Concussions and Caraxes

the concussion before the storm (there is no storm)

Rhea dreads having to wake her husband up. Ever since he'd had the bright idea of showing up smelling like dragon and spooking her horse, the prince has been knocked cold in Runestone.
No, Rhea did not send a missive to the king on the matter. He surely had bigger things to deal with that the most annoying inbred cunt of a waste of air of a husband his brother is.
Probably, anyway.
Besides, she hears Princess Rhaenyra is to be Queen after the old king dies. Good for her. It seemed the Vale and Dorne were the only regions with any sense, but maybe the Crownlands have a bit of sanity left.
Back to her husband.
Rhea unceremoniously kicked open the door to Daemon's chambers, causing the grown man to whimper like a kicked puppy. She paused.
What the fuck.
Actually not the weirdest thing he's done, so she gives it a pass. "Come on, wake up, get out of my house!" Her hands feel a bit empty of pots and pans, but maybe that would be a step too petty?
"Bronze cunt..." Daemon mumbled blearily, and Rhea lifts the mattress so he rolls off the bed.
Nope, no pity for this asshole.
"You're my wife, aren't you supposed to tend to me or something?"
Rhea freezes, and she looks Daemon over. What faceless man from beyond the Narrow Sea has infiltrated her home...
"Fucking bitch."
Oh, nevermind.
"Leave my house, I should've put you on a raft and let the Old Gods decide your fate." Rhea told him off sharply, and Daemon seriously did not look like himself, because he was getting all teary eyed.
She paused. He paused.
She put down the mattress.
He sniffled.
She bolted.

Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope. That is *not* her husband.

lmao i had a decent idea for a fic but i don't wanna write seriously rn so if anyone wants to actually take the idea and go for it, feel free, just tell me bcz this is my favorite fucked up rarepare