Chapter Text
Rhaenyra led Daemon through the darkness of Maegor’s secret tunnels, her hand gripping his firmly. She kept him close, ensuring he wouldn’t slip away again and spoil her carefully laid plans.
“Where are we going, Princess?” he asked, his voice carrying an air of resignation, though Rhaenyra chose not to answer. Daemon did not press further, perhaps knowing he had already caused enough trouble to warrant silence.
But when Daemon began to realize, or perhaps merely suspect, where she was taking him, his step faltered, his body freezing in place.
“What do you want, Rhaenyra?” he asked, his voice was laced with frustration, as if his patience had finally worn thin.
Rhaenyra turned to face him, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “What do you think, Uncle? Of course, I’m here to fix things. Now, shut up and help me, and stop running away.”
They continued walking, though now at a slower pace, until they finally reached their destination. With careful, deliberate movement, Rhaenyra pushed against the rusted, heavy door of the corridor, likely unused for some time.
“Father,” she called as she stepped into the room, finding Viserys standing by the door, as if he had just entered, much like herself.
“Rhaenyra?” he replied, his tone uncertain, perhaps a touch surprised at the sight of both her and her uncle in the King’s chamber. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, of course,” she answered casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Uncle Daemon took me into the city!”
“The city?” he asked again, his face twisting in displeasure.
“Yes!” she replied, her enthusiasm unabated. “It was wonderful. I’ve never seen a performance like that in the castle. And the food… they’re strange, but delicious! And—and there was someone who could breathe fire! Real fire, like a dragon! It was crazy! And you know, Father? There was a fortune teller there. She offered to show me my death! Of course, I refused, but maybe we could try it another time!” She said this quickly, grinning widely.
“Another time?” Her father asked, clearly disapproving of the idea.
“Yes, of course! Perhaps we can go together next time!” Rhaenyra beamed.
At that, Viserys’ gaze shifted to Daemon, the anger rising in his voice. “Daemon! Are you mad? What were you thinking, taking my daughter—my heir—your niece out into the streets at night, with no escort?! Do you want to ruin my daughter’s reputation?” His tone was harsh, angry—no, truly furious.
Daemon, under the force of his brother’s gaze, lost all color in his face. “Brother, I didn’t think—”
“You never think, do you?” Viserys snapped, his voice rising. “All this time Otto was right, you are a stain on my reign. A disgrace!”
“Whoa, whoa, what is this, Father? Didn’t you hear me? I said it was wonderful.”
“That was reckless, Rhaenyra! I expect better from you!” Viserys’ voice was sharp, frustration in his tone.
“Well, everyone expects more from me! And I always deliver, don’t I? I’m alone, Father! Maybe you don’t realize it, but since you married my only friend, everything’s been different!”
“That’s because you’re the heir to the throne!”
“No! It’s because you refuse to see me! You’re always busy with your new family. And when my true family, the ones who actually care, finally return and show me what life is, even if just for a brief moment, you get angry, just because Otto calls him a disgrace! And if anyone wants to ruin my reputation, it’s your hand!” Rhaenyra shot back, breathless with anger.
“That’s not true, he’s loyal to me, Rhaenyra.”
“Yes, that’s true. Maybe he’s loyal to you, but not to me. Everyone knows he wants to replace me with his grandson!” she said, her voice dead serious.
“Who, by the way, is even questioned as to whether he’s truly Targaryen,” Daemon interjected, finally speaking up, causing Viserys to glare at him.
“He watches over me like a hawk and tries to threaten me. Remember the poison in my cake? That was him!” Rhaenyra continued before Viserys spoke about Aegon.
“That damn Otto dared to poison you?!” Daemon growled in fury.
“That’s a serious accusation, Rhaenyra,” Viserys interjected, his voice hardening.
“Making accusations that tarnish my reputation is also a serious matter, Father. And besides, I wasn’t unprotected when I went to the city. I was with my uncle,” she retorted.
“That’s different, your uncle—”
“We were also guarded by three Gold Cloaks, if that helps. You can ask Ser Harwin Strong, your Master of Laws’ son. Though I did ask him to keep our identities secret.”
Her father fell silent, his face thoughtful for a moment. Rhaenyra did not waste the opportunity.
“No one knew about us, Father. We were truly in disguise. Even the two other Gold Cloaks didn’t recognize us until Ser Harwin greeted us.” She added, trying to reassure him. “Unless, of course, they were following us out of the castle on purpose.”
Her father’s gaze softened, as though understanding, as if realizing her actions could almost be forgiven.
“And besides, Uncle Daemon said you used to sneak out of the city too.” She lied, of course Daemon had never said that, but she figured there was no harm in trying to ease the tension. “So tell me, which part of the city is your favorite?”
Her father was taken aback, though his expression soon relaxed. “You really are impossible, Daemon,” he said lightly.
It also seemed to calm Daemon enough to return the teasing. “I can’t lie to my niece about her father’s adventures, can I? After all, you’re the one who first took me out of the city.”
It wasn’t entirely surprising. Viserys was older, and one could assume he had experienced more than Daemon before him, but still—with such a temperament, who would have guessed? People often forget that her father was also Alyssa Targaryen’s son.
The conversation from there was much lighter, as they spoke of the foolishness of their brotherly rivalry, recounting parts of the city that had changed since Viserys had last been there. They even mentioned his favorite whore before he married Aemma. Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose at that last part.
The night had worn late, almost to dawn, when Viserys finally decided it was time for them to retire to their respective chambers. Rhaenyra complied without hesitation. Gods, she was so tired of all these games.
But before she left, she turned back to her father. “Oh, Father, when we entered, I thought you’d just arrived. Had you just come back from somewhere?”
At her question, Viserys’ face flushed a deep crimson. Daemon simply pulled her away, leading her back down the Maegor’s tunnels, changing the subject by claiming that her aging father needed rest. Well, Rhaenyra wasn’t a fool. She knew her father had just been with Alicent. She was just teasing him.
###
“So, what is it, zaldrītsos ?” Daemon asked softly, as they neared her chambers. Since leaving Viserys’ room, neither of them had spoken a word, and Rhaenyra had no intention of changing that.
“Rhaenyra,” he called again, pulling gently at her hand. “I thought we were fine earlier?”
At his words, Rhaenyra spun on her heels and slapped his cheek with all her strength. Her eyes blazed with fury.
“Fuck!” Daemon cursed, rubbing his stinging cheek. No wonder, Rhaenyra had struck him hard.
“Fine?!” she spat. “You left me! Alone! In a brothel!” She stepped closer, voice rising. “What do you think I am? Your whore?!”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Rhaenyra!” Daemon replied, his tone sharp but earnest. “It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have—You shouldn’t have responded like that, kissed me. You shouldn’t have—”
“Pardon me?” Rhaenyra laughed bitterly, cutting him off. “You left me because of a kiss?! You can’t be serious.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he muttered, frustration tinged in his voice.
“Then you shouldn’t have taken me there in the first place!”
“Yes! I shouldn’t have. That’s why I said it was a mistake!” His voice rose, though it was clear he was trying to keep his composure.
Rhaenyra was breathing heavily, her gaze locked onto his. Her eyes burned, sharp as daggers. There was a long silence between them, neither willing to break the stalemate. Daemon’s expression was clouded, frustration and something else simmering beneath the surface.
“You could’ve told me to stop,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less intense. “We could have stopped, returned to the castle, and I never would’ve mentioned it again.”
“Rhaenyra… That’s—I don’t know, I can’t.” Daemon sighed, his breath heavy with something more than just fatigue. There was hesitation in his voice, like something was eating at him, something he couldn’t fully express.
There was a moment of silence before a question slipped from her lips. “You must hate me so much, don’t you, Uncle?”
Daemon froze, clearly taken aback by the shift in conversation. “What?”
“You mocked my mother’s death, toasted to the passing of my brother.” Rhaenyra began, her voice steady but filled with hurt. “On the day of my coronation, you fled, refused to swear fealty in my name and kneel on me.” Her finger jabbed at Daemon’s chest. “And of all the places in Westeros, you chose to go to my seat, calling your whore Lady Dragonstone.” Her gaze turned cold as it locked with his. “As if that wasn’t enough, you stole my brother’s egg. The egg I picked out with my own hands, before his birth, before his death.”
“Rhaenyra…” Daemon’s voice came heavy with breath, his hand reaching out as though to take hers.
“And now, you want to ruin my reputation too?” She finished, putting all the pain she carried into her words.
Daemon fell silent, staring into her eyes, his gaze searching, but for what, she couldn’t tell.
“You must hate me because I took your title. Prince of Dragonstone. Oh, how you loved that title, didn’t you? You fought so hard to destroy the one who holds it.” Her voice rang with truth, biting, like a dagger in the dark.
Suddenly, Daemon's expression hardened. “Watch your words, Rhaenyra. You don’t know what it means to be destroyed.”
“So, because I don’t know what it means to be destroyed, you want me to feel it?” Rhaenyra snapped back.
“You are the last person I would ever let be destroyed, Princess,” Daemon answered, his voice low, almost pleading.
“But you already did.” She countered, her breath shaky as she tried to steady herself. “I trusted you, Daemon.” She looked into his eyes once more, her own shimmering with unshed tears. “Of all the people in this world, I trusted you—with my whole life. Do you know why?” She paused for a moment before answering herself. “Because you're my family. Blood of my blood. Flesh of my flesh.”
“But it seems… I’m the only one who thinks we’re family. Because for you, family only consists of two, doesn’t it?” Rhaenyra asked. “You and your brother.” She added bitterly.
Without another word, Rhaenyra turned and walked away, leaving Daemon standing alone in Maegor’s tunnels. She headed toward her room, determined not to allow her uncle to find her through the same route. With all her strength, she shoved her smallest wardrobe against the corridor door, blocking it from opening. Exhausted, she threw herself onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Though she had anticipated it, her heart still ached. As Rhaenyra, Daemon had always been the one she admired, her uncle, her first love. He was the greatest man, the one who had indulged her, given her everything she ever wanted. Daemon was the one who had taught her how to fly, who had taught her High Valyrian, who had told her all the stories she now knew about their ancestors and tales from across the seas. To be treated like trash by the one person who had meant everything to her was painful, even when she knew exactly what kind of man he was.
Rhaenyra wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized had fallen onto her cheek. There was no time for tears. She steeled herself.
She tried to recall her plan, realizing that she could no longer depend on her uncle. So far, she had managed to build her own power—before her father and before the court. She had successfully brought other Targaryens to her side and given him a Vhagar. She had secured the Velaryons without marrying Laenor, though on several occasions, Corlys still pushed his son toward her. She had also secured the loyalty of several important noble families through her handmaidens. And most importantly, she had prevented the birth of her killer, Aegon. Instead, as though it were a gift from the gods, she had received Aegon, the bastard. How laughable.
Tonight, she had made a mistake. She had let Daemon take her. She thought that because she had changed something, Daemon would change too. But no, he remained the same coward. Daemon had always been like this, running when things became too much to bear. Perhaps he was a knight who boldly charged into battle, but to her, Rhaenyra, he had always been a man who ran. She began to wonder if the rumors about him fleeing with the girl named Nettles were true. After all, he had also run during his marriage, with Laena Velaryon. He always ran.
Was I not worth fighting for?
Perhaps it was time to consider other suitors. Someone who could support her, strong politically, and most importantly, someone brave enough to stand by her. But if she was not with Daemon, what of their bloodline in the end of days? What of Daenerys, or Jon Snow?
It didn’t matter for now. What she needed to do was live.
Yet, there was one thing that still troubled her.
When Daemon returned to King’s Landing, he came as a hero. The people revered him. Well, the people had always revered him, but this time it was different. Nobles like Lord Rosby were present to greet him upon his return. Rhaenyra knew it wasn’t just Lord Rosby. Then… there was the drama she saw tonight. It was no longer about Aegon being groomed for the throne, but Daemon, the realm’s hero, their Prince of the City. It was because of her that the war had been funded under the crown’s banner, he had turned from a rebel into a hero.
And also… she was the one who had made Aegon into a bastard.
If Daemon married Laena Velaryon…
If Corlys decided to back Daemon’s claim…
Gods, right now, the only challenger to her claim was Daemon!
Daemon was indeed her loyal supporter. But perhaps that loyalty stemmed from his reluctance to allow someone from the Hightower line to inherit the throne. The choice was always between Rhaenyra and Aegon. But now, with Aegon lacking the blood of Viserys, Daemon would have an easier time removing him. And the only thing standing between him and the throne was Rhaenyra’s head.
And what of the nobles? Would they support Daemon simply because he had a cock, just as they had once supported Aegon? But this time, they supported the war hero, not a drunkard or a rapist.
Oh no. Had she made another enemy?
The stronger and the tougher one.