It smelled like crushed lilac and cigar smoke the first time you met Rhaenyra.

They sat at the far end of the parlor you worked in, draped in fur and a foreign flair that made everyone’s heads turn. Their gaze flickered to you like they’d been waiting for you all night, offering to buy you a drink with a smile that made you feel weak in the knees. Curiosity made you accept the invitation, rebellion against the future your father had carved out for you made you stay.

You hadn’t expected a dance after, let alone for their charm to literally follow you home.

Now they sit at your family’s dinner table, sleeves carefully rolled to reveal wrists too pale for this sun-stained land. They make your younger siblings laugh with stories of English customs (most of which you suspect to be half-true), compliment your mother’s cooking with precise grace, and politely ignore the way your father stares at them like they are the Devil in disguise.

Your preacher father watches them like a hound, distrusting of the stranger dressed in sin and speak of salvation. He’s spent decades of his life carving virtue into wood and children of the Lord, so he believes that some chains are better than whatever foreign sin they have to offer — that it isn’t right that they just appeared out of thin air to offer you a life too good to be true. You’ve tried to convince him it’s the cultural differences, yet he refuses to believe that stranger in front of him knows anything of worth or virtue — especially not when they sit with the pride of a man who knows no God. 

Your father asks Rhaenyra what their intentions are with you, each syllable dipped in suspicion and sanctimony. The question splits the air like a blade, and the room suddenly goes quiet. Your giddy siblings stiffen as your mother’s eyes fall to her lap. 

Rhaenyra tilts their head in response, amusement and unraveled patience flickering beneath their lashes. Their hand brushes yours under the table: a gesture too gentle for your father to notice, but it is enough to ground you in the moment.

“Your daughter and I have been discussing a few investment opportunities.” They say smoothly, offering a faint smile as your father’s scrutiny bears down like holy judgment.