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Rhaenyra glances about the room lazily, already bored at what was supposed to be one of the liveliest parties of the semester. The men’s soccer team just won regionals, which means that everyone is in the mood to celebrate.
Still, she can’t seem to find it in her to join in the revelry.
It might have to do with the fact that the one person she wants to see isn’t here yet, but does it even matter? Even if he was, it’s not like it would make much of a difference.
Rhaenyra could hug him and pass along her congratulations on the goals he scored during the match, but she wouldn’t be able to do what she really wants to do. And that just eats her alive. If she had it her way, she would leap into his arms, wrap her legs around his waist, and kiss him for everyone to see. She wants to claim him—to show everyone who he belongs to, even if he’s not actually hers and never truly will be.
That aspect of their relationship is over now, a fact that only serves to magnify her foul mood. Not to mention, even when they were still together, they weren’t truly together. Not officially, at least. What they shared remained hidden, something that no one else could ever know about. So even though she might have been able to properly congratulate him in private, there was never a time when she could do so publicly.
That didn’t matter to her all that much at the start, so she only has herself to blame for the sharp pain in her chest at the reminder that she was and always will be his dirty little secret. She was so short-sighted back then, focused only on how good and right it felt, regardless of what other people might have thought. It was unfathomable that she would ever catch feelings—that she would ever want more.
She does now, though.
It’s unbelievably stupid and entirely irrational, but she wants to do boyfriend-girlfriend things with him. Rhaenyra wants to hold his hand, to sit on his lap and kiss him until he’s flushed and out of breath. She wants the entire world to know who makes him fall to pieces. And those are precisely the things that she can’t have.
He can’t be her boyfriend and she can’t be his girlfriend. As far as their friends and classmates are concerned, he’s single and up for grabs. That’s technically true now, but it hasn’t exactly been an issue over the last two years. It’s a fact that many have and will continue to take advantage of.
Rhaenyra already knows it, even though he hasn’t arrived yet. After a big win like the one tonight, there are sure to be a couple dozen girls that try to shoot their shot.
Surely one of them will catch his eye.
She should be used to it by now, but she’s not. She hates the thought of seeing him with someone else. It makes her blood boil with jealous rage, despite the fact that he’s not hers anymore in any sense of the word.
They’ve never even been exclusive. Sure, when they are hooking up, neither of them sleeps with anyone else. But it’s more of an unspoken agreement, rather than a formal arrangement. To put a firm boundary like exclusivity on their relationship would mean that they’re admitting something much more serious—it would be akin to acknowledging that there’s a deeper meaning to what they do, beyond just quick, convenient, mutual release.
And even though Rhaenyra can talk to him about literally anything else in the entire world, that’s one topic that they never broach. They don’t talk about what happens between them—before, during, or after. They crash into each other, like magnets drawn together. The only focus then is getting off. And when that’s done, they act as if it never did. Questions about other possible partners are asked in the context of polite inquiry. Arrangements about the next they’ll fuck are done in a roundabout way. The only time their illicit affair is ever directly addressed is when one of them is calling off. Emotions are never discussed.
She knows he loves her, just like she loves him. They love each other more than they love anyone else, a fact that she’s sure of even when they’re at each other’s throats.
She also knows that sex with him is incomparable, at least for her. Whenever they’re on one of their frequent breaks, as she likes to refer to the off times, Rhaenyra tries to find the same release with other people. She owes it to herself to see if there is someone else out there who can make her feel half of what he does.
Inevitably, she always ends up disappointed. She proves to herself time and time again that Daemon is the one for her, the only person capable of making her feel anything real, from emotions to orgasms. She decided long ago that she would never be satisfied with anyone else. He is the key to her happiness.
Yet, despite these realizations that she has made, her brother just isn’t on the same page. He has a much harder time getting past the little fact that they shared a womb, that they’ve been inseparable ever since coming into the world red and squalling.
Their blood relation is something that he can’t get over.
As far as Rhaenyra is concerned, this intimate connection that they’ve always shared just proves that they're meant for each other. However, her brother is difficult to convince. And she’s getting tired of being jerked around every time his guilt catches up to him and he calls things off.
If she had it her way, they would never look for pleasure or companionship anywhere else. Why would they need to? She knows him better than she knows herself. No one else will ever be able to understand Demon the way she does.
Only in each other can they find true fulfillment.
Even so, she isn’t going to force herself on him. And if Daemon says he doesn’t want her then she isn’t going to beg for him to stay, regardless of how unconvincing the lie is to the both of them. He can’t deny the attraction between them, no matter how hard he tries to, which he does, often.
As much as his rejection stings, Rhaenyra has never been one to beg. She has long since abandoned any efforts to try and convince him. She was foolish enough to do so the first couple of times, but she learned her lesson. Any attempt at trying to make him see reason only ended in pain for her.
So yeah, while she would love to throw herself into his arms the moment he gets to this shitty ass party, she’s going to keep her distance. It’s for the best.
She’ll congratulate him in due time, with a text or maybe a tray of cookies—normal things that a normal sister might do.
In the meantime, she’ll try her damndest to forget that she knows what he looks like naked.
God, she needs a drink.
That’s the only thing that’s going to take the edge off.
With a singular focus, she stalks toward the kitchen of the spacious house where the party is being held and peruses the selection of alcohol before reaching for a bottle of cheap vodka. It isn’t exactly her liquor of choice, but it’s the least offensive of the ones available. She didn’t exactly expect that the gathering was going to have any top-shelf options and at the end of the day, it’ll still do the job. She has just finished pouring her drink when a little voice squeaks from somewhere behind her, demanding her attention.
“Rhaenyra? Targaryen?”
The mere fact that it’s stated like a question is enough to annoy her, as if the person doesn’t know who she is.
Even if her twin brother wasn’t a star forward for the team, she’s a celebrity in her own right. It’s a blessing and curse, really, to come from such an old, wealthy, prominent family. She’s an heiress, a person known to the public, at least here on the East Coast. Before she ever set foot on Harvard’s campus, her name and face were well-known to all.
She doesn’t think she’d find the same level of recognition if she were to go abroad, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Her father would never let her go so far. While he may not give much of a shit about what she does on a day-to-day basis, he cares enough about keeping the family together that Europe is out of the question.
Alas, she digresses.
“What is it?” she all but snarls, turning toward the newfound source of her irritation.
“Um, h-hi,” the girl stammers even as she takes a step back.
She must be a freshman, given her small stature and wide, doe eyes. Interesting. Rhaenrya didn’t realize any of the younger students were even invited to the party.
“Can I help you with something?”
“I’m Netty,” the girl says. “You’re my TA for Intro to Psychology—”
“Sorry,” Rhaenyra interrupts, without a hint of apology in her tone. “All papers won’t be graded until late next week and I’ll be posting the times for the next study session on Monday.”
“N-no, it’s not about class actually.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s about your brother.”
“Viserys?” Rhaenyra asks.
She knows good and well that he’s not who this girl is referring to, given that he graduated four years ago and is currently back in New York working with their father and grandfather. Still, if the little freshman is going to waste her time, Rhaenyra sees no use in making this conversation any easier.
“Um, no, not him. Daemon.”
“What about him?”
“Is he seeing anyone right now?”
“Are you asking if he’s fucking anyone? Or if he’s in a relationship? Because those are two very different questions, Natalie.”
Of course, Rhaenyra knows that’s not her name. It’s hard to forget one as silly as Netty, but it’s entertaining to see the internal conflict as the girl tries to decide whether or not to correct her.
In the end, she doesn’t, which is a little disappointing.
“Is he in a relationship?” Netty clarifies.
“Yes,” Rhaenyra says without a moment’s hesitation.
He isn’t, of course. Not officially or otherwise. Daemon hasn’t dated anyone since the fiasco that was his relationship with Mysaria during their second year. The mere reminder of it is enough to turn Rhaenyra apoplectic with rage, but there’s no use in dwelling on it now. He may not be hers, but at least he’s not anyone else’s either.
“Oh,” Netty says, clearly disappointed.
Rhaenyra doesn’t even bother ending the conversation.
She just turns and walks away, drink in hand, in search of a better way to occupy her time. Already, she has half a mind to leave, to go home to sulk in the peace and quiet of her bedroom. Given that she’s drained half her cup and is still not feeling even a little better, it seems like a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and the trashiest reality show she can find on Hulu will be the only cure to the current funk she finds herself in.
That being said, there’s also a small, masochistic part of her that wants to see him. She tells herself it's a simple, expected side-effect of withdrawal given how enmeshed their lives are and the fact that she has barely spoken to him in the past few weeks.
The last time they did, it was a blowout fight. A vase or two might have been thrown, as well as harsh words that can never be taken back. While they usually would have made up by now, Daemon has been busy with practice and team events since then. Now that they’re seniors, everything is more important—everything is a last time that needs to be commemorated.
She doesn’t begrudge him for having his own life, which includes his own friends and hobbies. If it hadn’t been for the fight, she probably wouldn’t have even registered his absence. He still would have been around in the evenings, in her bed at least half the nights. However, as it is, they left things on pretty terrible terms and Rhaenyra is still raring to pick up where they left off.
As far as she’s concerned, Daemon hasn’t suffered nearly enough.
Thus, she wanders around the townhome aimlessly, nodding politely at acquaintances who greet her and looking for anything that might help her distract herself.
Finally, she finds a target, albeit one that isn’t ideal.
Criston isn’t exactly her first choice of companion for the evening.
She studied with him for a big midterm a few times and he got a little weird, acting like they were dating and even going so far as to show up at one of her classes when she stopped responding to his texts. He refused to back up until Daemon threatened to break his nose if he ever spoke to her again.
That was a year ago, though. In the time since, he dated and broke up with Alicent—or maybe Alicent broke up with him. It’s hard to keep track of social news when it involves people that she doesn’t give a shit about. Either way, what’s important is that Criston obviously moved on from whatever little infatuation he had with Rhaenyra.
And, unfortunately, there really aren’t many other alternatives.
It’s too bad that Harwin graduated just the year before. She could always count on him for a good time. More importantly, it always pissed Daemon off whenever he saw the two of them together. He may drown in shame whenver they’re fucking, but Daemon doesn’t want her with anyone else either.
While he won’t admit that they were quite literally made for each other, he’ll do everything in his power to sabotage her happiness otherwise. That’s why she and Harwin had worked so well. He never really bothered to take her brother’s threats too seriously, continuing to see her even when Daemon swore he would make his life a living hell.
And even though Harwin couldn’t make her feel the way Daemon did, Rhaenyra enjoyed him. Their times together might not have been mind-blowing, but they were satisfying enough. Things with him were easy—fun.
Besides, anything that makes Daemon mad is a win.
It’s the least he deserves, considering how he treats her.
Just another reason to see if Criston is available. It’ll be worth it even if he gets a little clingy, given that Daemon dislikes him even more than he dislikes Harwin. With that in mind, she makes her way toward her target, nonchalant as she sidles up to him.
“Hi,” she says, smiling a coy smile that always gets her what she wants.
Well, almost always. It doesn’t work that well on Daemon, no matter how often she has tried, so she isn’t entirely successful. Regardless, it has the desired effect with Criston, which is what’s important.
“Oh, um, hi,” he says.
His face grows red. On another guy, it might be cute. With Criston, she can already feel her annoyance growing, but she presses on, determined. Even if every breath he takes grates on her nerves, he’s cute enough. And Daemon despises him. It’s important to remind herself of that, despite every urge to turn heel and get the hell out of here.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you anymore.”
“That can’t be right,” she says with a laugh. “I always loved hanging out with you.”
For emphasis, she puts her hand on his bicep, a sense of smug satisfaction swelling at the way he shudders at her touch. It’s nice to know she still has game.
“Maybe I misunderstood…” he says hesitantly.
“I’m sure that must be it. Well, that and the fact that you were with Alicent… Are you doing okay? I know how hard it can be coming out of a long-term relationship.”
She doesn’t, actually. Not really.
Rhaenyra has never been in a real relationship, contenting herself with a string of one-night stands and friends with benefits. Anything to keep herself occupied when her bastard of a brother decided to call off their situationship or to get back at him when he made her angry enough that she wanted to make him suffer in return. Nothing serious, though. No one other than him.
“I’m doing okay,” Criston says, a reminder that she’s supposed to be having a conversation. “It was hard at first, especially since she ended so abruptly. She said that I was a nice guy but I had no ambition… Can you believe that? Why should that even matter, anyway?”
He says more after that, but Rhaenyra just tunes it out.
She keeps her eyes on him and nods at irregular intervals so he’ll think she’s listening, but her attention is otherwise preoccupied. Guys like Criston are all the same. It doesn’t matter what he says—her contribution to the conversation whenever he takes a pause to breathe will be scripted. A formulaic response especially crafted to make him think she cares.
She’ll stroke his ego, make him feel like he’s more important than he is. Like he’s the one who was woefully wronged. Even though she firmly believes that Alicent's reasons for breaking up with him are entirely valid.
Criston is insufferable. Rhaenyra knows this, but her brain seems to have conveniently forgotten this fact when she was prowling for a distraction. Her mistake. Unfortunately, now that he has a captive audience, he drones on and on and on, venting all the transgressions against him like Rhaenyra is his fucking therapist or something. She can’t imagine going on one date with him, much less staying in a relationship with him for a year.
So yeah, she’s on Alicent’s side, even though she doesn’t even like her all that much, either.
Funnily enough, they used to be friends. The trouble only started when Alicent found religion and started acting like Rhaenyra was the devil incarnate for sleeping with whomever she wanted and spending her weekends at parties. The final straw was when Alicent tried to get her in trouble for cheating on a paper, which Rhaenyra absolutely did not do.
Regardless of the status of their friendship, however, Rhaenyra is of the firm belief that Criston deserved to be dumped. The only reason she’s even bothering to maintain the pretense of conversation is to get under Daemon’s skin.
That makes this torture worth it, or so she tells herself.
Naturally, her brother thwarts even her best plans, taking far too long to get to the damn party being held in his honor. She’s forced to suffer Criston’s pathetic whining for the better part of thirty minutes before a wave of excitement rolls through the crowd—a sign that the honored guests of the night have finally arrived.
Criston notices it, too. He stiffens, seemingly upset. Rhaenyra doesn’t know why nor is she inclined to ask, but if she had to guess, she would say it probably has something to do with the fact that he used to be a part of the team before he was kicked off for getting into a fight. This could have been his victory to share.
Instead, he’s relegated to the sidelines. Not her problem, though.
“Do you need to go find Daemon?” he asks—the first time he’s shown any indication in matters that relate to her since this god-awful conversation started.
Rhaenyra shrugs.
“I’m sure he’ll find me eventually.”
And find her he does.
It only takes her brother three minutes from the time a loud cheer erupts in the house to when a brooding energy permeates her space, announcing his arrival by her side.
“Cole,” he says stiffly.
Her back is to him, but Rhaenyra can hear the irritation in his tone. She hides her smile in her cup, refusing to turn toward Daemon.
“A moment with my sister?”
God, so formal. She almost wants to laugh.
“We were just talking—” Criston says, but Daemon doesn’t wait for him to finish.
Instead, he takes Rhaenyra by the arm and practically drags her through the house until they’re outside on the lawn, the moon hanging bright above them.
“What the fuck are you doing, talking to that incel?” he says, all hellfire and accusations.
“Who, Criston?” Rhaenyra asks innocently. “I thought he was your friend…”
“You know damn well he’s not.”
“But you guys were on the team together—”
“That doesn’t mean shit! Did you already forget what happened last time?”
“He’s harmless,” she protests, pleased to see her defense of Criston merely fans the flames of Daemon’s fury.
“He’s bad fucking news and I want you to stay away from him.”
At that, she bristles. Who the fuck does he think he is to boss her around like this? Just because he was born three measly minutes before she was, he acts like he’s the big brother and she has to do everything he says. It’s annoying as hell.
“Oh, fuck off.”
She tries to leave, but his hand at her elbow keeps her in place.
“I mean it,” he says, his voice dropping an octave.
She refuses to react—refuses to let him see how his stupid tone affects her.
“I don’t care,” she says flippantly. “You don’t get a say in who I spend my time with—”
“Is that so?” he asks, looming over her.
Rhaenyra lifts her chin and levels him with a defiant glare.
“It sure fucking is. Why are you even interfering with my social life anyway? It’s a party, brother. One that’s intended to celebrate you, I might add. Shouldn’t you be getting wasted with your teammates? I’m sure there’s already a queue of adoring fans waiting to get your autograph.”
“Not as long as you’d think. Apparently, there’s been a rumor going around that I’m in a relationship and that scared quite a few of those adoring fans off.”
“I’m sure there’s still an adequate selection for you to choose from.”
“Cut the bullshit, Rhaenyra. Have you been telling people that I’m back with Mysaria?”
“Why the fuck would I tell anyone that?” she asks, scowling at the mention of her least favorite person in the entire world.
She doesn’t even know how they got here, considering she never mentions that witch’s name. While Rhaenyra has no remorse over the fact that she might spread lies about his relationship status, she would rather choke on her own tongue than talk about her brother’s ex-girlfriend.
The glare she wears would be enough to make a lesser person cower, but not Daemon. He merely meets her sour expression with one of his own.
“Have you been telling them that I’m seeing someone?”
“No,” she says as she takes a sip from her cup.
“Have you told people anything about me being in a relationship?”
“I didn’t tell people,” she finally admits. “Just a little Freshman.”
“Why the fuck would you talk about it to anyone?” he growls.
“Why does it matter?” she retorts, in an equally irritated tone. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to sleep with a freshman, Daemon. She’s barely eighteen, for fuck’s sake! I know you’re in your man whore era, but please, stick with upperclassmen.”
“I couldn’t give a single fuck about the freshman. What I do give a fuck about is that your little rumor got back to Laena—”
“Laena Velaryon? Our cousin?”
“Our cousin by marriage,” he corrects.
“Why does that fucking matter?!”
“Because we’re not related by blood—”
“Oh, fuck you,” Rhaenyra spits out. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”
She can feel herself on the precipice of crying, an unfortunate reaction that often happens when she’s angry. Already, the pressure is building in her tear ducts.
When a single teardrop breaks free to slide down her cheek, she brushes it away brusquely before turning away.
She’ll be damned before she lets Daemon see her cry over this.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his hand closing around her wrist.
“Get the hell off me.”
When he doesn’t let go, she shakes him free.
“Go find Laena,” she says.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me—”
“Then tell her it was a simple misunderstanding. I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”
“You and I aren’t done here—”
“Don’t forget to use a condom.”
With that, she stalks off, ignoring the way he calls her name.
It feels like she doesn’t take another breath until she’s safely in her car, the seat belt strapped tightly across her chest as she drives at too fast a speed through the city toward home. Where she should have just gone after the match was over.
Once she and Daemon chose the school they would attend, Baelon was quick to purchase a townhome for them—three bedrooms with two and a half bathrooms. It’s one of the benefits of having a rich, absent father. The extra space means that it'll be easy to avoid her idiotic brother.
She curses his very existence.
Despite her parting words, she hopes his dick gets limp when he finally manages to get Laena into bed. Even if their cousin is upset at thinking Daemon was playing her, she won’t stay mad forever. If there’s one thing that Rhaenyra knows about her brother, it’s that he’s incredibly charming when he wants to be. She can’t wish that away. She can, however, focus her energy on manifesting erectile dysfunction.
Fucking asshole.
The drive flies by, her mind too flooded by anger to pay much attention to the city. Before she knows it, she’s pulling into the parking garage—another gift from her father to make up for the fact that he’s never around.
She’s still fuming even when she gets into the house, which means that she’s blinded to the fact that there’s someone already there.
A startled shriek escapes her when arms close around her waist and restrain her against a solid mass, though the panic subsides just as quickly when she recognizes Daemon’s familiar scent. He’s wearing a cologne she bought him years ago for their birthday, one that he refuses to replace.
Fear morphs back into anger.
She steps on his foot hard, hard enough that he releases her with a low groan. She turns toward him then, jabbing her finger into his chest, her neck craned so she can meet his eyes.
“What the fuck, man?! You scared the shit out of me!”
“You didn’t have to fucking assault me—”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have ambushed me!”
“Would you have come inside if you knew I was here?”
She responds by glaring at him, since they both know the answer to that. If there had been any indication that Daemon was home, she would have just kept driving.
They stand there in silence, in the darkness of their entryway. A lamp she left on in the living room offers a little light, but his face is still bathed in shadows. All the better, honestly. It hurts too much to look at him, her twin brother, her other half.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says, stepping around him and moving into the townhome, toward the kitchen—away from him.
“This is as much my house as it is yours.”
“Did I say it wasn’t? I just said you shouldn’t be here.”
“Then where the fuck should I be, Rhaenyra?”
“Oh, I don’t know… At the party with your friends?”
“You really thought I was just going to let you walk away from me like that?”
“God forbid you not get the last word in,” she throws over her shoulder.
He follows her even as she tries to put distance between them because he just can’t leave her alone. Apparently, his only goal tonight is to piss her off.
“This isn’t about getting the last word in, it’s about you leaving mid-conversation.”
“I didn’t leave mid-conversation. I just didn’t have anything else to say.”
She opens the fridge, busying herself with looking for something—anything. She finally settles on a bottle of water. She can already feel a headache coming on, even though she barely had anything to drink. Besides, the whole act of twisting the cap off gives her something to do with her hands, something to focus her attention on instead of Daemon.
“I thought you liked Laena,” he says after what feels like hours. His voice is quiet—hesitant. It’s so unlike him.
“I don’t have an opinion on her,” Rhaenyra says.
“Funny, considering you seemed pretty fucking furious at the idea of us together.”
She scoffs, doesn’t respond.
“Can you please talk to me?” he asks.
“About what, Daemon? What is there to say? What do you want from me? Am I going to have to approve of every girl you hook up with? Will I have to hold your hand while you do it? If you want to fuck Laena, then fuck her. My opinion never stopped you before—”
“Is this about Mysaria again?”
Yes and no.
It’s mostly about the fact that Daemon would rather sleep with people other than Rhaenyra. It just so happens that Mysaria was the first one, which earned her everlasting hatred. It also didn’t help that the other girl didn’t like Rhaenyra and tried to drive a wedge between the two of them. Mysaria did her utmost to turn Daemon against her and it might have worked, too. Guys can be so fucking stupid sometimes.
Brothers, thank god, are a little better.
When Mysaria gave him an ultimatum and tried to force him to choose between her and Rhaenyra, it was the nail in the coffin. Daemon chose Rhaenyra, without even having to consider the options. It’s the only reason she didn’t fucking ghost him and move across the country to live with their aunt in San Francisco. Yet, even with the right choice made, his first real relationship had lasting effects.
It doesn’t matter that Rhaenyra had all his other firsts. The fact that he chose to date someone rather than continue their affair, however wrong it might be, was enough to fracture a bond that Rhaenyra previously thought was unbreakable.
She has never fully forgiven him for it.
“I’m sorry about Mysaria,” he says, as if he can read her mind. “It won’t be like that with Laena, I promise. She knows how important you are to me—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she interjects, already exhausted by the conversation. “Do whatever you want. Sleep with whoever you want. I don’t give a fuck.”
Her apathy seems to have the opposite of its intended effect. Rather than placate Daemon and get him out of her hair, it only makes him angry.
“If you walk away again, I swear to god—”
“What?” she asks. “You’ll physically restrain me?”
“If I have to.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re the one who told me we had to stop. Now you’re upset because I’m trying to move on? What am I supposed to do, just stay celibate forever?”
“You’re supposed to take longer than two fucking weeks before you start looking for someone else to stick your dick in! Or maybe you didn’t even wait that long, maybe you texted her as soon as we were over! You obviously don’t give a shit about my feelings.”
“All I care about are your feelings!” he says.
“Yeah, okay,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m serious, Rhaenyra,” he says as he closes the space between them until they’re nearly nose to nose. “I don’t date because I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Mysaria. I don’t bring anyone here, out of respect for you and because I wouldn’t like it if you brought anyone over, either. I don’t know what else you want from me. You were the one who ended things—”
“Not because I don’t want you! Are you really that dumb? Did you think that I called it off because I didn’t want to keep doing what we were doing?”
“Why else—”
“I’m tired of being your fucking secret! I’m tired of having to pretend like I don’t care when girls flirt with you, when they give you good luck kisses before the match, or ‘fall’ into your lap at parties. It’s fucking exhausting. I’m tired of just being a convenient fuck for you.”
“You’re more than that,” Daemon says.
He tries to pull her into his arms but she steps away.
“I’m tired of being just your sister, too. And then to find out that family isn’t actually off-limits to you, at least not when it comes to Laena? Do you have any idea how much that hurts? I don’t care about semantics, either. You told me that we couldn’t because we’re related. Well, you’re related to her, too. So I guess it was never really about that, was it? It was just about me.”
She’s crying now, tears streaming down her face, but she does nothing to hide it. Let Daemon see her like this. Let him know the ruinous pain that he’s caused.
“I’ve spent years waiting for you to see me,” she continues. “Five fucking years! But you’re never going to love me the way I love you. You’re never going to want me the way I want you. You just fuck me for the thrill, because you know I won’t ever say no to you. And then, when someone prettier comes along and catches your attention, your guilt suddenly resurfaces and you push me to the side. I’m so fucking sick of it, Daemon. To the point that I can’t even fucking look at you.”
“Don’t say that.”
She chances a glance at him and sees devastation mirrored back at her, his handsome features twisted in misery. It brings no satisfaction, though. It only magnifies her own agony.
“I’m not trying to be hurtful,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Not now, at least. I’m just being honest. I can’t keep doing this—this back and forth. Holding onto foolish hope that maybe one day you’ll wake up and realize you want something real with me. It’s exhausting.”
“Rhaenyra—”
“No, let me finish. I know my expectations aren’t realistic. I know it isn’t fair to me and isn’t fair to you. But I can’t help the way I feel. I’ve tried to let you go, to be content with having a normal brother-sister relationship. It’s just too hard.”
She pauses, her breath shaky as she looks down at her feet.
“I’m going to finish out this term,” she continues, “and after it’s over I’m going to take a leave of absence. Or maybe I’ll see if Dad can arrange a transfer to Columbia or NYU. I just need to get away.”
“You can’t leave me,” he says.
He might be right. They’ve never been apart, not since they were born.
And yet, this is the only conceivable solution that Rhaenyra can imagine. She can’t keep living under the same roof as him and think that she’s going to be successful in getting over him. It might not ever happen, but she isn’t doing herself any favors by remaining in close proximity to him.
“I can’t stay, either.”
“Because you think I don’t love you.”
“I know you love me, but it’s not the way I want you to love me. You just see me as your sister.”
“That’s not true. You’re my other half.”
“Alright,” she concedes. “As your twin sister.”
Except, that’s not all she wants to be to him.
“You’re my everything.”
“No offense, but I don’t believe you.”
“Tell me how to prove it to you,” he says.
“It’s too late. You’ve told me so many times that we’re not good for each other, that what we’re doing is wrong. So many times I’ve lost count. And if that weren’t enough, you’ve also shown me just how much you mean that. You’re never actually going to be happy with me, and why would I want that for either of us?”
He steps behind her, his arms circling her waist, and holds her to him.
This time, Rhaenyra lets him. Her eyes fall shut, pain radiating through her body as she considers this might be the last time in a long time that she’ll have him like this. Until she can stand to be around him without wanting him, the distance will be better for both of them.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says.
“All you’ve done lately is hurt me. Even when we’re together, I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop—for you to get tired of me and tell me we have to stop. That’s why I called it off. I can’t keep doing this, no matter how much I love you.”
Daemon leans his head against the back of hers, inhaling deeply as his arms wind tighter around her, as if he thinks he might keep her in place simply by overpowering her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I thought I was doing what was best for you. I just wanted to protect you. You’re all I’ve got and it seemed like this could only end badly.”
“I hate to break it to you but, despite your best efforts, it did end badly.”
“It doesn’t have to. You could give me another chance.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? She can’t, though, not when she already knows the outcome—the same as always, with Daemon getting cold feet and her left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. If it were anyone else, she would have kicked them to the curb ages ago. But Rhaenyra has always had a soft spot for her brother.
How could she not?
He’s everything to her.
“You should talk to Laena,” she says quietly. “Tell her it was just a rumor, that you’re single and only want her. She’ll understand. And she’ll be good for you.”
She tries to ignore how every word that falls from her tongue feels like a lancet to her heart. As much as she hates to admit it, their cousin by marriage is everything that Rhaenyra should want for Daemon—smart, pretty, and kind. She’s the ideal girl.
“I don’t want Laena.”
Gently, he turns her to face him, his hands never leaving her lest she tries to make a break for it. To be fair, there’s a good chance she might have tried it, if the opportunity presented itself. Already, she has made herself too vulnerable. She has shared too much, far more than she normally would, even with him.
She never wanted to lay herself entirely bare, not in this regard. It’s bad enough that she lusts after her brother. To be in love with him too is mortifying, especially since it’s unrequited. That’s why she kept it to herself. While she and Daemon normally share everything, some burdens are meant to be carried alone.
“I don’t want anyone else, Rhaenyra. I want you. Only you, I swear.”
“Don’t,” she says, turning her face away when he tries to kiss her. “You only want me because I’m leaving.”
He cups her cheeks and rests his forehead against hers.
“I always want you,” he says. “I want you now and I want you forever. I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known what it means to want. I’m sorry it took this for me to admit it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Her eyes search his face, from the plush lips that she knows intimately to the perfectly sloped nose that matches her own. Finally, she meets his gaze, as if she might catch a glimpse into his innermost thoughts just by looking at him.
The connection between them allows her this.
Or maybe she’s little more than a foolish girl, only seeing what she wants to see.
Yet, in his eyes, she doesn’t find a hint of deception.
In spite of everything, Rhaenyra does believe that Daemon would be truthful to her in this matter. He isn’t just another guy, looking for a way to get back into her good graces. This is her brother. Her twin. And as stupid as his line of thinking might seem, she can understand his rationale—that he was only trying to protect her.
Ever since their mother died, Daemon took it upon himself to take care of her. He made her a promise the day that Alyssa was buried that he would always be there for her, that he would always keep her safe. And he’s kept true to that.
She can see how he might have thought that putting an end to things and trying to keep his distance from her was just another way of protecting her, even if the effort was terribly misguided.
While it has caused her nothing but pain, she can empathize with his indecisiveness. It isn’t an easy idea to commit to, this choice to acknowledge that what they share between them is something that can’t be found elsewhere. Sometimes she curses the fates for making them siblings—for putting them in a position in which their love will always be taboo, something to be hidden.
Still, understanding his reasons isn’t enough.
Rhaenyra needs more. She needs to know that he isn’t going to revert to his misplaced attempts at chivalry once the sun rises. As much as she may trust his intentions in this moment, she knows how fickle the heart can be, especially in matters as difficult as their situation.
“I don’t want to be your secret anymore.”
It’s not an entirely reasonable request, Rhaenyra is well aware. But if he really means what he said, then he’ll find a way to at least meet her halfway.
“I’ll tell people I’m in a relationship—long distance or something so they’ll stay off my back. When we graduate, we can go somewhere where no one knows us. We can be a real couple.”
“Dad will want us back in New York.”
“I don’t care. We don’t need him or his approval. We have enough money in our trusts to live off of comfortably.”
“So what, you’re just going to start your life over? What about soccer? Your friends?”
“I don’t care about any of that either, so long as I have you. That’s all that matters to me. What do you say?”
She doesn’t even have to think about it.
“Yes. As soon as we graduate.”
Daemon smiles at that and lifts her into his arms.
Her legs settle around his waist as his hands squeeze her ass.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he groans, burying his face in her chest.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so busy the last few weeks.”
“I was trying to respect your space.”
He starts to walk them toward the living room, another deep groan rumbling in his chest when she rolls her hips against his cock.
“That’s bullshit. You were hiding from me.”
“Maybe,” he concedes.
“Definitely,” she says.
She takes his jaw in her hands and slots her mouth against his, giving his tongue something better to do than retort. The truth is, he would have been busy regardless of whether or not they had fought—the same fight when she decided to prioritize herself and end things. However, he has been especially scarce around the house as of late, content to preoccupy himself with soccer and all things related rather than facing her.
It doesn’t matter now, though. Rhaenyra can’t stay mad at him forever, not when she’s wrapped in his arms and it feels like she can finally breathe again. He sits down on the couch with her on his lap, pressed close. Their position lets her take charge, so she takes what she wants. She rocks her hips back and forth, dragging her cunt along the length of his erection.
It feels sublime, but then, it always feels this good. It shouldn’t, given who they are to each other. Despite how aggressively she has pursued him in the past, Rhaenyra knows it’s wrong. She shouldn’t want her brother this way, shouldn’t be so hopelessly addicted to the way he tastes that she craves him like a fucking fiend. Regardless of the morality of it, however, she does want Daemon. She needs him, even. And now he’s finally admitted that he needs her, too.
She’s never letting him go.
He pulls her sweater over her head, though it’s actually one of his sweaters that she stole. It’s her favorite one and she knew he wouldn’t miss it, given how the team showers all its members with merchandise. This particular one has the school emblem on the front with men’s soccer written in bold letters below. The back of it bears his jersey number and their family name, proclaiming her as a Targaryen for everyone to see. She’s the only one who ever gets to wear his clothes.
“Missed these pretty little tits.” He takes her breasts in his hands, pinching her nipples in a way that makes her squirm. “God, they’re perfect.”
Without wasting a single moment, he leans forward to take one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the stiff bud, teasing it with his teeth until Rhaenyra cries out.
“You haven’t let anyone else touch my girls, have you?” he asks.
“You did not just call them that,” she says, laughing as she smacks his arm.
“Don’t deflect. Did you or didn’t you?”
“And what if I did?” she asks, a clear challenge in her tone.
“Then I’ll have to break their hand. Maybe blind them—”
“Shut up,” she says.
Then, she kisses him again.
It would be easy to spend hours doing just this. For as long as she and Daemon have practiced kissing one another, it’s still as thrilling as it was at the start, when they were fifteen, both shy and scared and entirely unsure of themselves.
Even then, it felt natural—just one more thing for them to learn together and share with each other. When they kiss, Rhaenyra feels complete.
As she devours him with teeth and tongue, her hands reacquaint themselves with his body, tracing the ladder of his ribs and mapping the ridges of his abs. She continues a slow grid, just enough to keep them both panting and flustered but not enough to get close to orgasm.
For a while, Daemon lets her take the lead.
He lets her kiss him how she wants to, touch him at her leisure, and rut against him like he's nothing more than a toy for her pleasure. Eventually, though, he gets impatient.
And she expects it. After all, it’s always like this. While Rhaenyra enjoys the slow build, the teasing touches as she balances at the precipice of more, Daemon is always ravenous—desperate and eager to devour. He allows her to play with him for a while. And he always takes the time to prepare her. Yet, inevitably, he’s the one to urge them forward, toward the forbidden.
Rhaenyra was the one who suggested that they learn how to kiss by kissing each other. She was also the instigator behind masturbating together and, later on, getting one another off with their hands.
It was Daemon, however, who decided her fingers weren’t enough.
At first, they only mimicked sex, much like they’re doing now. That wasn’t enough to satisfy either of them for long, though. Soon enough, it got easier to do it without clothes. And when Daemon just so happened to slip into her, neither of them put a stop to it. They lost their virginities together that day, in the quiet stillness of an otherwise empty house. That was the day they sealed their damnation.
Ever since then, the dynamic has always been the same between them. An even exchange between who leads and who follows.
So when he stills her hips with his hands and pulls his mouth from hers, Rhaenyra isn’t all that surprised. She expected it much sooner, honestly.
“Let me fuck you,” he says.
God, she wants nothing more. She can’t make it too easy, though.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should wait until you get tested.”
“I haven’t been with anyone else,” he says.
“Am I supposed to just take your word for it?”
He pinches her hip in retaliation.
“Don’t be cruel, little sister.”
“I’m merely being pragmatic, asking the same of you as I would any other hookup.”
That pisses him off. Quick as lightning, he lifts her and spins them both so that her back is flat against the couch. His body blankets hers, his hips cradled between her thighs as he ruts against her. When the head of his cock catches on her entrance, Rhaenyra squirms.
“I’m not just another hookup,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
“You’re not my boyfriend, either.”
Even if they are going to be serious about this, the term feels too trite. Despite what she thought she wanted, Rhaenyra now realizes that boyfriend will never be enough to describe what she shares with Daemon.
“No, but I am your brother.”
“The rule still stands.”
“Unless you decide to make an exception for me.”
He leaves a trail of kisses along her collarbone and up the column of her throat, sucking a spot behind her ear until she pushes him away.
“Why should I make an exception for you?” she asks, breathless already.
“Because you love me.”
“And?”
“Because I love you.”
“That’s a given.”
“Brat,” he admonishes, nipping her lip.
“You’re the one making a piss poor case.”
“How about this? Make an exception because there hasn’t been anyone but you in the past two years. And because there won’t be anyone else but you until the day I die.”
“The past two years? But that’s when you broke up with Mys—”
“I know,” he says.
“What about—”
“No,” he interjects again. “No one but you.”
“You lied to me this whole time?”
“I omitted the truth because I wanted you to feel like you could move on, which you wouldn’t have done if you thought I was moping around pining for you.”
“I still didn’t move on, even though I thought you were out there sleeping with the entire school! Besides, if you really mean that, you wouldn’t have tried to sabotage every potential relationship—”
“Just because I wanted you to move on doesn’t mean that I was good at actually letting it happen.”
“You can be a real dumb motherfucker sometimes.”
“Sisterfucker,” he says, grinning impishly.
“God, I hate you sometimes. You’re the biggest pain in my ass, did you know that?”
“Yeah, just like I know that you don’t actually hate me.”
“Whatever,” she says, dismissive even though he’s right.
“Admit it and maybe I’ll fuck you,” he says.
He looks angelic in the soft light of the lamp, his short white-blond hair gleaming brightly like a halo as she looks up at him. It belies the wicked gleam in his eyes and the way his mouth curls into a smirk when she frowns at him.
“Weren’t you just begging me to let you fuck me?”
“I was, but the moment has passed. Now it’s your turn.”
“That’s not how it works,” she says.
“No? We’ll see.”
She does not like the sound of that. Nor does she like how he moves down her body, leaving her cold and bereft of warmth as he slots himself between her thighs. Her protests die on her tongue, however, when he flips up the little skirt she’s wearing to admire her cunt.
It was cold as fuck wearing so little this late in the year, with only her thigh-high stockings to provide some semblance of protection from the weather. But the discomfort was well worth the way Daemon looks at her now. She knows how much he likes the little indent where the socks dig into her thigh, a fact that is shortly confirmed when he runs his tongue along the edge where cloth meets skin.
She didn’t expect that they would end up like this, only that she might tease him with little glances of what was no longer his. Of course, things rarely go according to plan especially where Damon is involved.
He sucks a hickey on her inner thigh next, his tongue hot and insistent against her as he leaves her mark. She doesn’t doubt that he can see how wet she is for him, considering Rhaenyra can feel her thong sticking to the lips of her cunt. And even if he isn’t paying particular attention to that spot, he should be able to smell her arousal. Yet, he chooses to continue leaving bruises, his tongue painting blues and purples in the shape of his mouth on the canvas of her skin.
When he switches to her other thigh, she decides she’s had enough.
Rhaenyra buries her fingers in his hair and wrenches him away rather brusquely, but her brother doesn’t even wince, instead opting to smile up at her lazily. His lips are red, wet from his ministrations. Otherwise, he looks unaffected.
“Fucking do something already,” she grits out.
“Not until you say what I want you to say.”
“If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just go get myself off.”
“No,” he says, climbing above her and pinning her to the sofa with his body weight.
“Daemon,” she warns.
“Just say it,” he whispers. “Then I’ll fill your sweet little cunt up the way you need to be filled.”
“When did you get so damn filthy?” she asks.
She loves it, of course, it’s just such a variation from their norm.
Half the time they fall into bed together, it’s because they’re fighting. The couplings then are so frantic and frenzied that there’s no time for words.
The other half of the time, it’s done in the darkness of one of their rooms, quietly, as if speaking might be akin to an admission of guilt. The only sounds that pass between them are the sounds of sex—grunts, groans, moans, and whimpers.
For a while, it was so detached that Rhaenyra wondered for a while whether he was just using her like a cocksleeve while imagining someone else. Then he whispered her name when he came, and it laid all her worries to rest.
Still, it’s never been like this.
“I’m finally able to say all the things I always wanted to say.”
“You could have been doing it all along if you had just been honest with me.”
“Or maybe you should have been honest with me,” he retorts.
“Fuck off,” she says, though the words lack any heat.
“I’d rather fuck you,” he says easily.
“Then do it.”
She just her chin forward, challenging him.
“Say you don’t hate me, not even sometimes.”
“You know I don’t, idiot.”
“I want to hear you say it,” he insists.
When she doesn’t respond, he cranes his neck and takes her nipple in his mouth. His teeth close around the bud before he soothes it with his tongue.
Then, he marks her breast, too.
“Say it, Rhaenyra.”
The words are muffled against her skin.
She’s tempted to continue resisting, which Daemon seems to be aware of. He pushes her panties to the side and stretches her out with two fingers, sucking at her skin with fervor when her back arches off the couch and pushes her chest against his mouth.
“I could never hate you,” she says, though it sounds more like a whimper.
He has just curled his fingers to tease her g-spot, his palm pressed against her clit in a way that feels too good to be real.
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” she whines.
Already, her muscles are contracting around him. Pressure builds in her toes, a tingling sensation that threatens to light her body on fire.
“Tell me you’ll never love anyone else.”
“It’s only you,” she says, gasping as the first wave of her orgasm begins to build. “It’s only ever been you and that’s never going to change. I could never love anyone the way I love you.”
“You’re so good for me,” he murmurs.
He fucks her with his fingers in earnest, a reward for her compliance.
He continues to do so until she moans his name, falling to pieces at her brother’s hand. By the time she comes back down, her tits are a kaleidoscope of color to match her thigh. Daemon merely watches her with a pleased smirk, only sliding his fingers from her when the sense of euphoria has fully abated.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and groaning lewdly. It makes her cunt clench, desperate to be filled again—already.
“You always taste so sweet.”
“That’s not true,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
She knows what pussy tastes like and sweet is hardly the word she would use.
Still, Daemon is insistent as he places his arms on the side of her head and brings his mouth to hers. The sharp tang that coats his tongue is definitely not sweet, but Rhaenyra kisses him with fervor all the same.
His cock is slotted against her cunt, so close but still too far for her liking. While there have been times when they stayed apart for far longer than a few weeks, this particular instance has left Rhaenyra feeling more desperate for him than ever. Maybe because the distance between them almost became permanent. Regardless, she’s impatient, too needy to wait for him any longer. And since his hands are otherwise preoccupied with cradling her face, she takes it upon herself to do something about it.
Sliding her hands between their bodies, she undoes his belt and then the button and zipper on his jeans. With her feet, she pushes the pants down his hips, just far enough so she can pull his erection free.
“Guide me in,” he says against her lips.
As if she needed any direction. That’s what she was going to do anyway.
His tongue is already back in her mouth when she holds him with one hand, the other hand pulling her panties to the side so she can drag his cockhead through her wet folds. They groan in unison, a shared breath passing between them as she notches him at her entrance and wiggles her hips so he slides into her.
“Fuck,” he says, the word sounding far more reverent than it should. “You’re so tight. Does it hurt?”
Rhaenyra shakes her head, even though there are tears prickling the corners of her eyes.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Don’t stop,” she says. “Need you inside me.”
He groans again in response, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he pushes in further. The stretch is divine, a wave of sensations as he makes space for himself in her cunt—space that only he can ever fill. It’s slow and luxurious, as if he wants to appreciate every moment.
Rhaenyra shares this sentiment wholeheartedly.
She’s lost count of how many times they’ve fucked in the past five years. Even with more time spent off than on, one thing they always shared in was an insatiable hunger for one another.
Yet, despite their many, many, many couplings, this time feels different. It almost feels like the first time again, now that all their feelings are out in the open.
The real first time was so rushed, more than a little awkward, and followed by immense guilt.
This time, Rhaenyra can fully enjoy the moment, with the knowledge that Daemon is hers forever. She doesn’t have to ask to know if he feels the same.
Even when he’s fully sheathed in her, his movements are unhurried. He’s content to simply kiss her and tangle their tongues together. He holds his weight on one arm while he explores her body with his other hand, squeezing her breasts and running his fingers over her thigh.
“Tell me you love me,” he says again, an echo of his demand from before. His teeth dig into her lip when she doesn’t immediately reply. “Say it, Rhaenyra.”
“You’re so needy today,” she says instead.
She presses her heels into his ass, urging him to move forward, but he resists.
“You’re meaner than usual,” he says.
“Maybe I’m still mad at you for planning to fuck our cousin.”
“Is that why you decided to make me jealous?”
“I did no such thing,” she says, her breath hitching when he pulls out and thrusts back in, the movement abrupt so that his hips slap against her ass.
“Sure you didn’t, Bean.”
“Don’t call me that while you’re inside me!”
“Why not? You’re still my little jelly bean, aren’t you?”
Their favorite candy since they were kids, and a nickname that Rhaenyra both loathes and loves. She shoves at his shoulder, pushing him off until Daemon moves back with a loud laugh. As much as she hates the feeling of emptiness that he leaves behind, she’s had enough of his teasing.
A slow build is one thing, Daemon is just being an ass.
Rhaenyra climbs into his lap with little fanfare, nearly ripping her thong in two in an effort to get it out of the way as she slides back onto his cock. She wastes no time in taking what she wants, in undulating her hips back and forth until she finds just the right rhythm.
Just as she’s starting to lose herself to the sensation, Daemon has to open his big mouth again.
“Crispin could have never satisfied you like this.”
“Why the fuck are you talking about another guy while we’re in the middle of having sex?”
“Because I need to know that you know that no one can ever make you feel the way I do. Not even that meathead you spent so much time with last year.”
“Daemon, I swear to god, if you don’t shut the fuck up—“
The threat is cut short when his thumb finds her clit, her words morphing into a whine as electricity races up her spine.
“You’re mine,” he says.
“Yes,” she agrees readily.
She’s getting close again, and that’s enough to make her far more compliant than she might normally be.
“You’ve always been mine.”
“Yes,” she says again, though it comes out more like a keen when he presses her clit more firmly.
“No one else can make you feel this way.”
“No one else has even gotten the chance to.”
That seems to surprise him, so much so that his hand moves to her hips, stopping her movement. When she tries to keep going, he places his other hand on her waist and pulls her close until they’re chest to chest. She’s pinned in place, pinned to his body so that she can’t move.
“Daemon—“ she whines.
“What did you mean just now?”
“I need to come,” she says, pleading.
“Not until you tell me what you meant.”
“Isn’t it obvious? I haven’t fucked anyone else!”
“What about—“
“No one else,” she says, an emphasis on every word. “Just hookups, but never this. Now let me come or I’m going to murder you.”
“I haven’t fucked anyone else, either,” he says quietly.
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“I’m serious, Rhaenyra.”
“You’re seriously ruining the mood.”
“By being honest?”
“By not letting me come!”
She tries to get off his lap but his fingers digging into her waist keep her firmly in place.
“You’re a tyrant,” he says.
“And you’re a dead man walking.”
“Take what you need then, brat. Just know it’s only ever been you. No one else.”
Sincerity shines in his eyes, melting away her frustration. Leaning into him, she presses her mouth to his, relishing how good it feels to kiss him.
“Okay,” she says. Then, “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” he says as she lifts her hips—lifting herself off his cock before sliding back down onto him.
“Tell me you’ll never love anyone else.”
“I never have and I never will.”
“Us against the world?” she asks.
“Yes,” Daemon says. “Always.”
He guides her movements, quickening her pace and also somehow shifting the angle so that every thrust causes his cock to brush against that sweet spot inside her. It doesn’t take much more for Rhaenyra to reach her peak, ecstasy crashing over like the ocean’s waves, washing away all the pain and anger that have weighed so heavily on her as of late.
“I’m going to come,” he says.
Only then does she realize her eyes are closed, lost as she is in her bliss. When she looks at him, she finds Daemon watching her intently, his expression a blend of rapture and discomfort. He wants to stay buried in her cunt through her orgasm, but that means—
“Come inside me,” she says. “You know I have the IUD. And we can get Plan B in the morning.”
That’s the only reassurance he needs. He finishes like he always does, her name on his lips like a prayer as he fills her with his cum.
Even after they’ve both come down, they remain tangled together, though Daemon does shift them both so that he’s flat on his back and she’s resting on his chest.
“I love you,” she says into the stillness between them.
“I know. Even though I probably don’t deserve it.”
“Hey,” she protests.
“Hush. You had your turn, now it’s mine. I’m sorry for hurting you. I really was trying to do what was best for you, you have to believe me.”
“I do,” she says, and she does.
“I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”
“Let’s start with tonight. I want to take a bath together. And I want to sleep in your room with you. Your bed is comfier than mine.”
“Only because I buy nice sheets.”
“Save the lecture, I’m tired.”
“So I should carry you to the bathroom then?”
“I thought that was obvious,” she says, yawning and cuddling closer to his chest.
“Will you at least sit up so it’s easier to stand?”
“No.”
“Christ, you’re annoying.”
“You love me,” she says.
“Yeah, I do.”
And he proves it, again and again.
First in the bath, when he washes her hair.
Next in the bedroom, when he lets her take the ‘good’ side of the bed and even concedes his favorite pillow.
Then, between the sheets, when he laps at her cunt, only stopping when she shoves him away after two consecutive orgasms.
The most concrete proof, however, comes the next morning when Rhaenyra wakes, not to an empty bed but to her twin brother lying right beside her.
His arms are banded around her waist, like he can’t bear to be apart from her. When she tries to wriggle free, his hold on her tightens, insistent even in his sleep.
That’s when she knows.
Daemon will never let her go.
For the first time in as long as she can remember, Rhaenyra feels true, unadulterated happiness.
Finally all is right in the world. Finally, she is complete.