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cherryl4na · 3 months

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ `"lamborghini miura and date nights pt. 1"

abstract || you and lando enjoy life outside of all the chaos that comes with him being 'The Ace'

fem!reader || fluff. steamy. mafia au. lamborghini miura. will be a pt. 2. heavily inspired by the suit at a mclaren event and the outfit at cannes. 3.6k words

Lando Norris’ penthouse is the epitome of luxury and power, a sanctuary high above the city’s restless heartbeat. The expansive living space is a testament to modern elegance, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the skyline, the city lights twinkling like distant stars.

When stepping out of the private elevator, you’re greeted by a foyer with polished marble floors, leading into an open-concept living area. The décor is a blend of classic and contemporary, with rich, dark wood paneling and sleek, minimalist furniture. A grand piano sits in one corner, its black lacquer finish reflecting the soft glow of the overhead designer lighting.

The lounge area is dominated by a large, plush sofa that faces a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and a glass coffee table holds an array of high-end spirits and crystal decanters. Original artworks adorn the walls, and a collection of rare books fills the built-in shelves, revealing Lando’s taste for the finer things in life.

The dining area features a long, ebony dining table surrounded by leather-upholstered chairs, perfect for hosting intimate gatherings or conducting discreet business meetings. Adjacent to it is a gourmet kitchen, fitted with professional-grade appliances and a sleek breakfast bar.

The penthouse also boasts a private gym, a spa-like bathroom with a Jacuzzi and a rain shower, and a walk-in wardrobe that houses an impressive collection of designer suits and racing memorabilia.

Lando’s personal quarters are a sanctuary within a sanctuary. The master bedroom is spacious, with a king-sized bed taking center stage, draped in the finest silk linens. A private balcony extends from the bedroom, offering a secluded spot to take in the breathtaking views or simply enjoy a moment of solitude.

Every detail in Lando’s penthouse speaks of a man who commands respect and enjoys his success, yet values privacy and comfort above all else. It’s a space that’s both a showpiece and a retreat, reflecting the complex character of ‘The Ace’ himself.

As of now, the evening had settled over the city like a velvet shroud, the skyline a jagged silhouette against the twilight sky. Inside the luxurious penthouse, Lando Norris watched you with an intensity that belied his calm exterior.

You stood before the full-length mirror, the soft fabric of your Versace dress cascading down in waves of midnight blue, a stark contrast to the elegance of your skin. The room was filled with the quiet rustle of silk and the subtle scent of vanilla from your perfume. It was a rare occasion, this dance of preparation, and Lando found himself captivated by the ritual.

He leaned casually against the mahogany door frame, arms crossed over his chest covered with a white Nordstrom silk shirt that has been left unbuttoned just slightly to exude enough sensuality but keeping it decent, his two usual gold chains around his thick, tan neck as his eyes followed your every move. There was something about the way you moved, the confidence in your gestures, that drew him in. It was a dance he had seen many perform but none with such genuine disregard for the world’s expectations.

“You don’t have to impress anyone,” Lando finally spoke, his voice a low rumble in the opulent room.

You met his gaze in the mirror, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’m not trying to impress,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’m trying to remember who I am beyond all this,” you gestured vaguely, encompassing the grandeur of the room and, by extension, the life you had found yourself entwined in.

Lando pushed off from the doorframe, his steps silent on the plush carpet as he approached. “And who are you exactly, in this world?” he asked, stopping just a breath away from you.

You turned to face him, the intensity of his gaze compelling you to answer with truth. “Someone who still believes in a bit of normality, even in a world as cynical as ours.”

His chuckle was soft, a sound that warmed you more than any embrace. “Then perhaps this will serve as a reminder,” Lando said, producing a small, black velvet box from his pocket.

He opened it to reveal a delicate gold chain, from which hung a pendant crafted in the shape of a lotus, its petals open as if reaching for the last rays of the sun. “The lotus blooms in the mud,” he murmured, his fingers deft as he clasped the necklace around your neck.

The lotus flower, revered across cultures and spiritual traditions, embodies profound symbolism and meaning. Emerging from muddy waters yet remaining unstained, it symbolizes purity of heart, mind, and spirit. Its ability to bloom immaculately amidst adversity speaks to resilience and strength, teaching us to persevere and flourish despite life's challenges.

It serves as a timeless metaphor for the human experience — a reminder that through adversity, purity, and spiritual growth, we can rise above the murky waters of life and blossom into our fullest potential.

You reached up to touch the pendant, its cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his fingers still lingering on your skin. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, gratitude lacing your words. Lando stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. “As are you,” he said, not as a compliment, but as a simple statement of fact.

With a smile that matched the warmth of his words, you followed Lando out of his luxurious penthouse. The evening air greeted you with a gentle breeze as you made your way towards the private garage, where a sleek, vintage Lamborghini Miura awaited. Its navy paint gleamed under the soft glow of the penthouse's exterior lights, exuding elegance and power in equal measure.

"You're driving this?" you asked, your voice a mixture of surprise and excitement, a smile slowly inching its way on your face.

Lando nodded, a playful glint in his eyes as he held open the passenger door for you. "Well, how else did you think we’d travel? I figured we could take a little drive before our reservation. Trust me, it'll be an experience you won't forget."

As you move to settle into the plush leather seat, Lando places a hand on your head to make sure it’s protected from the roof of the car. Heading around the car, Lando enters the driver side, and effortlessly starts the engine, causing the powerful rumble to fill the air around you. The car eased out of the garage with grace, navigating the city streets with the familiarity of a seasoned driver. The night enveloped you both, the city lights painting a canvas of twinkling stars overhead.

With each turn and straight away, the Lamborghini carried you through the cityscape, the wind whispering secrets as it tousled your hair. In the midst of this exhilarating journey, Lando's presence beside you remained a constant source of comfort and excitement, his occasional glance your way a silent promise of more adventures to come.

As you ventured further into the night, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the hum of the engine and the shared moments between you and Lando. In the soft glow of passing street lamps, you realized that this impromptu drive wasn't just about the destination—it was about the connection forged in the quiet moments between heartbeats, where each glance and smile spoke volumes about the budding romance in the air.

And as the Lamborghini carried you both towards an unknown horizon, you couldn't help but feel that this night was just the beginning of a journey filled with endless possibilities, where every twist of fate was waiting to be explored together.

With each mile that passed beneath the Lamborghini's wheels, the cityscape transformed into a mesmerizing blur of lights and shadows. Lando navigated the streets with effortless precision, occasionally stealing glances at you, his expression a mix of anticipation and contentment.

As the vibrant pulse of the city gradually gave way to quieter, tree-lined avenues, the Lamborghini slowed to a stop in front of a stately building adorned with ivy-covered walls and softly glowing lanterns. You looked up, realizing you had arrived at a charming and exclusive restaurant known for its exquisite cuisine and intimate ambiance.

Lando turned off the engine, and the sudden silence enveloped you like a comforting embrace. He stepped out of the car, swiftly coming around to open your door with a gentlemanly flourish. As you emerged, the cool evening air wrapped around you, carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of fine dining and the promise of a memorable evening ahead.

The entrance of the restaurant welcomed you with a warm glow from within, casting a soft halo around Lando as he extended his hand, inviting you to walk with him towards the door. You accepted graciously, feeling a flutter of excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. This evening had already surpassed any expectations you might have had, and yet, you couldn't help but wonder what surprises lay in store.

Inside, the ambiance was elegant yet inviting, with soft music playing in the background and flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over linen-covered tables. The maître d' greeted you warmly, confirming your reservation and guiding you both to a secluded corner table with a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

As you settled into your seats, Lando's gaze met yours across the table, his eyes sparkling with a quiet intensity that mirrored your own emotions. The evening stretched out before you like an uncharted path, each moment unfolding with a delicate grace that seemed to deepen the connection between you.

Conversation flowed effortlessly between bites of exquisitely prepared dishes and sips of fine wine, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that spoke volumes. In the intimate setting of the restaurant, surrounded by the soft murmur of other diners and the gentle hum of city life beyond the windows, it felt as though time had slowed to a perfect cadence, allowing you both to savor every fleeting second together.

And as the night progressed, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, attraction, and a growing sense of intimacy that seemed to bloom with each passing moment. Across the table, Lando's smile was a beacon of warmth, his presence a reassuring anchor in the sea of possibility that stretched out before you.

As dessert arrived, accompanied by a flourish of culinary artistry that mirrored the magic of the evening itself, you couldn't help but marvel at how a spontaneous drive in a Lamborghini had led to this moment of shared connection and undeniable chemistry between you and Lando.

The restaurant hummed with a subtle buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses, yet your attention was solely on the man sitting across from you. Lando, with his easy charm and magnetic presence, had swept you off your feet from the moment you met. His laughter was infectious, his stories captivating, and as the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn deeper into his orbit.

The evening had been filled with unexpected turns—a scenic drive through desert landscapes that stretched endlessly under a starlit sky, conversations that ranged from lighthearted banter to deeper musings about life and dreams. Each moment seemed to unfold effortlessly, as if fate had orchestrated this encounter.

And now, as dessert was served—a masterpiece of flavors and presentation—you felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of nervous excitement. Lando caught your gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and admiration. Without a word, he reached across the table, his hand finding yours with a gentle yet confident touch.

"Care to dance?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a magnetic charm that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't resist the invitation, nor did you want to. With a smile that matched his own, you nodded, allowing him to lead you onto the small, cleared space between tables where other diners watched with subtle curiosity.

As "Hola Senorita" by GIMS and Maluma began to play softly in the background, Lando pulled you close, his hand firm on your waist as he guided you in a slow, sensual sway to the seductive rhythm of the music. The heat of his body pressed against yours, sending a wave of electricity through every nerve ending.

In that intimate embrace, the world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you moving together in perfect synchronization. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his gaze never leaving yours as if trying to convey a thousand unspoken words.

The sensual dance unfolded like a whispered promise of what could be—an unspoken acknowledgment of the undeniable chemistry that simmered beneath the surface. Each step, each turn spoke volumes of desire and connection, drawing you closer to Lando in ways words could never capture.

As the song neared its end, you found yourself breathless yet exhilarated, caught up in the intensity of the moment shared between you. Lando's lips curved into a tender smile as he guided you back to the table, where dessert awaited—a sweet ending to a night that had begun with a drive and culminated in a dance that resonated with the magic of newfound connection and possibility.

And deep down, beneath the surface of whispered promises and shared glances, you knew that this evening was only the beginning—a prelude to a story waiting to unfold, where each chapter would be written in the tender moments and stolen kisses that danced on the edge of tomorrow.

After settling the bill, not without a bit of banter over who pays, you both stepped out into the cool night air, the echoes of laughter and shared stories still resonating between you. The Lamborghini awaited, a sleek silhouette against the dimly lit street, its engine purring with restrained power.

"Where to now?" you asked, half in jest, half in earnest curiosity.

Lando grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, "Anywhere but here."

With that, you slipped into the passenger seat with his help of course, the leather embracing you with its luxurious warmth. The engine roared to life, the city lights streaking past in a blur as you navigated the winding roads together. The night was young, and so were you, in this ephemeral moment where time seemed to slow down just for the two of you.

Conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through dreams and aspirations, fears and triumphs, each revelation knitting your souls closer together. It was as if the universe conspired to create this perfect interlude, where nothing existed beyond the confines of the Lamborghini and the burgeoning connection between you.

As the city lights began to fade into the rearview mirror, you found yourselves on a quieter stretch of road, surrounded by a tapestry of stars overhead. The car slowed to a stop, and you both stepped out onto an overlook, the city sprawling below like a sea of twinkling lights.

Lando's eyes held yours, their intensity magnified by the intimacy of the moment. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, echoing the rhythm of your own. The night draped around you like a velvet cloak, cocooning you in a world where only the two of you existed.

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they had always belonged together. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of anticipation through you, a silent invitation to let go of any lingering doubts or hesitations.

Leaning closer, his breath mingled with yours, warm against your lips. The air crackled with unspoken words, each heartbeat resonating like a whispered promise of what could be. You could smell the subtle scent of his cologne, a comforting familiarity that grounded you in the present moment.

When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was like a symphony of emotions unfolding in slow motion. Soft yet insistent, his kiss spoke of desire tempered with tenderness, a delicate balance of passion and restraint. Time seemed to stretch and bend around you, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips moving against yours, tracing the contours of a connection that defied words.

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The warmth of his embrace cocooned you in a sanctuary of shared vulnerability, where every touch and caress spoke volumes of unspoken longing and mutual understanding.

Under the canopy of stars, the Lamborghini Miura stood sentinel, bearing witness to a moment that transcended the mundane. The engine's purr became a backdrop to the symphony of your shared breaths, the quiet rustle of fabric as you leaned into each other, seeking solace and passion in equal measure.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into insignificance. There was only the taste of him on your lips, the press of his body against yours, and the electric current that surged between you, binding your souls in a dance as ancient as time itself.

In that timeless embrace, you felt a surge of emotion swell within you—love in its purest form, unguarded and unfiltered. It was a declaration whispered in the language of touch and sensation, a silent vow that this connection was worth cherishing, nurturing, and exploring with every fiber of your being.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and exhilarated, Lando's eyes held a glimmer of unspoken promises yet to be fulfilled. His thumb gently brushed against your cheek, a tender gesture that spoke of reverence and devotion.

In the quiet aftermath, as you stood entwined under the stars, you knew that this night had forever altered the course of your story together. Each heartbeat echoed the cadence of a new beginning, where the chapters ahead would be written in the shared moments of vulnerability, passion, and the unwavering bond forged in the embrace of that unforgettable night.

Feeling the cool metal of the Lamborghini Miura against your back, you smiled as Lando drew you close, his touch tender yet commanding. His fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, sending a thrill through you that echoed in the warm summer night around you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both soft and consuming, a perfect blend of longing and urgency. You leaned into him, feeling the strength of his embrace against the smooth, cool surface of the car's hood beneath you. The night seemed to hold its breath as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the mingling of your breaths creating an intimate symphony.

His hands, strong yet gentle, explored your back with a reverence that made your heart race before finally reaching their destination. He grips the back of your plush thighs in a way that makes you feel weak all over. The hood of the car digs into you as he places you gently on it, moving to stand between your legs.

Making this moment as intimate as possible, his veiny hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer till there is absolutely no space between the two of you. Every touch, every caress deepened the connection between you, amplifying the heat that coursed through your veins. Time seemed to stand still as you savored each moment, each kiss a testament to the unspoken desire and passion that burned between you.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft night air and the distant murmur of the city, you were entwined in a dance of intimacy and yearning, where nothing else existed except the electricity of his soft lips against your own, his touch caressing you as if you’re made of glass.

As you both pull away from each other, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the promise of what the future might hold, Lando reaches out to gently stroke your cheek. His touch is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cool night air.

"Let's head back," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, lips plumped up and red. You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of contentment settling over you like a soft blanket. Together, you gather yourselves and step back towards the waiting Lamborghini Miura.

The drive back to Lando's penthouse is quiet, the purr of the engine providing a soothing soundtrack to your thoughts. You steal glances at each other from time to time, exchanging small smiles that speak volumes about the bond you've forged this evening.

Arriving at the penthouse, Lando parks the car with practiced ease. He takes your hand as you both exit the vehicle, his touch reassuring and grounding. The night feels alive with possibilities as you step into the elevator, riding it up to his luxurious apartment high above the city.

Inside, the penthouse is a sanctuary of modern elegance and comfort. Lando leads you to a balcony overlooking the glittering skyline, where the city lights twinkle like stars in the night sky. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close as you lean against the railing together.

"This night," he begins softly, his voice carrying a hint of wonder, "it feels like everything has changed, but at the same time, hasn’t."

You turn in his arms to face him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. "It has," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "In the best possible way."

Lando smiles, a smile that reaches his eyes and fills you with warmth. "I'm glad," he says, leaning in to kiss you gently for the third time that night, as if sealing a promise made by the night itself.

And as you stand there, in each other's arms, the Lamborghini Miura waits below like a silent witness to the beginning of your love story — a story that started with a car, a journey, and two hearts finding their way to each other.

an || hey guys! i've had this in the works since early june and finally got around to semi finishing it. this will have a pt 2 and i apologize if it takes a while to come out. hope you enjoyed this and there will be more to come! and to my girls, you know who you are, i hope you loved this.

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 drivers x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff

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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ red (k)nights

pairing. xu minghao x reader

description. minghao is your knight in shining armor. literally.

tags. smut (18+), so much fluff, royal au, princess!reader, knight!minghao, secret relationship (kind of?!), minghao’s finger pieces from the super mv …

outfit inspo. minhgao's armor is as shown in the pics, his robes are similar to the light brown ones worn in their inkigayo performance, & reader's robes are of similar design to their 2nd outfits in the super mv!

fic playlist.

w/c. 6.7k

a/n. i'm usually not into royal aus or any au in general that isn't modern, but i had so much fun writing this and i think my mind has changed ... so i hope u enjoy! comments/reblogs are always appreciated c:

“You’re upset,” Eunji notes, walking into your room as sunlight peeks through your silk blinds.

Grumbling, you slowly push yourself off the mattress and lean against the headboard as you rub your eyes. The soft browns and golds of your room are starting to sink into your vision as you adjust to the light, murmuring, “You didn’t knock.”

Eunji sighs, patting her hands down on her apron after setting down your black robe. “Your father doesn’t have any rules about walking in without knocking. And besides, you always lock the door if it’s necessary—if it isn’t locked, I assume it’s alright for me to walk in.”

“What about my rules?” you huff, finally slipping out of bed so Eunji can help you slip into your daytime robes.

“I don’t suppose you’re the king?” she responds as you groggily make your way up to her, your nightgown wrinkling at the ends.

“Eunji,” you whine, throwing yourself onto one of your plush lounge chairs in front of her. “I’m too tired,” you grumble when she points at the robe, again, signaling you to put it on.

“You’re upset,” she corrects, lifting the clothes and unwinding them for you as you begrudgingly stand up and slip off the dress, leaving you only in your undergarments.

“He’s still gone,” you whisper quietly, lifting your arms so Eunji can slip in the sleeves from behind you, moving in front to help tie up the flat, golden drawstrings on the front into bows.

“Away. He is away, not gone,” Eunji says with a pat on your shoulders, adjusting the edges and collar of your velvet robe.

“What’s the difference?” you mutter once she’s done.

“The difference is he will be back,” she explains simply, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, let’s get you down for breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be caught making you late for your meal by gossiping about your—” she pauses. Eunji is among three of maybe your only friends in the entire kingdom, yet she still bites her tongue, still holds back. You used to resent her for it, but now you understand it’s only natural—after all, it is her job to take care of you, and being careful is just what she has to do. But right now, Eunji is your friend, not your maid, and what she follows with only confirms that fact—“your boy.”

Your lips break into a bright grin at the mere name—your boy. You should feel childish—Minghao is so much more than a boy. He’s a gentleman, he’s strong, he’s confident—he is so much. But after all of that, after his sword is yielded, after all his armor is stripped, Minghao is yours—your boy.

“Will you let me do your hair?” Eunji interrupts your thoughts, holding up a few hair ribbons from your large vanity across the room. You grimace, shaking your head.

“I feel like I might go bald every time you do,” you tell her. Eunji gives you a stern look and you let your shoulders sag. “Fine, but please be gentle. I’m already under so much stress, I can’t have any more pressure on my head.”

“Stress?”

You shrug, a small smirk poking at your cheeks. “Oh you know. Just my boy.”

Eunji escorts you down to the dining hall after raking all your hair into some tight updo. Wincing as you pick at the ribbons, she scurries off when you sit down to order the chefs to present you breakfast.

“Good morning, Princess,” a familiar voice greets, Mingyu placing down a steel plate littered with an array of fruits. “What would you like this morning?”

You watch Eunji who re-enters as you formulate your response. “I’m not really hungry right now, if I’m being honest…” you sigh.

“Don’t let her get away with that!” Eunji calls out from the other end of the room, and you cross your hands over your chest as she walks over. Mingyu gives you a concerned look, and Eunji continues. “She’s saving her appetite for when she plans to sneak out in the evening!” she says in a half whisper, half yell sort of voice.

Mingyu’s eyes widen when he looks down on you. “You actually snuck out that time? I thought you were just bluffing so you wouldn’t have to have breakfast with your cousins!”

“It was both,” you grumble as you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, but they’re insufferable—the both of them! And then…” your voice trails off, “Mingyu you know your food is great and I love it but there’s this fruit stall down in the civil grounds and—”

“You snuck out for fruit?” Mingyu gasps, stepping back. Pointing at the platter in front of you, he says, “I should have you know these are harvested from the finest farm in the kingdom.” You stick your tongue out at him, glancing at Eunji who is giving you a funny look. Mingyu catches on, and his eyes narrow. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Oh my god—you know I hate being left out of things.”

“You have a big mouth,” Eunji murmurs and you laugh along in agreement.

Mingyu frowns, swiping the platter away from you as you reach for a grape. “Hey! This is no way to treat a princess,” you pout.

“Tell me what’s going on then?” he pleads, and you glance at Eunji who seems to take it upon herself to spill the beans for you. Leaning in, she motions for Mingyu to come closer so you can all lower your voices.

“She went to see her boy,” she whispers.

Once again, you can’t help but let the grin break out onto your face. Your boy.

Fuck, you really miss him.

Him, being the man who followed you many nights ago as you tried to sneak out of the castle grounds. It’d been a boring few weeks and you overheard Eunji gushing to one of the other maids about a festival that took place in the civil grounds.

You’d heard of it before, and even showed up to the festival occasionally over the years, but it was only ever for a sparring moment—to sit and look pretty, wave hellos and goodbyes before you were being dragged back to the castle.

So when you heard that Eunji was planning on using one of her few, sacred days off, you just had to know what was so exciting about it—your temptation exceeded your ability to follow the rules.

Slipping into some old brown robes you used to wear for your dance training, you wrapped a shawl over your head and over the bottom half of your face in hopes to conceal as much of your identity as possible.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Or, well, maybe you could. You’d fantasized about this moment for ages, never really having the drive to go through with it though. That is, not until now. Still, you’d played this chain of events too many times for anything to go wrong. You had thought about every possible chance of something going wrong, and right now you were certain that you had planned against it.

Foolproof. Your plan just had to be foolproof.

So when you snuck off that night, when the deep oranges of the sunset turned to red and soon to black, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that things would go perfectly fine. That you’d be able to run through the gardens, through the militia grounds, and into the civil grounds, slip in and out of the festival, and back into your bed before anyone could even realize that the princess wasn’t in her bed.

Silly you for not accounting for him.

Him, being the man who was out in the militia courtyards, donned in his training robes as he read a book under the dim light of a flickering, yellow lantern. Him, being the man you thought wouldn’t recognize your figure as you scurried through the pathway and towards the exit to the civil grounds.

You were foolish, and Minghao was perceptive.

You hardly were in the crowd at the festival for more than half an hour before a strong hand tugged at your wrist. Considering yelling for help, you opened your mouth to scream, but not before a large, warm hand clasped over your mouth, trapping in any noises you made. He was gentle with the way he pulled you to a quiet place behind the wall, and even under the dim, crimson glow from the festival, you’re able to make out his face when he finally releases you.

His face was no stranger to your eyes, as his duties as a performance knight had him on and off palace grounds consistently. Xu Minghao. You remembered the name, and watching the scarlet hues fall on his skin, you were reminded of just why his face has not left your mind—why you recall him, and not any other knights.

The redness casted a sharp shadow over him, sharp jawline seeming further whetted under this new glow. Minghao’s dark and shiny hair hung perfectly to shield his gorgeous eyes from the bright lights from around you, and you find yourself growing mesmerized by the way he gazes down at you so … passionately.

Finally breaking the silence that stuffed the space between you, he spoke, “What are you doing here, Princess?” Unexpected of the concern that laces his tone, you were taken aback, mouth falling slightly agape as you wondered why he chose not to scold or reprimand you.

“I wanted to see the festival,” you finally managed to whisper, tearing your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you to look behind at the celebrations taking place all around you. Minghao studied your face for a few pensive moments before sighing and nodding.

He surprised you again with his next, quiet words, “I can show you.”

Looking up at him with bright eyes, you beamed.

Sneaking out to your “fruit stall” doesn’t work, not when Eunji is on your tail. You huff and puff when she sits you down in your room that night, but then she’s whispering into your ear about how his team will be arriving the next morning.

That night, your stomach churns with the anticipation of seeing him, touching him, holding him. It’s been too long, and all you’ve been left with for the past weeks is the ghost of his touch against yours, imagining it’s Minghao when you hug your pillow every night.

You don't get an ounce of sleep, of course, but when you wake up after dozing off to the bright, morning sky, you feel nothing but excitement bubble up in your stomach. You ask Eunji to dress you in your robe of finest silk, and she grins, feigning ignorance as to the reason behind your request.

“This would look nice, don’t you think?” you murmur, holding up a silver dangling hair pin.

Eunji walks over, inspecting the little accessory you’ve picked out. “I don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this…he’s seen you in much less,” she mutters and you gasp loudly, nudging her shoulder.

“Y-you said you would never bring that up!” you stutter out, placing the pin back down. The that in question being the time you had snuck Minghao into your room one night and forgot to lock your door. That morning, Eunji was met with the side of a bare chested knight and the princess rolling around together under the sheets, the first person to be introduced to your little secret.

Eunji only hums, looking over your array of jewelry. “The gold would look nicer,” she tells you, ignoring your previous exclamation. She lifts a nearly identical hair pin, except this one is coated in gold, matching the shimmering designs on your robes.

You smile and nod, turning around in response so she can put the pin in your updo. As you continue to go about your morning, there’s an extra jump to your step when you make your way to the militia office. Inside is your father’s head officer, Seungcheol, sitting at his desk as he goes through the papers.

“The demo team comes back today, right Officer?” you ask curiously, stepping in.

Cheol looks up at you, eyebrows quirked. “They came back this morning, yes,” he replies, standing up as he organizes some of the papers in a neat stack. “Excited?”

“No, why would I be?” you say, letting your shoulders deflate a little to hide your very real and very true excitement. Seungcheol gives you a cheeky smile as he adjusts his coat.

“You’re not great at lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest nonchalantly as Seungcheol walks out of the room, letting you follow behind.

“Really? Your father is picking up on it too. Tell me to tell him how the demo team is doing. Asks me to let him know if there’s anyone that seems … suspicious.”

You scoff, letting your hands fall to your side, “Well he hasn’t said anything to me about it … yet at least.” You sigh, figuring that if Seungcheol already has an idea of what’s going on, there’s no point in feigning ignorance. “Was I being too obvious when I asked for a whole unit to be moved from the battle team to the demo team?”

Seungcheol laughs. “Yes. Your father is definitely—”

“Suspecting?”

“No, that’s not the right word. I think he seems more open to the idea than you might think. I was just going to say he has a feeling you and one of the demo team’s members are … are involved.”

You hum in response, skipping besides Seungcheol as you make your way to the militia courtyard. “That’s good to hear.”

“I guess. Whether your father approves so far or not, tell your boy—” Your heart flutters when Seungcheol says it like that. “—whichever one he is, to keep in line. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to report any bad news back to the King.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, walking outside into the field of grass where some soldiers are lined up in neat rows in front of a black, raised platform where you and Seungcheol are supposed to stand. As you near the group of soldiers, your stomach ties up in a tight knot when you catch sight of the familiar face.

Walking timidly up to the platform next to Seungcheol, you place your hands in front of you, playing with your fingers as you struggle to break your eyes away from Minghao. He isn’t looking at you right now—he isn’t allowed to you.

With his helmet drawn by his side, sword sheathed at his back, crimson armor with gold intricacies glistening under the sun, it’s all too much for you—Minghao in his armor is a force of beauty, and one to be reckoned with.

And he’s standing so straight, so tall, his well built figure being accentuated by the sharp curves of the metal that plates his skin and you start to lose track of Seungcheol’s words. It isn’t until he nudges you in your side when you jump up and out of your reverie, only to see him looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“Princess,” he says loudly, and then much quieter, “Are you alright?”

“I—yes, sorry. It’s just the sun, it’s in my face and I lost track of things for a moment,” you lie, looking back at the knights standing in uniform in front of you.

“Do you want to head back inside? You don’t really have to be—”

“I’ll stay,” you say quickly. “What was it I needed to do?”

“Some last words for them. It’s been a long few weeks, so just say something and formally release them for this week.”

Right. That’s why you’re here. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back, causing the men to all turn their attention to you. Finally, both you and Minghao think. Finally he can look at you.

And fuck, you look so beautiful with your hair pinned back and loose ribbons strewn in, your black and gold royal robes hanging effortlessly off your body with the little bows decorating your waist. Gentle fingers clasped in front of you and Minghao can almost feel your gentle touch on him when you speak.

“Thank you for your excellent performances over the past weeks,” you begin to speak, your eyes doing their best to not linger on Minghao too long. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and to express my gratitude, you are relieved of your duties from now until the end of this weekend. Report to your duties the following morning as you would on any regular schedule. Thank you again.” You close with a bow, stepping back and motioning your hand out front as to signal.

“You are dismissed,” Seungcheol calls out loudly, and you see the way the soldier’s immediately drop their shoulders, their gazes averting to each others’ as they break out into loose conversation. Well, all but one. Minghao’s eyes are locked in on yours and you’re finding it impossibly hard to look away.

Looking up at Seungcheol, “Can I go now?”

“Of course. Thank you for showing up. Do you need one of us to escort you back to the castle grounds or—”

You shake your head quickly, eyes flickering to Minghao who is making conversation with one of his platoon members casually. “N-no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t looking too well. I think it’d be safest if you had one of them help you.”

“I—” you pause, “Okay, I’ll take him,” you say before Seungcheol can make his own decision, pointing at Minghao. Hearing your raised voice, he turns to see your finger in his direction, both you and Seungcheol looking straight at him. Seungcheol looks at you as Minghao walks over, but eventually shrugs.

“Minghao, take the princess to castle grounds,” Seungcheol instructs, throwing you a knowing look. He nods without a word, bowing to you and then his leader as the captain walks away to talk to some other soldiers, leaving just the two of you.

The air is thicker now—it’s filled with all the words you want to say, all the things you want to do, all the thoughts you’ve been thinking and fuck—you really missed him. You need to remind yourself that you’re still out in the open, still in the militia courtyard, still not alone, and you don’t even allow Minghao to do the formal, custom bow and greeting before you turn on your heel and rush away.

Your strides are long but his are longer and he keeps up with your discerningly fast pace, following you out of the courtyard, through the rows of decorated barracks, and off the militia grounds without a word. It’s only when you’re both alone in the small pathway that connects the militia grounds to the castle that you finally allow your pace to rest.

Minghao is the first to speak after glancing around to ensure that the coast is clear, “You seem to have forgotten that you’re the only one who isn’t lugging around 40 pounds worth of armor.” His voice comes out in soft pants, and it’s slightly gruff, but then he’s dropping his helmet to the ground and grabbing your face so he can smash your face into his.

His lips are chapped, moving roughly against yours hungrily, his tongue licking into your mouth as you struggle to place your hands—his armor isn’t the best for clinging onto—so you settle for placing them on his neck. Minghao’s own hands are cradling the back of your head, angling you better as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with a passion that threatens to consume you. He tastes of salt and sweat, your own lips sweet with the scent of royal gardens, and it all has you dizzy.

When Minghao breaks the kiss, you feel at a loss as you grapple for him, his skin, his touch against you. “Y-you need to get this off,” you say hastily, knocking on the steel armor that dons his body. You let your fingers trace down the hard material, finally letting them fall down to grasp one of the few exposed parts of his body left—his hands.

“Eager already?” his eyes flicker up at you and it seems to light a flame beneath you. You squeeze his fingers lightly, looking around you to make sure no one has stepped into this pathway yet.

“Whatever.” You pause. “I missed you,” you add quietly, as Minghao leans forward and adjusts the collar of your robes for you, the small gesture making your heart tender. His gaze softens, and he uses one hand to gently stroke your cheek.

“I missed you too. It was so long—I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses, and the admission has your lips pulling into a smile.

“Do you want to go to the gardens?” you ask excitedly, holding his hand up to your chest as you clutch it tightly. “The enclosed one? I’ll ask Eunji to make sure it stays private for the rest of the morning and—” Minghao’s lips pursed into a tight line causes disappointment to well up inside your belly. “What? You don’t want to?”

“No—no, of course I want to, it’s just…” his voice trails off and you look up at him dejectedly. “I need to go to the barracks. I know we have the week off but I still have things to do.”

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back a little. Minghao frowns, squeezing your cheek lightly with the calloused pads of his fingers.

“You know I want to. I just need to unpack and get this—” he looks down at himself and clanks the metal armor, “—get this shit off and take care of some stuff with Jun.” You nod understandingly, but he notices the ways your eyes droop down just a little. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he continues. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

Your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Tonight?” Minghao nods with a smile, his hand still resting by your cheek, gently stroking your jawline. “The gardens? My room? Where?”

“I actually have a different place in mind. It’s in the civil grounds. It’ll be better if you can come before sunset…” As he speaks, his fingers trail down your neck, running over your collarbone right where the two ends of your robe meet just above your chest. His touch lingers for a few moments, burning trails of fire into your skin as you struggle to keep your heartbeat steady.

“The civil grounds? We’ve never gone there before,” you murmur, voice dripping with curiosity. “At least not since … well you know.” Since the night we met.

“Trust me?” The way he looks down at you with pure adoration makes you feel like he can hear your heartbeat from your chest, shaking the earth under you.

“Before sunset, right here,” you promise.

You can’t quite hide your enthusiasm from Eunji but you also can’t quite care. Nearly jumping off the walls from excitement, it feels like an eternity before the hour strikes seven and you’re whispering to her to cover for you as you slip off the castle grounds and to the little pathway that leads to the militia grounds.

And there he is, your boy, clad in no longer his armor but brown robes which hug his built figure. There is no sword drawn in his back nor is there a helmet clinging by his side, and you grin when you approach him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Patting your back gently, Mingao places a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a warning look as your eyes ask for more. “Not now … not here,” he clarifies, running his hand over your head once, admiring the updo it’s in as he slots his other hand into yours. “Don’t you want to see where I’m taking you?”

You grip his hand tighter and nod as he pulls out a brown fabric from the crevice in his robe. “What’s this for?” you ask as he drapes it over your head gingerly, finally tying the loose ends under your chin.

“Just so you don’t get noticed. We are going to the civil grounds, after all,” Mingaho explains, patting your cheek lightly once he’s done and pulling you to follow after him as he leads the way. You’re both quiet as he leads you carefully through the paths of the militia grounds, finally sneaking you out through a side gate.

Minghao quietly pulls you through the winding streets of the civil grounds where the atmosphere is bustling, with vibrant colors, loud voices, and an endless amount of people flooding the pathways. It’s new, of course, but with the sun hanging low above you, Minghao’s warm hand encased around yours, and the promise of a good night in your mind, you feel oddly comforted.

You’re led through the crowds, Minghao holding you close to his side until he stops at the base of one, tall building, leading you through an alleyway and to the back where there’s a narrow staircase leading to the roof. With a hand on your back, he guides you up the stairs, still keeping close as he follows carefully behind you.

“This is Jun’s family’s old shop,” he explains as the distant sounds of laughter and music grow fainter. “They’ve moved buildings now, but me and Jun come here sometimes with friends because this one is really tall and … and well you’ll see,” he murmurs as you finally reach the top.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both walk onto the rooftop which is lined with a fence style barrier. The ground is covered in old rugs and there are some sacks and boxes strewn around. Walking over to the edge with Minghao, you gasp softly at the sight around you. The civil ground sprawls beneath you, and as you look up, you can see the castle against the blooming oranges and reds of the sky—it’s beautiful.

“This is … wow … this is really pretty, Hao,” you say, and his hold on you tightens for a second before letting go so he can turn around. He walks over to one of the boxes, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a few linen sheets and a lantern, setting it down on the rugs.

“Come, sit,” he instructs as he lays out the sheets, placing the light on top. You follow, smoothing your robes before sitting next to him and leaning into his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around you. Looking up, you watch the sky turn into a hue of orange so deep and vibrant that it’s nearly red.

“You really can’t get a view like this from the castle,” you say with a sigh as Minghao uses one hand to light up the lantern.

He hums in response, pressing a kiss to the temple of your head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to bring you here for a while.” You turn to look up at him with a big grin, finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, and although you really are aching for more, you suppose you’ll settle for this right now. After all, you do have all night.

“This is beautiful,” Minghao tells you when you pull away, fingers brushing over the golden hairpin you stuck into your updo early in the morning.

“Eunji picked it out for me…”

He smiles at you gently, hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. “I love it. I actually wanted to show you something,” he says, pulling out a small object clasped in his hands.

Opening it up in front of you, on his palm sits a shiny, finger shaped accessory, gleaming with a hue that perfectly matches your hairpin. It vaguely resembles the figure of Minghao’s own fingers, and you run your fingers over the cool metal, tracing over the delicate patterns carved in.

“What’s this?”

“A prize. The kingdom was holding a competition for the different demonstration units, and as the leader of the unit that won, I was made this,” he explains, rubbing his own fingers over the accessory. Wordlessly, he slips it onto his middle finger and holds it up in front of you to see it more closely. As your vision zones in on the golden piece, you notice a shift in Minghao's eyes—a darkening intensity.

“Hao,” you whisper quietly, and then he’s bringing the decorated finger up to your face and pressing the cool metal against your lips. Gasping, you lean forward instinctively, your mouth wrapping around the piece instinctively. His hand in your mouth, you can smell him, although the taste of iron against your tongue is unfamiliar. New, but not unpleasant.

“You have no idea,” Minghao begins to say, pressing his fingers down on your tongue firmly, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.” You can’t respond, not with the way your mouth is stuffed, but you honestly don’t need to. The way your tongue swirls over his digits and teeths at the accessory is enough to tell Minghao that you’ve been aching for this just as long as he has. “Do you want to…try something?” he asks tentatively, slipping his slick fingers out carefully.

You don’t need to think about your answer, not with Minghao. You’d trust him no matter what, follow him anywhere, let him do anything to you. Your fingers toy with the ribbons of your robes as you nod eagerly, and he helps you untie them from your side. The cloth hangs loose from your shoulders now, the gap at your chest spreading now and leaving you bare.

The golden piece is still on his fingers, and as he trails his hands down the curve of your tits, pressing against your stomach and dipping in between your legs, Minghao watches your face contort into pleasure. The cool metal pressing against your warm cunt has your soft breaths turning into harsh pants as you grab his firm bicep, legs spreading instinctively.

Quickly, you glance around you, but Minghao quells your worries when he presses his lips against your neck and murmurs, “Don’t worry angel, we’re too high up for anyone to see.” His fingers are gliding between your folds as he sucks against your neck, and you know he wants to be sweet with you, wants to take his time, wants to be the patient gentleman he is, but it’s been far too long.

“Minghao,” you moan when his thumb brushes against your clit. “Wanna feel you,” your murmur, nudging his face in the crook of your neck with your own. He chuckles into your skin, licking a hot stripe over your skin before nodding. It hardly takes him a second before he’s circling your slick hole and pressing in.

The hard accessory is a new feeling—this isn’t the same as the familiar pads of Minghao’s long fingers rubbing against your plush walls, but you can’t say you don’t like it. Whining into his mouth as he kisses you, your hands roam Minghao’s body, tugging at the ropes of his robe around his torso.

As you aimlessly try to shuffle his robe off of him, Minghao starts to plunge his fingers in and out. Shrugging his robe off his shoulders, you’re finally able to press your palms against his hard chest, breaking away from the kiss so you can admire him. “You like it?” he asks amusedly as your mouth hangs wide open when he presses his fingers in extra deep with one thrust. Your head lolls back heavily, the finger piece adding an extra layer of thickness that you aren’t used to.

“Feels s’good,” you say softly, the moans getting caught in your throat when he speeds up his movements. “Love your fingers …” You take a deep breath before continuing. “Love y—you!” you whimper unexpectedly when you feel your orgasm creep up on you unexpectedly quickly.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Something about the way Minghao calls you princess is different from others. Maybe it’s the way he isn’t calling you that because you are the princess, but because you are his princess. His sweet girl, falling apart at the palm of his hand as he rubs your sensitive nub and continues to finger fuck you until you moan his name. His name falls from your lips like honey, sweet and thick as he kisses you passionately and doesn’t stop working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming in his hold and pawing at his pants.

Slipping out his fingers, Minghao holds the shiny accessory up, and it seems to shimmer even more now, coated in your wetness and reflecting the pretty red tint of the sky. Gently pulling the piece off his finger, he sets it to the side. “How was it?”

You smile hazily, still recovering from your much awaited orgasm. “I loved it … felt different but I loved it,” you tell him honestly, shuffling over on his lap as your robe falls completely off your body, leaving you in nothing but panties. Minghao’s breath hitches at the sight, and you grin as your fingers make their way to the firm waistband of his brown pants.

He’s quick to catch on, enveloping your lips in a kiss as he pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, hard cock springing free and hitting your thigh lightly. You feel the warm precum leak against your skin as you shift closer, your stomach pressing against his now that you’re both completely bare and more desperate than ever.

Minghao's arms wrap around your torso, one hand going down to line his thick tip up with your folds, letting himself get coated in your wetness. "You ready, angel?" he asks when your mouths break apart from each other, his pretty lips red and swollen. Your eyebrows pinch together when you feel his cock prodding at your entrance and you nod vigorously. “Words, princess, use your words.”

“Yes, Hao, ‘m ready,” you moan when you feel him press against you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “So ready, so, so ready,” you continue, not being able to control yourself when you press your own hips down. Minghao gasps at the feeling of you sinking on him, warm walls hugging his cock and fuck, he realizes how much he missed you.

Realizes just how much his fist falls short of your perfect pussy—long nights of being without you so he to resort to jerking himself off to the thought of you but none of that compared to the feeling of you whining his name on top of him, hands clutching at his arms as you try to adjust to his size.

You’re also having your own moment of epiphany now too—realization that your fingers were not enough, and will never be enough. At least, not after you’ve felt Hao’s cock inside of you—one thrust in and he’s already hitting all the right spots and having you writhe on top of him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Minghao groans when your ass settles fully on his lap, his cock pressed into you, balls deep, as your fingers lace into his hair and grab at his soft locks.

“Oh—oh m-my god, Hao,” you whimper when he shifts inside of you. The pain that once came from his size is now morphing into a white, hot pleasure that ripples through your spine as you lift your hips up halfway before letting them fall back down. “So—s’big,” you gasp out when his fat tip nudges against your cervix.

Minghao feels his cock twitch inside of you at your words, using his hands to guide your body so you can move and bounce on top of him with less effort. Your cunt is so tight around him and his eyes press shut tightly when he hears you call out his name. “Doin’ so good for me princess,” he praises when you roll your hips against his.

Both of your movements aren’t fast nor extravagant but it’s the way he’s so close to you, skin melting into one other as you share your breath and exchange moans. Bodies moving in sync as you drink in the velvety moans, your nose nuzzles into his when your thighs start to cramp up. “Hao …” you call out as his cock punches the air out of your lungs. “…’m tired,” you mewl, your hips stuttering into his.

His hand cradles your neck as you both still, murmuring, “I got you angel.” Swiftly, Minghao flips you over so your back is pressed against the sheets and he’s on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand comes up to hold your cheek as he starts to move again, taking control of the thrusts now.

Stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, he ruts his hips into yours, cock and pussy jamming together in a sloppy mess as you feel that knot in your tummy start to tie up again. “Missed you s’much,” you confess as heat flourishes through your body.

“Missed you too angel,” Minghao returns almost immediately, letting the snap of his hips become more sharp and forceful, your body jerking back and forth with each movement. Your eyes flicker between Hao’s pretty face, coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and the night sky that begins to loom into a dark purple, revealing the stars. “Gonna have to fuck you every single night now that I’m back,” he grunts when you squeeze around him extra tight, letting himself drop down onto his elbows.

You shudder at the idea of having Hao’s cock inside of you every night, and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle the pleasure. “I’ll—fuck—” you gasp between the words, “—I’ll sneak you in e-every night.”

“Yeah? Eunji’s not gonna get mad when she sees your door locked every morning?” he chuckles, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, biting down on your lip as your feel the knot being pulled and tugged inside you. “Fuck—Hao, ‘m so close, so, so close … Are you close?” you ask dazedly, lips puffy and eyes wide as you look up at him. And looks so sexy with the way his brown eyes watch you intently, his muscles flexing with every movement and Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.

“Yeah, ‘m close angel, your pussy so good,” he slurs as he meets your lips for a tongue tying kiss. And slowly and carefully, you both start to unwind, your orgasm hitting you first from the overstimulation of your first that never quite ebbed away, Minghao’s following suit as you let out whimpers moans of his name into his mouth, cock twitching before filling you to the brim with his thick ropes of cum.

Your ears ring of white noise for the next few moments as thrash against Minghao, your bodies melting into one until he finally breaks away from your lips, leaving you both as a tangled mess of limbs. You’re breathing heavily into each other and you can’t quite comprehend what’s going on until he whispers your name into your ear, eyes shooting back to life.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe before lifting his head so he can look at you intently.

“I love you,” you say, without a second of hesitation. He’s still inside of you, and now you’re hyper-aware of the growing mess that sits between your legs. Minghao kisses your nose as you look down when he finally slips out of you, a small noise of complaint leaving your lips. Inhaling deeply, you sit up. “You’re going to live up to that promise, you know,” you say shyly when he looks at you, sitting up as well to grab his robe. “You know … every single night.”

Minghao grins. “Of course I will.”

“Can I hold you to that?” you ask slyly, intertwining your fingers with his.

Minghao rolls his eyes, palm pressing against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to try ‘n’ find out.”

#minghao #minghao smut #minghao imagines #xu minghao #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt smut #svt reactions #seventeen smut #the8 x reader #the8 smut #📝 writing

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hometoursandotherstuff · 11 months

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Who likes mid-century modern, all original, and orange, orange, orange? This beautiful 1965 MCM in Palm Springs, California has it. 4bds, 5ba, $1.850M.

Take a step back in time when white & gray were not a thing. And, guess what? It comes with the furnishings! I see lots of orange, but the description says that the late owner's favorite color was red.

Perfectly preserved time capsule. Look at those giant candelabras- they could be yours. Notice the bulbs in the ceiling beams.

When you say, "I'll be at the corner bar," you mean you'll be in the living room. Love the fabric on the chairs. Pink & orange are naturals together.

Zoinks! Ornate gold dining table and high-backed crushed velvet chairs. The laminate faux marble on the wall was popular then, too.

Oh, wow, totally original kitchen right down to the appliances and laminate. They sure did love laminate back then. And, how about a ceiling of light?

The fridge is new, but so what, it's off to the side. Look at the niche, place for desk, and the vintage intercom/radio system.

Who wouldn't want an everyday dining room that has a purple ceiling and plush crushed velvet swivel chairs?

This home is so vibrant. It includes a fancy tea cart that looks like Ben Hur's chariot, and the funkiest lamp I've ever seen.

In the primary bedroom, I need the carpet, bed and chair. I always loved canopy beds, but this one is regal and funky at the same time.

What a vanity, and of course, it's not an MCM if it doesn't have a sunken tub made of mosaic tiles.

There were no cutting of corners in the secondary bedrooms, either. That canopy must be attached to the ceiling.

Vanity table right in the bedroom. That's what I need.

Interesting bath. There must be storage behind those doors.

Even the smallest bedroom has a canopy bed. Notice the pink Aladdin's lamp on the night stand. Details!

In any true MCM home, there has to be something in Harvest Gold, the most popular color choice.

Cozy basement family room. So comfy looking.

Plus a powder room. Note the door on the left.

Orange cabinetry in the laundry room.

Beautiful patio and pool outside.

A vintage black & white photo proves that it hasn't changed at all.

The .25 acre lot is set against a mountain backdrop.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1240-S-Manzanita-Ave-Palm-Springs-CA-92264/18027905_zpid/

#mid century modern house #MCM architecture #old house dreams #time capsule home #houses #house tours #home tour

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princesssszzzz · 1 month

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Feuds

Rhaena Targaryen x Daeron Targaryen // Modern AU

Summary: Rhaena and Daeron fall in love with each other but there's a family feud.

Angst & Fluff

Word Count: 18.7k

AO3

The Targaryen ancestral home was as imposing as ever, the high ceilings and grand hallways designed to remind those within its walls of the power and legacy of the family it housed. The dining room was no exception, holding heavy velvet drapes and richly carved wooden furniture. The long table, centered under a glittering chandelier, was set with the finest silverware and crystal goblets. Each place meticulously arranged by the staff under Viserys' watchful eye earlier that day. It was clear he wanted everything to be perfect, as if a perfect dinner setting could somehow heal the deep wounds within his family.

Rhaena had tried to dress appropriately, choosing a deep crimson dress that complemented her silver hair. She rarely dressed up for family gatherings lately, but this was different. This was Viserys’ house and despite everything, she at least somewhat respected the old man. He was her uncle and had always been kind to her and Baela, even if his kindness was sometimes overshadowed by his stubborn denial of the family's fractures. Tonight, she wanted to show her appreciation at least in the small way of presenting herself well.

As she took her seat at the long table, she noticed the way the hem of her dress shimmered under the candlelight, catching the eyes of those around her. Daeron, seated across from her, flushed slightly when she met his gaze. He quickly looked down at his plate, fiddling with his fork as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Rhaena smiled to herself. His shy admiration was almost charming in its innocence, a rare thing in their family’s bubble.

The smile quickly faded as she surveyed the rest of the table. Her father Daemon was lounging in his chair. His posture relaxed, but his eyes gleaming with an ever present amusement at his niece and her stepmother glaring at each other. He hadn't said much since everyone arrived, content to watch the proceedings with the detached air of someone observing a particularly amusing play. Rhaena knew better than to expect any warmth or fatherly affection from him. Daemon had always been more interested in the spectacle of power and conflict than in the quiet nuances of family life. Totally different from her mother.

Viserys, sitting at the head of the table, was the picture of a proud patriarch. His thinning silver hair brushed back and his robes carefully chosen to exude authority. His wife sat beside him, a woman who had long since learned to mask her discomfort at these gatherings. She was not of Targaryen blood, and Daemon made sure she felt that every time they were in the same room. Laena was absent by choice. Rhaena could almost hear her mother's voice in her head, dismissing the dinner with a wave and a wry smile. "Let them play their games," Laena had said earlier that day. "I have no interest in watching them tear each other apart over grudges."

Rhaena had wished, just for a moment, that her mother had come along, if only to have someone else in the room who saw the absurdity of it all. But Laena had always been different from Daemon. She was a peaceful woman and found no joy in the theatrics of Targaryen drama.

The food began to arrive, course after course of rich decadent dishes that seemed to go unnoticed by most at the table. Rhaena ate slowly, not really tasting the steak and her mind wandered back to how they had all ended up here. How the fractures in the family had started and why they seemed impossible to mend.

At least for her six years ago, everything was different. Rhaena and Baela had lived far away, under the warm sun of Essos, shielded from the growing storm in Westeros. Daemon had taken them there when they were so young, they had no idea what was happening in Westeros. She and Baela had been oblivious to the brewing tensions, enjoying their childhood in relative peace. They were completely unaware of the battle lines being drawn back home.

It was only after they returned that Rhaena began to understand just how deep the rifts had become. Aemond's missing eye at the hands of his nephew was the most visible reminder, a scar that symbolized the enmity between their branches of the family. The fight between Aemond and their cousins Jace and Luke had been brutal, and the aftermath even more so. What might have been a temporary squabble had escalated into something far more serious, with both sides harboring grudges that would not easily be forgotten.

Aemond, who now sat at the table with a cold, calculating expression, had become a figure of quiet menace. His resentment was palpable, his every word and gesture laced with an undercurrent of hostility. Aegon, seated beside him, was a different kind of danger the girls only noticed because of his inappropriate comments. His lewd comments and inappropriate behavior, especially toward Baela, made Rhaena's skin crawl. But Baela, ever strong-willed, had learned to brush off his advances with biting remarks that left Aegon seething.

Jace sat near Baela and he was a different matter entirely. The girls quickly grew to learn his temper flared easily. He and Baela had grown close since the girls came back, their relationship tinged with flirtation.

There were so many people and conflict Rhaena couldn’t keep up, so she rested her attention back on Daeron. The sweet and earnest Daeron who had been kept away from much of the family's turmoil. He lived with their Hightower uncle far from the political and personal strife that consumed the rest of them, only recent;y returning. Unlike his siblings, he bore no ill will toward anyone, but he wasn’t naive either. He knew the tensions ran deep and he tried his best to stay out of the fray.

Rhaena’s thoughts were interrupted as Viserys cleared his throat, raising his glass in a toast. His voice, though warm, carried a note of desperation as he spoke of family unity and the importance of coming together for the holidays. All of the teenagers were there on winter break from school. Around the table, there were polite nods and forced smiles, but Rhaena could feel the disdain simmering beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

She glanced at Daeron again, who was now nervously sipping his drink trying to avoid attention. Rhaena felt a pang of sympathy for him. He was caught in the middle, much like she was, trying to navigate the treacherous waters of family loyalty and personal affection. She wondered how long he would last before the inevitable conflict dragged him down, just like most of them.

As Viserys' speech drew to a close, Rhaena found herself wondering how this dinner would end. With any luck, it would pass uneventfully, each member of the family retreating to their corners and nursing their grievances in private. But she knew better than to hope for that. In a family like hers, peace was always temporary, and the next eruption was never far off.

And so, she sat back and let her smile return, albeit a bit more strained as she prepared to watch the night unfold.

The silver clinked softly against the fine china, the only sound breaking the strained silence as the family picked at their food. Rhaena’s eyes flickered around the table. She tried to focus on her food, but she couldn’t help but notice the way Aegon’s eyes slid lazily over to Baela, then to her. There was something unsettling in his gaze, a glint of something that made her skin crawl. He leaned back in his chair, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You know,” Aegon drawled, his voice just loud enough for the table to hear, “it’s a shame Aunt Laena didn’t join us tonight. I always did wonder what kept her so…occupied. Maybe she prefers more adventurous company.” His smirk deepened as he took a slow sip of his wine, eyes lingering on Baela in a way that made her stomach twist.

Baela stiffened beside her, but Rhaena forced herself to stay calm, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. She knew better than to take the bait. Aegon’s remarks were always laced with just enough innuendo to provoke, without ever crossing the line into outright insult.

Daemon, who had been largely silent throughout the meal, finally looked up with his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “Laena has better things to do than waste her time on the likes of you children,” he said, his voice cutting. “Not everyone is as desperate for attention as certain Hightowers seem to be.”

Viserys shot him a warning look but Daemon merely shrugged, his expression nothing but indifference. The jab at the Hightowers hung in the air, a deliberate provocation that was ignored by no one.

As the adults resumed their own conversations, seemingly unaware of the rising tension at the other end of the table, the teenagers began to speak among themselves in lower tones, careful not to draw too much attention. Rhaena leaned slightly closer to Daeron, hoping to find some neutral ground. “How’s school?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daeron looked up, his eyes grateful for the distraction. “It’s fine,” he replied, his voice also low. “Different from being here.”

Rhaena offered him a small, sympathetic smile. “I can imagine. Must be strange coming back to all this.”

Before Daeron could respond, Aemond’s voice cut through their conversation, his tone deceptively polite. “I’m sure Daeron is adjusting well enough. After all, he’s had the luxury of avoiding the more complicated aspects of this family.”

Jace, who had been sitting quietly beside Baela, glanced up to see Aemond staring at him, his voice measured but tinged with resentment. “Not everyone gets to avoid complications, Aemond. Some of us in this family have to deal with them head-on.”

Aemond’s single eye gleamed with something dangerous as he regarded his nephew. “It’s interesting Jace, how you always seem to think you’re entitled to speak on matters of blood and family. Especially considering.” He paused before continuing, “well, let’s just say not all bloodlines are created equal.”

Jace’s face darkened, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his temper in check. “Careful, Aemond.”

Aemond smiled sharp and cold. “Just speaking the truth. But if the truth makes you uncomfortable, perhaps you should reconsider your place at this table.”

Baela, who had been watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, let out a short, humorless laugh. “Boys and your ridiculous need to flex and fight. It’s almost entertaining. Almost.”

Aemond’s smile was thin and cruel. “I'm only saying that some of us have purer blood than others. Not everyone at this table can claim to be a true Targaryen.”

Rhaena felt the tension escalating and shifted in her seat. She glanced at Daeron, who seemed frozen, his eyes darting between his siblings and Jace.

The words hung in the air, and Rhaena felt the temperature in the room drop. Jace’s face flushed with anger as he pushed back his chair and stood, his fists clenched.

“What did you say ?” Jace’s voice was low, laced with fury, his eyes locked on Aemond.

Aemond slowly rose from his seat, his expression one of cold anticipation. “You heard me. Or are your ears as common as the rest of you?”

Aegon, always eager for a fight, was up in a flash, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. “Finally,” he muttered, flexing his fingers. “I’ve been waiting for another chance to put you in your place.”

Baela stood as well, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped, though she didn’t back down. “You’re all behaving like children.”

Aegon leered at her, his smile turning vile. “Oh Baela, I like it when you’re feisty. Maybe we should continue this conversation later, privately?”

The disgust in Baela’s eyes was immediate, but before she could respond, Rhaena shot to her feet, her voice firm and commanding. “Everyone, just sit down and have dinner.”

Everything about Aegon disgusted her.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to Rhaena, his expression darkening. “You sit down. You’re just a whiny little girl, and no one asked for your opinion.”

The insult hit Rhaena hard, she couldn’t even gather a reaction to Aemond’s unneccsary rudeness before Daeron stood abruptly, his face flushed with anger. For a moment, his eyes locked with Aemond’s.

A moment passed with Daeron taking a deep breath, shifting his stance so he faced the other side of the table instead of his brother. He raised his voice, ensuring the adults at the other end of the table could hear. “Jace, stop instigating fights,” he commanded, his tone loud and clear. “We’re here to have dinner, not to have a bar room brawl. Everyone please sit down.”

Aegon burst into laughter, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Look at Daeron, trying to be the responsible one. How noble.”

Aemond smiled, clearly pleased with what he perceived as Daeron taking his side. “Let’s not ruin my father's dinner.”

Jace hesitated, his fists still clenched, but after a tense moment he reluctantly sat back down, glaring daggers at the entire other side of the table. Baela followed suit, her expression a mix of irritation and disgust, though she kept her gaze fixed on Aegon with her clear distaste.

Rhaena slowly lowered herself back into her seat. She glanced at Daeron, who was now sitting back down as well, avoiding her gaze but clearly still troubled. The adults exchanged puzzled looks but said nothing, unsure of what had just transpired.

Viserys, desperate to restore some semblance of normalcy, raised his glass in a toast. His voice was slightly strained as he tried to bring the focus back to the meal. “To family,” he said, though the words rang hollow in the strained atmosphere.

As the conversation resumed in stilted, awkward tones, Rhaena couldn’t shake the feeling that the fragile peace would not last. Daeron’s actions, though seemingly aligned with his brothers, had been motivated by something far deeper. And in this family, true intentions were rarely what they appeared to be.

The weeks following the disastrous dinner were tense and uneasy, with the aftermath of the confrontation lingering like a dark cloud over the family. Baela, never one to keep things bottled up, had immediately told their grandmother what had happened. The adults remained divided, with Daemon continuing to stoke the flames of discord whenever he had the chance. Meanwhile, the teenagers kept their distance from one another, interactions laced with an undercurrent of hostility and unspoken tension.

Rhaena found herself withdrawing more than usual, retreating to the comfort of books, friends, and solitary walks with her shih-tzu Morning. The lingering tension left her uneasy, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath the surface.

It was on one of those solitary walks that she found herself in a small, quaint bookshop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. She’d left Morning at home this time, not having to worry about the dog. The shop was a haven of peace, with the smell of old paper and ink filling the air, the soft rustle of pages turning creating a soothing backdrop.

Rhaena was lost in the pages of an old history book, her mind temporarily freed from the weight of family drama, when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Rhaena?”

She turned to see Daeron standing a few feet away, a look of genuine surprise on his face. He was holding a book in one hand, his expression lighting up as he realized it was really her.

“Daeron,” Rhaena greeted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “What are you doing here?”

Daeron took a step closer, his demeanor noticeably relaxed, a stark contrast to how he had been at dinner. “I come here a lot, actually. It’s a good place to clear my head. I didn’t expect to run into you, though.”

Rhaena nodded, closing the book she had been browsing. “I was just looking around. I was bored, I guess.”

“Same here,” Daeron admitted, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. He hesitated for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before speaking again. “It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve had a chance to talk. You know, without everyone else around.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made Rhaena’s smile widen. Despite the craziness between their families, Daeron had always been a calming presence, someone who didn’t seem to fit the mold of the typical Targaryen.

“Yeah, it has been a while,” she agreed. “It’s nice to get away from all the drama.”

Daeron chuckled softly, a sound that eased some of the lingering tension in Rhaena’s chest. “You’re right about that. You wanna grab a coffee? There’s a café just down the street. It’s quiet, and the food is pretty good.”

Rhaena was taken aback by the invitation but found herself nodding almost immediately. “I’d like that,” she said, her smile genuine.

Daeron’s face lit up with relief, as if he’d been worried she might say no. “Let me just pay for this, and we can head over.”

As Daeron rushed to the counter, Rhaena felt a small, unexpected flutter in her chest. It had been weeks of stress and uncertainty, but here things felt so normal. She found herself looking forward to the simple pleasure of being away from the prying eyes and whispered judgments of their family.

For a moment, as she watched Daeron pay for his book, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still room for peace in their fractured world. And perhaps, in this small moment of reprieve, they could both find a little bit of that peace together.

The café was a warm, inviting space, filled with the comforting aroma of espresso and freshly baked pastries. It reminded Rhaena of her time in Pentos. Soft music played in the background, mingling with the murmur of quiet conversations from other patrons. Rhaena and Daeron had found a cozy corner table by the window, where they could watch the world go by while enjoying the atmosphere inside.

“So,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his latte, “what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you recently?”

Rhaena laughed, shaking her head. “What? I’m not sure I should tell you. You’ll probably never let me live it down.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Daeron teased, leaning in slightly. “But that’s why I want to know.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but there was a smile on her lips. “Fine. I accidentally walked into the wrong classroom at the start of the semester and didn’t realize it until halfway through the lecture. I just sat there, completely lost, trying to figure out why none of it made sense. It was a senior’s advanced chemistry class.”

Daeron chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “And here I was, thinking you were always the perfect student. Guess you’re human after all.”

Rhaena stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. What about you? Any embarrassing moments you’d care to share?”

He leaned, pretending to think deeply before telling her. “Hmm, let’s see. Oh! I tripped in the hallway last month while trying to impress a new friend. Landed flat on my face. Not exactly the best way to make a good first impression.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Did he see you?”

“Oh, he noticed,” Daeron said with a grin. “But probably not in the way I wanted. He helped me up, though, so I guess that’s something.”

Rhaena’s laughter was infectious, and Daeron found himself relaxing even more. There was something about her that made him feel at ease.

“You know,” Daeron said after a moment, his tone turning more sincere, “I’ve always thought you had this. I don’t know, this aura about you. Like you’re above all the craziness, just gliding through it with so calm and collected.”

Rhaena raised an eyebrow with a small smile playing on her lips.

He leaned in a bit closer. “I mean, you just seem to have it all together. I don’t know how you’ve dealt with our family like this. It’s impressive.”

She looked at him, a mix of surprise and warmth in her eyes. “Thanks but honestly, I’m just as lost as everyone else. Maybe I just hide it better.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job at it,” Daeron said, his voice dropping slightly as he held her gaze.

Rhaena felt a flutter in her chest at his words, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. She wasn’t used to getting compliments like that.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied, her voice softening. “You know, you’re way more interesting than you let on.”

“Interesting, huh?” Daeron grinned, clearly pleased. “I’ll take that.” He paused before continuing, “I’m glad we finally got the chance to hang out, just the two of us. It’s been nice.”

“Yeah, it really has,” Rhaena agreed, smiling back at him. “We should do this more often.”

They continued talking, their conversation flowing effortlessly as the minutes turned into hours. They joked, debated their favorite books, and even made plans to visit a few other places they both liked. The easy banter between them was punctuated with moments of comfortable silence.

It wasn’t until Rhaena glanced out the window that she realized how much time had passed. The once bright sky had darkened, the streetlights outside casting long shadows on the sidewalk as the snow started pouring down. She gasped, her eyes widening in alarm.

“It’s already dark! My mom’s going to freak out.”

Daeron looked at his watch, then back at her, chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sixteen now, I’ve got my license. I can drive you home.”

Rhaena visibly relaxed, though a hint of panic remained in her voice. “Okay, thanks. I'll text my mom and let her know I’m safe.”

She pulled out her phone and sent a text, explaining where she was and that she’d be home soon. As she did, Daeron leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand with a smile that was half amused, half affectionate.

“You know,” he said still holding his smile, “I won’t even text anyone. They probably haven't even noticed I’m gone. Sometimes they forget I even moved back in.”

Rhaena paused, looking up from her phone, her expression softening. “That’s sucks.”

He shrugged, playing it off casually. “It’s whatever. I’m kind of used to it by now.”

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice gentle. “I get it, though. My dad pretty much ignores me most of the time. And I overheard my granddad once saying he doesn’t think I know anything.”

She laughed at the absurdity of it when Daeron’s eyes met hers. For a moment, they both shared a silent understanding before he spoke again.

“It’s like we’re invisible sometimes,” Daeron said quietly, his voice tinged with bitterness and acceptance.

“Yeah,” Rhaena agreed softly, nodding. “Like they’re so wrapped up in their own worlds that they don’t even see us.”

For a brief moment, the lighthearted atmosphere dimmed, replaced by the weight of their shared experiences. But then, Daeron reached across the table and gently tapped her hand, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

“Well, at least we’re not invisible to each other,” he said, his tone warm and sincere.

Rhaena’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself smiling back, the warmth of his words spreading through her. “Yeah.”

They stayed in the café a little while longer, finishing their drinks and slipping back into their easy banter. When they finally decided it was time to leave, Daeron led the way to his car and they drove through the quiet, dark streets. As they pulled up in front of her house, Rhaena turned to him with a grateful smile. “That was fun.”

“Anytime,” he replied. “I’m glad we ran into each other. We should do this again.”

“We should,” she said. With a final lingering look, she got out of the car and headed inside, feeling lighter and happier than she had in weeks.

As Daeron drove away, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, already looking forward to the next time he could spend with her. Whatever the future held, he knew one thing for surs, moments like these were worth holding on to.

Rhaena walked into the house with a lightness in her step, a smile lingering on her lips. The warmth from her time with Daeron still wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and she was eager to share it with her mom. As she headed toward the kitchen, where she could hear the familiar clatter of baking, she rehearsed what she would say: Daeron brought me home, she’d begin, maybe with a bit of teasing about how he was surprisingly good company.

But as soon as she stepped into the kitchen, she was met with the unmistakable sound of her father’s voice, raised in frustration.

“Those fucking Hightowers,” Daemon was ranting, his hands gripping the edge of the marble counter as he paced back and forth. “Otto thinks he can push me out, does he? Thinks he can make me disappear just because I’m ‘untrustworthy’? I’d like to see him try. They’re all the same, all of them treacherous, backstabbing pussies.”

Laena was at the island, calmly rolling out dough for cookies, her expression a mix of patience and amusement as she pretended to listen. She did this all the time with him. Every so often, she would hum in response, her focus more on the dough than on Daemon’s tirade. Next to her, Rhaena saw Daenaera sitting in her high chair, happily playing with a small squid toy and babbling to herself. She knew her mom had done the girl’s hair. Her hair was styled the same way her and Baela’s were styled when they were younger. Rhaena watched as her braided pigtails swung, and the girl looked utterly content, oblivious to the tension around her.

Rhaena hesitated in the doorway, her earlier excitement fading as she took in the scene. She was about to retreat quietly when Baela came bounding down the stairs, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the kitchen.

“I’m so hungry” Baela asked, a hopeful grin on her face as she headed straight for the counter.

Laena smiled warmly at her daughter. “These snickerdoodles aren’t quite ready yet. You’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

Baela groaned dramatically, leaning to pick Daenaera up.

Rhaena finally stepped fully into the kitchen despite the undercurrent of tension from Daemon still being there. “I didn’t know Daenaera was staying with us.”

Baela straightened up, smiling at Rhaena. “Yeah, I’m babysitting. She’s been an angel so far.”

Daemon’s voice broke through the moment, sharp and filled with venom. “I want you both to listen to me, and listen well,” he said, turning to face his daughters. “You stay away from the Hightowers. All of them. They’re nothing but trouble. They’re conniving, deceitful, and dangerous. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them.”

Laena, ever the diplomat, continued to roll out the dough, her voice soothing as she spoke. “Daemon, darling, I’m sure the girls know to be cautious. There’s no need to worry them.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his expression dark. “No, Laena, they need to understand. The Hightowers are our enemies. And if Otto thinks he can push me out, he’s got another thing coming. I’ll see every last one of them dead before I let that happen.”

Rhaena felt a chill run down her spine at her father’s words. She glanced at Baela, who was still trying to keep things light, but even she couldn’t hide the discomfort in her eyes.

Baela cleared her throat, attempting to change the subject. “So, Mom, when will those cookies be ready? I think Daenaera’s getting impatient.” She smiled down at the toddler, who was now reaching out for one of the mixing bowls, her chubby fingers grasping at the air.

Laena, sensing the need to defuse the situation, nodded and began cutting the dough into shapes. “Not long now. Why don’t you girls take Daenaera into the living room and play with her until they’re ready?”

Baela didn’t need to be told twice, quickly twirling around. “Come on, Rhaena.”

Rhaena hesitated, glancing back at her father, who had resumed his pacing, muttering darkly under his breath. Laena caught her eye and gave her a reassuring smile, nodding toward the door as if to say, It’s okay, go ahead.

Rhaena forced a smile and nodded, following Baela and Daenaera out of the kitchen. As they moved into the living room, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders, the oppressive atmosphere of the kitchen fading as they left it behind.

Baela plopped down on the floor with Daenaera, who immediately started playing with a set of colorful blocks, giggling as Baela made them into a tower. Rhaena sat down beside them, her earlier happiness beginning to return.

“So,” Baela began, glancing over at Rhaena with a teasing grin, “what’s the story? You walked in here looking like you’d just won the lottery.”

Rhaena blushed slightly, the memory of her time with Daeron flooding back. “I ran into Daeron and we ended up spending all day together. “He even drove me home,” Rhaena said with a small smile, her earlier happiness bubbling up again as she recounted the evening.

Baela’s expression quickly shifted from curiosity to concern, her playful grin fading. “Rhaena,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure their father wasn’t nearby, “you went out with Daeron? What were you thinking?”

Rhaena’s smile faltered. “What do you mean? We just hung out, it wasn’t a big deal.”

Baela leaned in closer, her voice low and urgent. “It is a big deal. You know how Dad feels about the Hightowers, and that includes Daeron. You can’t tell anyone else about this, and you definitely can’t do it again.”

“But we didn’t do anything wrong,” Rhaena whispered back, her heart sinking at Baela’s words. “We were just talking.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Baela insisted, her eyes pleading with Rhaena to understand. “If Dad finds out, he’ll go ballistic. Just promise me you won’t see him again, okay? For your own sake.”

Rhaena nodded slowly, feeling the weight of Baela’s words pressing down on her. “Finee,” she whispered, though her voice was tinged with sadness.

Baela offered her a sympathetic look, but before she could say more, Daenaera tugged on her arm, demanding her attention. “Okay, sweetie, let’s build another tower,” Baela said, turning her focus back to the toddler, leaving Rhaena to grapple with her swirling emotions.

Rhaena stood up and the warmth of the evening quickly slipping away, replaced by a cold emptiness. She excused herself quietly and made her way upstairs to her room, trying to process everything that had just happened.

As she passed the kitchen, she overheard her father’s voice, sharp and filled with anger. “I want every last Hightower dead,” he was saying, the venom in his words unmistakable. “They’re a blight on this family, and I won’t rest until they’re all gone.”

Rhaena felt a lump form in her throat as she hurried past, the weight of his words crushing the hope she had felt earlier.

Once in her room, she collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She thought back to the way Daeron had made her laugh, how he had told her stories, and how normal everything had felt in those brief moments. It hurt to think that they had been purposely sent to different schools, kept apart as if to ensure they would never grow close. Daeron was the same age as Baela; they could have grown up together, formed bonds that might have helped bridge the divide between their families.

Rhaena sighed.

Instead, she felt trapped. Caught between her loyalty to her family and the connection she was beginning to form with Daeron. A connection that now felt impossible to maintain.

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes and trying to push the sadness away. But just as she was beginning to drift into a restless sleep, her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She reached for it, blinking against the brightness of the screen.

It was a text from Daeron: Good night, Rhaena 😊

Rhaena felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips despite everything. She had given him her number earlier without thinking much of it, but now the gesture felt significant, like a lifeline in the dark.

As she typed out a quick reply, she made a quiet vow to herself. She could still talk to Daeron, still maintain that connection. She just wouldn’t tell anyone about it. It would be their secret, a small rebellion against the forces keeping them apart.

With that thought, she placed her phone back on the table and curled up under the covers, the sadness in her heart eased by the simple comfort of knowing that someone out there cared. And as she drifted off to sleep, the smile on her face remained, holding onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to keep Daeron in her life.

Winter break had come and gone, and the chill of January settled over the city as Rhaena returned to school. The hallways were filled with the usual buzz of students catching up after the holidays, but Rhaena’s thoughts were elsewhere. Every time her phone buzzed in her pocket, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Over the past few days, she and Daeron had fallen into an easy rhythm of texting each other. It started with simple messages, jokes to pass the time during class, requests for quiz answers when one of them was stuck, and playful banter that made the school day go by just a little bit faster.

Rhaena hadn’t mentioned anything about what Daemon had said, and Baela, caught up in her own world, seemed to have forgotten all about that night. Rhaena was relieved. It made it easier to keep her connection with Daeron a secret.

In class, Rhaena would sneak glances at her phone under her desk, quickly typing out replies to Daeron’s messages. He had a knack for making her laugh, sending her ridiculous memes or coming up with silly nicknames that brightened her day. They would quiz each other on their homework, though Rhaena suspected that Daeron was only half-serious when he asked for answers. He seemed to enjoy the game more than anything.

Days turned into weeks, and their conversations became a constant part of Rhaena’s routine. It was their little secret, a lifeline that kept her grounded even as the tension at home lingered in the background.

One afternoon, after the final bell rang, Rhaena made her way to the library, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She told Baela she’d be studying late, but she was looking forward to some quiet time where she could talk to Daeron without interruption.

The library was nearly empty, with only a few students scattered around, hunched over their books. Rhaena found a secluded corner near the back, away from prying eyes, and pulled out her phone. She hesitated for a moment, then tapped Daeron’s name in her contacts and hit the call button.

The phone rang twice before Daeron’s voice came through. “Hey, Rhaena. Miss me already?”

Rhaena grinned, leaning back in her chair. “You wish. I’m just trying to avoid studying.”

“Always a good strategy,” Daeron replied, the sound of his car’s engine humming in the background. “Where are you?”

“The library,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Supposedly studying, but really just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

“Flattering,” Daeron said, his tone teasing. “But you know, I’ve got a pretty good excuse for not studying too. I’m driving. Makes it kind of hard to hit the books.”

“Where are you going?” Rhaena asked, curious.

“Just cruising around,” he answered casually. “It’s nice to be out on the road, clear my head. At least now, it gives me a chance to talk to you without anyone listening in.”

Rhaena felt a warm flush spread through her chest. “I guess we’re both sneaking around, then. This is becoming a habit.”

“Not a bad one, though,” Daeron said, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It’s nice, having someone to talk to who actually gets it. Feels… normal, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rhaena agreed softly, twirling a loc of hair around her finger. “It really does.”

There was a comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that comes when two people are completely at ease with each other. Then Daeron spoke again, his voice lighter this time. “So, what’s your excuse for avoiding studying today? Or are you just procrastinating as usual?”

“Maybe a little of both,” Rhaena admitted. “But mostly, I just wanted to talk. Don’t get too cocky about it.”

“Oh, I’m already feeling pretty smug,” Daeron teased. “But seriously, Rhaena, you can call me anytime. You don’t need an excuse.”

Rhaena’s heart fluttered at his words, and she found herself smiling uncontrollably. “You know, Daeron, you’re actually not as annoying as I thought you’d be.”

“High praise,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll take what I can get.”

Their conversation continued, light and playful, with Daeron occasionally telling her about something he saw on the road or sharing a funny story from his day. It was easy, being with him like this, even if they were miles apart.

Eventually, the sun began to set, and Rhaena glanced at the time, realizing she’d been on the phone with Daeron for longer than she’d intended. But she didn’t want to hang up just yet.

“Daeron,” she said, her voice softening, “thanks for this. It’s been nice, having you to talk to.”

“Same here,” Daeron replied, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice. “You made coming back here alot easier.”

She blushed at his words, biting her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Me too. But I should probably get going before the librarian kicks me out.”

“Alright,” Daeron said, sounding a little disappointed. “But promise me we’ll do this again soon.”

“I promise,” Rhaena said, her voice light with the promise of more conversations to come. “Goodnight, Daeron.”

“Goodnight, Rhaena,” he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

With that, Rhaena ended the call and slipped her phone back into her bag, her heart still fluttering from their conversation. As she gathered her things and made her way out of the library, she couldn’t help but feel a warm glow inside. As she stepped out into the cool evening air, she knew one thing for sure: this was just the beginning.

It was a quiet Saturday morning when Rhaena finally dragged herself out of bed and headed downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifting through the house. She didn’t expect to find anyone but her immediate family at this hour, so when she rounded the corner into the living room and saw her grandmother Rhaenys sitting on the couch, a smile spread across her face.

“Grandmother!” Rhaena exclaimed, her mood instantly lifting as she hurried over to embrace her. “I didn’t know you were coming over!”

Rhaenys, ever the regal presence, smiled warmly as she returned the hug. “Surprise, my dear. I thought it was time for a visit, and I brought a little something for you and Baela.”

Rhaena’s curiosity piqued as she noticed the small velvet pouch in her grandmother’s hand. “What is it?”

Before Rhaenys could answer Baela came bounding down the stairs, her face lighting up when she saw their grandmother. “You’re here!”

Rhaenys chuckled as Baela joined them, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Yes, and I brought something special for my grandbabies.”

She opened the pouch and carefully pulled out two sets of vintage jewelry, each piece intricately designed in red and black. The necklaces and bracelets were adorned with small dragon motifs, the craftsmanship exquisite.

“These belonged to my great, great grandmother,” Rhaenys explained, holding the jewelry out for them to see. “I thought it was time they were passed down to you.”

Rhaena’s eyes widened as she gently took one of the necklaces, the weight of it solid and reassuring in her hand. “They’re beautiful,” she breathed, awed by the delicate details. “Thank you, Grandmother.”

“Thank you!” Baela echoed, already fastening one of the bracelets around her wrist. “These are amazing!”

Laena stepped into the living room with a smile. “You always know how to spoil them,” she said, affection clear in her tone.

“Well, someone has to,” Rhaenys replied with a wink, before her expression turned more serious. “How have things been? I hear Daemon has been more difficult than usual.”

Laena sighed, her smile fading slightly. “He has. He’s been upset about those Hightowers again, more than usual lately. I think Otto is trying to push him out of the family business.”

Rhaenys snorted, her expression turning disdainful. “Daemon upset? What a surprise,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “He’s always been far too hot-headed for his own good. If he spent half as much time thinking as he does rambling, he might actually get somewhere.”

Laena couldn’t help but laugh, nodding in agreement. “You’re right about that.”

Rhaena, who had always felt that her father could be overly dramatic, was quietly relieved to see that she wasn’t the only one who thought so. But before she could fully enjoy the moment, Rhaenys’s tone shifted.

“But let’s not forget,�� Rhaenys continued, her voice taking on a somber note, “that the Hightowers are a real problem for our family. Targaryens should never be fighting among ourselves. It weakens us, and that’s exactly what they want.”

Rhaena looked at her grandmother, a question forming in her mind. “But what if one of them isn’t so bad?”

Rhaenys’s expression softened for a moment, but then she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Rhaena. The rift between our families started long before you or even that Aegon were born. Your father hated Otto Hightower with passion, and that animosity has only grown over the years. It’s not just about personal issues; it’s political. The Hightowers have always wanted more power, and they’ll use any means necessary to get it. That’s why they’re dangerous.”

Laena nodded in agreement, her brow furrowing slightly. “It’s true. All of them may not be horrible but there are serious implications if they manage to gain more influence within our family. It’s not something we can take lightly.”

Rhaena’s heart sank a little at her grandmother’s words. She had hoped that perhaps there was a way to bridge the gap between the families, to find some common ground. But hearing Rhaenys speak with such conviction made her realize just how deep the divide really was.

“Remember, Rhaena,” Rhaenys said gently, placing a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder, “we Targaryens are strongest when we stand together.”

Rhaena nodded, deep in thought as she looked down at the ancient Targaryen jewelry in her hands.

Baela, sensing the shift in mood, quickly changed the subject, chattering excitedly about how she couldn’t wait to receive her college acceptance letters. Rhaena smiled, but her thoughts were still on her grandmother’s words and on the connection she was trying to build with Daeron.

The Targaryens might be strongest when united, but what happened when that unity was threatened from within?

Since her conversation with her grandmother, Rhaena had found herself pulling back from Daeron. The warmth and excitement she once felt when their texts popped up on her screen were now tinged with uncertainty. She texted him less frequently at school, her replies growing shorter and less enthusiastic. The phone calls that had become a nightly ritual were now fewer and far between.

She couldn’t help but feel a growing unease whenever she thought about him. An unease fueled by her grandmother’s warnings and the weight of her family’s expectations.

One afternoon, as Rhaena lay on her bed listening to music, her phone buzzed with a message from Daeron: Meet me at the café?

She stared at the message for a moment, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to say no, to keep the distance she’d been trying to create. But another part of her, the part that still longed for the connection they had, couldn’t resist.

Okay, she texted back, feeling a pang of sadness as she got up to get ready.

When she arrived at the café, Daeron was already there, waiting for her with that familiar smile that had always made her feel so at ease. But today, it didn’t have the same effect. She managed a small smile in return as she approached him.

“Hey,” Daeron greeted her warmly, but his eyes searched hers as if sensing something was off.

“Hey,” Rhaena replied, her voice quieter than usual.

They ordered their drinks and sat down at their usual table, the conversation light and polite, but lacking the easy flow it once had. Rhaena found herself struggling to keep the mood upbeat, but the sadness lingering in her chest made it difficult.

After a while, Daeron suggested they head to the bookstore nearby. Rhaena agreed, hoping that being surrounded by books might help her relax.

They wandered through the aisles, browsing through the shelves and making small talk. But as they settled down on the floor in one of the quieter aisles, leaning back against the shelves with books scattered around them, Daeron couldn’t ignore the shift in Rhaena’s demeanor any longer.

“You’ve been different lately,” Daeron said gently, turning to look at her. “Is something wrong?”

Rhaena hesitated, picking at the spine of a book in her lap. She didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to admit that her family’s influence was creeping into the one thing that had been making her happy. But she couldn’t bring herself to lie either.

“I don’t know,” she finally said, her voice small. “I just, I’ve been thinking about what my grandmother said, about our family’s rift. With the business and the fighting. It’s complicated.”

Daeron’s expression softened with understanding, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Rhaena, I get it. My family’s been telling me the same thing. Stay away from your side of the family, don’t get too close, all that nonsense. But I’ve been ignoring them.”

Rhaena looked at him in surprise. “You have?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone earnest. “Because I don’t care about all that. I care about you. And I thought you felt the same way.”

Rhaena felt a wave of guilt crash over her. She did care about him, but the fear of what her family might think, of what might happen if they found out, had been eating away at her. She stood up suddenly, unable to bear the weight of it any longer. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this, Daeron. Maybe it’s better if we just stop.”

Daeron got to his feet as well, a look of determination in his eyes. “Rhaena, don’t say that. I know it’s hard, but we can’t let them control our lives like this.”

She shook her head, tears welling up as she turned to leave. But before she could take a step, Daeron reached out and gently took her hand, pulling her back toward him.

And then, without another word, he kissed her.

Rhaena froze, shocked by the suddenness of it, but the warmth of his lips against hers quickly melted away her hesitation. She found herself kissing him back, her heart pounding in her chest as all the emotions she had been holding back came rushing to the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, Rhaena was breathless, her mind spinning with the intensity of the moment. She looked up at Daeron, who was watching her with a mixture of hope and nervousness.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t let you walk away like that.”

Rhaena didn’t know what to say. She was still processing what had just happened, but one thing was clear: she didn’t want to walk away either.

“I…I should go,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. “I need to think.”

Daeron nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’ll take you home.”

They left the bookstore in silence, the weight of what had just happened hanging between them. When they reached Rhaena’s neighborhood, Daeron stopped the car a block away from her house, knowing it was safer..

“Thanks for the ride,” Rhaena said quietly, her hand on the door handle.

“Anytime,” Daeron replied, his voice soft. “Just, don’t shut me out okay?”

Rhaena paused, then nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”

She stepped out of the car and watched as Daeron drove away, her heart still racing from the kiss. As she walked the rest of the way home, she knew things had just become even more complicated. But despite the fear and uncertainty, she couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through her at the memory of Daeron’s kiss.

And as she slipped into her house, careful not to alert anyone to her late return, she knew one thing for sure: she wasn’t ready to give up on him just yet.

Rhaena couldn’t get Daeron’s kiss out of her mind. The memory of it lingered, confusing and exhilarating all at once. She found herself staring at her phone more often, wondering if he was thinking about it too, but she couldn’t bring herself to text him. The weight of everything her grandmother had said still hung over her, making her hesitant to reach out, even though part of her wanted nothing more.

A few days passed, and Rhaena continued her usual routine, but there was a restless energy in her that she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t until Saturday afternoon that her phone buzzed with a message from Daeron: Meet me at the park?

She frowned slightly, surprised by the change of location. They usually met at the café or the bookstore, but the park? It was less private, more open. Maybe that was the point, less chance of getting too serious.

Okay, see you in a bit, she replied, grabbing her jacket and heading out the door before she could overthink it.

When she arrived at the park, she found Daeron sitting on a bench near the pond, his face lit up by the sunlight filtering through the trees. He was tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks, looking almost serene. When he saw her approaching, he grinned and waved her over.

“You’re feeding ducks now?” Rhaena asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a seat beside him.

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” Daeron replied, tossing another handful of breadcrumbs into the water. “Besides, it’s relaxing. You should try it.”

Rhaena couldn’t help smiling as she watched the ducks scramble for the food. “So, why the park? We usually go somewhere with, you know, actual walls.”

Daeron shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Figured it was time to switch things up. Besides, I thought you could use a change of scenery.”

“Trying to keep things interesting, huh?” Rhaena teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Something like that,” Daeron said, grinning. “So, how’ve you been? You seemed a little off last time we talked.”

Rhaena hesitated, not sure how to answer. She wanted to be honest with him, but it was hard to put her feelings into words without sounding like a mess. “I don’t know. It’s just very complicated?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Daeron said, his tone more serious now. “But does it have to be? I mean, we’re not our parents. Why should we let their drama mess up something good?”

Rhaena bit her lip, looking out at the pond. “It’s not that simple, Daeron. It’s hard to just ignore everything.”

Daeron let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know but, it’s like, why should we be punished for something we didn’t even do? We didn’t choose to be born into this mess.”

Rhaena nodded, her emotions a jumble. She knew he was right in a way, but it still didn’t make the situation any easier. Rhaenys’ words echoed in her head. “I just don’t want us to get hurt, you know? Or make things worse.”

“We won’t,” Daeron said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He was trying to be strong for both of them, but she could tell he was just as confused and scared as she was.

There was a moment of silence between them, the only sound being the rustle of leaves and the occasional quack from the ducks. Rhaena felt the tension building, like there was something hanging in the air that neither of them knew how to address.

Finally, Daeron broke the silence, his voice softer. “Do you regret it? The kiss, I mean.”

Rhaena blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What? No.”

He looked at her, a mix of relief and something else in his eyes. “Good. Because I don’t either.”

Rhaena felt her cheeks flush, the memory of the kiss making her heart race all over again. “Everything’s moving so fast. I don’t know how to keep up.”

“You don’t have to,” Daeron said, leaning back against the bench. “We can slow down if you want. No pressure.”

Rhaena sighed, leaning back as well. “I don’t know what I want, honestly. It’s all so confusing.”

Daeron chuckled awkwardly. “Welcome to being a teenager and a Targaryen, I guess. Everything’s confusing all the time.”

Rhaena laughed too, the tension easing a little. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, just watching the ducks and the people passing by. It was peaceful brief escape.

After a while, Daeron turned to her with a mischievous grin. “Wanna go for a walk? Maybe we can find a spot with fewer ducks and more privacy.”

Rhaena raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re not planning to kiss me again, are you?”

Daeron pretended to think about it. “No promises. But I figured we could, you know, talk. Maybe figure out what we’re doing.”

“Talking sounds good,” Rhaena said, standing up and offering him her hand. “Lead the way.”

They walked through the park, weaving between trees and taking in the sights. Eventually, they found a quiet spot under a large oak tree, away from the main path. Daeron plopped down on the grass, and after a moment’s hesitation, Rhaena joined him.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Daeron asked, his tone more serious now.

Rhaena sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. She didn’t answer but Daeron almost read her mind.

"We’re our own people.”

Rhaena frowned, staring at the ground. “But it’s not just about what they think. It’s about what they might do if they find out.” He had no idea, Rhaena was thinking, how her father was.

“Then we don’t let them find out,” Daeron said, his voice firm. “We keep this between us. No one else has to know.”

Rhaena looked at him, a mixture of fear and hope in her eyes. “You really think we can do that?”

Daeron shrugged, but there was determination in his expression. “I think we can try. I mean, I’d rather try than just give up because of what they might do.”

Rhaena nodded, feeling a little more at ease. “Okay. We’ll keep it a secret, then.”

Daeron smiled, and for a moment, everything felt right again. They talked for a while longer, the conversation lightening as they joked about school, their favorite movies, and anything else that came to mind.

As the sun began to set, Daeron walked her back to the park entrance where she’d left her bike. “Need a ride home?” he offered, nodding toward his car parked nearby.

Rhaena shook her head, smiling. “No, I’m good. I’ll ride my bike back. But thanks.”

“Alright,” Daeron said, though he looked a little disappointed. “But text me when you get home, okay? Just so I know you made it safe.”

Rhaena nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I will. Thanks, Daeron.”

He grinned, leaning in as if to kiss her again, but then he hesitated, pulling back with a sheepish look. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah,” Rhaena said, her heart fluttering at the thought. “See you soon.”

As she pedaled away, Rhaena couldn’t help but smile. Things were complicated, messy, and far from perfect, but for now, she was okay with that. They were figuring it out, one step at a time.

The weeks following their kiss turned into months, and Rhaena and Daeron’s relationship grew stronger, even as they continued to keep it hidden from their families. They found ways to meet up in secret, using the cover of being out with friends or running errands. Their meetups became a mix of excitement and fear, the thrill of being together heightened by the risk of being caught.

At first, their meetings were innocent. Long walks in the park, late-night phone calls, and stolen moments in the bookstore. But as time passed, they became more comfortable with each other, finding secluded spots where they could be close without anyone knowing. They would cuddle under the stars in quiet corners of the park, their conversations flowing easily as they shared their hopes and fears.

One evening, Rhaena had a close call that made her heart race with panic. She was at home texting Daeron when Baela grabbed Rhaena’s phone to order pizza, and for a split second Rhaena’s heart stopped. She quickly snatched the phone back, making an excuse about needing to finish a conversation with someone from school. Baela didn’t think much of it, but the incident left Rhaena shaken.

After that, Rhaena became more careful. She started locking her phone and deleting her texts with Daeron as soon as they were sent. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out about them. Not when things were going so well. They both behaved normally around their families, careful not to let on that anything was different.

As the months passed the school year came to an end, and summer break arrived. The weather grew warmer, and the long days stretched out ahead of them, filled with the promise of more secret adventures. But Rhaena knew that summer also meant more time at home, where the walls seemed to close in on her whenever she couldn’t see Daeron.

One afternoon, as she was heading to the living room, Rhaena heard raised voices. She paused just outside the doorway, curiosity getting the better of her. Peeking around the corner, she saw her uncle Viserys standing in the middle of the large room, his expression filled with frustration and desperation. Her father sat on the couch, looking thoroughly miserable.

“Daemon, this is important,” Viserys was saying, his tone pleading. “You need to make things right with the Hightowers. This business deal is crucial, and I need you there to show your support. We can’t afford to have any more infighting.”

Daemon scowled, his jaw clenched. “You know how I feel about them, Viserys. Otto Hightower would love nothing more than to see me fail. Why should I help him?”

“Because this isn’t just about you!” Viserys snapped, his patience wearing thin. “This is about the family—our legacy. If we don’t pull together, we’ll lose everything we’ve worked for. Do you really want that?”

Rhaena’s heart raced as she listened, hardly daring to breathe. The tension in the room was palpable, and she knew that if Daemon refused, it could have serious consequences for their family.

Viserys took a deep breath, his tone softening as he tried a different approach. “Brother, I’m not asking you to like the man. I’m asking you to do what’s best for the family. Come to the lake house this summer. Make nice with the Hightowers, just for the sake of the business. That’s all I’m asking.”

There was a long pause, and Rhaena held her breath, waiting for her father’s response. Finally, Daemon sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Fine,” he muttered, clearly unhappy. “I’ll go to the damn lake house. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

Viserys looked relieved, though he didn’t smile. “That’s all I needed to hear. Thank you, brother.”

As Viserys left the room, Rhaena ducked back around the corner, her mind racing. She couldn’t believe it. Her family was going to the lake house for the summer, and the Hightowers would be there too. Despite her father’s reluctance, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect. It would be the perfect opportunity to see Daeron, even if it meant navigating the tense dynamics between their families.

She slipped away quietly, her thoughts buzzing with anticipation. Summer had just become a lot more interesting.

The car ride to the lake house was anything but peaceful. Daemon gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched as he launched into yet another rant about Otto Hightower. The girls sat in the back, exchanging knowing looks as their father’s voice filled the car.

“And do you know what that cunt did?” Daemon spat, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the rearview mirror. “He went around telling everyone in the business not to trust me. Said I was too unpredictable, too reckless. Can you believe that?”

Rhaena and Baela shared a glance, their expressions mirroring each other’s mix of skepticism and resignation. They both knew that their father wasn’t exactly the picture of innocence he liked to paint himself as. Daemon had a reputation for being volatile, and while Otto Hightower might have exaggerated, it wasn’t like Daemon hadn’t given him reasons to be wary.

Laena, sitting in the passenger seat, reached out and placed a calming hand on Daemon’s arm. “Daemon, we’ve talked about this. The past is the past. Let’s focus on making this visit as smooth as possible.”

Daemon huffed, clearly unhappy but not willing to argue with his wife. “I’m just saying, don’t trust them. And don’t be too nice to them, either,” he added, glancing back at his daughters. “They’ll take advantage of any weakness they see.”

Rhaena nodded, though she could feel the tension in her chest growing. The thought of spending time this summer with the Hightowers was enough to make her nervous, but with her father in this mood, she wasn’t sure how anything was going to go smoothly.

When they finally pulled up to the lake house, the tension in the car was palpable. The large, stately home loomed ahead of them, its windows gleaming in the afternoon sun. As they parked, Rhaena noticed Jace approaching their car, a friendly smile on his face. He opened the door for Laena, helping her out with a gentlemanly bow that made her laugh.

“Thank you, Jace,” Laena said, her tone warm and motherly. “You’ve grown into quite the young man.”

Jace grinned, then turned to Baela, his eyes lighting up as he saw her. “Baela, come on! I’ve got to show you this tire swing out back.”

Baela couldn’t help but smile at Jace’s enthusiasm, and she allowed him to take her hand and lead her away, casting a quick glance back at Rhaena as if to say, Wish me luck.

Rhaena watched them go, feeling a pang of envy at how easily Baela seemed to slip into the playful banter with Jace. But there was no time to dwell on it. Her father was already heading inside and Rhaena quickly followed, her heart pounding as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation.

As they stepped into the grand foyer, the tension was immediate. The Hightowers were waiting, their eyes fixed on Daemon with a mix of curiosity and barely concealed disdain. Otto Hightower stood at the forefront, his expression unreadable as he extended a hand.

“Daemon,” Otto greeted him, his voice cool. “Welcome.”

Daemon took the offered hand, though his grip was noticeably tight. “Otto.”

Laena, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a bright smile diffusing some of the tension. “It’s so lovely to see everyone again,” she said, her tone light and friendly. “Thank you for having us.”

Otto’s expression softened slightly as he turned to Laena. “Laena, always a pleasure. We’re glad you could join us.”

Rhaena, taking her cue from her mother, offered a polite smile as well. “Thank you for having us,” she echoed, though her voice was quieter.

As they exchanged pleasantries, Rhaena felt a pair of eyes on her and turned to see Aemond watching her with that familiar cold intensity. His gaze was piercing, and when he finally spoke, his words were laced with sarcasm.

“Rhaena,” Aemond said, his voice deceptively smooth, “I hope you’ll find our accommodations to your liking. It must be quite a change from what you’re used to.”

Rhaena stiffened at the comment, unsure how to respond. Before she could say anything, she caught sight of Daeron standing nearby, his expression darkening as he overheard Aemond’s words. He didn’t say anything, but Rhaena could see the frustration in his eyes.

Laena, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly stepped in. “I’m sure Rhaena will be just fine,” she said with a smile, her tone making it clear that the conversation was over. “Now, why don’t we all get settled in?”

Rhaena nodded, grateful for her mother’s intervention. She gave Daeron a small, apologetic smile before excusing herself and heading upstairs to set up her room. As she climbed the stairs, she couldn’t help but feel a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. The summer had only just begun, and already the tension between the families was palpable.

As she unpacked her things and arranged her room, Rhaena tried to push the encounter with Aemond out of her mind. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this summer was going to be anything but easy.

And yet, despite the unease, a small part of her couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. Daeron was here, and as complicated as things were, she was determined to make the most of the time they had together. Even if it meant navigating the minefield that was their family dynamics.

Hours later, the tension in the air was palpable as the Targaryens and Hightowers gathered in the spacious living room of the lake house. The adults were already beginning to clash, as Rhaena could hear the sharp tones of Alicent as she argued with Rhaenyra.

“This is exactly why things are the way they are, Rhaenyra,” Alicent snapped, her tone icy. “You always think you know what’s best, but look where that’s gotten us.”

“And you think pandering to Otto and his schemes is the solution?” Rhaenyra shot back, her eyes blazing with barely contained anger. “You’re just as blind as he is!”

Otto, standing nearby with a glass of wine in hand, merely raised an eyebrow at the exchange. “If we’re going to talk about business,” he began smoothly, “it’s worth mentioning that certain individuals have been less than reliable when it comes to keeping their commitments. A little more discipline might do wonders for our standing.”

Daemon, who had been quietly seething in a corner, bristled at Otto’s words. “Discipline?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “Is that your way of saying I should toe the line, Otto?”

Laena quickly stepped in. She placed a gentle hand on Daemon’s arm, her touch soothing. “Daemon, let’s not jump to conclusions,” she said softly, her voice a calming balm in the tense room. “We’re all here to work together, aren’t we?”

Daemon shot her a look, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but Laena’s steady presence seemed to quell the worst of it. He let out a frustrated breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he nodded.

Otto turned to Laena with a genuine smile. “You always had a way of bringing peace to even the most tumultuous situations, Laena. It’s a rare gift, and one I’m sure your daughters have inherited.”

Rhaena, who had been trying to stay out of the fray, couldn’t help but smile politely at Otto’s words. “We have, thank you,” she said softly, hoping to keep the mood light.

Viserys, standing beside Otto, beamed with approval.

Daemon, however, wasn’t as pleased. His jaw tightened, and he turned away slightly, clearly irritated by the praise being heaped on his wife and daughters by those he considered his enemies.

Before the drama could escalate further, Jace appeared at Rhaena’s side, a bright smile on his face. “Come on, guys,” he said.

Baela was quick to keep up with him, clearly eager to escape the adult drama. “Yeah, let’s go sit by the lake,” she suggested, linking her arm with Rhaena’s.

Grateful for the excuse to leave, Rhaena followed Jace and Baela out of the house and down to the lake, where the water sparkled invitingly under the afternoon sun. They found a shady spot under a tree and sat down, the tension of the house already beginning to fade.

Jace stretched out on the grass, his usual playful demeanor returning as he leaned back on his elbows. “So, how’s the summer treating you so far?” he asked, looking between Rhaena and Baela.

“It’s been interesting,” Rhaena replied with a small smile, glancing back at the house. “But I’m glad we’re all here together.”

Baela nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s been a while since we’ve all been in one place. Let’s just hope things don’t get too crazy.”

They chatted easily for a while, the conversation light and full of laughter. Rhaena found herself relaxing more and more, enjoying the simple pleasure of being with her sister and cousin. But as the sun continued to climb higher in the sky, she noticed someone approaching out of the corner of her eye.

She turned to see Daeron making his way toward them, his posture a little stiff as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. When he reached them, he sat down next to Rhaena, his expression casual as he greeted everyone.

“Hey,” he said, his tone light. “Mind if I join you guys?”

“Of course not,” Baela replied, though Rhaena noticed the subtle tension in Jace’s posture as Daeron sat down.

Jace forced a grin, trying to maintain the friendly atmosphere. “Sure, Daeron. The more, the merrier.”

Rhaena couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness as Daeron settled in beside her. He didn’t speak directly to her, instead keeping the conversation general, but she could feel his presence keenly, every brush of his arm against hers sending her heart racing.

Jace, who had been lounging casually on the grass, straightened slightly, his friendly demeanor faltering as he eyed Daeron. Baela, sitting on Rhaena’s other side, looked confused at first, her brow furrowing as she glanced between Daeron and Jace. It was clear she hadn’t expected Daeron to join them and the unspoken question hung in the air: Why was he here?

Daeron, however, kept his expression casual as if oblivious to the awkwardness settling around them. “So, what majors are you guys thinking about for college? I’ve been trying to figure mine out, but it’s harder than I thought.”

Baela blinked, the question catching her off guard. “Oh, um…I was thinking about something in the arts, maybe graphic design or animation,” she said, her tone cautious but warming as she spoke.

Jace, still wary, hesitated before answering. “I’m leaning toward something in engineering. My mom thinks it’s a good fit for me.” He glanced at Baela, who nodded encouragingly.

Rhaena didn’t mind being left out of the conversation. She was just happy to see the three of them talking, even if the tension hadn’t entirely disappeared. It was a small relief to watch them try to find common ground.

Baela, sensing the need to lighten the mood further, grinned and said, “You know, there’s this joke I heard about college majors. What do you call a person who graduated with a philosophy degree?”

Jace raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What?”

“A barista,” Baela said, laughing at her own joke.

Jace snorted rolling his eyes, and even Daeron cracked a smile. The three of them began to relax. The conversation flowed more naturally, with Jace and Baela discussing their plans and Daeron chiming in with his own thoughts. Rhaena listened contentedly, glad to see them getting along, even if only for a little while.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky Daeron shifted, glancing back toward the house. Rhaena followed his gaze and saw Aegon stepping out, lighting a cigarette as he made his way across the lawn. Behind him, Aemond emerged, his expression unreadable as he followed his older brother.

The sight of them seemed to jolt Daeron into action. He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his jeans. “I should get going,” he said, his tone casual but carrying an underlying urgency. The implication was clear: Aemond wouldn’t be pleased if he found Daeron here, laughing and chatting with them.

Jace, still trying to mask his confusion and annoyance, just nodded. “Yeah, catch you later, Daeron.”

Baela offered a small smile, still a bit puzzled by Daeron’s sudden arrival and departure. “See you around.”

Daeron gave them a quick nod, but before he turned to leave he met Rhaena’s eyes, holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. It was a look that said so much more than words could. An apology, a reassurance, and a promise all at once.

Rhaena felt her heart squeeze, her earlier contentment giving way to a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle. She watched as Daeron walked away, his pace quickening as he neared Aegon and Aemond.

From their spot by the lake, Rhaena, Baela, and Jace could see the three brothers talking, though they were too far away to hear the conversation. Aegon took a drag of his cigarette, then handed Daeron something. Rhaena squinted, realizing it was a can of beer.

As the brothers headed toward the water, stripping off their shirts to reveal the swim trunks underneath. She watched as Daeron cracked open the beer, taking a long drink before tossing the can aside and diving into the lake with Aegon and Aemond following close behind.

Rhaena looked away, trying to ignore the knot of worry tightening in her chest. She knew Daeron was trying to navigate the tricky dynamics between their families, just as she was. As the afternoon wore on, Rhaena tried to push her worries aside, focusing on the present moment. But no matter how hard she tried, the unease ling ered, a reminder that the fragile peace they had found was always on the verge of shattering.

The next day had been quiet for Rhaena. She had spent most of it finding a secluded spot by the lake where she could dip her feet in the cool water and lose herself in the pages of a book. It was a welcome escape from the tension that seemed to cling to the house, a place where she could pretend, if only for a little while, that everything was normal.

Her parents had been busy dealing with the Hightowers all day, their voices occasionally drifting through the open windows as they discussed business and tried to maintain a facade of civility. Rhaena hadn’t wanted to bother them, knowing how much effort it took for her father to keep his temper in check. She knew Jace and Baela wanted some time alone, so she let them be, content to enjoy the peace and quiet by herself.

But now, as dinner time approached, the quiet day gave way to a tense evening. The dining room was filled with the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversation, everyone seated around the large table, pretending to get along for Viserys’ sake.

Rhaena sat between her parents, her eyes downcast as she quietly ate her meal. Everyone sat composed but distant. The adults were engaged in polite conversation, their words carefully chosen to avoid any overt conflict, though the undercurrent of tension was impossible to miss.

“Of course, the partnership with the Tyrells has been beneficial,” Otto was saying, his tone smooth and practiced. “Their investments have brought in substantial returns, and I believe continuing this alliance will only strengthen our position.”

Daemon, who had been mostly silent throughout the meal, tightened his grip on his fork, his annoyance barely concealed. “And what of the risks?” he asked, his voice low but edged with frustration. “The Tyrells aren’t exactly known for their loyalty. If they decide to back out, we’ll be left holding the bag.”

Laena interjected. “Daemon has a point Otto, but perhaps there are ways to mitigate those risks. Maybe if we diversify our partnerships, we won’t be as vulnerable to any sudden changes in the Tyrells’ stance.”

Otto nodded thoughtfully, though his expression remained carefully neutral. “That’s certainly something to consider.”

Viserys, sitting at the head of the table, smiled approvingly clearly pleased with the conversation staying on track. As the adults continued their conversation, the teens sat in silence, their plates mostly untouched as they listened. Jace, seated beside Baela, noticed her pushing her food around her plate with a frown.

“You don’t like it?” he asked quietly.

Baela shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “Not really.”

Without a word, Jace swapped his plate with hers, offering her his meal instead. Baela smiled in thanks.

On the other side of the table, Aegon, clearly bored with the discussion, reached under the table and pulled out a can of beer. He cracked it open with a loud hiss, earning a few disapproving glances from the adults, but he merely smirked and took a long swig.

Jace deciding to extend the kindness Daeron had shown them earlier, glanced over and spoke “So,” he began, his tone friendly, “how are you guys enjoying the summer so far?”

Aegon let out a short laugh, clearly amused by the question. He leaned back in his wooden chair, giving Jace a mocking grin. “It’s been rather eventful,” he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aemond, seated beside Aegon, didn’t bother to respond. He simply stared at Jace, his expression unreadable but intense, as if daring him to speak to them again.

Rhaena shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling the awkwardness of the moment settle over the table like a heavy cloud. She glanced at Daeron, who was sitting quietly beside Aemond. For a brief moment, it looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated, his eyes flicking between everyone.

In the end, Daeron simply offered a small, tight-lipped smile, the tension in his posture betraying his discomfort. He knew better than to speak, especially with Aemond so close by. Rhaena could see the conflict in his eyes, the desire to at least try to bridge the gap between them warring with the pressure to stay loyal to his family.

The conversation at the table gradually resumed, the awkward moment passing but not forgotten. Rhaena quietly finished her meal, her thoughts drifting as the adults continued to talk business. The evening dragged on, the tension never fully dissipating, leaving Rhaena to wonder how long they could all keep up this fragile pretense of harmony.

The next day, the sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden light over the lake house and its surroundings. The adults were occupied with yet another round of tense discussions, and the others had scattered to find their own ways to pass the time. Rhaena had just started to wander along the shoreline when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Daeron approaching, his hands shoved in his pockets and a cautious smile on his face. The sight of him instantly sent a wave of warmth through her, easing the tightness in her chest that had been there since the previous evening's dinner.

“Hey,” Daeron greeted her, his voice soft as he closed the distance between them.

“Hey,” Rhaena replied, her own smile tugging at her lips. “I was just trying to find some quiet place.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Not at all,” Rhaena said, her heart beating a little faster as he fell into step beside her.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds being the soft lapping of the water against the shore and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was a comfortable silence, one that Rhaena found herself sinking into, grateful for the rare moment of calm in the midst of everything.

After a few minutes, Daeron glanced around to make sure they were out of sight from the house before he spoke. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” he admitted, his voice low. “It feels like we haven’t really had a chance to be alone since we got here.”

Rhaena nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “I know..”

Daeron continued walking his gaze fixed on the path ahead. “It’s like everyone’s just waiting for something to go wrong.”

They reached a secluded spot by the lake, hidden from view by a cluster of trees. Rhaena paused, taking in the quiet beauty of the place, before turning to face Daeron. “I’ve been feeling the same way,” she confessed. “It’s like we’re all walking on eggshells, trying not to set each other off.”

Daeron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hate it,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “I hate that we have to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not. And I hate that I can’t just be with you without worrying about what everyone else will do.”

Rhaena felt a pang of sympathy at his words, knowing that she shared the same worries. “I know,” she said softly. “It’s not fair.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their situation settling over them like a heavy blanket. But then Daeron reached out, gently taking Rhaena’s hand in his. The simple touch sent a jolt through her, and she looked up to find him watching her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

“I don’t care what they think, Rhaena,” Daeron said, his voice firm but quiet. “I just want to be with you.”

Rhaena’s breath caught in her throat at his words, and for a moment, all the worries and fears that had been swirling in her mind seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, alone by the lake, with no one to judge or interfere.

“I want that too,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around his.

Daeron smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, and Rhaena felt her own lips curve in response. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them, and Rhaena’s heart raced as she realized what was about to happen.

His hand gently cupped her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips met hers in a soft, tender kiss. The world seemed to melt away around them, leaving only the warmth of his kiss and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingertips.

When they finally pulled apart, Rhaena felt a little breathless, her cheeks flushed and her heart still pounding in her chest. Daeron’s hand lingered on her cheek, his thumb gently brushing against her skin as he looked at her with longing.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Rhaena admitted, her own voice trembling slightly. For a long moment, they simply stood there, their foreheads resting against each other as they basked in the warmth of the moment. It felt like a small victory, a brief respite from the storm that surrounded them.

Eventually, the reality of their situation began to creep back in. Rhaena knew they couldn’t stay hidden away forever.

“We should probably head back soon,” Daeron said reluctantly, clearly sensing her thoughts. “Before anyone notices we’re gone.”

Rhaena nodded though she wished they could stay here forever, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares. She knew Daeron was right.

She squeezed his hand in silent agreement as they began the walk back to the house, stealing glances at each other that spoke of the promise of more moments like this to come.

Days had gone by before they got the chance to steal a private moment again. The kitchen was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar as Rhaena carefully measured out flour, helping Laena prepare a batch of cupcakes for everyone. It was a rare moment of peace, the steady rhythm of baking a welcome distraction from the tension that seemed to permeate the large house.

Laena hummed softly as she worked, her movements graceful and practiced as she mixed the batter. Rhaena enjoyed these moments with her mother, the simplicity of the task making it easy to forget about the conflicts and complications.

As they poured the batter into the cupcake trays, the sound of footsteps approaching caught Rhaena’s attention. She looked up to see Daeron entering the kitchen, a tentative smile on his face as he entered.

“Hey,” he greeted them, his tone casual but warm.

Laena smiled back, always the picture of kindness. “Hello, Daeron,” she said, her voice light. “You’ve come at just the right time. We’re making cupcakes. Care to join us?”

Daeron seemed to relax at her invitation, “Sure, I’d like that,” he replied, stepping closer to the counter.

As he settled in on the bar stool, Laena glanced at him with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I’ve always liked the name Daeron,” she mused. “It’s the name of my cousin, actually. He has an adorable daughter named Daenaera.”

Daeron’s smile widened, clearly pleased by the compliment. “That’s a nice coincidence,” he said glancing at Rhaena, who couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Laena nodded, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “I think it’s a strong name, and it suits you.”

Daeron blushed, his gaze flicking to Rhaena again before he turned back to Laena.

As the cupcakes baked in the oven, Laena wiped her hands on a towel and turned to Rhaena. “I’m going to go take a quick shower while these finish baking,” she said. “Rhaena, can you handle the icing when they’re done?”

“Of course,” Rhaena replied, nodding.

Laena smiled at both of them before leaving the kitchen, Rhaena watched as her long curls disappear when the door swung shut behind her. The moment she was gone, the atmosphere shifted slightly.

Daeron turned to Rhaena, his expression softening as he left his chair to move closer to her.

Rhaena’s heart skipped a beat as he reached out to gently take her hand, his touch sending a familiar warmth through her. “Daeron,” she whispered, her voice low, “we can’t right now.n What if someone finds us?”

Daeron’s expression faltered, disappointment flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “No one’s around,” he said softly, trying to reassure her. “It’s just us.”

Before Rhaena could respond, the back kitchen door creaked open and they both turned to see Aemond standing in the doorway, his sharp gaze fixed on them. Rhaena’s heart leaped into her throat, and she quickly pulled her hand away from Daeron’s, taking a step back.

Aemond’s expression was unreadable, his eyes flicking between his brother and Rhaena with a cold intensity that made her stomach churn. He didn’t say anything at first, simply staring at them and the silence stretched out uncomfortably.

Finally, Aemond’s lips curled into a thin, mocking smile. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice dangerously smooth.

Rhaena couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and the uncertainty of it all made her pulse quicken with fear. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to explain but Daeron spoke first.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Aemond,” Daeron said, his tone defensive as he squared his shoulders. “We were just talking.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his smile widening slightly. “Talking?”

Rhaena watched the tension between the brothers escalate, her concern growing as Aemond took a step closer to Daeron, his expression darkening. “You should be careful, little brother,” Aemond said, his voice low and threatening. “You wouldn’t want to make any mistakes that could get you in trouble.”

Daeron’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he met Aemond’s gaze. “Maybe you should mind your own business,” he shot back, his tone steely.

Rhaena’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched the confrontation unfold, the anger simmering between the brothers making her increasingly uneasy. “Stop it,” Rhaena said, her voice pleading as she stepped between them, trying to calm them down. “There’s no need for this.”

But her attempt to intervene only seemed to make things worse. Aemond’s gaze snapped to her, and the coldness in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. “Stay out of this, girl,” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is between me and my brother.”

Rhaena flinched at his harsh words, but before she could react, Daeron moved her, his expression fierce. “Don’t talk to her like that,” he growled, his voice filled with anger. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Aemond’s eyes narrowed, his smile fading as he took another step closer, his presence looming over them both. “You’re getting awfully brave, Daeron,” he said quietly, his tone menacing. “I’d be careful if I were you.”

For a moment, it seemed like the tension might boil over into something worse, but then Aemond suddenly laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. He stepped back, shaking his head as if the entire situation was beneath him.

“Enjoy your little game while it lasts,” Aemond said, his voice laced with derision as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving them standing there in the wake of his threat.

Rhaena let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart still racing from the encounter. Daeron was still standing close, his protective stance relaxing now that Aemond was gone. He turned to look at her, concern etched in his features.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice gentle again.

Rhaena nodded, though the fear and unease still lingered in her chest. “I’m fine. I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

Daeron sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry, Rhaena. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rhaena assured him, her voice soft. “We have to be careful.That’s all.”

He nodded in agreement, though the disappointment in his eyes was clear. “I know. We’ll be careful.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension still lingering in the air, but now tempered by the understanding that they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. Rhaena wished things could be different, that they could be together without all the fear and complications.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as Rhaena walked down the hallway, her thoughts still swirling from the previous day’s events. The house was quieter than usual, a sign that most of the adults were still preoccupied with their own matters. As Rhaena roamed the hallway, she heard Baela’s voice, low and hushed, coming from one of the rooms.

Curious, Rhaena slowed her steps and quietly peeked inside. She saw Baela sitting on a loveseat, her phone pressed to her ear while she spoke in a soft, urgent tone. It didn’t take long for Rhaena to realize she was talking to their grandmother.

Baela’s expression was serious, her brow furrowed in concentration as she relayed the latest happenings at the lake house. “Yes, grandmother I told you, it’s been tense. We’re doing fine though.”

Rhaena frowned slightly as she listened, feeling a pang of unease. She hadn’t realized how much Baela had been confiding in their grandmother. Before she could dwell on it, Baela ended the call, letting out a small sigh of relief as she set her phone down.

Rhaena stepped into the room, making her presence known. “What did she say?”

Baela looked up, startled at first, but then she nodded. “Nothing, I’m just keeping her updated on what’s going on here. You know how she worries.”

She immediately went to fiddle with her nose ring, adjusting it into place.

Rhaena opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, their father strode into the room. His presence was commanding as ever, and Rhaena felt her usual surge of wariness whenever he was around.

“Baela,” Daemon said, his tone brisk and direct, “what did your grandparents say? How are they planning to help us?”

Rhaena bit back a sigh, feeling a flicker of irritation at how single-minded her father could be. It was always about what he could gain, what advantage he could leverage. She wanted to tell him that their grandmother’s concern wasn’t just a tool for his cause, but she knew better than to voice such thoughts.

Baela seemed unfazed. “She thinks we should keep playing along for now, keep the peace while we’re here. But her and grandfather also plan to talk to some of her contacts, see if there’s any way to push back against Otto.”

Daemon nodded, clearly satisfied with the response. “Good. We need every bit of leverage we can get.”

Rhaena watched the exchange, her frustration growing as she realized that Daemon hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. It was as if she were invisible, her thoughts and feelings irrelevant to whatever schemes he had in mind.

Before Daemon could leave, he turned back to Baela, his expression hardening. “Remember what I told you about these people. Their blood is tainted, and we can’t trust them. Don’t let your guard down. We’ll be leaving soon”

Baela nodded dutifully, but then she hesitated, her gaze flicking to Rhaena for a moment before she spoke. “Daeron was nice to us, at least he’s not a creep like Aegon.”

Rhaena’s heart skipped a beat at Baela’s words, anxiety bubbling up inside her. She could see the anger flash in Daemon’s eyes, his expression darkening as he processed what Baela had said.

“Nice?” Daemon echoed, his voice laced with disbelief and anger. “They’re sending that boy over to be a spy, to gain your trust so he can report back to them. Don’t be fooled by a friendly smile.”

Rhaena felt her pulse quicken, a surge of defensiveness rising within her. She knew she had to be careful, but she couldn’t help herself. “I thought it was genuine,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. “He doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that.”

Daemon scoffed, his contempt for the Hightowers evident in every word. “You’re being naive, Rhaena. You don’t know what they’re capable of. The uncle who raised Daeron attacked me before you were even born. They’re savages, all of them.”

Rhaena wanted to argue, to defend Daeron, but she knew she couldn’t risk raising suspicions. Not with Baela and Daemon both watching her so closely. Reluctantly, she swallowed her feelings and nodded. “I’ll be careful,” she said softly. “I’ll be nice to them, but only to appease Viserys.”

Daemon seemed to accept her words, his expression softening slightly. “Good. We’re only here for two more days. Play nice for your uncle’s sake until we leave.”

With that, Daemon turned and left the room, his presence leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Baela, seemingly oblivious to her sister’s inner turmoil, gave Rhaena a reassuring smile. “At least we get to leave soon.”

Rhaena forced a smile in return, though her mind was elsewhere. She knew she had to keep up the act, to play her part until they could finally leave this place. But the thought of what would happen when they were no longer under the same roof as the Hightowers made her stomach churn with unease.

As Baela left the room, Rhaena stood alone, the weight of her father’s words pressing down on her. She had two days to navigate this delicate balance, two days to figure out how to protect what she cared about without betraying her family.

And in those two days, she knew that every word, every action, would have to be chosen carefully.

Rhaena had been keeping to herself more than usual since the incident in the kitchen with Daeron and Aemond. She found solace in the quiet corners of the lake house, places where she could be alone with her thoughts, away from the constant undercurrent of tension that seemed to follow her everywhere.

Today, she had retreated to a small, rarely used sitting room at the far end of the house. It was a cozy space with a few worn armchairs and a dusty bookshelf, a place where she could disappear for a while without anyone bothering her. She had been avoiding Daeron, unsure of how to face him after what had happened. The last thing she wanted was to make things even more complicated than they already were.

She was lost in her thoughts, staring out the window at the tranquil lake, when the door creaked open behind her. Startled, Rhaena turned to see Aemond standing in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the door frame.

“Rhaena,” he greeted her, his voice smooth and deceptively pleasant. “What a surprise to find you here. All alone.”

Rhaena stiffened, immediately wary. “Aemond,” she replied, her tone guarded. “What do you want?”

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached her. There was something unsettling about the way he moved, a predatory grace that made her skin crawl. “Just thought I’d check on you,” he said, his smile widening. “You’ve been avoiding everyone lately. Even Daeron.”

Rhaena’s heart skipped a beat at his mention of Daeron, but she forced herself to stay calm, to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “I’m just minding my own business,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “That’s all.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, as if he didn’t believe her. “Is that so? Because during school I’ve noticed Daeron’s been leaving the house more often lately. And when he comes back, he smells like…girl’s perfume.” He let the word hang in the air, his insinuation clear.

Rhaena’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral. “I wouldn’t know,” she said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter to her. “I haven’t been keeping track of him.”

Aemond’s smirk grew, his tone becoming even more mocking. “Really? You expect me to believe that? I’m not blind, Rhaena. I see the way he looks at you. And I’m not the only one.”

Rhaena’s breath caught in her throat, but she refused to let him see how much his words rattled her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice firm. “We’re all just family. Nothing more.”

Aemond chuckled, the sound cold and devoid of humor. “Family, huh? That’s an interesting way to describe sneaking around. But I suppose you’d say whatever it takes to keep up appearances.”

Rhaena could feel her anger rising, the urge to lash out at him almost overwhelming. She wanted to tell him off, to demand that he stop being so cruel and condescending, but something held her back. She couldn’t forget that he was Daeron’s brother, and no matter how much Aemond antagonized her, she didn’t want to make things harder for Daeron.

Instead, she took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check. “What’s your problem, Aemond?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. “Why do you feel the need to mess with me and Baela all the time? What did we ever do to you?”

Aemond’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of cold disdain. “You and Baela act like you’re above all of this,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “Like you’re too good for the drama, too good for the rest of us. It’s infuriating.”

Rhaena stared at him, taken aback by the venom in his tone. She had always known Aemond was resentful, but this level of anger was something new. “I don’t think we’re above anything,” she said quietly. “We’re just trying to stay out of the mess that’s tearing our families apart.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, and he took a step closer, his presence suddenly more intimidating. “You think you can stay out of it? You think you can just sit on the sidelines while the rest of us deal with real issues? Daeron should’ve been there when I lost my eye. He should’ve been fighting with me, not running off and leaving me to deal with it alone.”

Rhaena’s heart pounded in her chest at his rising voice, but before she could respond, the door opened again, and one of the family’s workers stepped into the room. The interruption broke their arguement, and Rhaena seized the opportunity to escape.

Without a word, she turned and hurried out of the room, leaving Aemond standing there with his unresolved anger. Her mind raced as she fled down the hallway, a mix of fear and frustration churning inside her.

She couldn’t believe how unfair Aemond was being, taking out his frustrations on her just because he was angry with Daeron. He had no right to blame her for his own problems, and yet, she knew that arguing with him wouldn’t change anything.

As she reached the safety of her room, Rhaena leaned against the door, trying to calm her racing heart. Aemond’s words echoed in her mind, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control.

But no matter what happened, she knew one thing for certain: she wouldn’t let Aemond’s bitterness drag her down. She had to stay strong, not just for herself, but for Daeron as well.

Rhaena and Daeron hadsitting in one of the studies of the lake house, sharing a light snack away from their looming family. The room was filled with the soft glow of the old dusty lamp, and for a brief time, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Daeron had just finished recounting a story about something silly his grandfather had done and Rhaena found herself laughing, the sound bright and genuine. It was a relief to laugh, to let go of the heaviness for just a moment.

Rhaena giggled, wiping away crumbs from her mouth. “I can’t believe he actually did that.”

“I know, right?” Daeron grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Their laughter echoed through the room, the sound so natural and easy that it almost seemed to belong to another place, another time. But their moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Daemon had barged into the room, his expression as stern as ever, his gaze scanning the space before landing on his daughter. Rhaena felt her heart skip a beat, her laughter dying in her throat as she noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor when he realized she was with Daeron.

Her father was supposed to have been gone for the day, off hunting.

“Rhaena,” Daemon said, his voice clipped and laced with frustration before he scanned the room. Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his annoyance clear. He had come looking for his brother, but finding his daughter laughing with a Hightower seemed to irritate him even more. “I see,” he said, his voice cold. I’s time you go find your mother.”

Rhaena could feel the tension rising in the room, her father’s frustration evident in his creased eyes. She was about to comply, but Daeron seized the moment.

“Actually, Uncle,” Daeron began, his tone as pleasant as ever, “I was just about to ask Rhaena if she’d like to join me for a ride on one of our sailboats. The weather’s perfect for it, and I thought it would be a nice way to enjoy the afternoon.”

Rhaena’s heart leaped at the suggestion, but she could see the way her father’s eyes narrowed even further, his annoyance deepening. He opened his mouth, clearly ready to dismiss the idea and curse the boy when Viserys entered the room.

“Did I hear something about a sailboat?” Viserys asked, his tone light and cheerful as he joined them. “What a wonderful idea, Daeron! It’s a beautiful day for it.”

Daemon’s expression hardened, but with Viserys now part of the conversation, he knew he couldn’t refuse without causing a scene. His jaw clenched, and he nodded curtly. “Fine. Just make sure you’re careful, Rhaena.”

Viserys, oblivious to the undercurrents of Daemon’d anger, clapped his hands together in approval. “That’s settled, then! Go on and enjoy yourselves. It’ll be good for you to get some fresh air.”

Rhaena shot a grateful smile, feeling the weight of her father’s gaze on her as she stood up. “I’ll go get ready.” She tried not to sound too excited about it.

As she left the room,she hurried up the stairs, her heart pounding with relief.

Daeron had managed to defuse the situation, and now she would have the chance to spend some time with him, away from the eyes and ears of their families. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

As she reached her room and began to gather her things, Rhaena couldn’t help but smile to herself. The day wasn’t over yet, and there was still time for them to create their own little moments of peace, far from the watchful gaze of those who would seek to tear them apart.

The gentle lapping of water against the sides of the boat filled the air as Daeron expertly steered them out onto the lake. The sun hung low in the sky, casting light over the rippling surface. Rhaena sat beside him, watching his hands skillfully maneuver the sail, a mixture of admiration and melancholy filling her heart.

For a while, they didn’t speak, both of them content to let the moment wash over them. But as they drifted farther from the shore, Rhaena felt the weight of thepast week pressing down on her, and she knew she couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer.

“Daeron,” she began quietly, her voice barely rising above the sound of the water.

Daeron glanced at her, his expression shifting to one of concern as he noticed the seriousness in her tone. He adjusted the sail to let the boat coast gently before turning his full attention to her. “What is it, Rhaena?”

She took a deep breath, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her dress. “It’s about Aemond. I had a run-in with him yesterday.”

Daeron’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of his brother, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

“He e was messing with me,” Rhaena said, recalling the confrontation. “ He said he could tell we were together because you had been leaving the house more lately and coming back smelling like perfume.”

Daeron’s eyes stayed peered on the water, butRhaena could see the tension in his posture. She hurried on before he could react, needing to get it all out.

“Then he started being his usual self, making rude comments, trying to get under my skin. I almost went off on him, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to cause more trouble for you at home.”

Daeron’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he struggled to contain his emotions. “Rhaena, I’m so sorry. He had no right to say those things to you. I should have been there.”

Rhaena shook her head, reaching out to place her hand on his arm, her touch gentle and reassuring. “It’s not your fault, Daeron. Aemond is angry and bitter, but it made me realize something.”

Daeron looked at her, his anger giving way to concern. “What do you mean?”

Rhaena hesitated, the words she was about to say weighing heavily on her heart. “I realized that our family. They’re too far gone. There’s too much bad blood, too much history. No matter how much we try to stay out of it, we’re always going to be pulled back in.”

Daeron’s expression softened, but there was a sadness in his eyes that mirrored her own. He knew she was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the reality of their situation sinking in. The sun continued dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water as the boat drifted lazily.

Finally, Rhaena spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.” She paused before continuing. “Maybe we should stop seeing each other.”

Daeron’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. “What? No, Rhaena, you can’t mean that.”

Rhaena felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she forced herself to continue. “I don’t want to, Daeron. But what choice do we have? Our families will never accept us being together and I don’t want to keep living in fear.”

For a moment, Daeron didn’t say anything, his eyes searching hers as if looking for some sign that she didn’t mean it. But then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was a kiss filled with all the emotions they had been holding back. The fear, the frustration, the longing, the love. Rhaena’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his lips against hers, warm and soft and insistent, as if he were trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment.

She kissed him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer as her heart raced in her chest. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped up in the intensity of their feelings.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless.

“I’m not letting you go, Rhaena,” Daeron whispered, his voice filled with determination. “We’ll find a way to be together, away from all of this.”

Rhaena blinked up at him, her heart aching with love and hope. “How?”

Daeron smiled, the first real smile she had seen from him all day. “We’ll run away together. After you graduate, we’ll leave this place, leave our families behind. We’ll go somewhere they can’t touch us, where we can be free.”

Rhaena felt a tear slip down her cheek, but this time it was a tear of relief, of happiness. She nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. “You really think we can do it?”

“I know we can,” Daeron said, his voice steady and sure. “We’ll start over, just the two of us. We don’t need anyone else.”

Rhaena felt a weight lift from her shoulders, the fear and uncertainty that had been plaguing her for so long finally beginning to fade. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, we’ll do it.”

Daeron’s smile widened, and he kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss that made her heart jump. When they pulled apart, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they turned to watch the sun sink lower on the horizon.

They sat together in silence, the boat gently rocking on the water as the sky turned from blue to pink to deep hue of orange. The sounds of the lake surrounded them. The gentle lapping of the water, the distant croak of frogs beginning their evening chorus.

As the first stars began to appear in the sky, Rhaena rested her head on Daeron’s shoulder, feeling more at peace than she had in a long time. They would have to face many challenges to come, but for now, she was content to simply be with him, to hold on to the hope that they would find a way to be together.

And as the night settled in around them, the two of them remained there, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the stars and dreaming of the future they would build together. They were already far away from the pain and conflict that had once defined their lives.

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