Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra didn’t consider herself spiteful. 

Okay — Rhaenyra wasn’t usually spiteful. 

She had been raised in a conservative household that was anti-progress and anti-feminist, to say the least. Her first two years of college had been spent unlearning the right wing drivel her parents had fed her since she was old enough to talk. 

Let’s just say, her Aunt had once called 11 year old Rhaenyra a whore for wearing red nail polish. If would ‘effect her fathers campaign’, she had said, ‘if they knew his daughter was such a slut.’ 

So she grew up knowing the harm of putting other women (or girls of any age, really) down all too well. And at twenty she felt confident in herself, not needing to gain it from judging others. But she had a line. And it had been crossed. 

Her roommate — Alicent Hightower, had a date. She had plans on a Friday night. And Rhaenyra didn’t. 

Alicent was a good roommate. A mediocre friend. And an excellent daughter. 

Rhaenyra knew this, since both her parents and Alicent’s creepy father frequently told her. Alicent was a good girl. Alicent got good grades. Alicent was saving herself for marriage, like it was the fucking 1500s. Alicent wouldn’t get a tattoo, or show up drunk to an important fundraiser (though to be fair, Rhaenyra didn’t find it all that important).

 She definitely wouldn’t miss her period and get photographed at CVS buying a fucking pregnancy test. 

(It had been stress. She was smart, she used protection. And it was two years ago, could they stop bringing it up?)

And despite this, Alicent had a date. And Rhaenyra didn’t. And no matter how good of a feminist she considered herself to be, this was a hit her confidence could not take. 

It took her approximately two minutes after the door clicked — a sure sign of Alicent leaving for her date, probably at a bookstore, or something lame, she thought, for Rhaenyra to reinstall tinder. 

 She was just grumpy, she told herself. The term had just ended, and it had been stressful. Her healthy outlet of equestrianism was on hold while she was in the city. And her unhealthy outlet, which was directly related to the application she currently fussed over, had been deleted after an ugly breakup. 

She swore she wasn’t going to date a man again after that. 

But her parents had threatened to cut her off if she turned to dating women.

So she couldn’t do that, either — at least not publicly. 

And that had lead to months of only her fingers and vibrator for companionship. 

But tonight that would change. She couldn’t live in a world where Alicent got more action on a Friday night than she did. 

…

Unfortunately, her time away from Tinder, had caused her to forget the realities of its offerings. Which were…depressing.

Getting matches wasn’t hard. But finding people worth matching with was.

She had her preferences. And as a petite blonde with larger than average tits, she could afford to be somewhat picky based on appearance alone. 

She required some amount of effort put into the profile — people who couldn’t be bothered to fill their out probably wouldn’t bother to eat her out, either. She knew this from experience. 

They had to be nearby. At least two inches taller than her. They had to have a job (work ethic translated to the bedroom, too). And depending on her mood: At least a decade older than her. 

She played with her location settings and age preferences before uploading more recent pictures and setting her phone down. She didn’t need to swipe. She paid for premium. Or, her parents paid for premium — something she took perverse pleasure in charging to the family card each month. 

“For groceries only, Rhaenyra!” Her mother had told her. 

Sometimes the guys bought her dinner first. That was sort of like groceries? 

…

By 7PM her hair was in an acceptable state, and a matching set of delicate lace underwear was hidden beneath a simple black dress. She had a few hundred options waiting in a que to flick through, but they didn’t take long to sift through. It never did, because so few of the options met her very fair standards. 

But for once, the first profile was a winner. He was handsome — a distinguished jawline, framed by silvery hair that she rarely saw outside her own family dinners. She could tell it was real, too, as his eyebrows and eyelashes were similarly pale. 

She knew his photos weren’t recent, since his hair length changed in each one. But each one looked good. He was always outfitted in a suit — and not just a suit — a well fitted suit. Almost as rare as his hair color. 

His profile was promising too. He was 37, and claimed he traveled too much for work to do it for pleasure. Native to the city and looking for something close to home, whatever it may be. 

He was two miles away, had swiped right and messaged her a mere five minutes ago. 

Daemon: Pretty girl. Any plans tonight? 

...

Rhaenyra: Pretty boy. Depends, are you offering?

...

Daemon: Drinks in an hour?

...

Rhaenyra: If you are paying.

...

Daemon: If you look like that in person and are paying for your own drinks, you are doing something wrong.

...

Rhaenyra: That is a weird way of saying yes.

...

Daemon: I’ll send you the address

...

She looked it up on google maps, because she wasn’t stupid. It was a hotel, but when she had questioned it he simply explained he was between places. She wasn’t sure it mattered, wasn’t sure she would see him again. A drink was a drink and a bedroom was a bedroom, whether his lease was for a year or for an hour. 

She hoped he would last longer than an hour. 

She berated herself for that — very fair standards, Rhaenyra. 

…

He was unfairly, hotter in person. He was everything he was in photos — the jawline, the shoulders, the light hair, it was all there. And it was wrapped in what looked to be an expensive suit, and an even more expensive watch. 

The worst part — the best part? He was charming, too. Clever, and witty in a cutting way she didn’t usually come across. Some people wouldn’t like it, they’d find it insulting. Dumb people would. People who couldn’t keep up. 

But she could. She loved it. How conversation felt like a competition. They were talking about their favorite drinks for fucks sake, and it still felt like she could somehow lose. But it was amazing. It made her want to be better. To win. 

She had, in her opinion, won. There was a full ten seconds of silence after her argument about the sexism associated with mixed drinks despite their profitability and high rankings in blind studies. But he hadn’t seemed bitter, he had laughed and said she was smart as well as beautiful. 

She might have swooned. 

But as she recovered, and the conversation stalled, she caught him at an angle — and he, he looked familiar? 

She said as much before she could stop it, more a statement than a question as her thoughts formed. 

“Have we met before?” She asked. That was better. That could be answered. But it didn’t seem quite right either.

“I think I’d remember you.” He said taking a sip of his drink. 

Hm.

“What did you say your last name was?” She asked. Their brief conversation had made it clear his politics varied from the party her parents fraternized with (thank god), but still — maybe she had seen his picture? Maybe the name would make a connection? 

“Hmm, did I say at all? Daemon Velaryon.” 

Fuck. 

“As in, Corlys and Rhaenys Valeryon?” 

He laughed, a bit surprised. “You know them?”

.”Yes — I’m friends with their son, but  — they are so young? I didn’t realize they had a son your age.” 

“Oh, a bit of a long story really — I was adopted. Out of the house before he was born. A bit of a political pariah, not much contact these days. It sounds as though you can relate to that?” 

Fuck. He was so charming. They had so much in common. He was so hot! This is fine. He’s adopted! They aren’t related. It’s fine. 

“Oh thank god.” She muttered tilting her head back, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “It’s just, you’re great. I’m having a great time, but I’m related to the Valeryon’s — Rhaenys is my dads cousin? I don’t know what that makes her to me but still!” She laughed. 

He smiled, apparently unconcerned and charmed by the coincidence. 

“And may I have your last name, it is only fair?” He asked. 

It wasn’t fair because women were so much more likely to face harassment from men in these situations and usually she would prepare a lecture but she liked him. And if he wanted to, he could find out, anyway. 

“Rhaenyra Targaryen” She said. 

…

Fuck. 

She was amazing. She was smart. She kept up with him in a way few people had when it came to conversation, sharp as a tack regardless of the topic. He would have liked her on that alone, but she also happened to be gorgeous. 

He didn’t think he had a type. He had slept around in college. Married young. Hell, he had remarried young. But every woman had been different, in form and personality. In height, and hair color. If anything he was easily bored, and fleeted from one to the next appreciating the differences between lovers more than the similarities. 

But if he had a type, she was it. 

Petite, and young. Optimistic but sarcastic. Bright eyes and long, pale hair. She had ample curves while remaining trim in a way he previously thought not to be accomplished outside of a photo editor. She grinned easily, and had a good laugh. 

He was enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He was excited to invite her to his room — to see more of her, to be around her for longer. 

But then—

Don’t Panic. 

It could be a coincidence. Surely the world wasn’t so small? 

“I uh, wow, so your father is…?” 

She sighed, her head lolled to the side. This was a question she got often, he could tell. But he really needed an answer. 

He just, really, did not like the one she gave. 

“Viserys Targaryen.” 

Fuck. 

…

He sputtered. And though he looked handsome as he had the moment they met, he also looked like he might be sick. 

She felt a little sick about her lineage too, but this was not the usual reaction she got. So what, she was related to the failed presidential candidate who had been the laughing stock of the world for a few months, a few years ago. She was still tagged in photoshopped campaign posters every few weeks. People knew his name but didn’t always know why they knew it. 

But Daemon, he recognized it — clearly. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, reaching her hand towards his — wondering if there was anything she could do, they had been having a nice time, damn it!

“I — no. I mean, Viserys Targaryen is my biological brother.” 

Fuck.

She was slightly at a loss for words. And she still really liked him. And the combination of those things lead to several regrettable moments — during which he stayed completely silent. 

“I don’t think it’s that strange. You’re like, way hotter than my dad.” 

“And If we get married, you’ll already know your in-laws!” 

“Sorry, bringing up marriage on the first date is weird, isn’t it?” 

Oh, how she wished that was the weird part. 

Chapter Text

“I have to pee” she said it and immediately felt herself cringe. It said a lot about how this date was going that, that still wasn’t the most embarrassing thing she had said in the last five minutes.

Commit to it, Rhaenyra

“I’ll be right back.” She promised, awkwardly patting the bar as she took her purse and tried to confidently walk in the direction where she presumed there would be bathrooms. This place was swanky. Like, ‘we don’t let sketchy people in the door so we don’t have to keep the bathrooms locked’ type of swanky. 

She was right. 

And it was a single. Awesome. 

She locked the door and glared at her reflection. She wished she wasn’t wearing makeup. Wished she could splash some cool water on her face and restore some sense. People in the neutrogena commercials always looked so refreshed after that. 

But she was Rhaenyra Targaryen she didn’t need a cheap cleanser to help compose herself. She didn’t even own a cheap cleanser. Her mom had told her the chemicals would melt her delicate skin. Her mom had similar words about hanging out with scholarship students. 

“They just aren’t, your type, dear. Better steer clear. Stay clean!”  

Like poverty was some sort of disease that could be passed through friendship. Ugh. 

She had ditched that mindset, never really held it in the first place. She may have believed the cleanser thing until she was 14, though. She may have still used one that cost $37 a tube.

(The grapefruit one she bought on sale at the pharmacy gave her a rash, okay? She was vain, not pretentious.) 

Not the point. Not the time to be thinking about her mother. Or her father. Nope. 

So Daemon. He was great. And handsome. And tall. And smart. And funny. And she had every intention of going up to his room and not leaving until he asked her too, because she was hot enough that she could pull off being a little clingy. And he seemed really into her, too!

But he was…her uncle? That was weird. 

But they hadn’t met before. It wasn’t like they saw each other as family. 

And even if they had, her parents were…well, they were happy together. 

She had read a dailymail article a few years ago about a couple who met online, and turned out to be siblings separated in foster care. They didn’t find out until they were married. They hadn’t stayed married. Rhaenyra had argued that it was sad to throw away a relationship for that. Being related didn’t change that they loved each other. 

Her family hadn’t been much of a family to her at all. She liked to dream of finding her own family — one away from her parents. Family was more a state of mind, then a bloodline. 

‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’

She believed that. The quote swam in her head whenever she heard it half repeated, the irony of her parents thinking the mention of “Blood is thicker than water” would endear her to them. In reality, it just reminded her that someday — she would be able to break away. 

So why did this have to change anything? He was still great. And handsome. And tall. And smart. And funny.  

And if he still liked her, well…Hopefully his room was nice.

… 

He still looked a little ill. One hand clasped around his glass, which was now empty, another fisted and leaning against his forehead. He didn’t stir when she sat next to him — but to be fair, he probably hadn’t expected her to come back. 

She waved to the bartender — “Another, please.” Yes. More alcohol. Always. 

He straightened up when he heard her voice, clearly doing what he could to compose himself. 

“We were having a nice time, right, before?” Rhaenyra asked, as the full glasses were set down in front of them. 

He nodded hesitantly, so she continued. 

“It’s called positive sexual imprinting, you know. I learned about it in my intro to psych class. It’s like, really common in all sorts of species. You seek out familiar features in mates for comfort, or something. It’s attraction; it’s subconscious. It’s very normal. It’s why so many couples look alike.” 

He rubbed his face with his hand, “It’s very normal?” He asked. 

She winced. Not her best wording. “It’s not that weird, I mean.” 

“Most couples aren’t actually related.” He said. 

“Aren’t we all a little related? If you go back far enough?” She said.

He just shook his head but didn’t disagree, “Seriously what is your deal? How are you acting like this is ok?” 

Her grin fell, and her bravado with it. But he hadn’t left yet, so she figured she might as well try to explain herself. “You know why my dad’s presidential campaign failed, right?” She asked.

Daemon shook his head.

She sighed. Great, “So the senate is one thing, but when you run for president people really dig in. It kind of came out that he had married his cousin. And not in a, ‘we didn’t know’ sort of way but a ‘there are photos of us together as babies’ sort of way. A few people leaked comments, photos, it was this big embarrassing thing.” 

“My parents, they aren’t great parents. I think children were just an item on their list of looking successful to others. But I’m not sure I’ve ever met two people who love each other more. And I feel like love is rare, when you’ve been together that long? So many of their friends seem to despise their partners.” 

“And — seeing the world judge them because they were sort of related when they were so happy together. It was just really sad. It didn’t seem like it should matter, when they were so much better matched than most couples.” 

“So yeah, it’s weird. It should bother me. But I also feel like…shouldn’t happiness be the end goal? Without social norms getting in the way? As long as it is consensual, who cares.”  

“You’re very convincing.” He said. Which was about the best possible response she could have expected. 

She grinned. “You’re very hot.” 

“You are used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” He said, though it didn’t really sound like a question, even though it technically was one. 

“Maybe.” She paused, “And I want to go to your room.” 

He sighed, “You’re a brat.” 

She kept grinning — “I think you like that about me.” 

…

He put the drinks on his rooms tab and left a fifty behind for a tip. She liked that. She was used to the sort of wealthy that only tipped 10% because they thought service jobs didn’t deserve any respect. Something-something-bootstraps, her dad always said, and there was no winning an argument with him. 

The hotel was busy enough that they had to wait with a small crowd at the elevators. She was sort of grateful for it, because even if they had smoothed out the worst of it, elevators were an inherently awkward environment under the best of circumstances. She sort of mourned the easy conversation they’d had before realization happened. But she was also grateful she was getting to spend the night with him at all. After that she would take what she could get. 

He was really hot, okay? 

His hand rested low on her back as they walked into the elevator. Not so low as to be disrespectful, but enough to hint that the attraction was still present. It made her feel a little warm, a little powerful. Even if the sex wasn’t good — this was. It was that addicting feeling of knowing someone else found you attractive, it was something that couldn’t be mimicked by self confidence, even though hers wasn’t lacking. 

This was what she went on shitty dates for, sometimes with shitty guys. Because no matter what, for at least a few minutes she could delight in the fact someone really wanted her. 

She had kind of gotten lost in her own head, so it was only Daemon saying her name and the light press on her back that made her look up and realize they had reached the right floor. He stepped in front of her and she trailed behind him as they made their way to the door. There were only four rooms on this floor, which meant it was fancy. 

“Second thoughts?” He asked, his keycard in hand and gaze on her. 

She took a deep breath — “Nope. You?” He smiled and shook his head. 

His room was very nice. She let out a whistle as they stepped into the space. It may have been a suite, it had to be based on its size, but it wasn’t dated and traditional like the places she was used to from campaign stops. It was modern — a huge undivided room, with a full wall of windows starring as the main attraction.

She felt like a kid in an aquarium, and the city was the sea life. She dropped her purse on some sort of console table and made her way to the window, pressing her face up against the glass. She wasn’t from here, okay? She was still allowed to be impressed by the cityscape from time to time. 

She felt him move behind her, not quite touching her, but close to it. “I forget how pretty it is, sometimes.” She said. “When you’re on the street it’s dirty, and it smells, and things randomly drip on you from windows above and you try really hard to convince yourself it is just an AC unit.” He snorted behind her, “But at night…it’s beautiful. The lights make for a wonderful disguise.” 

He leaned closer, pressing his frame lightly against her back, lips brushed her ear — “You’re beautiful.” It was her turn to let out an unattractive snort of amusement. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” He just shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” 

She rolled in his arms so they were facing each other. “This is when you kiss me.” She said, silently begging him to lean down just a bit closer so their lips could meet. “I bet you say that to all the guys.” He said. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Her sass was rewarded with him bridging the distance and pressing his lips to hers. It was an unfairly good kiss, she thought. His lips were soft, and his hand snaked up her neck to cup her cheek. It was chaste at first, but when his other hand fell to her chest and brushed across her breast she let out a gasp of surprise, and he took full advantage. 

It was a lot like their conversation — a playful battle of wills. He would push forward, then pull back, forcing her to be the aggressor. Like he wanted to know she would take before he was willing to give. 

She could taste a bit of scotch on his tongue, which she thought should have been gross. It had definitely been gross kissing at high school parties, when mouths had the yeasty aftertaste of beer. This just added a warmth and richness to the kiss, in a way that made it all the more addictive. 

But a good kiss was only a kiss. She was here for more than that. 

He hadn’t worn a tie to dinner — opting for the more casual, and stupidly attractive open collar look. Which had been nice then, but wasn’t open enough for her now. She yanked at the buttons, trying to guide them through the corresponding holes by feel alone so she didn’t have to separate her mouth from his. 

The kiss picked up pace as she did, becoming more forceful. Hands giving little tugs on each others hair, and when one of them broke away to breathe the others lips moved down their neck like they couldn’t afford to be parted from each other. 

Her button conquest was mostly successful, but the cuffs caught on his wrist — stupid rich guys and their cufflinks. She just tugged harder, frustrated in his failure to undress him. “You’re going to tear them” he warned, muttering it against her neck. “So?” She huffed out, yanking again until she finally freed him from the shirts confines. He was still wearing an undershirt, but this was one step closer to her ultimate goal of nudity. 

He had decided to take a turn, fingers easily finding the zipper of her dress and dragging it down without a thought. It fell easily from her chest, and with help from Daemon, slid down her hips soon after. 

For the first time since they started he pulled back, one hand on her cheek and another on his shoulder. “Let me look at you,” he said. His voice was soft, sincere. Like he had been waiting hours for this moment — and maybe he had. She had been looking forward to seeing what he was hiding beneath layers of fine fabric, too. 

His hands brushed gently down her sides, slowly as if he was taking time to appreciate her. She liked that. It was so strange how context changed things, how being sized up by a stranger on the street felt rude and inappropriate. But this…this man she was attracted to, taking his time to look at every bit of what she exposed to him felt like…everything. 

But as much as she enjoyed his gaze, patience wasn’t one of her virtues. “My turn.” She said, pulling at the hem of his undershirt and — damn it, it wasn’t fair that he looked like that. She knew he was firm, but she wasn’t expecting abs. 

His belt was next to go, and with the pull of a zipper and push of the waistband, his pants were gone too. He must have taken his shoes off earlier, though. Which seemed unfair since she was still wearing her stupid uncomfortable heels. But better late than never — she followed his lead and kicked the pumps off, along with the dress that had pooled at her feet. 

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there for, just enjoying the feeling of being pressed against each other as their lips continued to meet. It was nice, but she was happy when he started shuffling towards the bed, and pulling her with him. 

She fell first — cushioned against the plush topper of the mattress. To her surprise he didn’t follow her down, instead he went down. She wasn’t really sure what to expect, he was attractive enough that he probably didn’t have to try that hard. But he also seemed like an overachiever, and she had been hopeful that extended beyond his behavior in conversations. 

His lips drew a path from the bottom of her bra to her waist, before going further and nudging the line of her underwear. He pressed a few light kisses atop it, and damn it to hell — the lace was as thin as a tissue, but felt thick and stifling when serving as a barrier from his lips. 

His palms settled on her hips, and dragged them to sit at the edge of the bed. He kneeled in front of her and she swore her body literally shivered in anticipation. She could feel his warm breath on her thigh, and the tips of fingers dragged across her core. “Please,” she moaned, using her hands to grab at his hair and hopefully motivate him to stop teasing. 

He laughed, and apparently took pity on her — pulling down the lace that separated them. But he was still being overly methodical, taking care to lift each foot in the process of removing them, as if he was scared they would tear. Her legs final resting place were on his shoulders, leaving her parted and exposed. 

“You really are a very pretty girl, Rhaenyra, all of you.” He said, appreciatively. And then it was like he lost his patience, too. There was no more gentle kissing or soft strokes. It was just his mouth on her folds, fucking devouring her. She wasn’t sure what the technique was, but it was working — alternating between lapping and giving little nips that made her arch and gasp. 

Her hands tried to find purchase on the bedding, but the sheets were pulled too taught. So she grabbed his hair and found herself unable to resist grinding against his face. 

She wasn’t sure how he found the space, but a hand snaked between them — a finger inside her, then two. Curling and pushing and searching for something — and he fucking found it a rough little patch of flesh that made every part of her clench. She tried to pull him away, because it was so intense she couldn’t imagine it continuing but it did. Somehow another finger entered and she shrieked because it had been so good already and now It was better. 

The intensity of her orgasm took her breath away, the moans ceasing and being replaced by heavy breathing as she got lost in her bliss. She could feel her legs shaking against his shoulders — vibrating and jumping in a way she couldn’t control. Her hands had fallen from his hair, and scraped useless against the bottom sheet. 

And he still hadn’t stopped. Continuing to lap at the top of her slit, while his fingers carefully thrusted inside of her. It was like she had peaked, but wasn’t coming back down. Everything just kept ratcheting higher and she wanted to plead for him to stop because it was so much but it felt so good and her body felt broken by it. Completely out of control and in his hands to command. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed — all she could hear was her heavy breathing, she was panting like a dog, she thought. But she couldn’t even find it in her to feel embarrassed because she felt so good.

“Still with me?” He asked, finally pulling away from her. She thought her voice would be as useless as her legs right then, so she merely nodded, her head lolling back and her eyes closing. She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and she should be responsible and make sure it was the right size and put on properly but that would take so much energy and she just wanted to lay there and take whatever else he was willing to give her. 

His hand brushed across her cheek, and his lips met hers in a soft kiss. A hand trailed behind her back and deftly undid her bra, leaving her completely naked beneath him. Calloused thumbs brushed against her nipples gently, before digging into her hips again — this time harder, hard enough to leave bruises. It took her by surprise after his previous treatment, and was enough to get her eyes open. He gaze met his, and her hips jerked against his harsh grip. 

It was like he was preparing her for something, but she was too exhausted to figure out what and then—

Fuck. He was big in a way she was going to be grateful for, eventually, but right now her body was protesting. The stretch felt foreign and overwhelming, too much after what her body had just been through, but gods be damned she was not going to ask him to stop. 

He took it slowly for which she was also grateful, and he was being sweet. His grip was lighter now, gently brushing the flesh of her hips. He was hushing her and wiping at the involuntary tears that had escaped her eyes. His hands bracketed her head, and his lips were dancing across her neck, trying to offer some distraction. 

“It’ll be okay, sweet girl.” He muttered, “Just gotta stretch you out,” his hips finally met hers, and she let out a relieved sigh knowing the worst of it was over, “Being such a good girl for me.” She moaned at that, he might have unknowingly stumbled across her praise kink and she was going to reward him for it, just as soon as she felt capable of moving. 

“Fuck you feel like heaven.” He muttered against her neck, it sounded completely involuntary, like he couldn’t contain the fact. She clenched in response, she couldn’t help it, and felt some silent joy when he moaned. 

“You can take me like this, can’t you?” He murmured, giving a gentle thrust. She was still incapable of speech, maybe a little incapable of thought? But she nodded. Her muscles were easing as they became used to his intrusion and after a few more thrusts it started feeling good. Really good. 

She was still sensitive from the previous peak. The pain had distracted her from the sensations for a moment, but now they were the only thing she could focus on — how every nerve seemed to flare every time he thrusted. How he ground himself into her at the end of each thrust, making her feel almost unbearably full. 

Unbearably good. 

He was just holding her hips and canting into her, not even touching her and damn it she felt like she could come from that alone. Guys weren’t supposed to look like him and act like him and fuck like this, it was unfair and she never wanted it to end. 

She realized, belatedly that he was doing most of the work, and as much as she was enjoying it, that wasn’t fair either. She wasn’t an unresponsive society girl who thought sex was a chore. She liked sex. She really liked this sex, and she wanted him to know that too. 

Because then, maybe, they could do it again sometime. 

So she wrapped her legs around his waist, stalling his thrust. And god, she had been so out of it she hadn’t even looked at him. How could she ever look anywhere else? He seemed nearly as gone as she was, his hair sweaty and draped across his forehead. His cheeks were flushed, and his chest was heaving. He was beautiful. 

But she wasn’t going to let that stop her pursuit. “Up,” she insisted, canting her hips to meet him while pushing him to the side. He got the idea, helping to flip them and leaving him with his back to the mattress. It was her turn to spread brace her arms above him, and the position of power seemed to invigorate her. He was still warm and thick inside her, but more manageable from her current position. She set a moderate pace, stopping to grind her clit against he pelvis which every thrust. It didn’t take her long to peak again and holy shit had she ever had this many orgasms with a partner before?

This one was even longer than the last, and it made her feel warm and tingly all over, like even the tips of her fingers had little shocks going through them. He thrusts turned entirely to grinding before she felt herself almost stop completely, going nearly limp while he remained hard inside her. 

It was his turn to lead, again, and he took it — rolling them once more and hiking her left leg up to an uncomfortable height. And now he really went at it, apparently his previous thrusting merely being a warm up for what it took to chase his release. She felt like it should hurt — the sound of it was brutal, the slapping of flesh as their bodies met again and again. But she seemed to be immune to feeling anything but pleasure at that point, because it was still good. 

He let out a moan and his lips met her neck once again, nipping, and kissing, and breathing into her as his thrusts became more erratic until he collapsed against her, clearly having found his release. They were both damp with sweat and heaving, like they had just run a fucking marathon. And usually at this point she was sort of grossed out, because of body fluids. And she found the heat of a man on top of her stifling, always quick to shove them away and free herself. 

She usually left not long after, too. 

But right now…she still felt good. Happy. And if it hadn’t been for the condom, she might have wrapped her hips around him and hoped he would just stay. Maybe if he didn’t leave her, neither would the warm feelings bubbling inside of her. 

But the realities of safe sex made such things unpractical, and with a groan he pulled away. She watched him walk away, discard the condom, and snag a bottle of water from the fridge. He took a sip, brushing the damp hair from his face and taking deep breaths as if to calm himself. 

She managed to sit up and nudge her way under the covers, because if she did try to leave she was pretty sure she was going to make a fool of herself. Legs were not fully functional at the moment. He walked back to her, offering a smile and another bottle of water. 

…

“How is it that I’ve literally never heard of you?” Rhaenyra asked as they lay in bed. “My family is like…a bunch of harpies, who feed off of gossip. I feel like an estranged brother would have come up.” She said.

“You really want to talk about this now?” Daemon asked, still a little breathy. 

“No time like the present!” She responded, cheerily. 

“Aren’t you tired?” He asked. 

She scoffed, “No, I’m not old” like you, went unspoken, “It isn’t my bedtime yet.” 

“You’re a brat.” He said, but with no real venom. 

“You can spank it out of me later. I just want a bedtime story.” She responded. 

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “My father was…not a good husband. He never recovered from the loss of his first wife. He had more money, and better lawyers. My mother left him before finding out she was pregnant, and when she returned he had already married again.” He paused, thoughtful, 

“Mother was very isolated. But when she was married, Rhaenys was her closest — her only, really, confident. After the divorce she made new friends but…they weren’t the type you’d trust a child with. They couldn’t necessarily afford another mouth to feed.” 

“She died, when I was 16 and to both of our shock, she had left Corlys and Rhaenys as my guardians. They weren’t cruel enough to reject me, but they were still young. I was shipped off to a fancy boys school in England. I managed a scholarship for university and made enough connections to start independently investing. I haven’t heard from them for years.” 

He sounded sad. She scooted closer to him.

“My mother spoked fondly of Viserys but I’m not sure when he learned of my existence. I didn’t hear from him, either. But I was contacted by a lawyer when he first ran, they wanted me to sign a non-disclosure agreement.” 

She huffed. That sounded like dad. Putting appearances before family. While still using ‘the family’ to guilt her into things. “I suppose we are both blights on his otherwise flawless reputation.” She said sarcastically.

“I can tell you about him, if you want.” She said, wondering if he had questions about the brother he never got to meet. “But — he is kind of an asshole, they all are.” He laughed and rubbed his face, trying to wipe away any lingering emotion. Like crying was going to make this evening weirder, or something.

“I already knew that, I’ve seen his voting history.” He said. 

She groaned, “Don’t bring that up while we are in bed.” Her dads policy records had to be one of the least sexy things in history. 

She was a bit tired now, and a yawn escaped before she could catch it. Her nose wrinkled — maybe he didn’t notice. 

He noticed. 

“Did the bedtime story make you sleepy?” He mocked. 

“Maybe” She said, suddenly too tired to think of a clever response. 

“Are you staying?” He asked. 

“Are you inviting me to stay?” She countered. 

“Do you need an invitation?” Ugh. He was infuriating. 

“You aren’t being very gentlemanly this evening.” She retorted

“And you aren’t being much of a lady.” He responded. 

“I’ll have you know, I have royal lineage!” She said, more loudly than she intended. More upset that he was managing to be clever at this time of night, instead of the insult itself. 

“Well, then I suppose so do I.” He said. She groaned. Now he had jokes? 

She just huffed and rolled over. “I’m going to sleep.” She announced, pulling the blankets over her form and making a show of resting against the pillows. 

She wouldn’t usually stay over. But it was a really comfortable bed. And, well, the company wasn’t bad either.

…

She woke up before him. This was great. This was an opportunity to leave unnoticed. 

But she didn’t really want to leave. 

It was a really comfortable bed, okay? And he had a good view. 

And a big shower. And it would be a shame not to try it out. 

She knew she was lucky, with the apartment her parents paid for. It was nice. It was spacious. It was better than she could do on her own, most definitely. But it wasn’t luxurious. It wasn’t a suite that probably cost a few thousand a night. 

I mean, they had full sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner. They spared no expense. And that meant it was expensive. 

So she showered, and snuggled into one of the plush oversized robes that had been sitting on a towel warmer. A towel warmer!

Annoyingly, he was still asleep. She supposed she should make some show of leaving, or at the very least getting dressed. 

Her underwear had only been on for a few hours between getting ready and getting to his room so it didn’t feel too icky too get into. But the dress that was cute for drinks would be a shining beacon of her walk of shame. 

So she snooped a little. Maybe he really was between places, because he had clothing here — like, a lot of clothing. She plucked a lilac colored dress shirt from a hotel dry cleaning bag and slipped it on. With the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a few buttons left undone, it looked like a vaguely intentional shirt dress. It would do. But it would look better with a belt. More snooping, she thought. 

He had four belts. She felt a little bad taking one, with the offerings more meager than the shirts. But she soothed herself by taking the least worn one, hoping it wouldn’t be missed. And now she really should leave…but it was such a long walk home. She needed energy. Coffee. 

The room was too fucking fancy to have a coffee maker. They probably assumed whoever could afford its nightly fee could afford room service, too. She bristled. But there was a fridge. And inside she was greeted with cans of soda that we so cold they had nearly turned to slush. Yes. This was true luxury. 

That was how he found her, maybe five minutes later — looking out his window at the city, periodically sipping a coke. 

“You’re still here” he said, clearly surprised. And sleepy. It was unfair, how sexy his voice was even in that state.

She spun around to see him sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Okay, all of him was sexy in this state. She vaguely regretted putting clothing on.

He didn’t seem angry though, a soft - sort of cute smile was on his face as he looked at her. “I like your outfit,” he said. That was cute too.

“But I think you crossed a line” fuck maybe he was mad. “That’s a $10 can of soda you’re drinking” 

She laughed. “That’s a $40,000 watch you’re wearing.” 

“I didn’t earn it by drinking $10 cans of soda.” He said.

“Are you one of those guys who thinks generational wealth disparity has to do with millennials eating too much avocado toast?” She asked. 

“Brunch is keeping a generation from home ownership, Rhaenyra.” He said, and she laughed again.

This should have been like…a lot more awkward than it was. There was a natural chemistry that made it feel…easy. Like she didn’t have to dull down parts of herself when she was around him. It was refreshing. And sort of addicting. And she didn’t want to let go of it just yet. 

“What are you doing today?” She asked, wondering if she could needle him into another date. 

He looked down at his phone and groaned. “House, er, apartment hunting, in an hour, apparently.” 

“Are you tired of taking girls back to your hotel?” Rhaenyra asked. 

His eyes narrowed — “I clearly need a place with locks, so my clothing isn’t pilfered.” 

She grinned. “If your dates can’t pick locks, they probably aren’t any fun.” 

It wasn’t hard to get herself invited along. She swore she was great at evaluating real estate. She was. In theory. She had watched a lot of House Hunters. And when he asked about her portfolio she just nodded along and promised it was “Very established.” 

She knew he didn’t believe her which was…fair. But he also didn’t question it. So maybe he wanted her to come too. 

“I’m going to shower before we go, maybe we’ll have time for brunch?” He asked. 

“That depends — will you be able to afford the down payment after?”

She was rewarded with his smile. 

She was going to get so much avocado toast. 

…

Her cell phone rang while she was waiting. Interrupting her very important task of opening the remaining 14 cans of soda in his mini-fridge. If he was going to call her a brat, she was going to earn it. 

“Hi, Mom” She said, as a relieved sigh came through the speaker. 

“I was so worried! Alicent called this morning — told us you didn’t make it home last night!” Okay that was kind of sweet but also a little dramatic, and she could have texted her first. 

“I uh, have a friend in town? We met up for drinks and I slept over, just a last minute thing.” She said. 

That wasn’t a lie.

“Oh that sounds fun sweetie, do we know them? Or their parents?” 

She heard the shower stop. 

“I don’t think so, Mom. We are leaving in a minute — some apartment hunting, and brunch.” 

There was a pause on the line. “Oh sweetie, is that safe? Your friend isn’t…” she trailed off, clearly trying and failing to think of an inoffensive word for poor. 

“I’m really not worried about that, so you shouldn’t worry either — okay? I’ve got to go but thanks for checking in.” Rhaenyra hung up before she had to try and explain herself further. 

…

She ate four slices of avocado toast. She didn’t even like avocado toast. It was the principal of the thing. 

…

“Oh! You brought a friend!” The real estate agent said, surprised. 

She was awfully made up. Maybe she was looking for more than a sale today. Rhaenyra might have felt threatened, especially with her bare face and questionable outfit. But she was at least half the women’s age…and size, and though she had nothing against either of those things, really, she was fairly confident this woman was not Daemon’s type. 

“I’m Rhaenyra Targaryen!” She said, trying to sound cheery. 

“Oh of course…and how do you two know each other?” The women asked, opposed to introducing herself. Rude. Definitely looking for more than a sale. 

Rhaenyra just smiled, and happily looked to Daemon — “Oh, our families go way back” 

…

She sighed as she collapsed into the seat of the car. The shiny black car with weirdly springy leather seats. Because he was the type of guy to hire a car and driver while he looked at multi-million dollar properties. Which to be fair was like, the majority of places in the city, but still. 

He had been nice to her all day. The friendly banter and camaraderie had continued — despite the circumstances. Not just the kind-of-sort-of-related stuff. Just in general she knew she was a…lot. Guys who asked girls for drinks didn’t usually expect them to stay the night, much less invite themselves on an excursion the next day. 

But he just seemed…vaguely amused. Indulgent. And despite him calling her a brat at least twelve times, it was always with a smile. She couldn’t remember the time she spent all day with someone without them making snide comments or being at least a little bit critical. 

He seemed genuinely curious in her thoughts on the various spaces, too. He didn’t argue with her opinions or make her feel stupid. She knew what older guys were like — usually they kind of got off of being more experienced in life and liked to make her know it. And that was fine, sometimes. 

But this was…a lot better than fine. 

His hand was resting on her knee, and the friendly contact made her feel warm and fuzzy in a way she was not used to. She wasn’t used to liking people. She was used to tolerating people for as long as they were in her presence. There was a reason she went for hookups not relationships, and that was because usually one night was enough. With some guys one night was still too much. She had just kind of accepted it. 

Her head lulled against the headrest. It was starting to get dark but wasn’t so late, maybe 7? Still. Her days were usually lazier than this, especially Saturday’s. 

“Which one was your favorite?” He asked her. And that seemed genuine too, like her opinion mattered. She liked feeling like she mattered. 

They had seen 11 places — partially thanks to her insistence that they skip a sit down lunch and instead eat doughnuts at a little bakery that focused more on dousing their offerings in glaze than making them visually appealing.  She appreciated that. She had eaten lot ‘cute’ pastries with Alicent — but just because something is in the shape of an emoji doesn’t mean it tastes good.

She thought about it. The places were all pretty different. The agent said he specified that he wanted a good view, “I like pretty things” he had whispered in Rhaenyra’s ear which was just…ugh. But the location, size, and style was varied. 

He said he primarily did property and investment management and that he didn’t need to be near the office. He just wanted a place that felt like home. And Rhaenyra felt that so deeply it hurt a little. 

“I liked the last one.” She said, “Maybe it was the sunset that really sold it? But it was charming. I like that you can see so much greenery in the park. It was quieter too, didn’t feel like the city. And they allow pets!” 

He laughed, “I don’t have any pets”

“But you could get one.” She said. She had been devastated when she found out her apartment had a strict no pets policy. She couldn’t have one at her parents house, either. Her mom said she was allergic. She wasn’t allergic to horses though…or the outdated fur coats she hoarded but was scared to wear outside for fear of being splashed with paint. She might be slightly bitter about never having a pet. The responsibility would have been good for her, too. 

“That’s the smallest one, you know.” He said. 

She knew that, too. But he was one guy — he didn’t need that much space. And it wasn’t small! It just wasn’t super modern and open concept, so it felt smaller. But it felt cozy too. She had said as much when they toured it. 

“This is going to make me sound my age—“ he interrupted her, “How old are you?” 

“Depends which ID you check” she quipped, but his glare spoke of some seriousness. She rolled her eyes, “I’m 20? What I said on my profile.” 

“Anyway, this is going to make me sound 20” she said pointedly, “But it just…had a good vibe. It had character. And not in a ‘It is outdated’ sort of way. It just felt like it had been lived in before. And whoever designed it really cared about the space and appreciated it. You said you wanted a home, and that one, well — it’s the one I liked the best.”

She wanted to say she could imagine it being her home. But that might cross a line, even for her. 

His hand was still on her knee, and she traced his fingers before looking up at him. 

“Miss?” The driver. Right. “Is this your building?” He asked. 

It was. Though it made her a little sad to admit that. It made her sad to leave. 

She grabbed her bag and went to open the door but Daemon grabbed her arm — 

“Can I have your number?” He asked, sort of shyly. “For you know — family stuff.” He clarified. She snorted in response, yeah right. But nodded all the same, holding her hand out expectantly for his phone. He unlocked it and passed it over in a sign of trust she wouldn’t expect from anyone in her age range. Phones were sacred. 

She entered her number as ‘Favorite Niece’ hoping the joke would land before texting herself his number and saving it as ‘Dearest Uncle.’ 

…

Daemon <outgoing>: Put a bid on the last place. The central park one? Above asking. If they want more, pay it. 

Chapter Text

She was proud of herself. She had waited a whole week. She hadn’t texted him at all. Even though she had thought about it. Thought about it more than she cared to admit. And now it was Friday again, and she didn’t have any school work to distract her — or anything at all really. 

And Alicent had another date. 

Commit to it, Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra: It isn’t illegal to marry your niece in this state, you know. 
…

Daemon: Are you proposing? 
…

Rhaenyra: I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be a one time thing. 
…

Daemon: Do you base all your relationships on where they are legal?
…

Rhaenyra: I mean, kind of
I’m into like, trespassing to skinny dip type of illegal. Not illegal relationships. 
…

Daemon: Skinny dipping? 
…

Rhaenyra: It was my birthday. I was drunk. 
…

Daemon: Should I look for a place with a pool? 
…

Rhaenyra: You don’t need a pool to get me naked. 
You haven’t found a place yet???
…

Daemon: I’m actually moving in today.
…

Rhaenyra: !!!
Can I help? 
…

Daemon: You want to carry stuff? 
…

Rhaenyra: I want to SUPERVISE. 
…

The address was in her inbox two minutes later, and she poked at her room for half an hour before deciding it wouldn’t look too desperate to head over. She picked up a bouquet of in-season wildflowers on a her way from a bodega…and a 6-pack of coke. 

She was a little surprised when her uber pulled up — she really had no idea which of the places he favored. It was probably just a coincidence, this one had really nice views. But it warmed her a little, to think her opinion may have contributed. She hoped he would be happy here. 

There was a moving truck next to the brownstone, but no real activity around it. 

She rang the bell like four times, just to be annoying. 

“I brought housewarming presents” she said, raising her bounty when he opened the door. “No wine?” He asked, when she passed him the cans of coke. “Nope.” She smiled, “Too young, there is no possible way for me to acquire alcohol.” He snorted. He was right to be doubtful, she was persistent. And she had a really good fake ID. 

She pushed passed him, into the building that was sparsely decorated with furniture and a few scattered boxes. There were no movers to be seen, which was puzzling given that it was only like 11AM. “Are they done already?” She asked, turning around to look at Daemon. 

“I think so,” he said, looking around at the sorry state of the place. And he was concerned this place was too small? She had seen college students with more stuff. She meandered towards the kitchen and inquired about vases for the flowers, he sputtered a bit and managed to pull out a jug from the singular kitchen box. 

“I mean this in the politest way possible,” Rhaenyra said before pausing to compose her words. “But if you grew up here, why do you have so little…stuff?” Her words were emphasized with a gesture around the relatively empty space. The few pieces of furniture looked expensive, but kind of sad. Not part of a matched set. Not very personalized. 

And there weren’t even that many boxes! The kitchen was completely empty! Did this man not own dishes? A mixer? A blender? He looked like the type of guy who would drink gross smoothies. And even if he wasn’t, having a kitchen full of things you don’t know how to use is like, a staple of the wealthy. 

Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended. Maybe embarrassed? “I uh, left my last place to my ex-wife? And most of the stuff with it.” He said. Okay. That was an explanation. Not really the one she expected, or wanted, but still. 

“You’ve been married before?” She asked, even though the answer was clear now — duh. 

“Twice.” He said with a thin smile. 

Oh my god. 

“What happened?” She asked, before she could consider how rude it was. 

He just laughed. “Uh, my first marriage was sort of — motivated by business? I was working with her family and they thought it would be good optics. So it happened really fast. But we hated each other, and not even in a fun way. We never lived together, and she begged her father for a divorce within the month.” 

“Her dad said it would be bad for business. So we stayed married in name only until she passed away.” 

That was…a bigger story than she had been picturing. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She said, not really knowing anything else to say.

“It sounds really cold, but it wasn’t much of a personal loss — we barely knew each other.” 

“What happened with wife number 2?” She continued, hoping for a lighter subject. 

“Mysaria,” he smiled, fondness filling his face. “We met at a bar. She tried to pickpocket me, but I caught her and told her I wouldn’t call the police if she let me buy her a drink. She had worked in the Netherlands for years, rough places, swore she wouldn’t be with a man again unless they were married.” 

“I think she said it just to get me to back off. But it didn’t work. We were married for eight years? Until her citizenship cleared.” He sounded fond.

“Eight years is a long time, it just…ended?” She couldn’t imagine spending that long with someone and them just…poof, not being a part of your life anymore. She had once cried because her favorite pair of socks got a hole in it. She grew attached easily, okay? 

 “We’re still good friends, but it isn’t romantic. It was fun for a while, but she isn’t the type to be tied down.” 

“Figuratively or literally?” Rhaenyra asked. 

He laughed. “Both. She is partial to ropes but prefers being the one wielding.” 

“I think I’d like to meet her,” Rhaenyra said — and surprisingly, she found she meant it. 

“In that regard she would probably prefer your company to mine.” 

“Oh now I definitely want to meet her!” Rhaenyra said. 

“If you stick around you probably will.” 

“Are you going to let me stick around?” She asked. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I won’t want to be after I meet her.” She sniffed. 

“I’m not letting you fuck my ex-wife.” 

"You want to be exclusive already?”

His knuckles tensed on the edge of the counter, “I don’t like sharing.” 

“Hand me your phone.” Rhaenyra said - more of a statement than a question. He complied, with a curious glance. 

“What are you doing?” He asked after unlocking the screen and passing it to her. 

“Deleting tinder.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t like sharing, either.” She said — and then, “Do you have a bed yet?”

…

She remembered where the master bedroom was — up two flights of stairs and to the left, and she was fairly confident he would follow her sooner or later. He did in fact, have a bed. It smelled slightly musty, maybe from storage? But the sheets looked clean so she wasn’t too worried. This room at least looked somewhat established, with suitcases — presumably what he was living out of the hotel, and boxes stacked in each corner. 

She liked that. She knew people said a kitchen was the heart of the house, or something, but like — more of life is spent sleeping than anything else. How could your bedroom not be indicative of what type of person you are? So the fact he seemed to have something to fill the room with gave her a certain amount of comfort. 

She wondered if she would get to see this room again after it was unpacked. If he would keep her around that long. She hoped he would. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when a body pressed against her back, and hands trailed around her waist. Lips met her neck, and shirts were deftly unbuttoned. Her shorts hit the floor, and his pants soon followed. It felt all too easy to fall into bed together, again, had they really only done this once before? 

…

In the aftermath, he seemed to enjoy seeing her in the light of day. With their first time together happening in the relative dark, really getting to see each other was new. And it was nice, she thought, for both of them. It wasn’t vain to say they were good looking people, was it? 

He stroked across the bruises he left behind the previous week. “I’m sorry for these.” He said, which was sweet — but she just rolled her eyes, “I’m not. Good sex leaves behind evidence.” She insisted, “Sweet and gentle is nice, I like that, but I like feeling the fact we fucked. And seeing it every time I change or bathe and getting that little rush of a reminder.” 

He looked struck dumb for a moment before saying, “That is really fucking hot—“ and leaning in for a kiss. Her lower half might protest to the second round she thought this would inspire, but she still would have been amicable to that. But a doorbell interrupted them, and he muttered something about “Fucking movers” before leaving the bed to investigate. 

She lazed about for a few minutes, but when he didn’t return she got bored and threw on a t-shirt she found, and put on underwear, just in case she ran into anyone. 

It turned out, they had interrupted just to let Daemon know they were done — rude. But that meant they had the place to themselves. She insisted she had worked up an appetite — “You’ve been here for like an hour and you haven’t worked at all”  also rude. But eventually he gave in, and they ate tacos bent over the kitchen sink, still only half dressed with a full outfit between them. 

“You should do the bedroom first,” she said, after they had eaten and were surveying the mess. “Are you just trying to get me back in bed?” He asked, trailing up the stairs behind her.

Well, he wasn’t wrong exactly. 

…

June: 

Rhaenyra was fairly confident they were dating. She always texted him first, but he was never hesitant to reply. She no longer limited herself for fear of seeming overeager, they were passed that. 

She had asked if he had plates — he said no. So they went to Williams Sonoma and gave the sale associate the commission of her life. “She is trying to figure out if you're my dad or boyfriend”, Rhaenyra whispered. The associate was some distance away — not straying too far for fear they would leave without their cart full of shit, but not so close as to crowd them, either. 

So she nipped his ear and pressed a kiss to his neck before sliding past him into another aisle.

“You’re shameless.” He said, with a shake of his head.

“That’s what my mother always said about me!”

“It’s not a compliment.”

“It’s not-not a compliment.” She countered. 

“Really? When does that characteristic come in handy.” 

She thought for a moment — “Wet t-shirt contests.” 

…

“Whose paying?” The cashier asked. He was her age — brown hair. Sort of cute, if you’re into that.

Rhaenyra just pointed in Daemon’s direction. “It’s sweet for your dad to get all of this for you,” the cashier said. She just nodded stoically. “He is very good to me.” 

“I told you.” She said, when they got outside the shop, poking a finger into his chest in a truly exaggerated gesture. The cashier and associate had enthusiastically insisted on helping them carry their bounty, clearly pleased with the sale they had made today. As they packed the car she pulled at his belt. “C’mere” she murmured, she liked his height. She hated that she wasn’t tall enough to lean up and kiss him. 

He rewarded her by leaning down, and kissing her instead. It might have not been completely appropriate for 11AM on a Sunday, but people came to the City for shows, didn’t they?

...

July: 

She had texted him that she was bored. 

He had said ‘kids these days don’t know how to entertain themselves’ 

So she sent back a picture of her purple vibrator. 

He called her a minute later. 

“No one calls people anymore Daemon, the future is in texting” she said. They had been through this before, but he insisted calls were more personal.

He ignored her, “What are you doing this weekend?” He asked. She looked around her room, still devoid of entertainment. School was off for another month, and it wasn’t like she worked. Her instagram feed was updated and her laundry was done. 

“Literally nothing.” She responded. 

“Want to go out to my place on the Island?” He asked.
“Is it in the Hamptons?” She asked. Which was like, sort of generic but also a fun change of pace. 

“No — we can go to the beach if you want, but it’s in the Pine Barrens. Twelve acres. A couple horses.” She smiled, she loved horses. And her complexion didn’t agree with the sun, nor did her hair like the salty water. She looked great in a bikini, but if this was secluded maybe she could wear even less. This was less trendy but way better. 

“Okay.” She said. 

…

“Are you trying to murder me?” She asked as they sat in the dim car — he wanted to leave that night, beat the Saturday morning traffic. 

“Do I even want to know why you’re asking me that?” 

“Wikipedia says the Pine Barrens are full of bodies that the mobsters dump there.” She responded.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read online.” 

“That is concerningly not a no.”

…

A few hours later, she asked him again — “Are you trying to murder me with…orgasms?” She was flushed, breathless, and more than a little sweaty, so she was proud she managed to speak at all.

The house was stuffy from months of little use, and the AC could only work so quickly to bring down the temperature of the July heat. It was humid, and hot, and she felt sort of gross. Gross in a way that would have made her feel self conscious with other partners. 

She grew up in a “girls shouldn’t produce body fluids” type of environment and was pretty sure her mom was still a staunch user of baby powder to stop chaffing. But she had never felt self conscious around Daemon. Even though he was like, really hot. He had a natural charm and confidence that made him all the more attractive, but also less intimidating, in a way? 

Even when they had a night together planned and she got her period a few hours before. He’d been in Germany for like a week, and she had been excited to see him. Give him a good and proper welcome home. But then her body betrayed her, and she was bedridden with cramps. He hadn’t been mad though, he had been sympathetic. And sent her ice cream, and flowers, and told her to come over the next day because he had a better bathtub at his place and, “That would help, right?” 

It had helped. 

He was just nonjudgemental that made being around him so easy. To the degree where she never wanted to leave. She often felt like she was swept into his orbit and helpless to resist. And not in an abusive way, just like, her existence was so much better with him in it that to separate would be catastrophic. 

She was pretty sure she was in love with him. She wasn’t sure he felt the same way.

The bed dipped next to her, as he moved from between her legs and onto his side. “You look pretty alive to me,” he said. She wrinkled her nose — god his face was fucking wet from her, that was indecent. And she sort of wanted to kiss him anyway, and she wasn’t sure what that said about her. 

She decided to return the favor, instead, slinking down his firm form until she was situated between his thighs. 

He really was, just unfairly good looking in every way. And then he had to have this cock that was like something out of every women’s fantasies. She wasn’t even sure what to compare it too — because she believed there was truth to ‘it’s not the size that matters’ and some truth to guys being too big, but he landed somewhere in-between and quite literally hit the perfect spot for her. 

She’d asked him what he liked, once, and he had just unhelpfully said he liked her and that she could go wild. Which was, like, a bold thing to say to someone who is eye level with your dick. But he came in like three minutes, so she guessed it worked out for both of them.

She hadn’t been big on blow jobs before Daemon. It had seemed sort of…unsanitary? Gross? But she wasn’t a hypocrite, she liked receiving oral sex which made it her duty to give it, too. And she liked pleasing her partners, so it was fine.

But with Daemon it was way better than fine. He had impeccable grooming habits, and always seemed to smell clean and faintly of cologne in a way that was quite literally appetizing. And her hand fit so nicely around his cock, fingers just barely meeting. She sort of wished she could take a picture of this to show off her manicure, but that probably went against instagrams TOS. 

He was neatly trimmed, and she liked how pale his hair was. It was almost as light as hers, and left just long enough to be fluffy, so she never got stubble burn. He meant it when he told her to go wild — he seemed to enjoy variety. Little pecks around the head, nails running underneath — going past his balls and pushing up where they met his body, threatening to slip inside if there was more lubrication present. 

When he was really in the throws of it, she liked using the tiniest bit of teeth, to pull him away from the edge and make him jerk. He tried to be polite, and gently stroke her hair throughout, which is probably why she loved it so much when he lost control and thrusted, too lost in pleasure to pay attention because he had to come so badly.  

Blow jobs felt like a constant battle between his stamina and her technique, and it turned the whole thing into a game that she could barely get enough of. 

She wasn’t in a rush tonight, not after his showing that provided — three orgasms? Sometimes it was hard to tell, because they all blurred into each other until she was shaking too much and couldn’t take anymore. He said if she really wanted to test her limits, he had once watched Mysaria make her poor sub come fifteen times in a single evening. Her vagina quivered at the thought. Her competitive nature made her curious if she could do sixteen. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, but she told him to order the stuff anyway. There would be a rainy day, she was sure of it. 

But the orgasms and heat made her sleepy, so she took her time suckling and going as deep as she could without choking — though that could be fun too, when he used her mouth, fucking into it until spit dribbled from the corners of her lips and her eyes watered. They had only done it a few times, though. He said that was really hot, but that he didn’t like seeing her cry. But the joke was on him, because she thought that was so sweet she teared up a little. 

She might have been hormonal, but still. 

She paid extra attention to the head, laving its every crevice with her tongue before pulling off and giving his neglected balls some attention. That wasn’t a part of a man she had paid much attention to before, either, but she liked his. How they were firm, but sort of silky feeling. She had joked once that they looked neglected and when he said she could fix that her eyes had lit up — exploring below the dick literally wasn’t something that had occurred to her before.

But now she knew better. Now she knew that she could go even farther, laving the bit of skin below them and up until she met puckered skin. He really liked that, and liked it even better when he replaced her tongues pressure with a finger, and went back to sucking on his length. She was proud of how deeply she could go now, if she went slow she could take all of him and just hold him there, with her lips pressed against the base. 

She wasn’t sure how long it went on for — this wasn’t their normal game where she pulled out all the stops trying to make him come hard and fast. That wasn’t how he had treated her tonight, either. She just wanted him to feel good — for her to be responsible for him feeling good. Eventually he came, and she swallowed what she could before freeing him from her mouth. She left a little kiss on the tip — she always did that and he had teased her, “It’s cute — like you’re saying goodbye to it.” But now it was just habit and it would feel weird to not do it.  

She crawled back up and made herself comfortable on his chest. She had read once, that skin to skin contact was the most soothing thing you could provide to a newborn baby. And at twenty years old she finally got it, because she felt like that in Daemon’s arms. 

“You’re sweet tonight.” He muttered into her hair, “I’m always sweet.” She insisted, “Uh huh, well sometimes you are better at hiding it.” 

He wasn’t wrong. She had spent a lot of her life hiding bits of herself. She hoped she didn’t have to do as much of that in the future. 

…

The rest of the weekend was as blissful as that first night. The heat was oppressive, but the property was shaded and beautiful. They went for a few rides, and took one of his fancy open top cars down to the beach when the heat became unbearable. 

It was miraculously nearly empty — you needed a permit to go, he said, and the water was delightfully cold. She waded in and stood there until her legs were numb before running back ashore and laying in the sun to dry off. When her skin felt warm, like it was ready to burn, she knew it was time to go back. 

She asked if she could drive the fancy car — it was red and some sort of convertible but the manufacturer was lost on her. He asked if she had a license, which she did. 

“Did you attain it legally?” He asked. 
She winced, “I’m fairly certain my father did not bribe the instructor.” 
“How certain?” Daemon asked. 
“Like 65%?” 

Apparently that was good enough. And she giggled the whole way back, sticking to the speed limit but taking corners a little too fast and sharp. He called her a menace after, and then fucked her in the entry way. 

She thought she loved him at the start of this trip. But she knew she loved him now. 

...

August: 

“My vibrator died” 

“Do you want me to buy you a new one, or to come over?” 

“Yes?” 

A sigh. “20 Minutes. I’ll pick you up on my way home.” 

“You’re the best, love you!” She hung up before he could respond. Though he wasn’t really sure how to respond, either.

He knew he liked her. A lot. More than he should, given the circumstances. She consumed his thoughts, his space, and his life in a way he had not expected. He hadn’t realized how empty and lonely he had been until he the alternative. And what was the alternative? It was just…her. Being her bossy, sort of demanding, sort of sweet, sort of clingy but also fiercely independent self.

He had been so sure on that Friday a few months back that she would leave the for the bathroom and never return. But she came back. And he was certain he would wake up on Saturday to find her gone. But she wasn’t. And by the end of that day, he didn’t really want her to go at all. 

When they toured apartments, and brownstones, he couldn’t help but watch her navigate the spaces — wonder if she was thinking about living in them. What it would be like, living with her. He didn’t think he was a romantic, but he had always been impulsive with women. He’d gotten married on a whim, twice. He’d had more one night stands than he could remember. He had dated a fair bit, too. He’d never felt lacking before, not since his youth — not since he went to therapy in his early twenties. 

But standing next to her watching the sunset over central park made him feel like a failure. Because he didn’t have a life with this girl, he’d had a night with her. And that was probably all it would ever be. 

But then she kept surprising him. She kept texting him. So he kept seeing her. And now she loved him. 

Daemon knew she was smart — that wasn’t her misspeaking. That was a calculated risk so she wouldn’t have to reveal her feelings to his face. She could be fierce, but she could also be shy. Her sass wasn’t a front, exactly, it was part of her. But it was part of her armor too, because she hand’t been treated well. 

He felt like the longer he was with her, the more she was stripped bare. Exposing bits that had been hidden under steel for years. But clearly this was a weak spot — but could he blame her? Her parents were…well maybe she hadn’t been told she was loved in a long time. Maybe that was why she was hesitant to say it to someone else. 

His sweet girl, afraid she wouldn’t be loved but still willing to give it to others. Give it to him. He wouldn’t take it for granted. 

…

On his way to the elevators a director of something stopped him, asked him to go for drinks with the guys. Daemon shrugged him off, said he had to pick up his girlfriend. It wasn’t a lie. The guy had been surprised though, saying he had no idea Daemon was seeing someone. 

Had he really never referred to her as his girlfriend before? Had he never mentioned her at all? It seemed wrong that the person who had such an impact on his day would be invisible to those around him. Couldn’t they tell? Wasn’t it obvious? 

Coincidently, Mysaria called him while he was in the car. “It’s been too long.” She insisted, “We never talk anymore.” She had been in the US for years now, but her accent was still strong. She claimed she liked the sense of mystery it gave her. “We should do drinks,” he said, and he meant it, “But not tonight — I, have a date with my girlfriend.” He wasn’t sure he had ever hear Mysaria delighted before, but this came close. 

“You did not tell me you had a girlfriend!” Her accent all the stronger with her enthusiasm. 

“It’s still new but — it’s important. She’s important.” 

“Next Saturday, The Keep has a party, at 10? No demonstrations, very tame. Bring her.” 

…

“So you want me to meet your ex-wife at a sex club?” She asked, not entirely opposed to the idea, more amused if anything. 

He sighed. “It’s not a sex club. It’s a kink positive environment and safe space for BDSM enthusiasts.” 

“That sounds exactly like a sex club.” 

“Are you saying no?” 

She shook her head, “It’s not a no. But like, what do you wear to a sex club? Do you go naked? Is everyone naked?”

“You aren’t going naked.” Daemon insisted. 

…

She was sort of excited. They hadn’t really been out-out since that first night they met. They went to movies, sometimes. She’d drag him with her to markets, and to get groceries.There was this corgi race at the park she insisted they go to, too. But she hadn’t had a reason to pull out her high heels and red lipstick while he was around.

God, when was the last time she had been to a bar? A club? A party? Had it really been three months? She’d think she was turning into Alicent. 

Alicent probably wouldn’t go to a sex club with her 37 year old uncle. 

Though to be fair, Rhaenyra probably wouldn’t go to a sex club with Alicent’s uncle, either. 

She had decided to jump on the slip dress bandwagon. She had always thought it seemed vaguely inappropriate and weird, but that was exactly how she would describe the evenings potential. The bias cut black silk managed to hug all her curves, with lace at the hemline and neckline making it just decent enough to wear in public. 

She stole a leather belt from Daemon’s closet, because last time she did that he threatened to strap her with it. He had meant it in jest, but she sort of thought it was hot. They’d compromised and he had bound her wrists to the headboard and ate her out for like, two hours. Good times. 

She wasn’t sure what response she wanted for him, but rhis exceeded her expectations —

“Fuck, I don’t know if I want you to step on me or crawl to me.” He said when he saw her, and she couldn’t hold back her grin, “I’m not opposed to either. But we have places to be, and I think we’d miss our car.” He groaned — the noise resembling a dying animal, perhaps the only fate more cruel than what she was depriving him of. 

“I’m paying for the car, it isn’t going anywhere.” 

It did seem sort of fitting to show up to a sex club after having sex. So with a sigh, she dropped to her knees. She felt stupid, crawling towards him like a gawky kitten but fuck he had never looked more turned on. His pupils were dilated and he couldn’t take his gaze from her. When she made it to his lap, he was already hard, and she was already wet. 

He didn’t even take her underwear off, too desperate to be inside her, she just moved it to the sides — warping her folds in a way that should have been painful but was quickly overshadowed by the fact he was thick and inside her and how could she possibly pay attention to anything else?  

…

“I see you have dressed her in your musk, Daemon.” Were Mysaria’s first words when she saw them. But Rhaenyra wasn’t going to be intimidated — even if this woman was tan and gorgeous and previously married to the guy she was dating. So she straightened up, standing tall on her Louboutins ready to speak, but Mysaria struck first — “But I can see why, you are an irresistible little one, no?” Okay that caught her off guard. The shift from mocking to flirting was so fast she wasn’t sure how to respond. She was kind of turned on. 

“No fucking my ex-wife” Daemon hissed in her ear. 

Ugh. She was way too jealous for anything else, but the confines of monogamy were a bummer sometimes.

They chatted for a bit, before Rhaenyra got up to acquire a drink. Daemon said he could do it — Mysaria offered to flag down a server. She just shook her head, “I need to give you two time to catch up.” She stood, “And you know — the bartender is pretty hot.” She teased before scampering away. 

…

“You know, you look like you could be that girls father.” Mysaria said, and he groaned. Because he was really not looking forward to this. 

“Not far off. She’s Viserys daughter.” He said — and one of Mysaria’s precisely groomed eyebrows rose in what was an alarmingly judgmental look given their current location. 

“That doesn’t bother you?” She asked. 

He paused — Rhaenyra had never asked him to justify it to her. And no one else knew. He really hadn’t put much thought into how he felt about the situation. He knew he was technically her uncle. He knew he liked being with her. They were almost unrelated facts in his mind. 

“I think since I never really had a family I cannot imagine the relationship we could have had, or should have had. What would have been normal to have. So I suppose what we have now…It doesn’t feel wrong.” 

Mysaria nodded, looking more contemplative than anything else. “I think you are happier than I have ever seen you before.” 

“You love her?” She asked.

It was his turn to nod.

“You should tell her.

…

“Did she like me?” Rhaenyra asked when they got back to the car. 

“She probably likes you more than me.” 

She hummed, not convinced. She thought she gained Mysaria’s approval, but she was a hard woman to read. She definitely had an eye out for Daemon’s well being, but Rhaenyra could hardly blame her. If anything it made her happy, to see someone concerned for him. She had worried about how few people he had close to him — though she could hardly judge, given her own life.

“Is it weird, how important she is to me?” He asked her. She thought about It — “No, I guess it just seems odd being friends with your ex? But she is great, I don’t blame you.” 

“Trust me, our friendship is better than our relationship ever was.” 

“And me? Would we be good friends if we broke up?” 

“No Rhaenyra, we’d make awful friends.” 

Her head lolled back in the seat, “I guess we’ll have to keep dating, then.” 

He smiled. “Guess so.” 

She smiled back, “I kind of love you, you know.” 

He nodded, “I kind of love you too.” 

…

Chapter Text

“Alicent is getting married.” Rhaenyra huffed as she sat down on the couch. A couch she had picked out. She said his old one was uncomfortable. He told her to find a better one. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, but she did find a better one. And a week later, it was in his home. 

Which was like, rich person magic because the wait time had definitely been listed as 6-8 weeks, and the listed waits were always generous. 

She once waited 6 months for a chair from Anthropologie and it wasn’t even that cute. Their velvet swatches weren’t accurate at all, but she had pocketed the money when she resold it on marketplace. 

“How did you even get in here?” He asked, not taking his gaze from his laptops screen. 

“I told your old lady neighbor I was your daughter and I lost my key.” His eyes snapped to hers, “What? She has seen us kiss like — a lot of times Rhaenyra!”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, she thinks you are into some kinky shit.” 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and set his laptop down onto the coffee table. 

She had picked that out too. At a flea market a few weeks after they met. She said it was too good to leave behind, but too big for her apartment. “You should buy it,” she said, “I can totally get the price down — that guy was absolutely staring down my shirt when I bent over.” 

“I will literally pay you to not do that.” Daemon had said. She agreed, and asked for her payment in ice cream. She got vanilla in a cone, refused his offer of a spoon because “that is what I have a tongue for, Daemon” and let it drip all over her hand as it melted. Her other hand was linked with his, she remembered. That was a good day. 

Most days with Daemon were good days. 

“Anyway.” She said, now that she had his attention. “Alicent is getting married.” 

He hadn’t met Alicent. He hadn’t really met any of her friends, or family, for obvious reasons. But he knew of her, and that this was a new development in her life. “They’ve been dating for like — three months? Some guy her dad picked out. They’ve gone on twelve dates and to two family dinners so I guess it’s time.” He raised a brow. “That’s a little fast.” 

“Didn’t you literally get married within the month of meeting your last two wives?” She was Alicent’s friend, she was allowed to judge her. He wasn’t. 

“And look at how that turned out.” He said. Which was fair. 

“So — she is moving out, and I don’t want to live alone.” She stated, staring at him, hoping he would valiantly suggest what she was not so subtly hinting at. 

“Where you, perhaps thinking, that you could move in here?” He asked. 

She grinned. “You know — I really appreciate the offer. And I’ll accept, on one condition.” 

“And what is that?” Daemon asked. 

“I want a cat.” She said. 

It was his turn to grin — “I don’t think that’s fair at all. I think we should get two cats.” 

She nodded trying to look solemn but smiling too much to really pull it off, “Compromise is very important in a relationship.” 

…

Rhaenyra was suspicious of the timeline. A wedding date in three months? Maybe Alicent had broken her vow of celibacy. She was finishing her courses online, she said, and going back home to plan the wedding. Their cohabitation would end in two weeks, Alicent admitted, through tears. 

Her parents called her less than an hour after her conversation with Alicent. Because of course they did. They were very excited for Rhaenyra to come home, which was news to her. “Don’t you want to help plan the wedding, sweetie?” Her mom had asked. “I hope you aren’t jealous — maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding? Or I can arrange something for you! And you can be pretty like Alicent too, if you try.” 

She bit her tongue. “I’m actually going to stay in the city.” She said. 

Her mom cooed at her, “No, sweetie — it would be so scary living alone! In that big apartment.” Rhaenyra could almost hear her mother shaking her head. 

“Actually, I’m going to move in with my boyfriend.” 


Silence followed. How could silence be so loud? 

Then finally, her mother spoke — “You have a boyfriend?” 

“Uh huh, it’s been a few months now. I didn’t want to tell you until it got serious.” Rhaenyra said. 

“It’s serious?” Her mother cried. 

“I wouldn’t move in with him if It wasn’t serious, Mom.” Rhaenyra said.

“Rhaenyra…you’ll be ruined. Think of our reputation! You can’t just live with a man if you aren’t married. It’s indecent. Your father will, Oh I don’t even want to think of it!” 

“Okay mom. I understand.”

…

“How do you feel about getting married?” She asked him. This was weird to do on the phone. This was weird period, but that was sort of the theme of their relationship. She was kind of grateful she didn’t have to see him while she asked though, if he said no that might outrank their previously most awkward moment. And that one was a doozy. 

“Like, right now?” He asked.

“Google says there is like, a 24 hour waiting period after getting a license. They are still open now, though. Are you working tomorrow?” 

“I could probably take the day off for a wedding.” 

That was a yes, right? She was assuming that was a yes. 

“Do you want to pick the ring or should I?” He asked. That was definitely a yes. 

“I mean, you picked me, so I trust your taste.” 

“Mhm, speaking of tastes — you should come over. Stay over.” 

She was going to say it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding. But she resisted, because she really wanted to see him.

Besides, third times the charm, right? 

…

She woke up after he had already left in the morning. He got up at 6AM to run like some sort of unnatural beast, and he always managed to shower and change and start work before she had even began her day. She kind of envied his competence. Maybe it came with age. But she thought he had probably always been a control freak. 

She shrugged on one of the silk robes that had made its way to his house, then shuffled into the kitchen. On the counter was a Starbucks thermos, envelope, and tiny box.

She opened the envelope first — Card first, Rhaenyra, her mother had always said. She pulled out the contents, a sticky note that simply said he would see her at 4PM and to wear something pretty — it was stuck to a black credit card, that said Rhaenyra Valeryon on the front. 

Rich person magic, she thought, not for the first time.

She took a sip from the thermos, if the card didn’t endear her towards him (and it had, that was her type of card) the hazelnut cappuccino would. With a deep breath she opened the tiny box, already knowing what it would be. But it was so much better than she imagined. Sparkly and elegant, and delicate enough for her small fingers but not small. She loved it. She loved him. 

He really did have excellent taste.

It fit, because of course it fit. She admired it for several moments, and how it felt on her hand before deciding to pull out her phone. His fancy marble counters would be an excellent backdrop for this instagram post.

The calls started, like, five minutes later. She just muted her phone and got dressed. 

She had a date at four, and she needed to find something pretty to wear to it. 

…

It had been awkward at city hall. Sitting in hard wooden chairs and just…waiting. Waiting in line, waiting for their names to be called on. It brought her back to boarding school, how many times had she sat outside the principals office? Dozens?

But even then, she had never felt this nervous. She was trying to figure out if it was anxiety or excitement. It seemed stupid, to think of the term ‘butterflies in my stomach’ on perhaps the most grown up day of her life — her wedding day, but it fit. It felt like fluttering. Anticipation, definitely, though whether it was good or bad she wasn’t sure.

Before she could decide, they were standing next to each other. And making vows to each other. And kissing each other. And signing their names — her new name, she realized after signing ‘Tar’ and having to scribble it out and restart. Because she was married. 

He carried her over the threshold, because of course he did. 

She’d wanted to celebrate in the car. Her exact wording was, ‘I’d like to fuck my husband now.’ But he’d claimed the first time with his wife should be in their bed. She may have called him boring because of that, but secretly thought it was really sweet. 

He was sweet. Her husband was sweet, she thought. 

She still nibbled on his ear, and nipped at his neck the entire way home. He may be able to resist her, but she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

They made it to the bed, barely. They stopped frequently to kiss — wrapped up in each other and the task of getting each others clothing off. They lost their shoes — his tie, her dress, his shirt, his belt, and eventually his pants on their way. The clothing marking their path to the bedroom, too desperate to wait to expose each other.

They were too desperate for foreplay, too, or at least Rhaenyra was. Daemon kneeled as he removed her underwear, but she tugged him back up — not wanting to wait, “Just. Inside.” She demanded, but it came out breathy. She was just glad it was intelligible at all. 

When he finally thrust his length into her, she let out a sob of relief, and he let out a moan. She was a little too dry, he was a little too big, it didn’t even feel good at first, she was just so relieved to have him inside her. The wait as they drove home felt life a lifetime, she wanted to have sex with her husband so badly — the word husband thrilled her, the concept thrilled her.

And now it was happening. When he said he wanted their ‘first time’ to be in a bed, she thought it would be soft, and slow, but this wasn’t — this was fucking. His pace was brutal, hips slamming into hers and slick noises filling the room along with their combined gasps. She may not have been wet enough when he started, but she was now. The glide of his cock inside her was smooth, his thrusts long — pulling until just the head of his cock pried her open, then slamming the rest of himself inside. 

Over. And Over. 

His hands were like a vice on her hips, keeping them up, forcing her back to stay arched as he thrust into her. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back, completely lost in the moment. 

Her hands slid down to her stomach, pressing firmly on her pelvis and causing his hips to stutter as he felt the added pressure. But she didn’t stop there, her hands wandered lower, glided easily along her slick flesh. Her fingers parted her folds and just stayed there, feeling how his cock moved between her lips. His thrusts a desperate attempt to get deeper inside, to burry himself fully in her. 

She was doing her part too, trying not to tense up no matter how good it felt. Trying not to clench because that caused him to stop and that was not what she wanted. It was both easier and harder now, with her fingers feeling his movements in addition to the entirety of her body. Her fingertips dragged moisture up to her clit, rubbing the nerve with firm circles and the tiniest pinch of her nails, and that was it for her. 

She sagged as she came, her body clenching so tightly she was shocked he could still move. Aftershocks rocked through her, as his pace became more demanding — and then he came too, releasing himself inside of her and grinding his seed into her.

God she found that so hot. She didn’t think she would be into it, too afraid of pregnancy, or diseases, but by month two of regular sex the inconvenience of condoms made her ask about going without. They were clean. They were exclusive. She had a pill timer set. It would be fine. 

It was fine, it was so much better than fine, she thought, as the warmth filled her. 

Daemon's shoulders loosened with his release, as did his grip on her hips. He didn’t pull from her, but he guided her to lay flat against the bed, smoothing the spots where bruises were likely to form with his hands while he pressed his head into her chest. 

“I don’t think I’ve come that quickly since college.” He said against her skin, she snorted. 

“Perks of dating a college student, I guess” she responded, running her fingers through his hair. 

He looked up at her with a smile, “Perks of being married to a college student.” 

…

She wasn’t sure when he pulled out of her, or how much time had passed. She had been enjoying her lazy post orgasm haze,  but she felt him behind her. 

“Again?” She asked, breathlessly, feeling the length of him against her folds. He let out an embarrassed laugh, “I haven’t done this since college either.”  

His fingers pressed into her, damp from her own arousal and his spend. It was filthy, the squelching as he curved two fingers inside her — finding that fleshy spot she hadn’t even known existed until she was with him. It wasn’t enough to make her come, but it was enough to make her want more. 

Clearly, he had come to the same conclusion. Using his hand to guide his length into her, his hands pressing on her pelvis and pulling her onto him opposed to thrusting. She moaned — this felt perfect. 

Sometimes he felt a little too big, and sometimes that felt good. But when they took their time, when she was all wet and ready for him and he slid in slowly it was just…bliss, the slight stretch, the warmth, the heaviness that pooled from him sitting inside her, the anticipation for when he would move. It was just perfection. She thought she could stay like this forever. 

They had played a little with that, a few times. “Cockwarming!” She had announced one weekend, the findings of a wikipedia rampage after they had visited his club and decided she needed to know more about the activities that took place there. “What about it?” He had asked, looking almost bored, which was just unacceptable. 

So she plopped herself on his lap, nipped at his ear until she felt him start to thicken — “Can we try it?” She had asked. And they had. She loved it, just getting to revel in the feeling of him inside her for over an hour. When they talked about it after he said he hated it, said it was torture to stay still and have to suffer feeling so good but not good enough to come. But when she asked him if he wanted to do it again he had said yes.

But now he was too impatient for that, his hips quickly turning to gentle thrusts. Not even really pulling out between them, just nudging further inside of her. If their pace earlier had been that of waves on a stormy day, this was that of a pond rippling in a breeze. She tried to arch her hips, make him go harder, faster, but he stopped her. 

“Shhh, no rushing, we have forever.” He said, and she moaned. 

“You wanted to fuck your husband; I want to make love to my wife.” He said — and he did. 

Eventually she found herself on her back again, this time with his lips on her breast. He refused to touch her clit, telling her to be patient. Instead he chose to lave at her nipples, mouthing at them, kissing them, giving little nips — blowing on them, so they pebbled. 

She didn’t consider herself to have overly sensitive breasts, but she thought if he kept at it she could come from this alone. Fuck, she was going to. Each soft stroke inside of her, on her chest, seemed to push her towards a gentle orgasm that she couldn’t escape from. It warmed her skin, made her tingle, she felt gooey and syrupy — and it wasn’t the type of peak she usually experienced, but this wasn’t the type of sex they usually had either. 

Making love, he had said. 

He groaned as she came, the clenching around his cock clearly benefiting both of them. But he still didn’t pick up his pace, he simply raised his head from her chest and palmed her breasts instead. Dragging his calloused thumbs across her nipples. 

“Have I told you how perfect these are?” He asked, clearly not expecting a response. 

“You’re so sweet, and these, just like candies.” He said, returning his mouth to her nipple. Sucking on it, in a way she worried might bruise but felt so fucking good. And she didn’t come again, exactly, but that tingly syrupy feeling didn’t go away either. Every sensation seemed to radiate out from where his lips touched, eventually making their way to the tips of her fingers and toes and causing them to curl. 

“They’ve been neglected,” he said forlornly, “I’m going to have to take good care of them.” He said, his mouth moving to suckle on her other nipple, stopping his suction every few moments to drag his teeth across them. His hand was palming her other tit, fingers lightly twisting its peak. 

How did this feel so good? How did she not know she could feel like this?

Everything blurred together. The orgasms. The slow pace. The words he whispered against her skin — 

“Gotta be gentle, can’t bruise my wife.” He said, as if there weren’t shadows already forming on her hips from earlier in the day. 

“Maybe one mark, just, right here?” He said, sucking on her neck and leaving a bruise that would not be so easily covered. 

“Gonna come for me again?” She couldn’t respond. She might have nodded. She definitely came. 

“So needy,” he cooed, “Still not enough?” She shook her head, god, and now he wasn’t even moving, just resting with the tip of his cock inside her, giving attention to the side of her neck while she quivered under him. She felt open, caught on his dick but not full. It was infuriating, but every time she tried to thrust against him, he’d press her hips back down.

“Going to have to tie you down, if you can’t be good.” She fucking wailed. 

“I’m making love to you, remember? Can’t let you work too hard.” He emphasized this by sheathing himself in her again, and fuck, she must be swollen because he felt bigger. But it didn’t hurt, it felt so good. And she was so sensitive. And then he didn’t stop, finally moving, longer thrusts that went deeper.

Fingers finally strayed to her clit, and it was so sensitive she tried to jerk away. Somehow it going untouched for so long had made it almost hurt — but he didn’t stop, pressing down on it until she was shaking, until it felt good again. 

And she was crying and she didn’t know why, and she was coming, and he was too. 

He kept rocking into her, even as he softened, rubbing circles into her skin, making little hushing noises like he was trying to soothe a child, and annoyingly it was working. She didn’t understand how he knew her so well. Her body. Her mind. But she felt herself coming down from her peak, felt her breathing slow, felt him pull out, felt fluids follow him — she was a mess, she needed a shower, they needed clean sheets. 

But she was so tired, she didn’t even open her eyes when lips pressed to hers, “Go to sleep, Rhaenyra.” 

And then she didn’t feel anything at all. 

…

He watched her sleep. Torn between wanting her to rest, and just wanting her. He really did feel like a teenager again. So easy to harden, so easy to come. He couldn’t remember it being like this with other partners.

He’d had his fair share of women. Beautiful women. And stamina had never been something he was lacking. If anything, he had too much of it. He wasn’t sure why — he didn’t watch a lot of porn, drink a lot, or use a harsh grip on himself. He wondered if he just lacked the usual sensitivity in that organ. He was too embarrassed to bring it up during physicals, but he wasn’t sure they would have a solution even if there was a problem. 

Sex felt good, but not always good enough to come. He took pleasure in what he got, in giving pleasures to others. But as he got older, even that was harder to come by. He had to be aided by pills, or in a mood. And the woman had to be special, for his body to feel want at all. 

That’s why the apps were good — you weren’t limited to a dozen people in a bar, or even a hundred. You had thousands of profiles at your fingertips, and he could be picky. He could strike well the iron, (in this case, his cock) was hot. The apps weren’t something he used often, but he was grateful he had used them that night so many months ago. 

She caught his eye right away, something about her hair — the curve of her lips, the curve of her body sent a pang of arousal so strong her felt compelled to reach out. He didn’t know the last time he had messaged a woman first, he wasn’t that desperate for companionship. But he felt desperate for her, even from her photos alone.

His intuition had been good, even if the start of their time together was awkward. He didn’t need any sort of help or added stimulation when she was in his bed. It was like his brain and dick were finally on the same page, and neither of them could get enough of her. 

He’d talked about it with Rhaenyra once, over wine and a shitty reality tv show. They had shared their worst experiences with others, and it seemed they both had struggled to orgasm with previous partners. Though Rhaenyra had been in disbelief when he admitted as much, “That just…hasn’t been an issue, has it?” She asked, her eyes slightly glazed like she was rethinking all their previous encounters. 

He just scoffed — a bit embarrassed, and rubbed the expression from his face with his free hand. “No, I can honestly say that has not been an issue with you.” 

She had bit her lip then, and trailed her fingers up his chest. “I mean that sucks…but it is sort of hot.” Her fingers wandered lower, “I’ll have to be really good to him, since he likes me so much.” — and she was, she had taken his length in her hand, then followed up with a truly spectacular blow job. 

And even now — months later, fucking married to her these feelings hadn’t faded, if anything they had gotten stronger. He wanted her all the time, and so did his body. Just thinking about that previous encounter had his dick stirring.

It wasn’t like they were only sexually compatible. The lust may have hit first, but love had followed. Despite the age difference, conversation between them always came easily. They had the same taste in shows, the same love languages. They genuinely enjoyed being around each other, whether they were clothed or not. 

She was young but she wasn’t flighty — she wanted commitment as badly as he did. She wanted love as badly as he did, something that had been lacking from both their formative years. Sure he had more life experience, but he was almost grateful for that. His younger self would have taken her for granted, and the extra years had just given him an extra appreciation for her. 

His had reached out to her, tucking her light blonde hair behind her ear. It was unfair, how pretty she looked even in sleep. Like a princess, belonging on a throne in a universe other than this one, he thought. Even then, they would have ended up together. He was sure of it. He wasn’t one to believe in fate, but this just felt so right, every part of it. 

The more he started at her, the more he found himself craving her. Maybe he would go down on her — he’d left her in such a messy state, it was only polite to clean her up. And if she woke and wanted more, well, who was he to leave his wife wanting? 

…

She officially moved in a week later, though she hadn’t spent a night in her own bed in weeks — much to Alicent’s shock and horror. She wasn’t sure what her mother thought, but she assumed it wasn’t good. They had only talked once, very briefly, in which Rhaenyra played dumb — “I thought it was okay for us to live together if we were married?” She had said, only to get a response that was more horrified screeching than words. 

She had gotten an email from her father the next day. She was pretty sure he’d cut her out of the will and closed her trust. It was an unfortunate development, to be sure, but she found she…didn’t really care. 

She realized when she had gotten all her things over and officially Moved In that his — their — place already felt like her home. More than her place with Alicent had. More than the house she grew up in had. Hell, she had more control over the decorating of this space than her own. Her parents had always picked the paint color — the location, and most of the furniture before she had even moved in. 

It felt like some metaphor for her life, where they tried to decide where she went and what she looked like at all times. It was a stifling way to exist. 

When she inquired about changing it, they had insisted what was there was already very appropriate. And wasn’t she grateful they had taken care of it? She was grateful, for a lot of the things they provided her with. She wasn’t so spoiled that she was blind to her privilege. But she wish they asked for her opinion. Wish they cared about her opinion. Daemon always cared. 

He made her feel cared for. And it wasn’t his money, it was just the fact he listened. And there was evidence in it everywhere, even in this space that they hadn’t technically shared until this morning. 

When she opened the fridge, their was oat milk — because he knew she liked that it was lower impact, even if it didn’t taste as good. When the opened the cabinets, they were full of weird goblets instead of water glasses. Because she had said she liked glasses with stems better, because they made her feel like a grown up. 

And in the living room, she could sit on a couch she picked out, that was covered in throw blankets he asked his assistant to pick up because she complained that his apartment was cold. 

And it wasn’t even that he did everything she asked. He just seemed to be happy making her happy. He never acted like doing things she wanted was some great sacrifice. He never acted like her existence was a sacrifice, the way her parents sometimes had. 

A part of her worried that she was devoting her entire life to a guy she met three months ago. She was alienated from her family, from her friends, and dependent on him financially. If she posted this on reddit, the comments would be all about the red flags. 

He’s older than you! He’s controlling you and pushing you away from the things that really matter! He is taking advantage of you! 

But isn’t that what her parents had done ever since she was born?

And even then — she didn’t feel like she had left one captor for another. She felt free. 

…

She bought sparkly gel pens to use for his old man calendar. It was paper. And hung on his wall, like some relic from the past. She wrote,“CATIVERSARY” across the weekend in swirly letters.

They were going to an animal shelter, one she had been following on instagram since she was like…13. Daemon had been surprised. He’d thought she would want a fancy kitten — like a persian. But his assumption was rewarded with a lecture on the dangers of dwarfism in cats and the potential grooming and breathing issues that can effect persians. 

“They are cute, though.” She admitted. 

The shelter associate tried to push her towards the kittens. Daemon had too, which was fair because they were adorable. But she wasn’t sure she had the patience for a kitten, much less two kittens. She asked if they had any bonded pairs — those were harder to adopt out, the site had said. The associate had been hesitant, “We do but they aren’t as…uh, friendly.” 

She wanted to see them anyway. When she reached to pet them they snuggled into each other as if they could offer one another protection. When she didn’t slow her approach, they hissed. Which was fair, she wouldn’t like someone reaching into her home to pet her. And how hilarious were these little fur balls acting like big mean dragons?

“I’m going to call them Caraxes and Syrax” she said. 

…

September: 

The term started. It was strange, the structure of classes after a carefree summer. It was odd seeing people she hadn’t heard from in months. Well that wasn’t fair, they hadn’t heard from her either.

They were close merely due to proximity. And when that went away, so did their relationship. It was hard though —trying to explain how much had changed in such a short period. Merely saying she was “Busy,” and that she “Got married,” didn’t seem like enough.

When people asked her where she had been, how should she respond? “I realized I was just going to parties because I was lonely and didn’t have any other way to pass the time?”  Yeah, that would go over really well.

That thought came to her now, too. As she stood at a celebration for Daemon’s company hitting their profit goals, or something important like that. 

“How did I spent all my teenage years going to literally every party I was invited to. Parties are the worst.” Daemon snorted next to her, “Your tolerance is truly remarkable.” He joked, but she knew he would have rather been at home, too. He was charming, and had a natural way with people that she envied, but he still preferred a level of solitude. 

She had, at one point, been excited about tonight. She hadn’t met many people he worked with — though his time spent with them was minimal, and he didn’t really consider them friends. She was kind of looking forward to being a visible person in Daemon’s life. They loved each other, she knew that, and that was enough for her when they were in their bubble — the brownstone. 

But when someone at school asked her about her ring, it almost felt like she had this make believe life since so few people knew about it. It was a progressive school, the people who went there didn’t just get married when they were 20 for the sake of it. And when she talked to her parents, she heard their skepticism — she had never been in a relationship before, really, how on earth was she handling a marriage? 

She didn’t need validation from outsiders, per-say, she just wanted other people to see them the way she saw them. Strong. Happy. In love. 

She knew Daemon wasn’t close with the people at his work, the more successful he had gotten the more isolated he had become. As he traveled, he became used to handling things through video calls and phone meetings. It was easy for the habits to carry over when he was more local, often choosing to take days or weeks of work home instead of coming into the office. 

So she understood why these people didn’t know she existed. But also she was a little sick of the people constantly approaching and confirming she came with Daemon — only to then not-so-subtly ask who she was to him. She was kind of enjoying the poorly veiled looks of surprise when she said she was his wife. That felt good. At least the first few times. But now it was dragging, and so was the evening.  

At least she could take some solace in the fact she looked good. Eventually this evening would end, and Daemon would slide the red satin down her skin. And say sweet things about the red lace revealed beneath. And even sweeter things about her when she was completely divested of the delicate garment. 

But for now she was going to get another drink, and try to make her way back to Daemon’s arm, because she had learned even shitty things were made better by his presence next to her.

…

October:

She was dressed up as a cat. Sort of. The skimpy velvet dress and matching cat ears where perhaps the lamest attempt at a costume. It had been a last minute decision, mostly so she could needle Daemon by saying he had three pets now. He told her if she wanted any chance of staying clothed throughout the evening, she should stop saying that. 

She didn’t usually take well to being told to be quiet (or told to do anything, really) but for once she did want to stay dressed in Daemon’s presence. She was getting to pass out candy for like, the first time ever and she was delighted. Her apartment with Alicent had rules against trick or treating, because it apparently hated fun. And her parents house had too many security cameras for even the bravest child to feel comfortable approaching. 

The gates at the end of their driveway had always stayed firmly shut on October 31st. “It isn’t safe” they said. “The house could be vandalized! Broken into! You could be raped, Rhaenyra!” Yeah, ten year olds in crappy costumes that wanted candy were definitely the biggest threat to society. 

She hadn’t been allowed to go trick or treating for the same reason. She was more likely to die in a car crash on the way to their stuffy parties than be abducted and murdered in her pursuit of getting candy with her friends, but arguing with them was a waste of time. 

So she was excited, when the door bell rang, and she finally got to pick up the giant bowl of king sized candy bars.

…

“Do you want kids?” She asked Daemon, who had been sitting in the bedroom with the cats since the barrage of knocking and ringing had started. Rhaenyra had realized this evening that they never discussed it. She hadn’t thought much about it. She never spent much time around children.

Her parents were part of the society that kept their kids placated with nannies at home until they were old enough to avoid embarrassing them in public. She wasn’t sure she had seen someone under the age of 10 at any event, ever. She wasn’t sure she had talked to someone that age in the last decade, not since they were her peers. 

He looked up at her, “What brought this on?” He asked. “Maybe the cats bring out the maternal instincts in me.” She said, and he snorted, then looked thoughtful. “I supposed I never put much thought into it, I never had the time or the right partner for it to be of serious consideration.” 

“You’ve been married. Twice.” She said. 

“Three times!” He corrected, and she grinned. She forgot sometimes.

“With Rhea is was never going to happen, and Mysaria made it very clear that either wasn’t a desire or wasn’t a possibility.” Rhaenyra thought that was kind of sad. He was a good man. He was an ambitious man. If he wanted a family, she wanted him to have one. Be in a place where he could decide for himself if he wanted one.

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?” She asked. Her mom wasn’t a good mom. She didn’t want to have kids and treat them like that. 

“I think you are good at everything.” Ugh, he was always a charmer. 

“I wouldn’t want to give birth to any. It would be a shame to mar this body with stretch marks. And like, I’ve skimmed the Habsburg Dynasty wikipedia page, I don’t think we should go down that path.” He snorted. “But we could adopt someday, if we wanted, couldn’t we? Rich people can do that.” 

“We can do whatever you want, Rhaenyra.” 

“Well,” she said, approaching the bed and kneeling on the edge. “I turned the outside lights off. And gave out all the candy. So right now, I want to have sex with my husband.” 

She crawled up the bed, feeling almost feline in the moment, and settled herself on his lap.

“Will you leave the ears on?” He asked, hopefully. 

...

November: 

“Rhaenyra! I wasn’t expecting you here!” She turned and offered the women — some friend of her parents she had met at least a dozen times at events throughout the years — a forced smile. “Your parents said you got married!” The woman said.

Rhaenyra couldn’t remember her name, but she didn’t really care. She would be known as no.8 to seek her out in search of gossip, impressive since the reception had only started twenty minutes ago. 

“That’s right.” She said, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a story.

“Who is the mystery man? Is he here?” The women asked. Rhaenyra shook her head, Daemon had offered to go with her. Many times. But she had refused — they weren’t hiding anymore. She had been to some of his work events, decorated his arm at a fundraiser or two. She told him she took her trophy wife duties very seriously. 

But she had been friends with Alicent for a long time. Maybe not good friends, but it was some sort of friendship. And showing up with Daemon would have overshadowed the day she had always dreamed of. And she couldn’t do that to her. 

She missed Daemon’s company. It would have been more fun with him here, he was better at schmoozing than she was. It wasn’t like she couldn’t talk to people on her own…she just didn’t like most people.

“No — he had business in Dubai,” she said. That was true. He had asked if it was okay about ten times before committing to the trip. She was going to be at a hotel in DC anyway, it didn’t make sense for him to stay home when they would be apart anyway.

“Oh, what does he do?” God, this woman was insistent. 

“Investment management?” She said, sort of with a question. She still wasn’t sure what the full scope of his job was. He said it he didn’t mind explaining, it was just really boring, and she believed him. All she knew is that he was good at it and he liked it, and that was all she really cared about. 

“Anyone we know? A friend of your parents?” The woman continued. Rhaenyra shook her head. “Nope, he, uh — was fostered by the Valeryon’s? When he was a teen. So he is adjacent to all this,” she said with a wave to the venue, “But I don’t imagine you’ve met.”

Eventually the woman got bored and fuck those were her parents heading right towards her. She had managed to avoid them thus far, sitting at the back of the aisle. And she wasn’t invited to the rehearsal dinner, as she wasn’t in the wedding party. Apparently that invitation had never been sent when she refused to return to DC to help plan the thing. If her mysterious marriage status wasn’t the talk of the town, her lack of role in her public besties wedding would be. 

But appearances mattered, they couldn’t not invite her at all. And as much as she hated it, they mattered to her too, which was why she came.

“Rhaenyra,” her mother said carefully. “You look…well.” She said, glaring a little at her abdomen like she was looking for a bump. God forbid someone marry her willingly without her getting knocked up first. “Is the man here?” Her dad asked gruffly. She just sighed. “Nope. Away on business.” Her mom looked sympathetic, “Oh dear — troubles already?” The look was convincing but her tone was that of poorly concealed optimism. 

If Rhaenyra wasn’t pregnant, and they got divorced quickly, maybe they could sweep this all under the rug and find her a nice appropriate man. She had seen it done before, when a trip to Vegas went wrong or kids felt rebellious and eloped. It wasn’t a wrong that couldn’t be righted, if caught in time.

“No. No troubles, just business.” She insisted. She hated this. That he wasn’t here. That people thought he didn’t want to be here. She had a husband that loved her and she wanted to show him off. 

“Are we ever going to meet him, Rhaenyra?” Her mother questioned. 

She seethed. She didn’t want them to meet, not yet, not ever, really. But it wasn’t as if her mother had been provided an opportunity for introductions — there had been no dinner invitations, no semblance of support or interest. She received thinly veiled threats on her answering machine about being cut off and cut out of the will. Not congratulations on her nuptials, even if they had been somewhat hurried and spiteful. 

“I suppose that depends if we get invited to Christmas.” Rhaenyra said with a shrug. 

They did not get an invite to Christmas. 

...

December: 

It was the middle of the night, and she couldn’t sleep. 

The late hour seemed to elongate the shadows in their home, and in her head, she thought. She wouldn't say she had doubts, exactly...But her parents hadn’t called her since Alicent’s wedding. Was getting married and moving out really a slight worthy of disinheriting your daughter? Or were they just desperate to find an excuse to do that all along? 

Is that why they had been hard on her? Because they wanted a reason to justify getting rid of her? Or were they really trying to shape her into something worth keeping? Why wasn’t she enough the way she was? 

She shook her head. No. She was happy. Happier than she had ever been before. And there were reminders of that everywhere, as she padded to the kitchen in one of Daemon’s shirts and a pair of fuzzy socks in search of water.

The hallway was full of paintings now. 

She had said rich guys needed real art, so he had taken her to a bunch of galleries and they had pretended to be knowledgeable whenever the curator asked them their thoughts.

Daemon trying to keep a straight face while saying, “I really like their use of color,” when looking at a canvas painted a single shade of yellow was so funny she had burst out laughing. The curator had been horrified. Daemon had been so embarrassed he bought the stupid thing, and now it was one of the ones hanging on their wall.

When she made it to the living room, she swore her heart skipped a beat. The lights were still on. The Christmas lights. He rented a truck and they went to Long Island to cut down and pick a live tree, because neither of them had ever done it before. 

Her mom always had a fake tree. A white fake tree, because red and green were tacky apparently. God forbid anything other than fake snow and silver garland be used for decorations during the holiday season. 

Their tree had red and green baubles, multi-colored lights, and tinsel, and it was kind of hideous but she loved it. They hung real candy canes on it. She tried to make popcorn garland but got bored and ended up eating it instead. She bought a stupid ornament that said “First Christmas” next to the dangling clay likeness of their cats. 

It was colorful and everything she had wanted as a child. It felt sort of like her first Christmas, too. 

She went back to their bedroom with her water glass in hand, and there Daemon was — still asleep, with the cats perched on top of the covers but not straying too far from his warmth. She couldn’t blame them. She decided to join them. 

…

It seemed fitting, that after last weeks pondering, this is what the evening would come to. 

It had started out pleasant enough — or as pleasant as a $5000 a plate New Years Eve fundraiser could be.  She thought they likely spent more on the decorations than they would actually raise for whatever charity had been picked. This is why you donate directly, she thought. She’d have to talk to Daemon about that. 

But donating to charities didn’t make you seem charitable. And if you didn’t seem charitable, people didn’t want to hire your company. So events like this had to be attended, and photos of your presence had to be taken — it was a matter of reputation. 

She somehow thought, this interaction was not going to help their reputation. Or her parents reputation, for that matter. Her parents who were walking towards them. 

She had somehow missed them entering, them dining, and them dancing, but now they were approaching. 

She tugged on Daemon’s sleeve, he’d been nodding along with the conversation of those around them. He never seemed to say much, just alternated between being intimidating with his mere presence and being extraordinarily charming. The duality that man has is astounding, she thought, not for the first time. 

But this would test them both.

He looked down at her, and then followed her gaze. “It’s a fucking family reunion.” He whispered under his breath. And did those ever end well? 

She pasted on a smile, hoped it was convincing, and clutched onto Daemon’s arm for support. She hadn’t drunk that much, but she suddenly felt unsteady. 

“Mother, Father, I didn’t know you would be here.” She said, hoping to at least earn a point for getting the first word in. 

“We didn’t realize you would be, either, given the…cost.” Her mother simpered — yes, because she couldn’t afford $5000 a plate dinners since they had cut her off. She grit her teeth, trying to think of some sort of response that would adequately combine her anger and apathy towards the situation. 

Daemon interrupted though, thank god, “I was invited, and could not think of a better woman to have by my side.” He said, gallantly cupping her waist and pulling her towards him. 

“Rhaenyra, you’re married.” Her mother hissed. “Does he know you’re married?” She asked in a faux whisper, like he wasn’t standing right next to her and hearing every word. 

“I caught on when we exchanged vows.” Daemon said, and god, she didn’t want to be someone who needed their partner to speak for them but she was having trouble with coming up what to say for herself at the moment. 

Her mother and father both looked shellshocked, as if the possibility of marrying her someone successful enough to swim in the same circle had not occurred to them. 

If they thought that was surprising, they were not going to like where this conversation lead. 

Rip off the band-aid. 

“Mother, Father, please meet my husband — Daemon Valeryon” She watched her fathers face very carefully, looking for any bit of recognition. She found none. 

“Don’t worry, I was merely fostered by the Valeyron’s after my mother passed.” Daemon said, which was technically the truth? 

“What a…coincidence.” Her mother said. 

“Yes, it’s odd they never spoke of him, isn’t it?” Rhaenyra replied. 

Her father finally found words, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse — she wasn’t sure if it was from concern or illness. “How was it you two met?” 

“Online” they answered simultaneously. They were putting up a united front, at least, she thought.

“And there is…really no relation to the Valeryon’s?” Her mother asked. 

“Aren’t we all related, if you go back far enough?” Daemon mused, Rhaenyra hid a snort — recognizing this as the excuse she used months back to lure Daemon into bed. I mean, if it had worked once? 

“Your name sounds familiar.” Her father stated, “He’s very successful,” Rhaenyra pointed out. Viserys probably had come across his name before, outside of ancestry results…or at least in addition to them. 

Her fathers eyes were narrowed, her mother looked flustered. “Well, dear, it’s always lovely to see you. We were so sorry you couldn’t come to Christmas this year.” 

We weren’t invited, Rhaenyra wanted to scream. But that was besides the point. Her father looked too suspicious, glaring at them like they were a puzzle and he only had a handful of pieces left before it was finished. 

“It was good to finally meet you,” Daemon replied, offering his hand for a shake. It was hesitantly returned, and her parents dissipated into the crowd. 

“He didn’t recognize me,” Daemon said — and she wasn’t sure if he sounded sad, or disappointed, or both.

“He will, though.” She knew her father, he’d likely place a call from the car and have a file on his desk the next weekday morning. 

“Does that bother you?” He asked, looking down at her. 

She shrugged, “It was going to happen eventually. They can’t disown me twice.” 

“I’m sorry they disowned you at all.” 

She smiled up at him, “I think being happy matters more than an inheritance.” 

“And are you happy?” He asked. 

She looked thoughtful — “I’m almost always happy around you. But when I’m not...It’s usually because I’m turned on.” 

He laughed, “Let’s get out of here.”  

Traffic was slow, given the occasion. But they made the best of it, exchanging kisses and writhing against each other like teenagers until the driver not so subtly coughed, announcing their arrival. She’d be embarrassed, if he wasn’t so accustomed to it at this point. 

Rhaenyra looked out the window, still half sitting in Daemon’s lap. She was glad to be home.

She was glad she had found a home.

She was glad she had found him. 

...
END

Chapter Text

Presents

...

Predicted | Viserys 

It was the first Christmas party without his daughter in attendance. He felt sad at this, even if he was partially to blame. Aemma had been so certain that without Alicent in the city for comfort, she would come home. And he had listened, and hoped it was true — for as often as he was wrong, his wife was right. 

But she wasn’t right about this.

Rhaenyra hadn’t come home. She hadn’t agreed to complete her courses online. She didn’t want to help plan Alicent’s wedding. And she definitely didn’t want to seek a groom of her own, since apparently she had already found one. 

If the moving in announcement was a surprise, the marriage announcement was a fucking shock. 

He never would have predicted that, even from her. He was left feeling both sad, that his only child had gotten married and he didn’t see it, and mad that she didn’t seek his approval first. 

As a boy Viserys had always looked for what meager scraps of affection his father had to offer. His mother died when he was young, and his father never recovered enough from it to love another. Not even his son.

So Viserys had to try. He had to be good, he had to be better than good, he had to be great. If he wanted to be noticed he needed to succeed at what was expected of him. And he did, if anything he exceeded them! 

His goal in youth was pleasing others, and that was what drew him to politics. He could stand on a stage and promise things to thousands, and they would believe him, and love him, and he could feed off of that. 

He didn’t understand his daughter, how she could be so different from himself. She didn’t want to please either of them. She seemed to thrive off of disobeying them. Get a thrill out of their disappointment, in a way that made her pursue it with a single minded focus.

She had played her part well, as a child, but seemed to resent them for making her do so. As much as they tried to push her into the mold of what they wanted from a daughter she resisted. Eventually breaking it entirely, he supposed. That is what it felt like now, without her by their side. 

The party was a success as it always was, but they were constantly fielding questions about their missing daughter. Aemma insisted they merely make excuses, that she was a smart girl, and she would come to her senses eventually. 

“A nice husband and nice home could open a lot of doors for her, even now.” Aemma said hopefully. Viserys had few hopes himself. Their daughter had always been stubborn, and he was sick of it. She’d made her bed and she would have to lay in it. 

Viserys …just, did not expect her to be laying in bed next to his brother. 

He knew he had a half brother out there. His father had remarried once, though the woman hadn’t lasted long. She never quite figured out how to be a mother to Viserys, and she was gone before he could give it much thought. 

When he started his presidential campaign, it came up. It would have made him look bad, the lawyers said, so he followed their recommendation of sending a non-disclosure agreement. He did not send him an email, or message, like Aemma recommended. 

He had googled him. He was successful. He was handsome. He hadn’t had to live under Baelon’s resentment and rules. 

He wasn’t sure if he was jealous of him, or if Viserys thought he was doing him a favor. He wasn’t sure it mattered. When he closed his laptop, he closed that chapter of his life with it. One that he had never read.

Daemon didn’t linger in his thoughts — Viserys had a campaign to run. 

That had been years ago, though. Far enough back that he forgot the man's face, just vaguely recalled similar features to his father. But it wasn’t so long ago that he forgot the name. When he heard Daemon Velaryon, it instantly sparked a memory. He wasn’t sure of what. No, he was too shocked by the surprise appearance of his daughter to give it much thought. 

Not until he got home that night.  Not until he opened the laptop, typed the name in, and was greeted with dozens of articles featuring his face. 

He wondered if Rhaenyra knew. Surely she had to — she married the man, after all. 

He wondered if she actually loved him. Or if she had done this just to spite him. It seemed that was what his daughter strived for most in life, and his brother was no better. 

It was disgusting that they were together. Maybe they deserved each other. 

It didn’t matter. He was done with them. 

Viserys had never before spared a thought for his brother. 

Now it seemed, he no longer had to spare any for his daughter. 

Premeditated | Rhaenyra & Daemon

Their first Christmas together had been in a word: Wonderful.

She would willingly admit she was a spoiled child — Christmas wasn’t as exciting of an occasion when year round you could plead yourself into getting any gifts you wanted. And as she grew older, her parents stopped knowing what to buy her, instead leaving the task to equally absent assistants.

She wasn’t sure when the holiday switched from exciting to emotional, but she couldn’t have been more than ten when It started to serve as a reminder of how little they knew her. Christmas morning was filled with so much evidence of that, she almost wanted to cry. 

Not to mention that her mom thought colorful lights were tacky, choosing a minimalistic white and silver theme for their tree and home. She always hired the job out, even when Rhaenyra begged to be allowed to decorate. 

“I just don’t want it to be tacky, sweetie, and your taste is…” 

God forbid the hundreds of her friends judge the state of their decorations on Christmas Eve, when they hosted the biggest party in DC. Her parents loved it — they got to show off their house, their marriage, and their daughter, even if the latter was a comparatively huge disappointment.

She liked it when she was young, being shown off. She still kind of liked it, when she was on her husband's arm. But when she caught on to the fact her parents cared more about what her friends thought of their daughter then they actually cared about her, she became pretty bitter about the occasion. 

She hadn’t missed the party last year, and wouldn’t miss it this year either. No, the home she found with Daemon was cozy. She had decorated herself, with him reluctantly helping. They had rainbow lights and tinsel and half of Home Sense packed into their living room. But she loved it. She loved him. And she loved how the lights and tinsel reminded her of that. 

Last year they slept in late and had cinnamon buns for breakfast. After exchanging gifts midday, they had sex because of course they did. They had ordered dinner the night before and dined on reheated turkey, mashed potatoes, and macaroni and cheese. They ate pumpkin pie straight from the dish, Daemon scoffing at the idea of plates. 

“It’s practically a single serving, Rhaenyra.” 

God she loved that too. Her mom was so picky about what she ate, and by extension, what Rhaenyra ate. It was so refreshing to be around someone who indulged her, and actually loved her too. It was sad she couldn’t say that about her parents, but some things were sad and true. 

Anyway, last year had been so great that she wasn’t entirely sure how to top it. 

Until Daemon had fiddled with a bow tied around her bun. “You’re like a present.” He had teased, before tugging it free from her blonde locks. She swore she could feel the heat of a lightbulb above her head as the idea came to her. 

Ok, she was briefly distracted by the make out session it led to. 

And that might have led to more than making out. 

But after that, the idea formed. She would be his present, and wrap herself up in bows for him. 

Erm, well, logistically that turned out to be challenging. She was grateful that his ex-wife was willing to lend a hand. 

Back when they had first gotten together Daemon had teased about how Mysaria preferred to be the one wielding ropes. She hadn’t realized he was serious until months into their relationship — when the bombshell that he co-owned a kinky club with her was dropped. 

On her second or third visit there, she got to see Mysaria’s rope skills in action. And apparently they extended to ribbons too, because she had no issues trussing Rhaenyra up. She admired what she could see, delicate red satin crossed across each leg and tied in bow at her waist. Arms above her head, looped together in a pattern she couldn’t escape. 

With Mysaria’s help, she made a pitiful call to Daemon begging him to come home, it was Christmas Eve after all. And with promises that he would be home in ten minutes, a blindfold and piece of ribbon between her teeth finished the look. 

Well, there was also the plug in her ass — but she had placed that before Mysaria came over. Some things should stay between a man and wife. Not man’s wife and his ex-wife. 

Though she still thought that would be pretty hot. 

She was happily married, that was why she was doing this. She just recognized a pretty face when she saw one, okay? And maybe she missed the softness of another woman's breasts like a tiny bit, but not enough to ever consider giving up Daemon's cock. 

It was that appendage she was thinking about when she squirmed a little in her binds, feeling moisture starting to collect between her bound thighs. It was such a good cock. She had told him that before, and he had done that little laugh as if he was trying to cover embarrassment but was secretly proud. 

As he should be, with a penis like that. 

She sighed again — perking up slightly when she heard the door unlock. 

She wasn’t nervous exactly, if anything she was excited. 

…

He had no idea what he had done to deserve her. 

He had been thinking that in the car on his way home, the bubbling warmth in his stomach of knowing he was coming home to someone. He was lucky for that, to have someone he loved waiting for him. 

But luck seemed a horribly inadequate way to describe what he found waiting for him that night. 

He was pretty sure his jaw literally dropped, when he opened the door to their bedroom, which was dumb because he had seen her naked hundreds of times. He had seen her wearing nothing but a thong, or pair of socks. And she was sexy like that, because she was always sexy. 

But this…

It was so intentional. It was so premeditated. So fucking hot. 

She looked delectable in red, even better in nothing at all — and this was the perfect combination of the two, so much skin exposed, its light color highlighted by red silk ribbons. They wound around her legs, ending in a bow at her waist. They wrapped under, and over her breasts — lifting their weight and making them look all the more pert. 

Her arms were wound together, wrists tied with a bow. And she was blindfolded and gagged and just completely at his mercy. 

It was a little alarming, probably, how hot he found that. How she was just waiting for him, strung up for him to take her. And he wanted to so badly he couldn’t stop himself from walking to her, pushing the ribbon from her lips so he could at least take those in a kiss. 

She returned it, eagerly, squirming a little in her binds when he pulled away. Her lips were turned up in a grin though, her smile a sign of success at his response. He was all too happy to provide it, given how amazing she looked. He pushed back the blindfold, desperate to see her eyes, and they were practically glistening in the low lighting of the room. 

“Are you surprised?” She asked, a little cheeky, and he just nodded — still at a loss for words. 

He was even more surprised when she rolled over — a bit clumsily, given her bound state, revealing a bow between her cheeks. The red ribbon wrapped tightly around a flared base. He knew of the object, of course, he had bought her said object, when she showed an interest in this.

He’d even pressed it into her a few times, nearly coming from merely watching the gold metal slide against the crease of her ass until it slipped inside the puckered hole. But this one — he could tell by the size of the base that it was bigger than that plug had been . That if he pulled this one out, she might gape open a little. He wondered how long she had it in for. Wondered if she was ready for his cock. 

His fingers gently brushed over it, not pressing, just stroking down the crack until fingernails tapped against metal. She seemed to shiver even from that alone, the tiny vibrations — the little bit of pressure making the damn thing feel all the bigger. 

“Oh Sweetie…” he moaned, watching the way her body clenched, trying to bring the plug even deeper. His fingers went lower, passed the plug and to her folds. She was dripping, wet and warm. Two fingers slid into her with ease, she moaned, for more. “I think you need a plug here too, sweetheart, you’re leaking.” 

Another finger pressed into her. 

“Or maybe you just need my cock inside of you.” She keened. 

Another finger teased at her folds, four would hurt. He knew that, he’d done it before to be mean, but he didn’t want to be — not now. Not when she was being so good, not when she had gotten herself all ready for him. 

Her back was arched now, presenting herself to him. But he wanted to see her, all of her, as he took her. So he softly rolled her back over, not missing the way she lifted her bum as if to avoid contact. Someone was aching already, he could tell. 

Her eyes were a little glassy, in that way she got when she was all wound up. And even without feeling her cunt he would know she was dripping, just from the tightness in her breasts and the flush that was making its way down her front. 

He wanted to feast on her, wanted to make it good for her. But if she was his present, surely he could do what he wanted to her. And gods, above all else, he wanted to fuck her. 

She felt so good, so warm around him. She tried to shift, but her movement was limited — a leg was pushed up to meet her chest, the press of her knee against her chest. It allowed him further inside of her. Allowed him to force all of his length into her until she nearly winced even though her body still tried to pull him deeper.  

She was so perfect for him. So perfect for this. He came embarrassingly quickly, pounding into her with a hand grazing against her clit. But she came too, full of him, the plug, and her love for him. 

He pulled out of her, spent, watching in fascination as seed seeped onto the silk ribbons. 

Rhaenyra was breathless for a time, as he just stared, admiring the vision she was before him. 

When she regained her ability to speak, she was sassy as ever. 

“You didn’t even open your present!” She said, shifting her chest up and closer to him, where he still hovered above her. He laughed, pulling on the ribbon and meeting her lips in a kiss. 

“I wanted to enjoy the wrapping before playing with it.” He teased, before kissing her again and bringing the length of their bodies together. 

Being inside her was…indescribable. But just being beside her was more than he deserved. 

She was pressed against him, and she was perfect.

Pretentious | Laena   

Laena hadn’t expected much when she sent the message. Rhaenyra’s follower count was in the high six digits, and she didn’t think she would see the message much less respond to it. But even since Laena had stumbled across her page a few years back, she had admired the girl and found herself wanting to reach out. 

She knew a thing or two about leaving your family behind — her getting pregnant at eighteen was fine with her parents, it was the fact she was unmarried, and in no particular rush to resolve that, that bothered them. 

She had eventually gotten married. And she loved her wife very much. Her parents were…not a fan of that outcome, either. 

So she knew what it was like to be a disappointment to your republican parents, and thrive in spite of that. She was happy with her life — her wife, and her twin girls.. And she still had an ally in her brother, who showed far more interest in men than she ever had. 

Seriously, the one time she decided to fuck a dude she ended up pregnant. Ugh.

Still, ever since she heard about her cousin's alleged downfall she had been curious. The bits and pieces she heard from her parents made it seem like she ditched her parents bankroll for her boyfriends, marrying and moving in with the mystery man after a few months. 

She wasn’t sure why this had caused such a stir, not from the way he appeared in her posts. Older, sure, but not indecently so — and well enough dressed she could tell he came from similar wealth. Maybe he was abusive, and that had led to the falling out? 

She didn’t know, but she was curious. And a little Envious, because she sounded so impulsive in a way Laena wasn’t but wished she was.

Part of her always thought they would get along. After three years of casual following her exploits she had run out of excuses, and decided it was time to be brave and find out. 

That was what led her to lunch, in a coffee shop Rhaenyra had picked. It wasn’t what she expected — not a trendy influencer spot. It had poor lighting for photos, oversized chairs, and trinkets everywhere. It was cluttered in that cozy way that was hard to dislike, but might have been a fire hazard. 

Still. She liked it. And from what she had seen of her, she liked Rhaenyra too.

The girl had ordered a vanilla almond milk latte with a sweet smile on her face, then proceeded to glare at every man who dared approach her. It was truly impressive how much dislike she managed to carry in a single gaze. 

She was small, standing a half head shorter than Laena — but she still made an imposing figure, and Laena was glad that Rhaenyra seemed willing to serve smiles to her. 

It was just…odd. Laena was used to being the most beautiful person in the room, but Rhaenyra had a magnetic quality that seemed to draw every eye to her. She was even prettier in person, Laena thought, which seemed unfair, because she was pretty damn good looking in pictures too.  

She was charismatic, in a way Laena had never found Rhaenyra’s parents. She seemed to glow, even when talking about boring subjects. She was still in school, Laena learned, her husband – who she learned was also her adopted brother had talked her into a masters. 

“I guess I wasn’t ready to be a grown up with a job yet!” She said with a slightly nervous laugh, “That must sound so silly to you, you’re a lawyer, right?” 

She recognized an attempt to change the topic when she saw one. Because it was a move she used when she was uncomfortable with the trajectory of a conversation. Laena just… understood her, it was like looking at herself from a few years ago. Fresh out of law school and no idea where to start in life, while still swimming in responsibilities. 

Granted, Rhaenyra didn’t have twin daughters making her life more difficult. And she didn’t seem to be struggling for funds, either, if her Birkin bag was any indication. Laena had complimented it when she first walked in and Rhaenyra had shrugged it off, “Daemon — my husband bought it because I said they were pretentious. And it is so expensive than now I have to wear the damn thing!” She said, while shaking her head. But her smile was soft, and Laena thought the memory of getting the bag mattered more to her than its price tag. 

Their later conversations only confirmed that she seemed to have an easy fondness for her husband. Her life maybe revolved a little too much around him, and ok they may have been slightly related, but they seemed a healthier pair than she had expected from what she heard. 

Rhaenyra often led the conversation back to Laena, seeming especially excited about her kids. 

“‘I’d love to meet them!” She had said eagerly. Then she leaned in and whispered, as if this was a secret from the world, “I sort of want kids. But I don’t know if I like kids.” And Laena had laughed at that too, because she had the same panic while pregnant. 

“I think you’ll like my kids.” Maybe she was biased as their mother, but they were pretty great girls. Rhaenyra looked pleased at Laena’s suggestion for her to visit, and when they parted ways, they both left with each other's phone numbers and smiles on their faces. 

…

Her wife asked what Rhaenyra was like, and Laena laughed before responding. “I guess a lot like me, less ambitious, but more likable.” She found a smile brewing just thinking about their afternoon together. She really did like her a lot. If she wasn’t married, she would fancy herself a bit in love with the girl. 

She fought a blush and looked out their apartments window — snow was starting to fall, and she wondered if it would last until Christmas. 

She wondered if this budding friendship would last until next  Christmas. 

Preconditioned | Aemon 

Aemon was seven years old ( almost eight) the first time he met them. They were to be his new foster parents, the lady said. She was a nice lady, but she always seemed tired. Like they were one of many things on a list she was desperate to finish. 

She didn’t feel warm, didn’t feel like a mom. But he guessed she wasn’t supposed to. She was just taking them to people who were supposed to become that. So far it hadn’t worked. Every placement had been temporary. She had told them that beforehand. None of these people wanted to keep them, they were just willing to take care of them. So they’d done this before, at least eight times in the last three years. 

But these people were different, the lady said. They were fostering and looking to adopt and that was exciting but also scary. Because what if they were horrible and he was stuck with them forever? 

What if they were wonderful, but they didn’t want him forever ?  

It wasn’t just him. It was his younger brother, too. Aegon was five. The lady said they were lucky because they hadn’t been separated. But he didn’t feel lucky, when he was living out of a backpack and sharing a room with four other children. 

He wouldn’t have to share a room here though, unless he wanted to. 

And they didn’t look horrible though. They looked nice. Maybe too nice. Usually their houses were a little messy, the people a little frazzled. Clothing slightly small and stained. But not this woman. Her nails were painted. And her hair was braided. And her name was Rhaenyra. 

Her husband was a little scary though. He was tall, and didn’t talk a lot, he just sort of stared. But the house was clean and nice and they had cats! 

The lady who had driven them left, and it was just him, his brother, and their two backpacks. 

Not for long, though. When they found out it was his birthday the next week, they insisted on getting him presents. Even when he insisted it was too close to Christmas, and too expensive, because that is what people had always told him. 

But Rhaenyra just leaned in a little closer. “Do you want to know a secret?” 

He nodded, because of course he did. “ We’re really rich. We will never skimp on presents.” 

He gaped a little, and then hesitantly asked — “Can you get something for my brother, too?” 

She grinned, “Of course we can.” 

She took them to Target, he had been to ones before but she let him push the cart! And get one of the ones shaped like a car for Aegon to sit in. And they didn’t look at groceries or anything boring, she took them straight to the toy aisle. And he got to pick out so many things. 

And she just…bought them. And then when they got home, she helped him set them up and even played with them. 

“You know, for Christmas, your presents will be a surprise.” She said and his eyes lit up, because he wasn’t used to surprises. “Maybe you can help get some surprises for Aegon, too?” She suggested, and he nodded enthusiastically. 

“You’ll both have to write lists. So we know what you like.” 

He looked down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. “I like to read. And I like dragons.” Rhaenyra just smiled, before responding, “Me too.” 

… 

They were keeping things small for Christmas, she said. “Usually we have a few friends over, but we didn’t want things to be overwhelming. But Laena and her daughters — they are around your age — will be by for dinner.” 

Aemon blinked at them, “You don’t have your parents over?” He bit his lip after, worrying the question was rude. But they told him to ask questions. And every other house they had stayed at had people over for Christmas. 

Rhaenyra paused, but her husband — Daemon jumped in, “Nope. No parents.” 

 "Aegon gasped, “Did your parents die?” 

 Daemon nodded. 

You're like us!” Aegon cried. Daemon nodded again, “That’s why we have to take care of each other.”  

“Are your parents dead too?“ Aemon asked Rhaenyra, but she let out a huff. “No. They just decided they didn’t want me anymore.” 

Aegon gasped again, but it was Aemon who spoke, “They can do that?” 

Rhaenyra nodded a little sadly. He wanted to give her a hug. Maybe that would make her feel better. Like her words made him feel better. 

“Parent’s aren’t supposed to do that. We’d never do that to you.” 

He didn’t usually believe adults, but he believed her. 

Especially after he got everything on his wish list for Christmas.

After they opened presents, Daemon said it was tradition for them to eat pie out of the pans. He said it tasted better when you did it while wearing pajamas. Aegon’s were new. They had dragons on them. 

But, he thought, the pie tasted better because they were together. 

Prenatal | Rhaenyra 

Rhaenyra had really not expected to ever spend a holiday season pregnant. Mainly because she never ever intended to be pregnant.   

They were like, stupid careful. She had an alarm set for birth control, before she switched to the implant — and that was like, super effective. So what if they didn’t use other methods, they shouldn’t have to! 

She had called Laena in a panic when she realized her period was three weeks late. She had come over, kids in hand, and shoved them into the living room before barging into the bathroom. The kids were old enough now that with unlimited access to legos and cereal, they were capable of sustaining themselves. 

Not for like, days. But definitely for an hour. She could schedule that long to fucking panic. And she had. Especially when the handful of tests came back positive. 

“Oh my god.” She said, looking down at the tests tossed carelessly on the floor. “I’m pregnant.” Laena nodded sympathetically, patting her thigh. Laena was kind enough to take the kids with her when she left, saying Rhaenyra needed alone time. 

How much would she have, in the future, with a baby? 

She had told Daemon that night, who seemed annoyingly both unsurprised and slightly disappointed. It was infuriating, how calm he could stay in times of crisis. 

How he could make jokes. Like saying he was “Sad we couldn’t partake in a breeding kink, if you were going to get pregnant anyway.” Which was, like, gross . But. He wasn’t wrong. That would have been sort of hot. 

And that is how her announcement had gotten sidetracked with sex. Which is what got them into this mess. 

That had been four months ago. And she now found herself six months pregnant and trying to manage Christmas with two boys and a handful of family and friends. It was kind of fun, having everyone together — Mysaria was flirting shamelessly with Laena, whose wife merely seemed amused. Laenor and Joffrey were talking to Daemon and Harwin — a friend from school, and his two sisters were there too. With the four kids, it was a lot, even if she wasn’t pregnant. 

But it felt good, having their home full of people. It felt sort of like having a family. But this was better because these people loved her, and she loved them too. 

She was excited now, to add a baby into this. It hadn’t been part of the plan — but finding Daemon hadn’t been either, and he was still the best part of her life. Maybe this baby would be a close second. They’d had basically every test you could get done while it was in the womb, and they all came back clear. So she was really hoping their kid wouldn’t suffer for their parents’ relation. 

It was paranoia about that had prevented her from wanting biological kids with Daemon. Ok it also sort of squicked her out, thinking about a human growing inside her. But when she had thought about getting rid of it — because she did believe it was an it at that point, just a clump of cells with the potential for life. 

But the potential was so promising that she couldn’t end it. Couldn’t deny what could be.

 She just hoped they were healthy. 

And. She hoped her ankles wouldn’t swell. Or if her feet grew and she no longer fit in her shoes, she was going to like, burn half of Daemon’s suits. Because ugh. 

Also, either way, she was absolutely making Daemon get a vasectomy. Next week, to be exact. A Christmas gift to them both: a lifetime of never worrying about this again.

Preform | Alicent

Seeing Rhaenyra took her by surprise. 

It shouldn’t have, because she knew Rhaenyra lived in the city. She knew a lot about Rhaenyra. She knew she had a brownstone here, and a husband, three children, and two cats. Wait, four cats? They had gotten a pair for their kids. Their foster kids. Because she knew about them, too. 

She remembered the instagram post. 

“Still waiting for the adoption paperwork to finalize on these two, in the meantime we adopted two more cats!”

It featured two blonde haired boys holding kittens. 

Alicent knew that at a glance, Rhaenyra had the perfect life. She had scrolled through it, and only seen happy smiles. But the same could be said for Alicent, who curated an online image that was desirable and entirely inaccurate to the life she actually lived.

So she didn’t trust it. She wanted Rhaenyra to be happy, really, she had loved her for years as a friend. Maybe even as more than a friend, even though that was a sin she had long since tried to forget and forgive herself for. 

Though, if she thought about it, neither attempt was entirely successful. 

It’s just she didn’t believe it. Because Alicent knew how pretend pictures could be. They were about as real as orgasms. You faked them, all of them, so other people would like you. 

At least that was her reality, as a young woman who was married and had three children. So she assumed that would be Rhaenyra’s, too. It was the life she always expected them to have, she just expected them to have it together. In houses next to each other. 

That hadn’t been the case, not when Rhaenyra separated herself from her family — marrying and then moving in with a man she had known for a matter of months. 

It was a betrayal Alicent had never fully forgiven her for. Their lives had always mirrored each other, and she took comfort in seeing their shared reflections. Sure Rhaenyra was more promiscuous, sure she made questionable decisions, but she would grow up. And then they would get married to good men, and have kids, just like they had birthday parties and graduation ceremonies together. 

Their husbands could work on each other's campaigns. And they could spend hours getting dolled up together, just to look pretty by their sides. It was a life Alicent had always wanted…it was just a life she wanted with Rhaenyra. 

Somehow she had never realized it wasn’t the life Rhaenyra wanted too. 

But even still, she couldn’t imagine she was happy with how things turned out. Her husband looked adoring in pictures, but how could that be . He was so much older and more wealthy — he had basically lured a girl to live with him and then married her, if that wasn’t conniving she wasn’t sure what was. She just knew he had to be cruel, too. 

And her kids…she heard about foster kids. How they were nightmare children no one wanted, usually plagued with mental health and drug issues. Rhaenyra’s pair were unlikely to be exceptions to this, they probably adopted just because they wanted to look good in the press. 

And she had a baby now, too. She looked like an angel in pictures, the sweet girl named Alyssa. But she was sure that was a farce too, babies screamed and cried and stank and Rhaenyra’s would to. 

She was sure of this. She had been comforted by this. 

So perhaps that was where the surprise came from, not seeing her, but seeing her happy. She hadn’t expected that. In all the years they’d been apart, for Alicent hadn’t seen Rhaenyra since her wedding, she never imagined her as happy. 

She imagined her as tired. Run down. Probably forced to keep in shape by her husband, but looking exhausted for it. There was no way she was as glamorous in person as in pictures — not less than a year after giving birth, with three children under the age of ten at home. 

And sure, maybe she was a little softer looking in person. Jawline not as defined as it had been six years ago, but her winter coat cinched tight around a familiar small waist. Her hair was long and down, blowing in the cold winter breeze as her earmuffs did little to confine it. 

She wasn’t wearing makeup, and her face was red from the cold but she still looked…. radiant. She was grinning, speaking up at her husband who held her hand in his. Her other hand was linked with a boy, who was blonde haired and skipping alongside her. Daemon had a baby strapped to his chest, and was holding the other boy's hand. They looked every bit a happy family, smiling and chatting, and taking up nearly the entire sidewalk. 

It was rude to do that, and they must have known it too from the glares they were getting. But they didn’t seem to care, they were in this little bubble where nothing mattered but each other. They even had matching gloves, for fucks sake, bright red and nearly blinding even from across the street. 

One of Alicent’s children started crying, and she looked down at the stroller — Helaena, even her sweetest baby, was rarely quiet for long. When she looked back up, the family was gone. 

She wondered if they had ever been there at all. 

She didn’t think it mattered. 

She’d still be haunted by their smiles. 

Precious  | Aegon

It was his third year with them but the first year where he called them mom and dad. Because that’s what they were now — they had adopted them, officially. Both him and his brother. They’d even changed their last names! 

They were like a real family now. His mom said they’d always been a real family, since that first day, and that she loved him as much as her real baby, Alyssa. 

He thought she meant it, too. Aemon said adults lied, but he didn’t think mom and dad had ever lied to them. When they made a promise they kept it. And when they asked for something, they usually got it. Mom said they deserved to be a little bit spoiled, as long as they kept their manners and their rooms clean. 

If they didn’t, they were forced to miss their fighting lessons, which were way more fun than school. School was fine but boring, whereas fighting lessons were exciting. Mom said he wasn’t supposed to call them that. He wasn’t learning to fight, he was learning karate. And he wasn’t learning to use a sword, he was learning to use a foil in fencing. 

But he didn’t care. He liked them both. They made him feel like a warrior, or knight, like one of the people headed into battle in his brother's books. And he had friends there! He could make friends because he lived here in the same place for years. Because that was where his mom and dad lived.

Aegon loved Christmas. Especially the presents. But he thought, maybe, that having them as parents was a better gift than anything else. 

…except maybe an xbox. 

He’d put that on his Christmas list and then maybe he could have both. 

Present | Rhaenyra

It was Christmas Eve and the kids were finally asleep. She swore they were on good behavior until this season hit, and then they turned into little monsters. She guessed it was partially her fault for spoiling them…but she loved them, and that was part of the way she showed it. But unlike her parents, it wasn’t the only way she showed it. 

Her kids knew they were loved. She told them everyday, pressing kisses on their foreheads before turning out the lights. 

If you’d told her a decade ago — freshly 18 and new to the city, that in less than ten years she would have a husband and three children she would have laughed. Seriously, what an absurd thought. But now…it made sense, that what she had always craved was a family. Was it so odd that she had sought out making her own? 

She’d gone back to school — she had a masters degree and had done a few internships. But she just…didn’t want to work. She liked being at home, and always being there for the people she loved. It brought her a sort of joy she hadn’t felt in the classroom, or at an office desk. 

She never thought of herself as an overly maternal person, but she realized now it was because she never had the opportunity to be. Dolls were taken away when she reached a certain age. Pets were kept out of the house. Children were kept at home with nanny’s. It was no wonder she clung on to the family she had created. 

And was it really so awful to be content with that, instead of striving for more? She didn’t think so. 

She was striving to surprise Daemon tonight, though.

It wasn’t as elaborate as the setup from years back, but the bra had a satin ribbon that untied at the front, and the panties had a matching closure on each side. A bow on the top of her head, and pretty red stockings finished the ensemble. 

She looked in the mirror, smiling at the reflection. Even if her eighteen year old self wouldn’t recognize her current life, she would recognize herself. She supposed she should be grateful for her parents genetics, because she really did look a lot like her younger self. 

Long light hair, bright eyes, fine features. She had a few lines sprouting, but nothing her impeccable self care routine wouldn’t take care of. And she still had her curves, even if her waist and chest were slightly thicker than they once had been. She blamed pregnancy for that, but it was hard to mind, when Daemon liked it so much. 

He still looked at her like she was his whole world. Like she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and the only thing he ever wanted. It just took his gaze on her to make her feel hot, make her want. It was like every look was a promise of what they could do together. And they did it, often. Maybe less often with the kids around now, but still, their sex life wasn’t lacking. 

It had been years and they still hadn’t had enough of each other. She didn’t think they ever would. They would be the weird nymphos in a nursing home. But as long as they were together, she didn’t think she would care. Even with kids now — with friends, with lots of people she loved, there was no one she cared for more than Daemon. He was just…her other half. He made her whole. 

She smiled at that thought, leaving the bathroom with a flourish as she announced herself to her husband. 

“I’M YOUR PRESENT, UNWRAP ME DADDY”

Daemon was laying on the bed — but he sat up slightly to look at her — mouth gaping a little in awe in a way that made her feel warm. His words made her feel warm too, even though he sounded peeved. Or maybe especially because they sounded peeved. 

 “I’ve told you not to call me that.” He said. 

She hummed, confidence unwavering as she settled in his lap, “Unwrap me, uncle?” 

He laughed, hands finding purchase on her hips, “That is not better.” 

She gave an exaggerated sigh, “Then I guess I’ll have to find someone else to unwrap me.” She moved to stand, yelping when Daemon stopped her — instead choosing to grind his length against her thigh. 

“It’s been almost ten years and you’re still a brat.” He said, but it was in good humor. 

“You don’t spank hard enough in your old age.” She teased. 

He growled, “I’ll show you hard.” 

She giggled as he turned them, so her front was pressed against the bed, her back forced to arch and his hands pressing hers into the covers. They didn’t do this often, he liked seeing her breasts, liked seeing her face as she came. And she liked seeing him, too. But this was so good when they wanted it a little rough — when he wanted to enter her with long thrusts and grind against her ass. 

As much as she teased him about spanking they weren’t really into that, like not often. Not in the lifestyle sort of way Mysaria was. Neither of them were submissive or domineering enough to take on those roles. 

But they were adventurous enough that the plug up her ass — was not a shock — merely a welcome surprise, based on the curse he let out when he spotted it after undoing the ribbons at her sides. She giggled again, wiggling a bit as his hands settled on her now bare hips. 

Laughter soon turned to moans though, as a thumb pressed against the base driving it just slightly deeper into her, in a way that made the pressure infinitely more intense. He pressed harder then, not letting up, until she was squirming and saying enough. 

But he knew her, knew when she said enough she really meant enough of that. Meaning she was ready for more. And he rarely deprived her, because he liked spoiling her in everything, including this. Well, sort of. Spoiled orgasms were not her favorite, and they had tried it. She found she would rather be spoiled by orgasms. 

They always came easily with Daemon, too. She thought the novelty might wear off — maybe he wouldn’t always feel so good but if her body adapted, he did too. There was a familiarity to this act now, to the way he pressed two fingers into her and curled them until it felt like he was pressing against the plug inside her. 

He knew her gasps meant she was close,  and knew she could take another finger until she was stretched out on three digits. He knew that when she whimpered and buried her head in the pillows she wasn’t crying she was coming. She knew he could feel the way she clenched around the intrusion, her body desperate to pull more of him inside her. 

She was still coming down when she felt the head of his cock notch against her folds. She could feel how it slipped, unable to find purchase because she was so wet. But his hand was there to steady it, as he entered her and she slid further up the bed. 

She loved this, but her body still protested the length of him at first. Unintentionally tried to scramble away as she felt the press of his cock. Sirens wailing in her head that he was too big, and too much, before both of their determination won out and he slid all the way into her. 

And then — after a moment to adjust, because he was fucking big, okay, it was just…bliss. She could relax her upper body as he thrust into her — stay still except for the muscles in her pelvis that tried desperately to clench down on his girth. 

His thrusts were always long, and measured, and hit just the right spot this way. Well, most of the time. Sometimes he was too eager and went too deep and that hurt but in the moment it just added to the act and managed to bring her closer to coming. 

She was close to coming now and it had only been a minute — and Daemon could last. He said sometimes he lasted too long, other girls had the nerve to complain. But she promised him she could take it and she could, because she loved this. Even long after she’d hit her last peak, just the press of him making room inside her. It was so carnal, it was so good. She thought if it was physically possible she could just live like that, with him inside her. 

She could certainly sleep with him inside her, they had tested that too. 

But it was more fun, when she was awake and could feel every ridge of him. Listen to his groans and moans, until he was too breathless to produce either and she knew he was close. She’d try to will herself to clench down harder, to make it better for him as he came into her. And god she loved that too, especially now that she knew there would be no consequences. 

Well. Maybe a UTI. The sex could be perfect but the body's design was not. 

Still, she liked feeling full of him after he pulled out, all sloppy and slick between her thighs. If she was really hyped up, she would finger herself after — come again, full only of his release. And she always tried to stay like that for as long as she could, before it threatened to spill on the sheets and she had to awkwardly trot to the bathroom. 

Not every part of their relationship was glamorous, she thought during her post sex pee. 

But then she returned to their bed, and saw Daemon waiting there for her. She laid next to him and he finally untied the bra, releasing her breasts and making him groan again. She may have teased him about getting old but she knew it wouldn’t be long before he was inside her again. 

That might have been why she rolled herself on top of him. And also, maybe, so he could lap at her nipples and bite at the hardened nubs in a way that made them both groan. 

“You. Are always the best present.” He said, a little breathless. 

She smiled, tucking her head into the notch against his neck and pressing a kiss to the skin that hid there. “Are you going to keep me?” She whispered, giving his ear a gentle nip. 

“I’m going to keep you forever.” He promised, and she believed him. 

As a kid, she thought adults always lied. But Daemon had never had, not to her. 

It was one of the many reasons she loved him.