CHAPTER FOUR ,
tired eyes

          The harsh sound of echoed clanking and silver body plates scraping against each other was the only noise that rolled through the ethereally designed Red Keep just as the sun disappeared below the horizon of The Narrow Sea. The heaviness of Ser Abyl's armor not slowing him down in the slightest, able to keep his breathing calm and stable.

The opaque figure of his shadow cast upon the uneven surface of the walls quivered as he traveled down the stoned passageways from the slow melting lit candlesticks. The flickering lights mocked the dark as the much larger distorted human form stalked him sinisterly no matter how far he ran, never being able to outrun it.

He passed the occasional guard or servant, silently praying to the Gods that his unusual behavior wouldn't alarm them given the circumstances with the king's daughter and have it be relayed to him or worse, his hand Otto.

Otto held the same distain as Viserys towards Lillibaeth; maybe even more vile — every decision the king made for the princess, there was his loyal hand lurking behind him, pulling on his strings like a fucked up puppeteer who's helpless victims were made of warm flesh, blood, and a beating heart.

It wasn't urgent as Lilly had since calmed down significantly and rested safely with her handmaidens and sister but Daemon had strictly instructed that Abyl come to him immediately if something had occurred while he was away, and truth be told it deeply scared the Kingsguard to disobey the prince, especially when it came to the princess. Daemon had always been fiercely protective of his nieces, but in particular Lillibaeth — Rhaenyra could hold her own and that wasn't to say that her older sister could not do the same, but Rhaenyra wasn't in constant danger of looming harm and under savage scrutiny by the king.

Daemon truly loved his brother. He loved his family. But it was times like these, where the hatred spewed like tainted blood in the direction of Princess Lillibaeth, is when that love seemed to falter.

The warm sun casted a golden glow on the outer yards of King's Landing as the doors opened with Abyl stumbling outside, taking a short break to catch his now labored breathing before picking up speed through the yards, under the gatehouses, and down the winding paths with swift movements of his arms for gained momentum in the direction of Daemon's booming voice. As it seemed to dare him to beckon closer, to make him aware that the one person who swore to protect Lillibaeth had once again failed her all in one day.

The City Watch hovered around Prince Daemon like he was the sun, the very reason for their existence, and in a way that was true. Daemon's lavender eyes glowered through his browbone, scanning the many men who teetered on their feet anxiously.

"How dare you wear these cloaks I have bestowed upon you! Making you worth something under the Targaryen name — only to shit in my face and allow someone unauthorized into the castle! That very someone to go and attack our dear princess!" He spat, the intensity of his voice mirroring the roar of his dragon, Caraxes.

Abyl wasn't silent in his arrival to the crowd of men growing uneasier by the second on the outskirts of King's Landing near the stables. The men seemingly grateful for the interruption of their deserved berating — the members of the gold cloaks were once commoners of Flea Bottom that he brought in for vigorous training so they knew the faces and names of thieves, rapists, murderers and the fact that they allowed this to transpire the night before on the grounds was despicable.

"You are needed in the princess's quarters, my prince." Ser Abyl panted but still succeeded in keeping his tone formal and posture straight.

Aila placed gentle, cautious dabs of the cool wet cloth against the exposed skin of Lillibaeth's face and chest trying to break the feverish sweat whilst Fleur rounded the large bed trying to readjust the undone sheets.

The dark haired princess sat slumped staring ahead at nothing, slow weak blinking with glassy lifeless eyes like a shattered porcelain doll. Her eyes red and swollen, making her already bright green eyes even more otherworldly. Her own tears stinging any exposed flesh across the fragile skin.

Rhaenyra, still crouched and cowering from seeing her sister in such distress, had her arms wrapped around Darconia's neck who occasionally gave the young girl a quick comforting kiss, both of them still reeling from witnessing Lillibaeth in a way they've both never seen before.

She hesitantly brought herself to her feet, her wide eyes never leaving Lilly's face, tracking her movements and emotions as she came closer to the four post canopy bed with small cautious steps. Her small soft hand came in contact with her scuffed and bruised cheek, the brush of hot skin against hot skin an awakening shock to Lillibaeth's dormant system.

Her skin crawled at the touch, her seated body lunging back against her beautifully engraved wooden headboard with a shrill shriek coming through her bloodied and cracked lips, the dull ache in her head becoming piercing and weakening her vision at the sharp impact.

Aila jumped back with a shaky breath, her hip stabbing into the corner of the nightstand resulting in a hiss of pain and the dropping of the wet cloth with a soggy thud at her shoes.

A startled Rhaenyra held her breath heavy in her chest as she watched Lillibaeth's dank absent eyes form into a hazy spark of fiery light throughout the emerald irises at the recognition of who it was in front of her with the ghost of a smile appearing on her face.

"Oh, Rhaenyra." lillibaeth whimpered, her lower lip trembling at the wild fear burning in her sister's eyes, not knowing that her own held that same emotion only minutes before when she was awoken.

She reached out her arms in front of her to encapsulate her sister's body in their warm hold and when they both broke away their hands found each other immediately, clasping together tight and secure between their two laps.

Now that Rhaenyra was up close, her stomach tickled with sick at the damage present on her body. The gash on her sister's eyebrow that she had overheard Grand Maester Mellos whisper to a leering Otto Hightower would leave a deep prominent scar was ripped back open, remnants of its blood still streaked across her face where her ladies-in-waiting had done their best to remove without aggravating the sore skin. The bruise splattered angrily on her cheekbone and the small scuffs littered with light discoloration covered the faint black freckles that crossed her nose like a bridge and connected the batch to more of them on the apples of her cheeks that mixed with the natural flush of her extremely pale skin.

Fleur rushed to Alia's side, who asked in a hushed whisper if she was alright and was met with a quick nod, the two of them stepping back to give the Targaryen sisters some privacy though both of them hardly knew High Valyrian other than the short phrases Lillibaeth had taught them on occasion.

"Nyke gaomagon daor gīmigon skoros naejot vestragon.." Rhaenyra mumbled, mad at herself it took her this long to go see her.
{I do not know what to say..}

"Ao jorrāelagon daor vestragon mirros." Lillibaeth replied solemnly, a frown etched on her lips.
{You needn't say anything.}

"Kessa nyke gaomagon — nyke aōha mandia se nyke ao." She admitted shamefully, eyes wrapped with guilt.
{Yes I do — I am your sister and I abandoned you.}

Lilly's face crumpled at her sister's revelation, "Ao gōntan daorun hen! Gīda skori ao issi daor rūsīr issa, nyke aōha jorrāelagon issa. Va moriot."
{You did nothing of the sort! Even when you are not with me, I feel your love surround me. Always.}

Rhaenyra brought their conjoined limbs to her lips, giving multiple pats of delicate kisses to the back of Lilly's hand — a gesture they had done to each other since they were just young children.

"Konīr istan daorun ao emagon gaomagon naejot emagon bisa." She added, she herself bringing her lips to her sister's hand. Their eyes locked on each other like the way the purple petals of a blooming flower meets the green stem that holds it high and steady.
{There was nothing you could have done to have prevented this.}

Lillibaeth noticed Rhaenyra's fleeting glances at her injuries, "All that training uncle has shown me was proven useless.." She pulled away, dropping her tired eyes and loosened her grip on their hold of each other. She attempted to straighten her aching back with a vague contort of pain on her soft features. Her head pounded with such voracity that even the milk of the poppy couldn't fix, although its residual dizziness of its affects was still active. Her chapped and blood blistered lips were ripped open again in thin but deep slivers, blood still slowly seeping out of them. She consistently tasted it as she brought her lips into her mouth to try to the soothe the ache with counteracting it with pressure. "..I suppose father has been right all these years. I am weak." Lillibaeth admitted with a crestfallen expression.

"Stop that!" Rhaenyra spoke firmly, her thumb halting its caress against the back of Lilly's hand as she brought herself closer to her again, their noses almost touching, "Daorun iksos sīr kostōba hae, se daorun iksos sīr gentle hae kustikāne." {Nothing is so strong as gentleness, and nothing is so gentle as real strength.}

Viserys' "life's great regret" and "life's great joy"; the Realm's "bleeding heart" and "delight" — with a bond so unbreakable even the Gods wouldn't dare try to touch it. But perhaps they should've, because the power the two of them have together, a love that would only grow and grow and grow as the years past and life scavenged off their carnage of grief —— would soon be enough to fuel a war.

Darconia jumped on the bed and laid carefully onto Lilly's crossed legs, giving her a single gentle kiss on her cheek that was mostly clear of any injury. A little giggle escaped her lips and everyone's eyes in the room lit up at the heavenly sound that they worried would become a distant memory.

"Have you visited Vhespyr?" She asked with a tilt of her chin towards the window next to her vanity, petting Darconia with her palm as her ripped low fingernails stung unbearably at any contact, "I keep hearing her cries. I am worried she will not eat or hunt unless she sees me." She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, hating how the sharp tang of metal started to grow familiar on her tongue, "I have tried whistling to her but..."

When the princess was just a babe she shared the cradle with an egg Prince Daemon had found on its lonesome near the shoreline. A miracle, it seemed, as her father was adamant that she not be given a dragon. His booming words "her name may contain Targaryen, but that bastard is far from it!" already echoing off the walls only hours after her birth.

Daemon, at only four and ten at the time, had snuck it into her room at the hour of the wolf. Aemma elicited a gasp at the discovery in the morning, but figured the young prince had been the culprit as he'd be the only one to disobey his brother's strict orders. However, the dragon egg never did leave its spot next to the bastard babe; staying alive and well in the swarms of flames until it safely hatched and Vhespyr emerged.

There was a great attachment between the two of them, but Vhespyr in particular had a great possessiveness to her rider. The amount of anxiety she expressed when it came to the separation of Lillibaeth was unheard of to the skilled Dragonkeepers. The black dragon was quickly known for her temper tantrums and stubbornness when the princess was out of sight or not the one commanding her.

There was a reason she resided on the sandy shoreline and not in the Dragonpit — anyone would be a damn fool to try to force the already sixth largest known dragon at her young age to do anything she did not please to do. Especially without Lillibaeth leading the way.

Vhespyr was found on the beach across of Lillibaeth's apartments that stood high on the outskirts of Aegon's High Hill, where the mouth of Blackwater Rush started to mix with Blackwater Bay, right past the Winch Towers, and the beach was where she would stay.

"Yes, you need not worry about her." She reassured, tugging Lilly's free hand that wasn't petting the cane corso back into her crossed legs on the bed, her thumb beginning to mindlessly stroke the smooth skin on the back of her palm again.

"The Dragonkeepers and I brought her some cattle after my ride on Syrax and she gorged on them with no troubles." She answered earnestly, a glint of glee in her lavender eyes, "I swear she's getting larger by the hour, Lilly. It is mad." She chuckled, gaining a wan smile from her sister that was gone just as quick as it came, "I'll visit her on the morrow and continue doing so until you are better."

Lillibaeth pressed her lips into a thin line and gave an apprehensive nod, relieved that her beloved dragon was all right and content with the company of just her sister for the time being, but sadness still clouded her features and Rhaenyra clocked it.

"I'm sure we can get you out there to see her soon, and then you'll be dragonriding in no time, sister." She reveled happily at the thought of them sharing the skies again, "And I'm certain the townsfolk along the water would be more than thrilled. You may as well suffocate in the thick air they muster around here when they hear her call out to you — acting as if they heard the death bell toll in their very ears."

"She would never hurt them."

"Not unless you tell her to—"

The double iron cladded wooden doors swung open and revealed the prince with the Kingsguard right on his heels. Daemon's frantic eyes scanning the room in search for her.

The four girls had all jumped in the direction of the bursted doors, the handmaidens and the younger princess placing their hands on Lillibaeth protectively — like it was instinctual. Second nature.

Lilly's breath hitched in her throat, eliciting a small squeak as her body stiffened to an unnatural state. Her hands clambered forward and gripped onto Rhaenyra's legs. Darconia swiftly sat up, her jowls twitching but like earlier in the day, relaxed at the recognition of the familiar face, as did Lilly, sitting back slightly in relief and releasing Rhaenyra.

"Oh, good gods Daemon." Aila breathed out as her hand flew to her heart in an attempt to calm the fright.

The tightness in his chest let go when he settled on her safely in bed. He took long strides to reach the two steps that led to the raised part of her room, his long stark white locks swayed with his haste but steady movements, hair flustered and frizzy from the running with some sticking to the sweat on his forehead that was stricken with a vague throb behind the bone.

Lillibaeth's chambers, although resided in a cramped section of the castle, was incredibly spacious. Her canopied bed and changing area stood on a raised platform. Next to a large window where the thunderous sounds of waves hitting the rocky cliffs below bellowed through and golden rays shone on her sheets during the day, sat her vanity.

A fireplace was placed on the wall adjacent to where she rested, with copious amounts of seating (and a cushioned area for Darconia) and a long but low table stacked with different trinkets, small and large, as well as books of all interests — mostly from Daemon, who would bring them back from his travels, though some have been from lords and their wives who have gained a great soft spot towards the princess after their extended stays at the Red Keep throughout the years.

At the bay window consisting of ceiling to floor windows and the first thing you saw when you walked in and looked straight ahead, sat another bed for the black dog, raised this time with a dark oak wood frame, and a velvet chaise for the princess, where more stacks of books were placed on the plump cushions at the end.

Everything was composed of drab, dark colors — a true disparity knowing who lived here in these quarters.

Aila and Fleur took a haste step back with their hands clamped behind their backs to allow room for Daemon. Rhaenyra peered up at him with an apprehensive look, worried that their earlier conversation still tainted the air between them but when his soft gaze fell to hers and his hand gave her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder the concern instantly dissipated.

Lilly's eyes were still wide and frenzied, her heartbeat continuing its ramming into her rib cage like a sharp throb but in spite of that her trembling hand tentatively reached out for Daemon's which he took hold of without hesitation with a firm but gentle squeeze.

"Leave us, I have got it from here." Daemon ordered. He kept his eyes on Lilly and his free hand remaining on the hilt of Dark Sister.

Rhaenyra softly cupped the sides of Lillibaeth's face and left a fluttering brush of a kiss on her forehead, afraid to hurt her, before walking to the doors with Aila and Fleur close behind. The prince extended a respectful nod towards Ser Abyl when he was the last to leave the room, closing both of the wooden doors and situating himself in his spot in front of them outside. He bid a small goodbye to the three girls and Rhaenyra looped both of her arms through her sister's ladies-in-waiting own limbs as they made their way in a casual gait to the curved staircase that separated the apartments they were currently residing in to the rest of castle.

Lilly stood up right as the echo of the closing doors faded out into a stagnant silence other than the faint crackle of the dying fire across the room. She left Daemon's touch which caused him to flex his fingers then curl them hesitantly into a fist, pressing it firmly into his chest. She swayed on her bare feet with crossed arms and fragile stares, silently and desperately wishing for him to speak first because nothing was forming on her tongue.

"You should be in bed." He prodded gently, trying to lead her back underneath the covers, his fingertips brushing her sides which brought a tingle up the vertebrae of her spine.

"It feels better when I move — I get stiff." Lillibaeth replied just above a whisper as she snaked herself out of his guiding hands, stepping off to the side.

Every muscle and nerve ending in her body ached incessantly, and the moment she stilled it became frustratingly uncomfortable so her short but frequent strolls around the rooms felt good, for the pain and because of the comfortable familiarity of something she often did (and the newly budding nerves she felt under her uncle's intense furrowed stare seemed less prominent with the distraction of movement).

Daemon's eyes and head tracked her to the right of the room where she ended up in front of her vanity, pivoting his body to fully face her and taking unhurried steps to close the gap he felt was too large in between them. He noticed how she avoided her reflection but smiled fondly at the various amounts of jewelry scattered across the piece of furniture. Lillibaeth turned with a small grimace and her gaze finally met his and he tilted his head down at her, uncertainty recognizable in his features but nodding nonetheless, "Alright then."

Lillibaeth observed how some of the hair bordering his face still laid disheveled and sweaty, undone from its usual pulled back style, and went up on her tiptoes to fix it, laying it flat and tucking both pieces on either side behind both his ears. Daemon tensed at her touch, hands into tight fists at his sides but his lips parted and his strained brows relaxed. The shadow that seemed to loom over his usual blazing purple irises brightening again as if a cloud glided away from its spot above.

"Sorry." She drew her hand back quickly as the notion of what she just did settled in her brain. She took a shaky step back and looked off to the side in embarrassment but he stayed planted on his footing from where he stood.

The natural gentle manner of her speaking brought a flitter to his stomach, "No need —" He assured, a smile teasing on his lips, "Thank you princess."

The flutter in her belly intensified and warm spread across her freckled cheeks. There was no doubt Lillibaeth and Daemon were close, how they tended to gravitate towards each other throughout the years as the families' black sheep, though true heartfelt and this deep of a connection had never been shared between them.

This in general was entirely new to the young princess — the creeping feeling she felt equally in her brain and in her heart, the emotion rushing through her —— the undivided attention of a man.

The king kept her from possible suitors, stuffed inside the crumbling part of the Red Keep and when they were out interacting with the rest of Westeros she was strategically placed behind him or by his side with her head lowered and emerald stare shy. Her long and thick ink black hair acting like a curtain, a cage, keeping her hidden from a life outside of King's Landing. No matter King Viserys' feeling towards his eldest daughter, he would never allow her to leave his beady eyesight and control — it did not matter who offered up their hand as her husband. She was his.

Yet, she had not minded this new blooming emotion. It terrified her but she cautiously welcomed it, even if guilt and shame warranted their unwanted seat next to it with the memories of the night before in their stained red hands.

Daemon's stare flickered to her nightstand, the silver pitcher practically glistening in his peripheral, almost as if it were whispering to him with taunts to come back to his senses and out of the captivating encase of Lillibaeth's ethereal eyes.

His heavy footfalls vibrated underneath her feet as he careened to where it was placed on the teakwood and iron clad nightstand. He snatched the pitcher, the contents sloshing inside, and placed it underneath his nose, the bitter floral scent wafting up his nostrils and making him grow visibly disgruntled.

"I am not amused that the girls gave you milk of the poppy." He chided.

"Their names are Aila and Fleur—"

"We need to be vigilant, princess." He emphasized with pinched brows, interrupting her attempted dismissal. Stress was evident in his features and composure.

"I only took a small amount. No need to worry, Daemon." She responded softly, her hands moving to their usual place close to her abdomen, her long and slender fingers displaying outward elegantly.

He sighed, quietness enveloping them for a second whilst he eyed her gingerly situated hands, the first time he'd seen her do it since before the attack. They'd been closed in tight, trembling fists behind her back or at her sides since his arrival.

"They could have at least changed your night gown." He grit, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Uncle, will you stop pestering?"

"–And we need someone to get you restitched and put on new bandages, and those scratches on your arms look infected." He continued, though his tone had now shifted, quiet and filling with thick concern.

"No! No more maesters looking at my body. Their touch makes me feel sick." She whimpered and writhed, wrapping her arms protectively around her aching body, her shoulders hunching in on each other. Her face contorting into a twisted mask of humiliation and pain.

"Aila and Fleur then — but let me inspect your arms at least." He hummed. He drew nearer to her, lowering his head and rounding his shoulders to meet her short stature, waiting patiently and expectantly for her response.

She peered down at her arms, extending them to examine the long ragged welted cuts that were red, swollen, and itchy with some spots starting to grow foul with pus. After a moment with a ragged and uneven intake of air she tilted her chin upward and gave him a hesitant nod. A smile grew on her face, small and feeble, but still prominent regardless.

"What are you smiling about, princess?"

"See—? You do know their names."

Daemon mirrored her smile, but bigger and brighter, accompanied with a breathy chuckle — joyed that she was still in there, distant, some parts locked away, but in there nonetheless.

"Sit." He commanded gently, almost a whisper, gesturing to the stool in front of her vanity. She obliged, and adjusted her body so she purposefully faced entirely away from the mirror.

A pregnant but comfortable silence whirled around them. She watched his every move with slow blinks as he turned and grabbed the leftover supplies from her nightstand. He lowered himself onto his knees in front of her and began to place the tray onto the floor when it accidentally slipped from his fingers. The sharp clatter against the solid wood made her jump — her body rigid and screaming, her heart straining but she composed herself quickly.

He gingerly took ahold of her wrists with his fingers and outstretched her arms, her palms splayed atop her covered knees. He started to dab delicately at her skin, whispering a pained "sorry" here and there when she flinched and hissed through her clenched teeth at the sting of disinfectant coming in contact with the open wounds. He reached for a small glass pot holding a stark white antibiotic ointment prepared by one of the maesters. He scooped out some of the salve with the tip of his finger and applied it carefully to the long ragged scratch marks lining her arm, making sure to be extra gentle on the parts he noticed to be more sore and aggravated than others.

"The list of people I trust you with is only getting smaller and smaller the older you get." He scoffed, his jaw ticking and the tendons in his neck straining against the skin as he wiped the remainder of the ointment lingering on his finger off on his pants and went to grab the roll of gauze that rested by his knee.

"Daemon.." She meekly spoke, growing visibly uncomfortable at what he was insinuating. She bowed her head and stared down unblinking at a random spot on her upper thigh until her focus became blurry, feeling the gentle tugs of his touches again as he began to wrap her freshly cleansed forearms with the clean, soft fabric.

It was not foreign in her stormy winter mind that was once a peaceful spring stillness that something sinister was happening in the Red Keep, and the one sentence the man spoke to her as he held her down was the only reason she had not completely shut down this possible act of betrayal.

"You were attacked in your own court, on the pathway near the castle gardens because you are known to frequent there when sleep cannot find you. They knew your routine — this was a calculated attack, Lillibaeth."

Daemon halted his movements to look at her with a tilt of his head, a tendon flexed in his jaw. His eyes were wide and dilated, starting to fuzz with the fury that continued to simmer just behind them unnoticed.

There it was again. Her full name. Twice in one day.

She refused to look him in the eyes, knowing that he was staring her down with a heady gaze — soft but demanding, and waiting for her to speak the man's name.

"You think of me as weak because I will not tell you."

There was that word again — weak. Every muscle, every tendon, every bone —— screaming at her.

He inched closer to her. Close enough that she felt his warm and steady breath fan on her lips, soothing the throb and sting. "I think nothing of the sort, Lilly." He whispered, "I do think, however — you are protecting this person. Protecting the wrong person." He emphasized but still remained forbearing.

"Please stop—" She uttered with a quavery lilt, her already frail voice starting to crack even more. She kept her eyes glued to the newly wrapped white bandages, fighting back the bite of pained and scared tears.

A sullen sigh left his lips but nothing else — his heart aching at the hand shaped bruise that consisted of hues of burgundy around her neck, then the organ quickly bristled. That irate anger seething up in him again, threatening to boil over with the unbearable urge to put his own handprints on the man who had done this — but still, he continued healing her with his languid, cautious touches holding a stoic exterior composure.

He can wait.

Lillibaeth had finally fallen back asleep without fuss with the help of milk of the poppy. Daemon was hesitant to give her the milky white substance but her tired and tortured eyes wore him down.

Her handmaidens had returned before that and stitched back up the thick gash in her eyebrow and bandaged her ripped nail beds, which they hadn't done before but did it in an attempt to stop the throbbing and the on and off decent flow of blood. It had surprised the prince at how much it affected him to hear the princess' whimpers and sniveling of pain as they tended to her, he himself physically grimacing at her distressing reactions. The two young woman finished with the changing of Lilly's nightgown after the several muttering complaints of Daemon before he dismissed them to their chambers, encouraging them to get a good night's rest and instructed that they do not have to worry about waking before the sun because he was here to tend to her.

The princess' chambers were now being swallowed in fluttering shadows from the large fire to take the place of the absence of light through her windows as the blackest part of night seeped through them. The only evidence of Daemon was the occasional obnoxious creak of the chair he was sat in from his bouncing leg and his index finger tapping rapidly against that agitated leg.

His thoughts that his brother may have something to do with this plagued his mind — he had spent the past nine years trying to gain his attention, to get Viserys to notice him as he sat the Iron Throne to show him the best way he could that he genuinely loved him and the care he had towards his family was undeniably true, and for his older brother to show his love and appreciation towards him just the same. Harming him was never in his mind but now, the feeling of betrayal wrapped around him like barbed wire, prickling him till he bled, and as the hours ticked away more and more of it made sense — Otto Hightower loved dripping poison into the king's ears and he would stop at nothing. His obsession with Lillibaeth almost more deadly then Viserys' obsession of producing a male heir.

The thick quietness of the still air and the loudness in his head working against the tight flesh of his eardrums, bluing the tiny bones that conducted the sound, becoming defeaning in his ears as the flames in front of him started to dwindle. He stood up to fix it, adding more wood and prodding at the red-hot, hissing logs that still remained in the hearth with the fire poker. When he returned to his seat Darconia had joined him. The black dog sitting right next to him.

"You're nice company, armored angel." He admitted, crossing his legs with a pat on her head.

She let out a huff and shook off his hand but stayed where she was, even with a more comfortable spot made just for her just feet away —— almost like she knew Daemon needed comfort just as much as Lillibaeth did.

author's note,

a long time in the making...

i'm so sorry this took so long (almost an entire year 🫠)
BUT i promise updates are gonna come more frequently (once a month at least)

,, thank you SO MUCH for the continued support for this book over the last several months. the love you have for it and lillibaeth were definitely a big reason why this chapter is even happening! 🖤

i have so much planned for this book and lilly's future and can't wait to share them with you.

✶ 𓆇 ♞ -

⤹ INTRODUCING!
Fleur Song

(by the princess' side
with loyal, loving..)

━━━ protrayed by emily blunt

✶ 𓆇 ♞ -

Aila Loevy

(..and undying support
through it all.)

━━━ protrayed by naomi battrick

✶ 𓆇 ♞ -

with love ,
sloane

(posted —— oct. seventh, 2023)