Rhaenyra was losing her chill seconds at a time.
"I want that too!" Rhaenyra screamed right back at him. Her, the one with the law degree, was losing a fight with a toddler. She and Alicent were doing better. They were making strides. That was how this happened, how she came to her, on this the day of her cousin's wedding. The Godfather would not be proud of her.
"I want the skittles," Aegon said, now sitting on his fat arse and staring up at her with that glazed look on his face. He had the signature Targaryen hair, a bright silver, but his eyes were all Alicent. They were dark brown, specks of muted gold, and Rhaenyra suspected he had plucked them from the devil himself.
He had tossed the macaroni she made him, flinging it like a frisbee onto the wall and ruining the new beige paint job that she had done in the sitting room. That's right she had done it and went all the way to Home Depot to pick out paint swatches because fuck Daemon. She was capable of doing things on her own.
Except, apparently, take care of children. Aemond, unlike his brother, was a quiet one and she might have forgotten she was holding him if not for how he chewed through the literal puffy sleeve of her dress. She noticed this post-macaroni, where the short ruffles were tucked into his teeth and covered in slobber.
Now, she was attempting to ignore that he ruined her Dolce & Gabbana dress as she flipped the quesadilla with one clumsy hand. Of course, Aegon was still hungry, but he hadn't complied when she said for him to lick the macaroni off her new goddamned walls. Luckily, that hadn't made him cry, and instead, made him splash his juice directly at her. So now, she smelled like a rotten apple and was attempting to cover the urge to drown Alicent's child because she was tryingto be better.
"I'm putting my anger behind me," Rhaenyra muttered as Aegon screamed from the corner that she told him to sit in. She had been surprised that he complied, but immediately realized that compliance did not equate to him being less of a bother.
"Scaly!" Aegon screamed, and Rhaenyra's nose wrinkled.
"I will not answer to that nickname," she told him, her fingers tightening on the handle of her spatula. She turned her gaze onto Aemond, who was staring at her, unblinking. "You are creeping me out."
"Scaly!" Aegon screamed again, and Rhaenyra pointed the spatula at him.
"What?" Rhaenyra exclaimed, her voice rising in a way that a passerby might think she was possessed by a demon. I have a LAW degree. What the fuck, she thought with growing self-irritation.
"I broke my dragon!" Aegon held up Sunfyre, who had by now been super glued back together twice by his mother. It somehow managed to look more shitty every time Rhaenyra saw it.
"What do you want me to do about it?" Rhaenyra asked, calming herself down so she didn't get into a fight with a three-year-old. 'He's turning four next week, you should come to his party' is what Alicent would say, to which Rhaenyra would reply, 'fuck that.'
"Fix it, Scaly!" Aegon said, holding up the clay dragon which he had snapped in half.
"I thought you wanted to eat something?" Rhaenyra replied, to which her half-brother shook his head.
"My dragon is broken!" Aegon yelled, speaking as though he truly were a prince or a king.
"I thought you wanted food," she repeated, pick one you cunt.
Aegon seemed to consider this, before standing and stumbling in that way an idiot three-year-old, almost four, would do. He made it to the chair, waiting like a prince for her to lift him into it. She did not move, not trusting herself to hold him right now. She might just try to put him in the washing machine on the delicate cycle.
Stop that, she ordered her own intrusive thoughts.
Aegon, perhaps sensing he was in danger, climbed on the chair himself. She cut up the quesadillas and a spoonful of applesauce, promising to turn him into this very same substance if he flung a single thing at her face again. She placed it in front of him as Aemond went back to chewing on her ruffles. By now, she was desensitized from it.
"I broke my dragon," Aegon muttered, his voice lowering, his head facing down, staring into his lap. Rhaenyra watched him, mistrust in her stance as she balanced Aemond on her hip and watched him with narrow eyes.
"Well, we all make mistakes," she told him, carefully as he looked up at her. His dark brown eyes conflicted with that of his mother's, who Rhaenyra was convinced knew the torment she was leaving on her doorstep. Same color, same cheekbones, pure evil.
"Even you?" Aegon asked, his pouty face making Rhaenyra's eyes narrow.
"Yeah, sure," she said with a sigh. He took a slow bite of the quesadilla, examining it, waiting for it to come alive and fight him. He swallowed.
"This food is mistaking!" he stuttered out, spitting the food back on the plate.
"You're a mistake," she muttered in Valyrian, and he began to cry. She raised her hands in the air. "Oh, so now you know Valyrian?"
His crying finally seemed to penetrate Aemond's delicate little ears. Small children can become startled by the most mundane of sounds. A siren that sounds like the world was ending or a car door from the distance that nearly resembles the sky falling down if heard for the first time. Aemond had to have heard Aegon crying hundreds of times, but Rhaenyra concluded that it was the 101st time that made him become intolerable.
Now the once quiet baby let out a scream so loud that she might have lost her own hearing. She held him up high, but no matter how she stretched her arms, he was not far enough. Her eyes went to her clock, hanging up high near the fireplace, where she was counting the minutes for Alicent to return from her hospital visit. She shook Aemond, attempting a clumsy rock as she saw that one mother from Subway do for her child. It did not work, and if anything, Rhaenyra was starting to believe that Aemond Targaryen did not like affection.
"Hey Alexa! How do you get babies to stop crying?" Rhaenyra shouted across the room, about ready to lose her mind.
"There are instructional videos available for this. Would you like to enable them?" Alexa said back from across the room.
"No!" Aegon yelled, and Alexa stopped talking.
"I knew it," Rhaenyra told her brother, who was wiping away his own crocodile tears. "You are smart and you are devious," she said in Valyrian, before switching back. "How many kisses do you need to make it better?"
"Zero!" Aegon screamed. You should love your friend's children, even if you neither like nor want children. Rhaenyra had been repeating that to herself to no avail.
"Come on, stop crying!"
He immediately stopped. "What do I got for being good?"
"My love and affection."
He began to cry again. "I don't want that!"
"Sweet Jesus," she said, setting Aemond down on the table to rub her own temples, her head splitting with a migraine. She hadn't even begun to get ready for the wedding, her hair was a mess, her favorite dress had a hole in it, and Alicent wasn't due for another hour. "I'll fix your dragon. I'll buy you a new one. Just stop."
Aegon stopped crying, "buy a new one?"
Evil. Spoiled. Smart, Rhaenyra decided, and now that the air calmed, Aemond did too. So, she dug through her shit and found her tablet, first saving all her school notes to the Cloud. Aemond stayed sprawled on the table, clapping his hands against the table while she googled 'why do children hate me?' In response, she found herself on a Reddit post that said 'children are an excellent judge of character. The problem is probably with you'.
"Fucking rude," Rhaenyra muttered as she finally placed the tablet in front of Aegon, contemplating her bribe.
"What's say we call a truce? You play whatever game you want silently while I get ready?" Rhaenyra said as the kid started scooping up his apple sauce with his tiny hand fisted over the plastic spoon. He stared up at her, big wide eyes now innocent as he pursed his lips.
"No," he said, but took the tablet anyway and she waited for him to dip it in his food like a fench fry, but he just tapped the screen on the dragon app she downloaded while on Reddit.
"Cool," Rhaenyra said, glancing over to her Alexa. Looks like I am a natural, who needs your instructional videos, she thought with a sigh of relief. She pulled out her phone, opening the wedding group chat with Laena, Laenor, and Qarl. She proceeded to drop a photo of the two kids, Aemond, crawling over to the tablet to see what Aegon was doing and Aegon, telling him to back off. Truly, picturesque.
Rhaenyra: they call me the child whisperer xoxo
read 12:43 pm
Laena: the fuck
Laena: there's macaroni in his hair
Laena: child whisperer lolol
Qarl: bitch I know you aint
Laenor: i want one
Laenor: no actually I want a teacup pig
read 12:46 pm
Qarl: thought that's what you were here for
Qarl: we looking for your new sister?
Laenor: no! I fell into a meme!
Laena: ya'll took much. stressing out the child whisperer
delivered 12: 48 pm
"You ruined my whole life," Aegon screamed at his little brother when Aemond took his quesadilla and proceeded to chomp down his mostly toothless mouth atop Argon's lunch.
"I thought you hated it," Rhaenyra muttered to herself, nose wrinkling. Already, she was walking up to her two half brothers, lifting Aemond who was chomping on his brother's food and getting it everywhere in the process. She proceeded to take it away, feeding a piece of it in one small bite. "Okay, Aegon. Let's go. I have to get ready."
Getting the kid up was a nightmare, truly, Rhaenyra would have nightmares about it, but soon enough, she managed to get in her bridesmaid dress. She only had to endure Aegon's commentary like 'ew' and 'scaly back' during the process. She was in the middle of singing to her songs playing on her Bluetooth when he begged her to 'let it sing on its own', to which she responded by turning up the speakers and singing louder.
And, of course, that was when Alicent walked in as Aegon screamed, "stop!"
Rhaenyra practically knocks over the entirety of her lipstick collection in order to scramble for her phone to turn it down and meet Alicent's judgemental eyes. Aegon had inherited much from Viserys in the looks department, but Rhaenyra knew immediately where he got his resting bitch face from. "This isn't what it looks like," Rhaenyra said quickly, and Alicent's arch brow dropped the temperature a few degrees.
"It looks like you were arguing with a toddler," Alicent said, her voice light and airy. "Which I had expected when I asked a child to take care of another child."
Rhaenyra grabbed her bronzer, continuing to contour her face. "Fair, but rude." Rhaenyra let out a sigh as she applied the rest of her routine. She tried to think what a good friend might ask; mending bridges, integrity, zen. Her mantra. "The visit? How did it go?"
Alicent was already next to Aegon, who was immersed in his tablet. "It went well. Um," she wiped her hands against her long dress, having obviously gotten ready quickly before coming back. She was showing far more, that tiny bump looking less like something people would ignore. When the bleeding started this morning while they began to get ready and when Rhaenyra had only done the base of her foundation, Alicent had nearly cried.
"Where's dad?" Rhaenyra asked, carefully. They hadn't spoken much since his birthday, but Rhaenyra had seen how her father snapped into action. He had placed his hand on Alicent's belly and looked lost. They didn't even question it when Rhaenyra said she'd watch the kids before they were out of the house.
"He dropped me off. Had to meet with Corlys," Alicent said, her hand on her belly before her eyes finally glided over to Rhaenyra with a smile. "It's just stress apparently. I need to relax, apparently."
"Then you should be sitting down," Rhaenyra said, waving her hand over to the canopy bed of her bedroom. "Apparently."
Alicent's smile was gentle, lifting Aemond from his placement on the ground, and playing with his toys. She sat them both on the bed, rocking him on her knee. "How was it? Really?"
Your son is evil, Rhaenyra almost said, glancing at Aegon playing on the tablet through her vanity mirror. She stopped herself. You're supposed to like your friend's kids. You're supposed to like your half-brothers, she thought, cutting off her own negativity. "Awful," Rhaenyra ended up saying anyway, waving her hand towards her Dolce & Gabbana dress with the missing sleeve, lying on the ground.
Alicent took a single look at it and let out a laugh that lit up her entire face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I can buy you a new one."
"I wore that to the 2018 Met Gala," Rhaenyra said, glancing at her from through the mirror as she applied a second coating of her mascara. "Literally, Sara is going to freak when she finds out." Her personal stylist took Rhaenyra's fashion personally. Alicent only continued to laugh, placing kisses atop Aemond's head, who shied away from the touch as if it burned him.
"I can send her a gift basket," Alicent suggests.
"Alas," Rhaenyra said, moving to the other eye to apply the mascara. "Not all can be solved with a Hightower goody bag." She paused, the words having just came out without thinking, words from a past they once shared together. A past where Alicent wasn't her mother. "Targaryen, I mean."
Alicent was smiling fondly down at Aemond, not looking her way and not looking to have minded the slip-up. "It takes getting used to," Alicent said in a whisper, but it reached Rhaenyra anyway. Alicent pressed another kiss to Aemond, who now tried to hit her gently, all but saying 'stop'. "It's weird for me too, you know?"
"Yeah," Rhaenyra whispered right back, lips pursed.
"Rhaenyra?" Alicent's gentle voice cut through the tension, and the light ease in it slowly cleared it. She was watching her curiously from through the mirror, making Rhaenyra feel as though she were being examined as one would to the colors on a butterfly's wings. She acted as though any abrupt movement or sound of a voice might cause it to flutter away. Rhaenyra thought she was going to say something serious, but Alicent's brows only furrowed. "Why is there macaroni in my son's hair?"
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
The last wedding Rhaenyra Targaryen had seen was one of vampires who sparkle in the sunlight, which was why the sight of Laenor Velaryon, covered in glitter, was not so bad. Laena was currently assuring him that it would all be fine, that it wasn't even that engrained in his suit. Never one to be a liar, Rhaenyra thought now was a good time to start. Now the room was filled with the three bridesmaids, one Ella Tyrell, a pretentious girl who made her living off TikTok videos, and Rhaenys Velaryon, who was currently dragging a lint roller over her son's suit.
"This can't be happening," Laenor repeated, looking near pale, blanching when he stared at the lint roller that his mother separated from his clothing. "I am going to murder them."
Suffice it to say, whoever gave the Stark children the glitter gun was dead to the Velaryon family, should Rhaenys or Laenor get ahold of them. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, but it was not enough to go on as apparently Rickon and Alyanne were not rats. Rhaenyra was going to find Cregan Stark and tell him of his son Rickon's actions, but Cregan scared the actual hell out of her so she was working up to it.
So, here they were, cleaning up Laenor who looked about ready to cry.
"You know," Ella began, finally speaking into the terse silence in the room that she could not read. Laena was shaking her head likely hoping to get the girl to stop before she began, but Ella must have been blind as well as dumb. "We place so much energy into our wedding day, but it's not even the biggest day of our lives. Laenor, you and Qarl love each other. Your big days happen after today. It's not the pledge of love you give or what you wear, but the act of fulfilling the pledge you make that is important. It's all only just begun."
Rhaenyra opened up her phone, texting Laena directly.
Rhaenyra: bitch what
Rhaenyra: make her stop
Rhaenyra: this isn't shakespeare in the park. that suit was 90k
read 4:24 pm
Laena subtly glanced from the text messages and strolled her gaze back towards her cousin in a way that said 'bitch'.
Rhaenys listened to the speech with an absolute stillness that spread silence in the room. Rhaenyra was aware of her own breathing, and Laenor's lack of breath, attempting to find room to push air into his own lungs. His face was blanching, true panic growing instead of anything remotely approaching the ease that Ella was attempting to push upon him. "Rhaenyra, darling," Rhaenys said, breaking the silence like shattering glass. "Perhaps take Miss Tyrell to get some water and sober up."
Ella went to open her mouth, to say 'I haven't drunk a drop', but Rhaenyra had placed a hand on the small of her back, determined to leave as much as she was to get Ella out of there. "Sis, take the out," Rhaenyra muttered, ushering the girl from the small room. The moment they heard the door close behind them, the sound echoing like a crash, Rhaenyra dropped her hand.
"Did I do something wrong?" Ella was certainly a kind girl, if not a bit naive. Of course, Rhaenyra considered anyone who began their introduction to her as 'you're so funny, you must be a Gemini rising' to be a bit of a freak.
Rhaenyra pursed her lips, "I'm not sure. What does your horoscope say?" Shite, Rhaenyra, don't make fun of your cousin's friends.
"I was too nervous this morning to check," Ella admitted as they made their way to the hall where the guests all waited impatiently for Laenor, who might as well be crying at the moment.
"How about you get some water, cool off, and wait for Rhaenys to take care of the rest," Rhaenyra suggested, her mood suctioned away and replaced with indifference. She was about to say something more when her phone pinged with a text.
Laena: yo, child whisperer. we never took that glitter gun from rickon. find that little bastard or ims gonna end him
read 4:31 pm
If Laena was saying it, Rhaenyra took that as fact and not a good fate for anyone. She proceeded to ditch Ella Tyrell, deciding to look about the venue for the two kids who might just die tonight. Her heels clicked against the tiles, darting past flower arrangements and decorations, scanning tables that had yet to be sat in, chairs neatly tucked in, white arrangements that lit beautifully against the light lilac bricks of the walls. Draped curtains rested over the ancient bricks, giving a mixture of that age-old feel with new-age lighting.
There was a gust of warm garden air to her right, signifying the doors had been opened. Rhaenyra immediately hiked up her gown, her walk quickening as much as possible for the shoes she wore, as she made her way past the golden room that showed Cipriani's venue was no joke and Laena could decorate like a pro.
She shoved open the garden doors, and spotted the giggling children, running past the twinkling lights, and away from where the guests were currently waiting for the ceremony to begin. They'd likely be there a bit longer, since 60 percent of any wedding, no matter how expensive, was waiting. "Get back here," Rhaenyra hissed, walking down the steps that led onto the stone path, trying to keep on the stones so that way she didn't sink her heels directly into soft dirt and grass.
"She looks mad," eight-year-old Alyanne hissed, but she wasn't the one holding the glitter gun. Rickon held it like a marine, letting Rhaenyra know that he'd use it should she get too close. She rushed passed perfumed flowers, strong enough to invade her senses.
"If you drop the gun, we're cool. Even stevens," you little bastard. Rhaenyra smiled, hopping from stone to the next as she held the train of her nude dress in her fingers. Laenor had certainly chosen her color, and she looked amazing wrapped in satin and rustic brown with fabric only kept up by careful safety pins and material on one shoulder. If she ended up getting it dirty, there was no force on this entire earth that would keep Rickon Stark away from her petty, revenge-filled, vindictive self.
As if he saw that, Rickon immediately aimed the gun at her, making her feel like the star of an action film. Or perhaps the hot extra. "Seriously?" Rhaenyra asked, wondering why kids were determined to ruin this day for her.
All she wanted was to return for the grooms' cake in the parlor, admire the wedding figures on wheatsheaf and blossoms that looked too good to eat. She wanted to see the many guests, mingle for the great show, and then wish her cousin well for his holiday by the sea. Qarl promised to try his pasty white arse in an attempt at sea-bathing, while Laenor brought his stocks of cerulean blue and burnt umber as an attempt to catch sky and sea in watercolor. Laenor, and this Rhaenyra knew, was hardly a good painter.
"Do it," Rhaenyra said, her voice steady, calm, and without emotion. Rickon was a boy, the spitting image of his father, with the same shaggy black hair and his obdurate, yet foolhardy approach. He even had the same dark eyes. Alyanne had already ditched him, running back to hide in her mother's skirts as any good Glover daughter would. "Just so you know, that's all that's keeping me standing still and chill." She already began to remove her heels, preparing for a full-on sprint that made a bit of worry appear on Rickon's face.
Cregan would likely never surrender, but his son appeared to have some sense yet. He tossed the glitter gun on the ground, sprinting the opposite way. Rhaenyra immediately began to put her shoes back on.
"What was the plan? Beat him with your heel?" A low voice swept past her, and it snaked down her spine like a caress that immediately restarted her heart like a 90s computer. Rhaenyra continued to strap back on her silver shoes, crouched to do so with the ties glistening in the last bits of the sunlight as she tied them around her bare ankle.
"Just to be clear," Rhaenyra said, standing and turning to Daemon who was now walking up to lift the glitter gun from the grass with his long, nimble fingers. She was certainly not proud of the imagery in her mind, but she was long past the days she could stop it. "You didn't, like, give them that, did you?"
Daemon snorted as though the very idea was somehow hilarious and ridiculous and beneath him. When he turned to meet her gaze from a small distance across the garden, she was reminded of their embrace at her father's Southampton home. Rhaenyra had unblocked him many times since, began to draft text message after text message, and then promptly reblocked him without sending a single one.
Now, his eyes were scanning down her dress, which fit her tight around the waist, but loose everywhere else. Everywhere his eyes lingered, heat pooled until she was absolutely flush with his stare alone. "You clean up well," he said, referring, likely, to how awful she looked the morning after the jail and the acid. "Nearly a different girl."
"Do women usually thank you for such flattery?" Rhaenyra asked carefully, cutting off her own foolhardy comments. Had she been hoping for more? Of course. She was stupid like that. Perhaps she wanted to see the desire in him that she felt right down to the tips of her toes and back up to her foggy brain.
Had she wanted him to make it clear? Of course she did. Normal rules when it came to men were that they were simple creatures who would make all known should they only feel it. Daemon, however, was not a simple creature and she could stare at him all she wanted, love him all she wanted, and still not completely understand him.
"You're not most women," he told her and proceeded it with their shared laugh as she trailed her manicured hand over her eyes.
"God, never say that to me again," she told him, his cringe line making her subtract 10 hotness points.
"I just might, if not to hear you laugh," he replied, and she slowly trailed her fingers to her neck when a nervous flutter spread in her belly once more. "Besides, I wouldn't remember the last time I said anyone looked lovely since I am apparently still a married man," Daemon said this, speaking in such a way that the very notion was a humorous one or he was a loyal man. Rhaenyra doubted the latter.
"Rhea Royce could drop dead tomorrow and you'd probably throw a party, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra didn't find it particularly amusing since she wasn't quite on his level of callousness.
The trees were bedecked with twinkle lights, the air perfumed, and as she walked closer, she realized that once again they were alone. She was weak, weak for any reason to touch him. She slowly removed the glitter gun from his fingers, which he let go of with ease. Their hands brushed, and she felt like a fool from a play for how much that somewhat palliated her. Or would have, if she didn't have all five of her senses functioning, with how his scent mixed with her perfume in an amorous centrifuge.
He stared down at her, her fingers tightening around the plastic glitter gun. He kept his hands to himself, down at his sides, even when she wanted so badly for them to be at her waist, trailing up to every place that ached for his touch. "Why?" His low voice was stricken with blatant disrespect for his current wife who refused his annulment. "Are you offering?"
The dark and sultry fragrance would perhaps forever be hypnotizing, perhaps always haunting. Rhaenyra wanted to inhale it from his skin, perhaps more, and she didn't know why it was so deeply ingrained in her mind when he wasn't doing anything.
At the very least, male birds did a fucking mating dance. They flap their wings, engage in building a strong nest, and compete for her affection with others. Daemon Targaryen just had to stand there and she already wanted to drink from his open mouth like a crazy bitch.
Rhaenyra let out a soft laugh, her sides splitting and her body hot. Certainly not how she should feel when joking about murdering his current wife. "You might actually be insane."
"I heard about Criston," Daemon said, and she was reminded of his words before, of her perfect life coming together. With a perfect guy and a perfect degree.
She certainly didn't feel remotely stable, still a child, grasping at adulthood. She felt like a fool, clawing to rise up in a world that would rather her become a human incubator for furthering the Targaryen line.
Her tongue dragged along her bottom lip, the striking pain at his name, the ring that she had yet to pick up from the ground. If she grabbed it, touched it, or opened it, she'd have to return it, and she didn't know what closing that door looked like. She didn't know how to approach him or what words he deserved.
An adult indeed, Rhaenyra thought with a self-derisive chuckle at Daemon's comment. "We tried," she said carefully, softly, and he gave her a gentle smile in return, all but saying 'I know you did.'
"I heard he had been," Daemon paused, and she wondered if the words were hard for him too. Rhaenyra imagined communication was, since it was always her attempting to reach through his walls to no avail. She had tried to erect her own in the beginning, in a way to separate those new feelings that came forth at his beck and call. They might as well have been made of paper because every time she tried to erect some barrier, he made her feel stupid for even bothering. "Devoted to you."
Rhaenyra wanted to fling the glitter gun into the bushes, the backs of her eyes burning. "Lots of good that did him." She walked past him, confused and irrationally angry.
She didn't want to talk to him of all people about Criston, but low and behold, here they were. "Rhaenyra," Daemon grabbed her by the arm, and she was aware of the open space, where anyone could traverse and see. They'd see nothingbecause she wasn't doing this today. Today, she would have a monocle of control. She saw the two of them clearly from the outside, like in a picture.
We were not people. We were a danger sign. A warning to all who approach. 'Stop and thank god because such a luckless fate did not befall you as it befell us. Turn the other way around, keep going, and hope you do better.'
"I am trying to make this better," he said, his voice breaking, just a moment before he had closed himself off once more. Rhaenyra nodded, but she pressed her lips together, hating that she was so aware of how gentle his fingers were, wrapped around her arm, how he cradled her like she was this precious thing that wandered in his midsts. Rhaenyra was not that fragile.
But she read what he was trying to say, knowing that he was trying to fix the familial relationship they had, which was a noble thing. She was just not certain if it were possible to do. She wanted the gentle hands around her, that kind smile, her smile, although she should not want such a thing. Even now, with the way his eyes trailed over her face, her body burning for him, and nothing was ever so delicious or so painful as being so close to him. So close, and yet unable to do fuck all about it.
"You should have tried three years ago," she said, her anger coming back, and that was not something a few gentle kisses could erase. She went to pull back her arm, but he didn't let go, his grip careful but firm.
"We're not done," he said, eyes heavy upon her, as if he saw everything, every terrible thought or atrocious deed that she ever committed. He saw all of it and had that expression as if to say 'is that all?'
"You abandoned me," she told him, chucking the stupid glitter gun into the bushes and hitting her fist against his chest. Her voice was a hiss, just above a whisper, in Valyrian. He glanced over to the shaking bushes before he was staring back at her, his eyes dark, fixed upon her and reminding her of all her anger and potent lust.
"Abandoned you?" Daemon let her go, and she nearly stumbled back.
"And now you want to talk when you have made it clear that you did not care one way or another before," Rhaenyra told him, now slapping her hand against his chest once more, just enough to make him feel it, but never enough to hurt him. Unlike him, she didn't do that and would not, even now.
Frustration, arousal, fury, and hurt. They created and mixed this emotional cocktail every time they spent more than five minutes together, gathering in this awful exchange as they grew drunk off one another. But most of the time, she felt like she was getting drunk alone.
"You made me feel worthless," she told him, slapping his chest as her heart beat violently with trepidation and despair that she never understood. "Used up," she slapped his chest again, weaker. "And you abandoned me."
"I spared you," he hissed out, and because they were so obviously unlucky, that was when they heard the cheers from a small distance away. Laenor must be arriving soon, the chattering as loud as war cries. Rhaenyra barely heard it, her chest rising and falling with violent gasps. It was teetering over the edge, but she was attempting to regain her peace, her calm, so she could show her face to her cousin.
She turned to walk away from him, but he was quicker, his hand around her upper arm once more.
"I wasn't done," he told her, his voice soft when she wished, needed, for him to yell at her. If he screamed at her, if he shouted, if he even gripped her arm too tightly, she might just be free of it. Of him. Or she could want him regardless and hate herself all the more.
"I don't care," she said in return, closing off and switching away from Valyrian, her voice a mess with hurt and she could barely speak. It wasn't because she was unnerved. She was enraptured, frozen to her spot by his crisp, and terrifyingly cold beauty. She had once found that attraction taboo, something so forbidden to so much as consider, never mind touch.
It still was, just muted by the power of his kiss and the effect it had on her. It was muted, drowned out by him, by his voice that called to her in dreams, that had saved her from the ashes and from following her mother into the fire. He pulled her back out when Aemma had exited from her life like a bullet, only to leave a bleeding hole behind.
His fingers slid from her own, even as she gave him all the chances to speak in the damning silence where he gave her nothing but a lingering touch. Her eyes refuse to let him leave while he stands still, holding her hand, and lingering for as long as possible. His hands grip her head, fingers against her neck and cupping the back of it.
She lingers next, as if she were drowning, with him keeping her above water. She wanted him to tell her, tell her what he wanted, if he wanted everything to go back to how it was before, five years ago when she was still a little girl who didn't know what was to come. She wanted him to tell her that he wanted nothing to do with her. Say anything.
But he doesn't and she separates herself, walking back down the path.
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Nobody died at Laenor and Qarl's wedding, so perhaps that was a testament to a pleasant affair. There were no words that could be said to justify the beauty of a groom, or in this case, grooms, walking down the aisle in anticipation of sharing the rest of his life with someone he loved and esteemed the most. Moreso, the look on Qarl's face when he beheld the one who will be entrusting the rest of his life to. It can be said is that all who witnessed the grand love had found themselves overwhelmed with joy as the Laenor's past walked him to the future.
Of course, that was not all that could be said. Laenor had at least fifty twinkle lights, spread over the room, and most were shining directly at him. There were still bits of glitter, stuck to his skin, to his suit, but that boy rocked it with poise. Rhaenyra spotted Rickon Stark, pointedly hushed next to his father, but he could not hide the slight smile that signified a boy who was proud of his misdeeds.
He met Rhaenyra's stare from across the many rows, her making the pointed 'I'm watching you' gesture and motioning to slash a finger across her throat. He immediately paled, looking to his dad as if Cregon Stark would ever defend his son, should he find out the damage he did to the poor photographer.
It was in the quiet, the moments between one set of vows to the next, that Rhaenyra's eyes swept over Laenor's sparkling skin.
This is the skin of a killer Bella, Rhaenyra thought, her fists clenched into her dress, shoulders shaking as she snorted out a repressed laugh. Rhaenys immediately brought her harsh and silencing gaze to her, effectively making Rhaenyra's sense of humor as dry as her sex life.
Mysaria had arrived for the reception, looking like a 10/10 in gold. After everything that had happened, Rhaenyra had nearly forgotten the invite, but Mysaria had approached Daemon just as planned. A soft kiss to his cheek in greeting had the Royces, five tables over, practically ready to start a fight. Rhaenyra smiled in her champagne as she watched Daemon's brows rise for a mere moment of surprise as Mysaria walked straight past him in that airy way she perfected from years of not caring what people think. She then proceeded to sit in the empty seat next to Daemon's assigned chair, her long dark hair dragging over her shoulder as she scooted in.
"Oh Rhaenyra," Laena whispered at Rhaenyra's side as everyone filed into the room. "Your uncle is about to earn a slap." Laena was positively fuming at Daemon's audacity, which made Rhaenyra have to swallow down her own smug sense of victory so her cousin wouldn't turn her wrath back around on her. "If this turns into another incident, I swear to god, I will cut his balls off and feed it to Vhagar." Vhagar, Laena's dog, was probably too old to eat any balls for her anymore, but Rheanyra didn't say this aloud.
Rhaenyra glanced over Laena's shoulder, where Daemon was dragging his chair out to sit next to Mysaria with an insouciant expression that Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed at. "I'd be more concerned about Rhea's brother," Rhaenyra told her cousin, pointing to the dark-haired boy who looked like the spitting image of his sister. "Daemon will always wait for others to act first."
"You know what? Whatever, I've done my part," Laena said, patting Rhaenyra's shoulder. "What happens, happens, my brother has his ring. Toasts begin in twenty. You wrote it right?"
Rhaenyra's smile thinned, having written it last night, late, after procrastinating in favor of her Bar exam studies so she could start calling herself an actual lawyer. Laena shook her head, patting her cousin's shoulder and heading to the Velaryon table.
So, the wedding passed on, they gave their toasts, and Laena gave one that actually brought tears to many eyes. When Rhaenyra's turn to come up and speak, she bottled the need to cry. Maybe once, maybe long ago, she would have been a weaker sort, turning her cousin's day about her and her own sadness. She made the decision, in the long years, to no longer be that person.
So she raised her glass, smiling at the crowd, and said her speech, beginning with, "I have to go to the bathroom, so I'm going to keep this short." Some of it was sweet, sappy love quotes she googled the night before, but some were her own mix of wit and eloquence, unable to resist subtle digs. She turned her glass to Qarl in greeting. "I am sure my uncle Corlys can finally stop the passive Facebook posts now that you've decided to take the Velaryon name," Rhaenyra said to the dining hall that went silent for her. From across the table, toying with the silver knife, Daemon watched her with a casual stance of a man who could not be more at ease.
There was laughter in the crowd, the voice of Corlys Velaryon booming his agreement as Rhaenyra knew he would. Public speaking might have once made her nervous, but she figured that she embarrassed herself far worse than anything she could say now.
"I'll never forget the day I first met Qarl. He was so kind, so humble, so handsome and, as you all know, my cousin Laenor," Rhaenyra raised her glass to the table where Laenor and his family, new and old, sat. It was a white long table, making it look like the images of the Last Supper. Laenor's eyes were narrow, shining with mirth, likely already knowing what was to come. "So single." Rhaenyra went on, probably insulting Laenor for five minutes straight.
"But, I guess I'll be serious for a second," she said towards the end, wanting to wrap it up so she could pee, which was no longer a joke. "I am a girl who thought love meant doing anything for someone, stupidly and blindly and absolutely. We've all been stupidly in love with someone, although I hope nobody else took 40 thousand from their father, thinking they were about to fund the love of their life's dreams, but instead, funded his tour around Europe with his boyfriend Sid." Rhaenyra turned her gaze to her father, who had been amused before, but now was covering his face to resist the room's laughter. "Sorry dad."
Rhaenyra bit her lip, her smile genuine and real.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I never knew what love was, and if you've heard about the ex that tried to steal Laenor's kidney, who he proceeded to get back together with. Laenor," Rhaenyra stared her laughing cousin straight in the eyes. "You didn't either."
Rhaenyra raised her glass towards the couple, her eyes passing over Daemon who watched her as he always did when she spoke. Intently. Completely. With ubiquitous influence.
"Nobody deserves it more, and certainly nobody wanted it more than the thirstiest man I have ever met. I thought I'd seen love before, but looking at you two today, fighting every step of the way for one another," Rhaenyra's voice cracked, but she kept up her smile. "I know that's what it's supposed to be, so I raise my glass." Rhaenyra raised her champagne, quite ready to finally drink it. "To Laenor, who finally figured out the meaning without losing a liver," she said, and everyone lifted their drinks in response. "And to Qarl, who finally made my cousin happy in a way his Grindr never could."
She sat down, feeling Alicent reach under the table to grasp her palm, interlocking their fingers from over Aegon who was currently leaning back in his chair and tugging on the rustic brown fabric of Rhaenyra's gown. "I didn't know about the Sid thing," Alicent whispered, and Rhaenyra chuckled, taking a long drink of her champagne until she hit the dregs of the glass. She proceeded to bat away Aegon's hand, which he responded with a stronger hit.
"It's a story that just keeps on giving," Rhaenyra agreed, and finally, the toasts were over and she could devour the glazed goose and freshly caught salmon. She still had to pee, but held it for a bit longer when the Targaryen table lit with noise from her half brothers. Alicent had already begun to feed Aemond, which Aegon did not like as he began to yell that she should feed him too. With Aegon in between Rhaenyra and Alicent, this became her problem as well.
Rhaenyra watched Alicent comply, staring at the family in a way only described as pure disgust. Mysaria was deep into her wine, staring at her and back towards Daemon with a smile as the uncle and niece mirrored their expressions to one another. "So, I did not realize you two were," Viserys began, his gaze traveling between Daemon, who had lifted his own wine, and Mysaria, who looked comfortable, despite the Royces' stink eye. "Serious."
Rhaenyra kept her face purposefully blank, even when Daemon's gaze traveled to her, narrow with some degree of amusement. He trailed his hand down Mysaria's arm, slowly and sensually as he interlocked their hands. "We are very private," he said, barely even looking at the woman whose hand he held as he stared into his brother's eyes. It seemed he was determined to get under her father's skin with this, using the shame Daemon was so skilled at drenching his family with. It was always just enough that it wounded them, but never drowned.
"What do you do, Ms-?" Viserys paused, as if he too hadn't had the woman's entire life on his desk after Daemon was spotted slighting his new bride with her on his arm.
Mysaria, who likely knew this too, only sent a coy smile to Rhaenyra, passing over her as if they were meeting for the first time. Daemon's gaze followed it with narrowed eyes. "I was born in group homes. I have been given so many surnames that they all run together to become illegible. As for what I do, besides your brother," Viserys's eyes darted around, as if afraid any other table might overhear the crass implications. Rhaenyra smiled, swirling her wine in her cup. "I run a few nightclubs around New York. Nothing as grand as your clubs, Mr. Targaryen, but it supports my lifestyle."
"Ah," Viserys's gaze slid to his brother again, likely remembering the tabloids where Daemon had been seen in nightclubs, sprouting his 'heir for a day' with this very woman at his side. The awkward energy at the table was nearly visible.
"Well, I think it's great," Alicent said, still spoon-feeding Aegon, and that compliance was likely the reason the kid was such a bitch. "To see Daemon happy."
Mysaria hummed, setting down her glass. "Yes. Our dalliance has been successful, besides his marriage and other infidelities, we are quite content."
Daemon finally chuckled, sharing a look with Mysaria that only two people who truly knew one another could have. Just like that, the mood for Rhaenyra was thwarted by an envy that had no place in her zen lifestyle that was proving so hard to maintain. She was now all too aware of their interlocked hands, the gentle thumb that he rubbed in circles on the back of her hand, and their closeness that Rhaenyra wasn't expecting.
"Yes," Viserys said, now scowling at his brother openly. "To see you content is my greatest wish, but I wonder if you are attempting fulfillment purposefully in front of your wife." His voice finally lowered, switching to Valyrian. "Do you mean to insult the Royces or me for this farce?"
Daemon only leaned back in his seat, lips raised in a beguiling smile as he shared a look once more with Rhaenyra. She didn't know what he was about to do, only ever the unpredictable and adaptable. "Perhaps I only wanted to share with you, my fulfillment." Daemon dragged his palm away from Mysaria's interconnected hand, placing it gently over the woman's stomach in such an affectionate manner that Rhaenyra immediately knew what he was doing. "Would now be the time to share it with the Royces I wonder?"
Mysaria's gaze followed his palm, her jaw clenching. For Daemon, Rhaenyra imagined, everything was a performance. His small, private smiles always caught her off guard as she looked down so he wouldn't see her envy and amusement. Alicent, still not understanding Valyrian, despite marrying into a deranged family who spoke it, looked to Rhaenyra. Perhaps she chose not to learn so she would be only half stressed at these dinners she could not understand.
Aegon could pick up bits and pieces, and the ones he did catch likely bored him, so he ignored everything in favor of stripping back his mother's receding attention. Rhaenyra turned to her, reaching over Aegon himself to whisper in her ear. "He's saying she's pregnant," Rhaenyra said lowly, and despite how she knew it not to be true, a small, tiny part of her thought it might. Fuck, he could knock her up out of spite tonight.
"Fuck me," Alicent whispered, rubbing her palm down her face as Viserys's own reddened.
"Perhaps I will put it in my own toast," Daemon continued, either apathetic or unaware of Mysaria's sinking mood. Likely a pregnancy, even a fake one, might ruin her reputation, might damage future relationships with men she scammed who hardly wanted to get involved with a mother, but Rhaenyra never knew in this society she lived.
"Uncle," Rhaenyra finally spoke, and his eyes, steely and cold, were on her, piercing right through her. "Surely you jest."
Viserys, always the first the think the absolute worst of his brother, was not so certain. Perhaps that lack of faith was an attributing factor to why Daemon did this. Rhaenyra had wanted him to suffer, wanted drama, but not at the expense of Mysaria herself, who Daemon wasn't considering in his schemes for the suffering of the Royces and his own brother.
"Perhaps, should you not be using it," Daemon began, his eyes dragging down. "We might take up in Dragonstone for a while."
Rhaenyra let out a breath, one that exposed her, one that exposed her emotions that she worked so hard to hide. Her fingers clenched around her champagne flute, and finally, she revealed she was not immune. The glass flute broke, and she dropped it on the table, causing lines of heads to snap in their direction as she quickly hid her hand under the table and stood. She smiled at her father, who appeared confused for a moment, his eyes darting down to the glass that was broken upon their table and back over to the family looking over as the Targaryens exposed the scene.
"Aegon, you shouldn't be so clumsy," Alicent was quick in her lie, with Aegon sitting in between her and Rhaenyra, the fib was then made believable by Aegon's confused silence. Immediately one of the staff came to clean off the glass, but Rhaenyra sent Alicent a last, grateful smile, and left to the bathroom as she should have done twenty minutes ago.
She passed the Royce table, catching the eye of Rhea Royce, who was laughing into her second drink. The woman immediately scowled in Rhaenyra's direction likely for the resemblance both Daemon and Rhaenyra shared and no more. Rhaenyra's lips twitched up, her fists clenched as she made it past the long brick hallway, lit with twinkling lights, and made four turns before she opened the bathroom. She practically knocked over the trash can in her attempt to cover up her hand in paper towels as she peed, tripping over her own heel as she went to wash her bleeding hands over the running water.
She took deep breaths, finally glancing up to meet her own reflection. A girl she did not recognize was staring back at her, and Rhaenyra traced over that girl with her free hand. She felt foolish, exposed, and vulnerable in a way that only the words 'Dragonstone' could do. She was pushed right back in time, reading articles secondhand about her uncle's exploits in her ancestral home, knowing what it meant to her as he desecrated the purity of that place. The culmination of all that, mixed with a tiny sliver of doubt, of her breakup, of her predisposition for the literal embodiment of a monster, all was too much.
So when she heard the soft knock on the door, knowing who it was, made her stomach drop. "Go away," she said, but was not surprised that he would never listen and Daemon opened the door anyway.
"If you really wanted to be left alone, maybe lock the door," he said, locking it behind him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the water, diluting her own blood in the sink. "Oh, Rhaenyra," he whispered, walking over while she could only stare at him in the mirror. He looked so otherworldly beautiful, monstrous, and everything she ever wanted to be. His fingers were gentle as he gripped onto her wrist, the heat of him flooding her.
The cut wasn't deep, certainly not requiring stitches, but it wasn't a clean slash across her palm either. It would certainly scar. His gentle touch was such a conflict to the image of Daemon that everyone thought they knew. He was deadly in the business world, so ruthless to reporters that they actually gave him wide berth to get into his car, and he wasn't even kind to his own family. But to Rhaenyra, he always had this softness that went beyond anything else. So, perhaps that was why it cut her when she saw that same gentleness he had with Mysaria.
Which was irrational because he was allowed to be however he wanted and she didn't own his kindness. She had no claim on him whatsoever. She had practiced this, practiced letting him go, but it seemed like the more she rehearsed it, the worse she became. The more time she spent with him, the more her mind loosened from her grip until being around him was all she wanted.
He washed off the blood, taking the handkerchief out from his breast pocket, wrapping it around her hand, and making her flinch as he applied pressure. His thumb moved in soothing circles around the back of her hand, his eyes probing her own when she finally met them.
"I wasn't expecting it," he admitted in a soft whisper.
He might as well have been screaming it at her with how deep the silence was in the room. "What?"
His gentle smile was back, parts of it amused enough to bring about her own weakening resolve to distance herself from him, as if he would ever let her. "Mysaria. It caught me off guard."
"What makes you think I had anything to do with it?" Rhaenyra asked, and his hand kept up firm pressure on her cut, doing nothing to ease the sting. His other hand trailed to her cheek, cradling it as she unintentionally leaned into his touch. Her body heated with it, lowering and settling until her legs rubbed against each other as a way to quell it.
"My little villain," he whispered, and now his eyes were dead set on her, trailing down every facet of her face, over her lips that parted. His hand was so warm and her eyes were growing heavy with that weighted stare.
"They are probably wondering where I am," Rhaenyra whispered, and his eyes narrowed in amusement. "You followed me right away." It would look suspicious if they took too long.
"Mysaria came too," he told her, his breath on her lips as the control they both had, that same reign they had on these drowning emotions, they were slipping. "She's just outside."
It would look better if he came with a third, a way to drown out the whispers of their heated exchanges that Reddit posts raved about. It was so hard to think about practicalities when he looked at her like that.
"I'm furious with you," she whispered, but still didn't swat away his touch. His hand had now snaked into her hair, his other still clenched about her wounded hand. The touch was pleasant, burning her, melding into the sting on her hand in a mix that perfectly represented their relationship.
"You have made that clear," he whispered right back, staring back down at her, drawing her closer until their noses brushed against one another. Her body was flush against his, and there was no denying the heat that he was transferring to her, the warmth that now drenched her.
The music swelled to a crescendo from outside, soft, letting her know that the band had begun and the dance was commencing. Daemon, however, cared little for it as he kept her imprisoned against the muscular length of his body. Rhaenyra was losing the battle, the war, and she didn't remember as many of the details of her anger. "Is she pregnant?"
Daemon laughed, but Rhaenyra didn't find it very funny. She didn't know what he did, who he did, or anything that happened during the three years that they had been apart. They weren't the same people anymore and her life was a disaster, waiting for her to finally take charge of it. "I haven't seen Mysaria in months, Rhaenyra."
She went to pull away, but his grip was firm. "Let me go."
"I thought you wanted me to speak to you?" Daemon whispered, furiously now, as if her doubting him was truly the worst thing she could do to him.
"You should have spoken to me three years ago," she hissed, her free hand clutching his waist. "Instead of talking to me, you lose your head over any passing pretty face that catches your eye. You ruin everything you touch, do you know that? You ruined Dragonstone and if you truly cared about me, you wouldn't have thrown it in my face like that."
"Cared about you?" Daemon's grip tightened, and now her back was against the sink, digging into it. His tender tone turned her heart right over, as if he had tipped it. She tilted her head back slightly, looking at his handsome face in the dim lighting. "You've uttered many accusations my way tonight, Rhaenyra, many depravities that I have apparently done. What would I have ruined had I acted out the depravities I have wanted to do to you, I wonder?"
She didn't have words, but she didn't need them. Instead, she felt him against her stomach, the hard length of him that made her dizzy with hazy lust. Whatever she felt against him was nothing in comparison to the desire that had coiled so tightly that nothing they could possibly do would make it right. She had never wanted to fuck someone more, never wanted it so badly that she didn't care about anything else.
"Three years I tried to cast you away," he whispered, lips brushing against her own with every motion or breath.
He pulled back the roots of her hair, forcing her to stare up at him, forcing her to look at him as she let out soft breaths. "Did it work?"
He let out a derisive chuckle, "You tell me." And that was when he kissed her. He kisses her once, then separates to turn his head, tilting it until every part of her was being consumed. She let out little sounds, gasps of hot air that made him groan as if he had needed this as badly as she did. Hot air was against her neck, teeth at her shoulder, pushing down the material of her dress. "And you wore this dress," he said against her skin, licking and sucking and making her let out soft moans that she drowned out by turning on the faucet.
His other hand moved down, capturing her thigh, snaking around the muscled flesh as she felt everything he had with his every touch. She could taste him, his mouth, his foggy lust, but it wasn't enough. Her lips went to his neck, wanting to finally taste his skin, the hard line of his jaw, the breathy inhale. He fights back a groan and that was when she felt his fingers under her dress, hiking it up until she was flush against his body, his hand cupping her, slipping in between her legs in such a way that her lips parted and her brows furrowed together.
The burn that was spreading over her became a fever, and their eyes were on one another again, breathing coming out wild and staggered as his chest raised and fell in equal gasps as her own. "I'll stop," he whispered, as if he were begging her to agree, as if he needed her to make him.
"You occupy my every waking thought," Rhaenyra whispered right back, her High Valyrian sensual, filled with barely restrained lust. "I have dreamed of you every night, where you have touched me in more wicked a way than right now. Don't you dare stop."
His eyes were bright with restraint, but it all slipped away when she spoke, slipped far far away. He looked aside once, towards the closed door, but when that gaze came back to her, it was burning hot. A surge of expectation leaked into her bloodstream, clinging to her like steroids. His hand was clenched around the fabric of her dress, which he had let fall only to skim it up her legs once more. Every inch of her skin was sizzling, an empty ache forming low in her stomach as he finally made contact with her bare thigh once more.
She dragged her hand, the one he wasn't cradling to put pressure on a wound, up to his hair where she tugged it down. She forced his head up, licking up his Adam's apple, to his jaw where he smelled so good that she wanted to nuzzle her face into his neck so she could get every last drop. He seemed reluctant, but the magnetism must have been a forceful pull as his hand moved along her thong, cupping her once more in a way that made her breath come out like a gasp. He only had to touch her once to see how wet this had made her.
"I occupy your thoughts?" Daemon whispered as she sucked on his neck, his breathing erratic as his voice came out a half groan. "I haven't thought of anything but you in years."
He squeezed her hand harder against the cut, making her let out a short breath of pain that quickly turned into a moan when his thumb pressed down on her clit through the fabric of her thong. His other hand was against her back, trailing and pulling down the material of her dress with gentle kisses on her shoulder as he worked his way to her chest, inhaling her.
"That scent," his Valyrian whisper was guttural as he looked up at her, exposing her breasts. "Has been imprinted on my mind." The cherry perfume that Criston hated, he lapped up. His mouth dragged on her nipple, and he finally sucked one into his mouth. A spark lit in her stomach, flames running throughout her body like a wildfire of want. His eyes stayed connected to hers, his tongue lapping around until her back arched into his touch. The light brush of teeth, mixed with a fistful of her thigh and his groan from deep in his chest caused an embarrassing sound to escape her.
She arched, rocking her hips against him, wanting him, needing him. He fisted the thong at her hip, dragging it down her thighs until it fell at her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them away, past the point of rational thought. His gaze was heavy upon her, falling over her breasts that were exposed for him, to her dress that he wouldn't let completely fall. He gave his head a shake, running his hand down his tie, loosening it.
"Fuck," he whispered, and that was all he could say before he lifted her atop the counter, where the sink ran from next to her. His arms wrapped around the backs of her thighs, but he stopped, grabbing her wounded hand and lifting it to his face where he cradled it with both hands. He forced her to hold the pressure, his lips pressed against the hand, his eyes on her. There were so many things she still hadn't yelled at him for, so many that she still might, but none mattered now.
He gently lowered her hand, making sure she applied pressure to it, before he lowered his head between her thighs. She shuddered under the first hot, wet touch of his tongue as a rush of pleasure flooded her, causing her head to hit the back of the mirror. A stronger wave rolled over her, straight through her at every soft, slow lap he took from the entrance to her clit. His eyes were on her, staring up, and she had never seen something quite as erotic as this fantasy plucked straight from her dreams.
His arms held her securely, forcing her from moving her hips while he took his time. He held her waist, but her right hand dragged to his thick white hair, running her manicured nails just against his scalp. She had screamed his name many times before, mostly in irritation or anger, but never once in pleasure. It slipped out when he swirled his tongue over her clit before sucking in such a way that had her eyes rolling back.
He separated from her, and the pressure eased, her pleasure ebbing away. She was about to yell at him, her nerves full of him, but his stare against her was too much. "How far did the fantasies go?" Daemon's question was barely something she could register, her thoughts in a fog.
"Farther than this," she told him right back, and he smiled while she went to order him, but didn't get the chance when he slipped one finger inside, curling it up. She let out a strangled gasp, his eyes hot upon her as he slipped in another. "Please," she whispered, rocking her hips as he plunged into her hard, causing her to choke on her gasp. The tremor was met with his mouth back on her clit, licking and sucking while his fingers moved in and out of her, again and again and again until she was gasping out his name in soft whispers. They were fading under the running water, but enough for him to hear.
The third finger came, and they all curled inside her, the flame growing hotter when he slowed again. Her fingers were tangled in between silver strands, lost in the lust in such a way that had never happened before. His dark gaze was on her again, his swirling tongue steady and consistent, even as his fingers became faster, harder, until she could no longer see anything but the back of her eyelids.
She leaned back into the mirror again, rocking her hips as her fingers tangled into his hair. Again and again, it did not let up. She was pulsing around his fingers as they slowed, one final lap of his tongue, making her lose all sense. Her legs were shaking, her heat intensifying as his free hand pressed to her stomach in such a way that made her pulsate with pleasure that had her undone.
He was kissing up her thighs, his dragging lips so sensual, so sweet, as the pleasure subsided and left her nearly deflated against the counter. It was the first orgasm she had in a year, brought by someone other than herself. Addicting and intensifying and not nearly enough. His hands pressed against her thighs, sliding up them as she let out tiny gasps of air. His head rested on her chest, his hands still gripping her thighs as if he hadn't been ready to rise from them.
She could still feel his hard length against her leg, a sign that no matter how good an actor he was, that was forever the honest truth. She hadn't known what she expected next, but certainly not for him to sigh into her skin and turn his back to her.
"I'll leave first," he whispered, dousing her with ice. "Lock the door this time."
And he left.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Ayyy. Only one episode behind. Started watching the newest one, but got halfway through before I was too angry and anxious to finish. What can I say?
Anyway, this chapter was so long! I was going to end it at the halfway point, but decided to finish out the majority of the wedding since Daemon's POV is coming up soon.
When writing erotica, I find myself staring at my screen cringing because there are certain things that I personally read that GROSS me the hell out. I don't like so many specific, popular tropes in erotica, such as alpha possessiveness, excessive dirty talk that makes me cringe!, etc.
Guys, I legit wrote down five different ways to say the vagina and then erased them all. This is on me. Was this at all hot cause I was just not having an easy time?
I did say I never write this genre in the beginning though.
Guys. I read legit the filthiest stories, but am I lowkey a prude?
Idk. If you don't like it, please give me constructive criticism. Don't hold back. I can take harsh feedback if you guys hated this chapter cause this entire thing just put me so far out of my comfort zone that I'm back in NYC, living on vegetable sticks.
Anyway, on a far more important note, if you want to download the audiobook, head to my bio and see the link to my . You will find it there where that same link will be updated with every new chapter.
