roguesister

Part One

Rhaenyra had always been the more outgoing one of the two. On the first day of Kindergarten she had been the one to thrust out her hand in a greeting. “I’m Rhaenyra Velaryon and I'm six.” She had said to Alicent in a cheerful voice. 

The girls had instantly bonded, because Alicent was six too and that was all the commonality it took to form a friendship at their age.  They were the oldest in the class and were also the tallest, and prettiest (in Rhaenyra’s opinion) so she naturally ascribed them as the best too. They sat in their plastic chairs like they were thrones, two queens presiding over court. 

Things changed in the next decade, but not that much. They were still best friends. They ruled their school, Saint Syraxes in the way only two rich seventeen year olds could. Rhaenyra with her stockings pulled high and pleated skirt even higher, blonde locks hanging long around her waist and shirt buttons buckling over her generous chest. 

Alicent was…the opposite, in almost every way. Her skirt nearly hit her knees, and her dark hair was almost always tied back or braided. She was thin and tall whereas Rhaenyra was curved and small. Alicent was quiet when Rhaenyra was loud, and Alicent excelled at sums where Rhaenyra favored sports. They were different to be sure, but even still, they were two halves of a whole and virtually inseparable in their youth. 

They didn’t just go to school together, they had all the same extracurricular activities that a good Valayrian (or in Alicent’s case, half Valyrian) girl should,  and shared tutors as mindlessly as first kisses. They shared beds too, at sleepovers —starting when they were seven, and still not having ended at the age of seventeen. 

One thing had changed, and that was the deaths of their mothers — Aemma dying when Rhaenyra was eight, and Rhea when Alicent was ten. The tragedy of it had driven the girls even closer, they’d bonded in their grief, and came out on the other side in large part thanks to each other's friendship. 

Their parents had always been supportive of their friendship too—after all, their fathers were nearly brothers, with how close they were back when they went to school together. It was almost fate that their daughters would be such good friends, too. 

Viserys thought Alicent brought out the best in his daughter. She was in a word: wholesome. Wearing a delicate gold cross around her neck and always the perfect picture of modesty. Where his daughter disobeyed rules, Alicent respected them. When they were together Viserys could trust that nothing bad was going to happen. She was mature for her age, and always made sure school work was done before fun was had. She didn’t even drink or party or try to thwart the school dress code. She was truly a good girl and Viserys almost wished his daughter was more like her. 

Daemon however, was very glad Rhaenyra was so different from his daughter.

He did sort of want her to call him daddy, though. 

Ok—that sounded bad. 

This was, he swore, a very new development. Which had a great deal to do with the chest the girl had developed in the past year. Suddenly she went from being a girl in his mind, in terms of physique and all else to being on the cusp of womanhood. And he hated himself for how tempting he found that. 

Before this year he’d thought of her almost as an extension of his daughter —or of who he wanted his daughter to be. She was outgoing, charismatic, and drew eyes to her when she talked. She was the life of every party and the leader of her friend group. He saw a lot of himself in the girl, and he admired her for it.  She had the type of temperament he’d expected his offspring to have, but he never thought of her like a daughter, and despite how it sounded there was a difference in his head.

(Both of his heads)   

His daughter was too much like her mother—he loved her, of course, but he wouldn’t be her father if it weren’t for a broken condom and an ill suited one night stand. Well, okay, perhaps it had less to do with those two things and more to do with Rhea’s thoughts on abortion and his fathers thoughts on his inheritance. The latter was tied to his mothers wedding ring, and fatherhood was something Baelon took seriously. So at the age of twenty, Daemon had a new wife and daughter—Alicent. 

He liked his life, more than he expected. Rhea had never cared about his affairs, he’d been free to have other women and prioritize work over her. And he had. Often. Until she died and it was just him and his daughter. He liked to think he’d become a good father since then, supportive in a cool sort of way that other kids wished their dads were. 

Good fathers probably wouldn’t fuck their daughters best friends, though. 

He hadn’t set out to fuck her. He’d just wanted to comfort her. She looked so sad, and it turned out her boyfriend had broken up with her. “A week before prom, can you believe it?” She cried, drying her tears on a tissue. “I was supposed to be prom queen!” She said, indignantly. God, Daemon could remember that time —decades ago, but all important, when you were young. 

He sort of thought she could do better though, Cristin seemed like a douche from what she’d said in the past hour. 

“God and you're Alicent’s dad, this is so embarrassing.” She said, as if just realizing that. He patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture and smiled. “There are worse things  than being single, even if it doesn’t feel like it at eighteen.” He said. She just frowned, “You can’t be single and go to prom.” She huffed. 

Alicent got home then, interrupting the conversation — and taking over the task of consoling her friend. He knew when he wasn’t needed so he slipped away, but his thoughts…lingered, on the heartbroken girl. On how she even looked pretty when she cried, which seemed almost unfair. 

He used to be uncomfortable around crying girls, before he had a daughter. Then again, before fatherhood, he’d only really seen girls cry while choking on his cock. He snorted, god wasn’t that a thought. It had been a while. Months since Mysaria was in town, weeks since he’d gone out. He was pent up and stressed from work he had to do, and that was what he blamed for the dreams that followed. 

Blonde hair tangled in his fingers as her lips feasted on his length. Perky tits that spilled out of his palm. Hips thick enough to grip. Breath hitching as he pressed his cock into her. Little cries as he pulled another orgasm out of her. 

His sleep-addled brain was convinced she would look very pretty after coming, too. 

He woke up with a start—breathing heavily and turning to his clock. It was 3am, was that too early to start the day? Because he needed a cold shower, stat.  

…

It was Rhaenyra’s face that greeted him the next morning, Alicent having left early for morning prayers, another preference inherited from her mother. “You know her.” Rhaenyra had said with a wave of her hand. He nodded while trying desperately to ignore her tiny pajamas. Because fuck, they were way too small —chest pouring out from the top and when she turned, pert little cheeks hung out of her shorts. 

He hadn’t always looked at her that way, he wasn’t that much of a creep. He had always thought she was a pretty young girl but she was just that: a young girl.  

Until she wasn’t. Until she looked like this, and for some ungodly reason, it woke his cock up. It was like the preference he’d had for young blondes in his youth was back with a vengeance, but all the sexual appetite and frustrations were targeted at Rhaenyra. His daughter's best friend. 

He excused himself from the kitchen, he’d eat a fucking protein bar in his room or something. He clearly wasn’t capable of being near her. 

…

She was there when he got home from work too, and god how had he never realized how often she was in his house? 

She was chipper now, not a tear in sight, speaking enthusiastically to Alicent as she ate the meager dinner of….apples? Ugh, teenage girls, he thought. He managed to presume from the bits of the conversation he heard that she had gotten back with the douche Cristin. But that was better. His situation would hopefully be remedied somewhat by her not being single. 

But then prom night came.

And Rhaenyra was on his doorstep in the pouring rain. 

And he couldn’t just turn her away .

Though, to be fair, he probably didn’t have to have sex with her, either. 

She was really tempting, okay? 

Part Two:

“ Fuck.” She said to herself as she stood in the pouring rain. She was not going back in there. She was not going to see Cristin making moon eyes at Laenor’s boyfriend.

The true reason for him breaking up with her had been exposed when he nearly cried watching the popular pair of boys kiss on the dance floor.

She knew she shouldn’t have taken him back, but she didn’t want to go alone. Didn’t want to spend the night alone. She was eighteen, she was gorgeous, she was popular. She was meant to be prom queen and have a celebratory fuck with her hot boyfriend after.   

They’d taken his car, which is why she currently stood outside her school in the rain waiting for an uber. And then the uber came and she didn’t even know where to tell it to go, because she’d told her dad that she was sleeping over at Alicent’s. But Alicent wouldn’t be back until late, because now she was probably going to be prom queen. 

“FUCK.” She said again, the driver looking at her with some concern. She was sure she was a mess, in her red dress and ruined makeup. She sighed and spouted off the address of Alicent’s house, anyway, hoping  her dad would take pity on her and let her sleep on the couch. Viserys would only give her a lecture for lying, probably ending with his disappointment that she wasn’t more like Alicent.  

She slammed the door of the uber and marched up the path to the Targaryen’s porch, it was an imposing visage lined with sculpted shrubs and marble statues. Visible even in the dark, thanks to grand lights. The Targaryen’s were rich in a way where they weren’t afraid to show off, unlike the way her father was. He just poured all his money into his stupid legos. And, well, her wardrobe. So she couldn’t be too mad. But she kind of wished they lived in a house like this, one that looked more like a palace. 

She rang the bell three times, hoping by being annoying she could get inside faster, because now that her anger was fading she was realizing it was fucking cold. The wind was hitting her bare arms, and her coat was still in Cristin’s car. She briefly mourned the Prada trench, which she would miss far more than her piece of shit boyfriend. 

She rang the bell again, and this time the door opened, revealing Daemon Targaryen in all his glory. He is so hot. She thought with a sigh. Being around teenagers for three hours had made her all the more aware of how fucking attractive Alicent’s dad was by comparison. 

 He didn’t look like the dad of an eighteen year old, because he’d been really young when she was born. 

But then, so had Viserys, and her dad looked like death by comparison. 

Daemon had stayed in good shape—she had seen him shirtless once or twice and knew muscles hid under his dress shirts. He often rode and fenced on the weekend, when he wasn’t caught up with work. And when he went to work he wore suits that were just delicious on his sculpted form. 

His hair was shorn short, despite being long for most of her youth, and something about the length just made her want to dig her fingers into it and pull . It might have been a slight fantasy of hers, which she thought of while using her vibrator—picturing it was the man's tongue on her cunt and her hands in his hair instead of holding the tapered plastic. 

She’d had a crush on him for like…ever, but then again so did everyone. Fuck, Marry, Kill had been a staple sleepover game since they were young teens, and when it inevitably came around to their respective dads Daemon always tallied the most (and the most enthusiastic) ‘Fucks’. 

Rhaenyra had sort of been bitter there wasn’t a ‘Both’ option, because in her youth she had dreamed of more than just sex, but marriage. As an eight year old watching princess movies she couldn’t help but see the resemblance her friend's dad had to the prince. There was something royal about his high cheekbones and the cut of his chin. She kind of wanted to run her tongue across them. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by her name, spoken from the very man's lips. “Rhaenyra?” He asked. 

She sniffled, telling herself it was from the cold as she asked, “Can I come in?” 

He beckoned her inside and she awkwardly stood —dripping wet, in the marble entrance hall. “Could I use the shower?” She asked, shivering a little. Then she looked down at the ruined silk dress she wore, “And maybe something to wear?” Daemon nodded, “You go upstairs —I’ll get you something of Alicent’s.” Rhaenyra laughed in spite of her embarrassment, she and Alicent hadn’t been able to share clothes since they were twelve, when Rhaenyra’s hips grew at a similar pace to her friend's height. 

“Alicent’s clothing will not fit me.” She said, and she didn’t think she imagined the way his eyes wandered to her chest —something his daughter was very much lacking. He nodded slowly, “I’ll get you something of mine, then.” And she nodded. His hips looked narrow, but his shoulders were wide and she’d probably swim in one of his shirts. 

She assumed he went off to his room while she trudged up to Alicent’s bathroom, throwing her ruined dress on the tile floor, along with the pretty red lingerie that had been hiding underneath it. She didn’t bother to close the door as she stepped into the steamy shower. She figured Daemon would leave the clothing on the bed, and even if he did come in here, everything was fogged up anyway.

She wasn’t shy about her body, either. She was one of the few girls who wandered naked in the locker rooms, letting everyone get a good look at her. She knew she was hot, okay? And she liked other people knowing too. Fuck, last year she had even tried to get Daemon to notice. 

She winced in embarrassment, recalling how she spent all summer in their pool, in her bikini. Like her friend's dad was going to become overcome with lust at the sight of her breasts in spandex. Yeah, that hadn’t gone as planned, if anything he’d spent even less time with her. She wasn’t sure if it was her body or her flirting that made him uncomfortable, but either way she regretted her attempts at seduction now. 

She sighed, borrowing Alicent’s fancy cleanser and soap to rid her face of makeup. She shampooed her hair even though she’d already washed it that day, and combed conditioner through it too. She stayed in the water far longer than necessary to stop her shivering. She just…didn’t want to go out there. Didn’t want to have to explain why she was here, he hadn’t asked yet, but she knew he would. He was too  much of a dad not to. 

She shut off the water and stepped into the bathroom—huh, there was a try pile of clothing on the counter. She must have  been too distracted to notice him coming in. She shrugged, toweling off and trying on the pants first. As she suspected, it was not happening, not with her hips. 

The shirt thankfully did fit, a soft black cotton t-shirt that hung past her hips. She sort of needed a bra with it, but hers was wet and it wasn’t like Alicent’s would do her much good. Daemon would just have to live with seeing a bit of nipple. He’d probably seen worse. 

She quietly walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where he was waiting for her. He pushed a cup of coffee to her and she thanked him as she took a grateful sip of the warm drink. “I think I need something stronger.” She said as a joke, but Daemon only gave her a skeptical look. 

“What happened?” He asked and she sighed, setting down her drink. “Apparently Cristin plays for the other team. And not like, black or green, but being gay.” She said with a huff. “And I don’t have a problem with that! For god's sake I love Laenor, but come on!” She whined. 

“He could have let me know before prom night.” She seethed, taking another sip. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, but it was followed by the question, “But why are you here?”  

She bit her lip, “I was sort of supposed to stay at Cristin’s.” She admitted. “His parents are out of town.” Her finger circled the rim of her mug while Daemon gave her the biggest dad look of disappointment ever. She could only roll her eyes in response. 

“It’s like, tradition, to get laid on prom night!” She said defensively. Plus, she happened to know from her dad that Daemon was a manwhore in his younger days — probably still was to be honest. He couldn’t judge her. 

“Oh, it’s not the tradition, it’s the guy, you could do better than him, Rhaenyra.” 

“Like who? Like you?” She asked with a snort and he fucking, sputtered before letting out a choked “ No.”  

She grinned at his embarrassment. She liked that she could make him uncomfortable. It was the first thing that made her smile all night, so she kept at it, “Really? You don’t think I'm fuckable?” 

He took a sip of his drink and averted his eyes from hers, “That is an inappropriate question.”

Her grin grew because that was not a no. She braced her elbows on the counter and leaned forward in a way that made her breasts all the more obvious. “Why is it inappropriate?” She asked, “I’m eighteen.” 

He just shook his head, still refusing to look at her. “You’re my daughter's best friend.” He said.

“I don’t see how that changes things, she isn’t here, she wouldn’t know…” Rhaenyra said, feeling victorious when his gaze caught hers. His eyes were hot, as if they could see through the flimsy cotton shirt she wore. As if they were imaging her naked. As if they were imagining her under him. 

Maybe they were.  

She licked her lips, “You know, I could still get laid tonight.” She said, watching his grip tighten on his mug. She was risking like… major embarrassment if he denied her here, but she was willing to do it for the possibility of experiencing him . If she had to sulk home in his shirt and admit what happened to her dad she would, and it wouldn’t even make her cringe compared to being denied this.  

Daemon didn’t respond, but his eyes wandered to her tits once more. He was close to breaking, she could tell, he just needed a little more encouragement.  “Oh no.” She said, lifting the shirt away from her chest—it was getting damp from her hair, so she flicked the locks behind her back, “I’m getting wet again,” she said mournfully. 

It was Daemon that spoke then, his voice dry, “Then maybe you should take it off.” 

Her eyes met his and she grinned. She had to stand to remove it, moving closer to him as she tugged on the hem and easily pulled it over her head. It dropped to the floor with a damp plop and there she was —naked in his kitchen, mere feet from him. 

This was not how she saw this night going but she was not complaining.

She leaned against the counter, “You’re right, that’s much better.” She said with a smile, and Daemon lunged for her. Their lips met with a crash, while his hands locked around her waist. He didn’t kiss like Cristin, or even Harwin who’d had more experience and confidence. He kissed, well, like a man. With the sort of precision that made her lips easily part and let out a moan. His tongue took the invitation, lapping at her teeth like he was on some sort of mission. 

She pulled at his shirt, pleased when he reared back so she could get it fully off. And fuck he was ripped, his chest more like that of a warriors than a dads. She stroked at the muscles as their lips continued to meet, and let him press her back onto the marble counter. She hissed as the cold surface met her flesh, but she was soon distracted once more by his tongue. 

It was going lower now, lapping at her neck and then her tits. He muttered something about her breasts that made her grin, before moving even lower and dipping his tongue into her bellybutton. She nearly giggled at that, reaching out to push his blonde head lower, between her thighs where she wanted him most. 

“Whose had you like this?” He asked as he parted her thighs. She was propped up by her elbows, reclined but watching every action as he positioned himself between her splayed legs and kneeled. 

His fingers were tracing her folds and she sort of had trouble concentrating enough to answer him, but she managed to mumble out, “A few boys from school.” Which was mostly the truth.

“I want names, Rhaenyra,” he said and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling herself blush as he continued to lightly finger her. She felt like her past indiscretions were being exposed in addition to her body, and that made her feel vulnerable in a way nudity didn’t.

“There was Harwin. He ate me out in the football locker room.” She said, moaning when Daemon’s lips finally met her cunt. But then they were gone again and he was asking,“Did you come?” She nodded, trying to shove his head back down—hers meeting the counter with a thump. 

“Who else?” He managed to ask, between laps at her cunt. She arched against his face, a little breathless when she next spoke, “Cristin. Twice.” She said, “Details, Rhaenyra.” He demanded and fuck he sounded like a father asking why her grades were slipping, not her history of fucking.  

“I didn’t the first time but the second—” she paused to moan, “I rode his face until I came.” She admitted, and she could feel Daemon groan into her cunt. “Who else?” he asked, three fingers pressed into her—two more than she was prepared for, making her writhe at the stretch. 

“Laena,” She said with a gasp, and that actually made him stop—looking up at her to meet her eyes. “Your horseback riding teacher?” He asked, and she nodded, blushing as she squeezed her eyes shut. His fingers were still inside her, curling as he spoke, “I bet she made it good for you,” and she nodded eagerly. It had been so good. 

“Anyone else?” He asked and she paused—but then his fingers stopped and she let out a whine. “Tell me, Rhaenyra,” he said, and she wailed, trying to thrust herself against his hand but he was too fucking strong, stilling her hips with one hand while the other fingered her. “I’ll let you come if you tell me.” He said, his thumb brushing her clit in a promise of what he could do to her. “Your daughter.” She admitted, crying out as he plunged his fingers deeper. 

He didn’t even seem surprised, “You let my daughter eat out this pretty cunt?” He asked and she nodded, hips thrusting against his fingers as his thumb pressed down on her clit. “That’s it?” He asked and she wailed, his other fingers delicately pinching the hood of her clit while his thumb did something else and that was it. She was coming, dripping down his hand and moaning so loudly it echoed through the otherwise empty house. 

“That’s a good girl,” He said, petting her thigh with damp fingers. 

“You’ve been fucked by girls, and boys,” he said as he stood between her hips —she was breathing too heavily to look up, but she could here the clink of a belt and the pull of a zipper, the slide of fabric on flesh. “By my own daughter,” he said, “But you’ve never had a man before, never had her father.”  

“You’ll have to ask nicely,” He said, and she could feel the press of his cocks head against her folds. “Please, Daemon.” She begged, but he just shook his head — looking almost disappointed with her. She arched her back, but it was no use —he had a grip on her hips and when he entered her it would be at his behest. 

“Please Mr.Targaryen.” She cried, as he used his fingers to pry her open until she was spread wide enough to take the width of his cock. “That’s so close.” He said, god it was more than fucking close he had part of his dick inside of her. But he kept her still, his look expectant. “Sir?” She asked, and he shook his head. “What do you call a father, Rhaenyra?” He asked. 

“ Daddy?” She said, almost delirious in her impatience because his cock was right there and then suddenly it was deeper pressing all the way to the hilt inside her in one thrust. And god, he fucked like a man. Like there was a clear difference between him and any boy . There was control and precision in each thrust, seeming to carve her channel deeper and deeper until she swore she could feel him pressing against her cervix, and it almost hurt but she didn’t want him to stop. 

And he didn’t, his thrusts were unrelenting and she was moaning and wailing and helpless below him—the crash of hips against hers, hands cupping her breasts, it was so good. Then there was a little twist to her nipples and she lost it, coming and clenching around his cock. 

But he didn’t stop, he just kept going and she was so sensitive every thrust felt like pinpricks in her cunt. She squeezed her eyes shut hoping he was almost done, but then thumb was on her clit again and she was so close to coming. And this one hurt, she wasn’t made for three orgasms in half an hour, but he still kept thrusting, indifferent to her release. Until he wasn't’ —until the clench was enough and he was coming too. 

Fuck he hadn’t used a condom, she thought as she felt him fill her, suddenly thankful for her IUD. And then suddenly not caring at all, because it was warm and he felt good in her, even soft. Like she was made to keep his cock there, and she couldn’t help but clenching again, grinning as he groaned. 

He pulled out of her, his hands lazily stroking her flank and thigh. 

She was breathless as she spoke, “I uh, still need somewhere to stay the night.” She said a bit embarrassed. But when she looked up at him, he was smiling. He pushed a hand through his hair and then he said, 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not done with you.”

END

This idea was born on a discord server (the idea of prom night, and the separate idea of a AU where Rhaenyra slept with Alicent's dad). I have no claim to that, just the words to bring it to life!