Work Text:
He lived for the adrenaline. Daemon saw every blaze as a challenge, a chance to prove his bravery. Rhaenys, his chief, saw every blaze as a calculated risk, a life to be saved. He called her too cautious; she called him reckless, their professional friction a constant, sizzling heat that masked a deeper pull. The arguments were constant, hiding a mutual desire they both fiercely denied. But now, trapped on the fourth floor of a burning building, their masks were off. The heat was a living thing, a searing, suffocating blanket that pressed down on them, and the roar of the fire was a desperate scream. He looked at her, his eyes wild, and for the first time, he felt a jolt of real, terrifying fear, not in her, but for her. He grabbed her hand, a tight, unyielding grip. "Trust me," he rasped, his voice hoarse. She didn’t hesitate, placing her full faith and trust in him. Their bodies moved together as one, a terrifyingly familiar dance, each knowing the other’s every move as they ran from the raging flames. The air was thick with smoke, but her hand in his felt clear and solid, an anchor grounding him.