Work Text:
He needed a fucking cigarette when this conversation was over.
“I will not betray my brother,” Daemon exhaled, the weight of those six words sinking deep into his very being.
Saying it hurt him more than anything he ever said in his life – more than he even thought it would.
Nothing and no one in the whole world ever made Daemon as happy as Rhaenyra did in the short time they circled one another.
This thing between them was insane, impossible, and the first he felt fully alive and not like he had been wasting his free time with someone who also didn’t want to be alone.
Daemon was lonely for so many years. The aftermath of his stupid first marriage had severed practically all of his familial bonds, leaving him cast aside by a lineage that saw him as disposable, a mere cog in the machinery of the Targaryen lineage — a lineage so abundant that his absence would hardly be noted.
His mother had died when he started his masters, and his father when he finished it. Viserys had moved overseas to Westeros to be with Aemma and made a family. His relatives treated him like just a bastard by another name.
He had burned all of his bridges through his 20s, and he was too busy going in a downward spiral to build them back.
Until he came to Viserys wedding and Rhaenyra swapped him off of his feet.
"Then you'll do it to me?" Rhaenyra's voice cut through, dripping with bitterness, spoken between her clenched teeth.
His throat tightened as he looked at her fully.
Rhaenyra looked so beautiful. She was wearing a white dress, patterned with gold, and royal braids. She looked like a princess – she was a princess.
Daemon closed his eyes, rubbing his face with a hand, trying to keep himself calm and rational.
“No, I will not,” he tried to reason with her. “He’s my brother, and he is your father .”
But when he looked at her, she was even angrier.
She was a tempest, young. And fire in young people was never cautious. Daemon remembered being as young as she was, as eager as she was.
She was inconsequential, but he wasn’t – not anymore, that was, not after he had suffered every consequence of his choices.
And maybe she wouldn’t regret her decision to run away in a year or two, but someday she would, and if he had to be the wise one between them, so be it.
"You will wed him, and then, in secret," he proposed, earnest and soft. "I will take everything I have and move to Dragonstone Island, just as his boyfriend will do. We can all just...”
“Hide?” she finished his sentence, voice half-broken, raw. “Pretend you are just an uncle, that you mean nothing to me?!”
The offer thrown right back at his face stung worse than he had anticipated, but she had to understand!
Daemon closed the distance between them, his hand as gentle as he could be when he cupped her cheek.
“Viserys is the head of the family and our family must be strong, Rhaenyra,” he tried to remind her. “You understand this-”
“I don’t understand anything!” she slapped his hand away.
Daemon gave her space to walk away from him, barefoot and messy.
He breathed in deep, trying to keep himself level-headed, but his ear was already buzzing with the start of a stupid headache.
He knew that what he was saying could sound like a betrayal, like he was disregarding her feelings, but she had to know it hurt him too.
Daemon wasn’t a heartless degenerate, too selfish to make a choice, he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to see her suffer.
He was very fond of Rhaenyra and the last thing he wanted was for her to go through what he had gone through at her age – he was trying to shield her, even if it hurt him to do so.
“Laenor has his lover, you will have me,” he insisted.
Her future husband had managed to find happiness in his way, they could do the same thing.
Laenor had been with that boy forever, as far as he knew. In a different world, in Valyria, even, he would have been able to marry him if he wanted to leave his life behind for him.
But Daemon would never judge him for not wanting to lose contact with his parents and his sister.
If it was working for Laenor, then maybe a similar arrangement could be good for Rhaenyra.
“It’s not enough,” Rhaenyra looked at him, devastated. “I don’t want a fake husband and a secret boyfriend, I want a real husband, I want you as my real husband!”
And it took every ounce of Daemon's strength to resist giving in to her pleas.
“But we can’t,” he replied, unable to keep the sorrow away from his lips.
Viserys was plainly cruel, pushing his daughter to marry Rhaenys’ son when he knew the truth - all of the truths.
The marriage was meant to mend the rift between their two branches of the family, – their cousin was the most senior of the Targaryens, but she was a woman, and when grandfather died, he wouldn’t have a woman as the head of their family and chose Viserys instead.
Marrying Rhaenyra and Laenor was supposed to unite their bloodlines again.
“I will not plead with Viserys to stop this marriage, I can’t,” Daemon exhaled, tapping his finger against the dresser, knowing she would ask that of him sooner or later. “He already knows I’ve asked of you, I will not push him any further. I am already disgraced enough in his eyes, I will not lose you completely, understand that!”
He had done that already, asked his brother for her hand and the chance to take her to New Valyria. Had it been any other time, had his brother been King like he would have been a century and a half ago, Daemon knew would have taken his head.
They were both lucky he had allowed him to attend this thing - the appearance of a happy family was very important to his stuck-up wife.
She let out a heart-wrenching sob, and Daemon's own exhale felt heavy and drawn out, but he couldn’t move to her. If he did, he might just give up and throw caution to the wind.
He gave up, fishing for a cigarette in his breast pocket.
They were tired. That stupid engagement party had been going on for too long downstairs, their conversation was emotionally draining on both sides.
He was exhausted, she probably wasn’t too far from it.
“I am done with speaking of this, we must rest,” he decided, patting his pockets for his lighter. “I’ve been drinking, we’ve both had, and the day was too long. I’ll send someone to say you’re not feeling well, and I’m sure Laenor will enjoy a break too.”
Tomorrow she would listen, he knew she would.
But Rhaenyra didn’t even turn to look at him, facing the wall.
“So you’re choosing your relationship with my father?” her voice cut through the heavy air, cold as ice.
The pain in her words was palpable, perhaps more than she realised.
“Ñuha daria,” Daemon tried to plead, her pet name slipping from his tongue.
They didn’t have time or energy to get into that discussion again. They were both drained, physically and emotionally, this was only going in circles now.
It wasn’t about choosing, didn’t she understand?
"I don't want to lose him again," he admitted, the words heavy in his mouth after how long he’d been trying to keep them in. "And deep down, Rhaenyra, I know you don't want to lose him either, even if you think you don’t care. You don't want to be estranged from our family."
The Targaryens could be cruel. Fire and blood united them just as much as it destroyed them.
And he thought she would understand.
“Then you can leave,” Rhaenyra declared, sounding resolute. “Get out.”
Daemon was caught off guard, hand mid-air to lit up his cigarette, his mind struggling to process her words.
What?
“Get out,” she repeated, angrier.
She turned to him again, her emotions boiling over as her face was red with tears now, and without hesitation, she grabbed a nearby pillow, throwing it at him and hitting his face, and he dropped what was in his hands to catch it.
“Get out!” she screamed, her voice echoing loudly in the room, and he knew anyone could hear it from outside. “Leave me!”
In her fury, Rhaenyra seized a teddy bear that had been sent as part of a congratulatory gift for her engagement with a basket of chocolates from the bed and with a swift movement, she launched the bear in his direction, but this time, Daemon managed to dodge it, narrowly avoiding the plush projectile.
The door of her hotel room swung open suddenly, and Harwin – her bodyguard – walked in with a swift movement and looked between Rhaenyra and Daemon before putting himself right in front of him.
“Mr Targaryen,” he spoke firmly. “I think it's best if we step outside for a moment.”
Daemon’s jaw tightened at the sight of him. They should be resolving it together, Harwin wouldn’t understand.
But he swallowed his pride anyway when he looked outside and found Joffrey – Laenor’s boyfriend – in the corridor, looking into the room before turning away and retreating down the hallway, and that sight was enough to make Daemon reconsider.
“I can walk out on my own,” he told him, and looked over at Rhaenyra, but she wasn’t looking at him, sobbing silently, sitting on her bed and facing away from them with her shoulders shaking. “We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow when we are both rested.”
He picked up his lighter from the floor and turned to leave, but her voice cut through him before he could take two steps.
“No,” Rhaenyra spoke, her quivering voice still loud and clear. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
The weight of her words settled in his gut like a heavy stone, dragging his stomach down with an almost physical ache, but he shook his head, refusing to believe them.
Rhaenyra was a Targaryen through and through — their lineage meant fire and passion. Fire meant impulsivity, saying words they didn’t mean.
Besides, Rhaenyra was young. At her age, you change your mind every five minutes.
She certainly didn’t mean that.
Tomorrow, he would call Rhaenyra. They would meet and talk, both about tonight and the future.
They would find a way.