10 Works by fireandjoy
Listing Works
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When her mother died, the first thing her father saw was the bottom of a bottle. When what was left of Rhaenyra's world collapsed in on itself, the first thing she saw was Daemon. It was only natural, she reasoned, that she'd turned to him, begun to orient toward this singular warmth; that petal by petal, she'd trustingly hand him over her layers as they unfurled.
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Sixteen-year-old Rhaenyra turns up on the doorstep of the uncle she never knew in the midst of dual familial and global crises. In isolation, a friendship of necessity blossoms into something more intimate and complex.
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When all is lost in ash and ruin, Rhaenyra looks up and finds a constant.
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Don’t miss me, Kid.
She isn't sure whether she does or doesn't. How can you miss what you can’t fully remember? But the words linger on, and so do the intermittent reminders of the void. Not an ever-present ache, but a rare pang pressed into pages of random books around the house where she'll find his neat writing in the margins. A little loss lurking where she least expects it in a box of dusty Christmas baubles, a large hand print and a tiny, chubby one set eternally in brittle salt dough.
Don’t miss me too much.
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“Saera only hires perfect tens,” she said, gazing at the spa voucher with dreamy eyes. “Every single person there is like… supermodel hot.”
Rhaenyra gaped at her. “Is this a brothel?” she whispered indignantly, as if someone else was listening in her solitary home.
Throwing her hair back and laughing, curls flying, Laena cackled. “Ha! They say Saera used to be the escort of the stars, but she’s just the namesake. I’m pretty sure she’s retired with her millions anyway. They’re totally above board, they just hire super hot, super skilled masseurs. And you gotta get some of that tension out. No harm in a sexy rubdown by Magic Mike, right?”
Only to her ego.
"Just go. Trust me, it'll change your life."
Rhaenyra doubted that very much, but it didn't seem very Christmassy of her to argue the point.
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Taking pity on her tightly-wound, touch-starved friend, Laena gifts Rhaenyra a massage at a spa and promises it'll change her life. She has no idea how right she is.
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hands together, eyes up by fireandjoy for blackhawkdown
Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV)
23 Dec 2023
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She knew her father, an unambitious man with no fire of his own to call upon, would disapprove of how hard Daemon worked her in public, and be downright sick if he knew of his brother’s more private methods and ways of motivating her. But could anyone deny that they worked?
Rhaenyra’s friends too felt sorry for her when her uncle got into one of his moods, but that didn’t make them less envious of her meteoric rise through the ranks. She and Syrax were unstoppable. And in those moments, everything Daemon put her through was well worth it. When they were flying around a cheering stadium, racing a clock counting milliseconds as rapid heartbeats and measuring life in distances between jumps, nothing else mattered.
Nothing was better, except perhaps the private praises and rewards Daemon lavished upon his little star when the stables fell quiet and they were all alone at night. Nothing at all compared to the things they did when only the distant unholy heavens, sworn to silence, stood witness.
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Determined to make her a star, top equestrian Daemon pushes his niece to her limits athletically by day, and in other ways by night. It's (almost) all for her own good.
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At 4:57AM on an unremarkable Wednesday in September, eighteen-year-old Rhaenyra Targaryen is crowned Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.
There is no ceremony, no gown, no cheering crowd. She wears no shoes and no bra, only wrinkled purple running shorts and a threadbare ‘Disneyland 2016’ sweatshirt with mustard stains on the left sleeve.
There is no victory, no tradition, no sense of a torch being passed. There is no pride in Rhaenyra's heart.
There is only numb horror.
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When King Viserys I dies suddenly, it is not the toddler born to be his father's heir who is crowned in his stead, but his long-since replaced daughter, Rhaenyra. At eighteen, her life is upended as she is thrust into a role no one prepared her for, with a country on the brink of chaos, a pit of vipers at court, and few allies in whom she can trust. Matters are only complicated when her wayward uncle Daemon, having been exiled yet again in the final year of his brother's rule, returns.
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It's about helping her. She needs to be free of her external woes, free to cave to a more basic version of her nature in all the ways that her will to fight doesn't allow her to in any other way. She needs him to take some of the pain, the confusion, the anger; take it away from her, force her to surrender them to him.
Daemon's mind is made up.
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she's morphine, queen of my vaccine by fireandjoy
Fandoms: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
23 Jul 2023
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They’ve always loved each other, desperately, in the quiet corners of the Keep and in the quiet corners of their minds. But it’s not enough. It’s never been enough. Not to satisfy their mother and grandsire; not to save her from the wine-soaked curse of Aegon’s touch; not to save any of them or turn the tide. She doesn’t fool herself that it will be now.
Helaena turns to face him, the rage at his recklessness riding ferociously on the venom-spiked tip of her tongue. But the resigned sadness in his apprehensive eye, in the new lines of his youthful face, hits her like a fist in the chest. And at once, all the anger rushes out with the last air in her lungs. All she’s left with is an empty pit where her heart used to be.
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culinary-centric vignettes through the lives of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. food as service, guilt, punishment, revenge, mourning, apology, friendship, love, and tribute.
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Daemon takes care of Rhaenyra in the way she wants after her mother's funeral. Inspired by THAT new still HBO dropped on us.
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She was so young.
Too young for the burdens placed on her: of inheritance, of the endless treachery and tragedy of courtly politicking, of the perils of her sex, of comforting a father who lost a wife and who remained incapable of comforting a daughter who lost a mother.
Not young enough to be entertained with stories at his knee or to be rocked to sleep the way he used to, her tiny hand and sometimes her gummy mouth wrapped around his little finger, unaware that she had him wrapped around hers in kind.
(Too young to bear the burden of his eyes looking at her like this.)
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Teen Mom!Rhaenyra AU. Rhaenyra refuses to tell her father and step-mother who got her pregnant. No one needs to know.
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Her bags were already packed, stashed just out of sight in the hallway closet. Only the things she couldn't live without. She'd lovingly folded and packed all the things she'd managed to hoard away from Alicent's purge of her mother from every corner of the house: photo albums, her mother's favorite coats and sweaters, a bottle of her perfume, and fourteen years worth of clothes her mom made just for her, using them as inspiration for her children's line.
Viserys had just enough chivalry to help his pregnant daughter to the front door, laden with suitcases, but the moment the door opened, Daemon took each from him with no more than a curt nod for his half-brother.
“I’ll wait in the car,” he said, tenderness only for her.