Chapter Text
Rhaenyra Targaryen stood at the edge of the soccer field and tried not to cheer too loudly when her son knocked her punk ass half brother on his ass. She had tried to like Daeron, really—had smiled and suffered through the playdates her father insisted on at first while Alicent made pointed comments about when she was planning on losing the baby weight and when she could next expect to see Rhaenyra at mass (never.)
But Daeron, in her opinion, was the human equivalent of watching paint dry on a wall. He smiled banally in front of adults and wore a polite facade that was easier and easier to get him to drop as he moved into his hormonal teenage years. He rolled around wailing for a bit before realizing that wasn’t working and popping up to yell at the ref for not giving Jace a card, Alicent wobbling into the grass on her heels to back him up.
Rhaenyra just gave Jace a subtle thumbs up, focusing her attention on the toddler on her hip, who waved her arms and screamed wildly “Bubba!” Jace jogged over to ruffle Visenya’s hair while Alicent argued with the ref, and if he noticed something was a little strained in his mother’s smile, he knew better than to say anything. Jace had always been wise like that.
Unlike fucking Daeron, who was about to get red carded.
The sun was hot, but Rhaenyra’s designer hat and sunglasses protected her just fine. She jogged Visenya on her hip, determined not to let any of her inner turmoil show. To the world, she could only be Rhaenyra, heir apparent to Targaryen Industries, the working mom who had it all. She had to keep a picture perfect countenance or else she’d be “too emotional,” had to keep a perfect appearance or else she “wasn’t taking care of herself,” and had to show up at all her children’s events and games and shows or else she’d be the cold mother who cared more about her work than her kids. A standard that was never applied to Daemon.
Daemon.
She had told herself she wouldn’t think of his name, but there it was. She had to face the truth at some point. She was the CFO of one of the world’s premier brands. Her children loved her and she loved them. Her clothes were designer. Her house was expensive. Her investment portfolio was worth millions.
And her husband was cheating on her.
With the most beautiful woman Rhaenyra had ever seen.
She tried not to think of the photos. They weren’t meant for her eyes and the woman—whoever she was—still deserved her privacy. They were meant for Daemon’s eyes only, and Rhaenyra was a woman before she was a victim of an affair. She hadn’t saved them and she wasn’t going to think about them.
She wasn’t going to think about the way her ass had looked in that lacy white lingerie, the way her back had arched, the way her black hair had fallen so gently down her back. The way just a split second of seeing that photo had sparked something in her she hadn’t felt with Daemon in years.
Lust.
Heart pounding, pulse racing lust. It was mixed with the anger that someone would dare have an affair with her husband, and as she held Daemon’s phone in her trembling hands she had thought of how she would pounce on that woman for ruining her marriage, pin her to a wall and shred that pretty lingerie off with her bare hands and bite and kiss and grab until she was satisfied-
Visenya gurgled on her hip, snapping her out of whatever the hell daze she had been in. She jogged her baby slightly, trying to calm her. Sweet Visenya. Her poor girl had been born premature and with a cleft palate, and Rhaenyra had hoped the sunshine and action of the soccer match would distract her from the stitches in her mouth from the corrective surgery. That was what had kept her so livid for so long—not just that Daemon had cheated, but that he’d done it while Rhaenyra was in the hospital with their daughter. While Visenya was in surgery and she was getting a call from Rhaenys informing her in a clipped tone that he’d dropped the kids off at her and Corlys’s place because of a “work thing” she now knew was a lie. She pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head as Jace intercepted a pass from Daeron.
She mentally took tally of the rest of her children and relatives. Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys were running around, safe under the watchful eye of their nanny Elinda, while Luke was off on a date with Rhaena. (Rhaenyra had given him Daemon’s credit card and told him to get a really nice meal and a gift for her.) Baela was out of town with Rhaenys for her volleyball tournament, likely terrorizing some poor libero at this very moment.
She cast a glance at Alicent’s Aegon, trying and failing to pretend he wasn’t currently smoking a joint behind the bleachers. He was still technically a student at Balerion Academy, currently a “super super super senior.” This was partially because he was just that unmotivated to graduate and partially because a large donation had convinced the dean to let him stay until his GPA was high enough to get into college. Any college. And Alicent wants him to succeed my father and get majority shares. Fat chance. They made eye contact for a brief moment and Rhaenyra was tempted to flip him off, but decided she wanted to set a good example for Visenya.
Instead, she whirled on Jasper Wylde, the asshole of a history teacher who kept trying to fail her kids and snapped, “I thought Aegon wasn’t allowed to be within a hundred yards of a school anymore.”
“Those charges have been dropped,” Wylde sniffed, which was code for Alicent gave his victim a very nice settlement.
“Goody for him,” muttered Rhaenyra, watching as her high school fling who now refused to answer to anything other than Coach Cole benched her son for no good fucking reason. With Jace off the field and the rest of the defense conveniently replaced by benchwarmers, the path was clear for Daeron to finally score a goal for Oldtown Prep. Rhaenyra took note of the look exchanged between Cole and Alicent when he did. So Daemon isn’t the only one having an affair. Alicent was so about to regret all the snippy comments she’d made about her and Harwin over the years.
By the end of the day, Balerion Academy had lost the tournament, Visenya had soiled her diaper with no changing room in sight, Joffrey was throwing a fit about having to leave, and Jace was once again trying to figure out what Coach Cole had against him. What was she even supposed to say? Sorry honey, mommy fucked Criston junior year of highschool because she thought no one took “waiting for marriage” seriously, only to be weirded out when he cried after and proposed. Now he has it out for me and my kids. No. She mollified Jace with an offer for him to drive them home, threatened to take away Joffrey’s judo lessons if he didn’t comply, offered Elinda a huge bonus to figure something out for Visenya and got all of her kids in her Lambo SUV on time, because she was Rhaenyra Targaryen, the woman who had it all and could do it all.
Except stop thinking of that damn picture.
Mysaria opened her latest message and rolled her eyes so hard she saw the back of her head.
Caraxesrider101: Daddy wants to play. 😈😈😈
Who told men referring to themselves in the third person was hot? Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she sent a message back.
thewhitewyrm: i don’t play for free.
She didn’t. Mysaria didn’t necessarily enjoy sex work, but it paid the bills and kept her safety deposit box full of designer jewelry, courtesy of chumps like Daemon Targaryen. She’d already weaseled a couple grand out of him, but she knew she could get more before she had to resort to threatening to tell his wife.
His wife.
He hadn’t even made an attempt to hide his wedding ring when he’d shown up at the club and requested a private dance. It had been embarrassingly easy to find out whatever she needed on him. There was the “meet our team” page on Targaryen Inc’s website, where he was described as the stepbrother and longtime friend of the company’s CEO Viserys and a “bold, innovative leader.” There were the sexual harassment settlements and countless HR complaints that popped up after a little digging. There was an online obituary for his first wife, Laena, and comments on Facebook criticizing him for giving custody of their twin daughters to her parents. Online speculation about why he’d married his next wife Rhaenyra so soon after Laena. Rhaenyra.
Mysaria had clicked onto her Instagram profile and found herself sucked into a whole new world, one filled with brunch and tennis matches and designer clothes and picture perfect families. One that was wholly unfamiliar to someone of her upbringing. She told herself she was just curious to see how the 1% lived. And so she expanded to Facebook and used one of her fake LinkedIn profiles to friend her and scrolled through all her old tweets.
It was just because she hated the upper class. Know your enemy and whatnot. She just hated men like Daemon who got everything handed to him on a silver platter and never appreciated what they had. If Mysaria had what he did…she’d be better. She’d redistribute his wealth. She’d create a safe environment for his employees. And she wouldn’t cheat on his wife if she were her wife. Absolutely not. She’d treat her well.
Mysaria stared at a photo of Rhaenyra in a tennis uniform and thought about how she’d treat her really, really, well.