CHAPTER FIVE ,
monsters under the bed

(  112 A.C. ———
Red Keep, Black Dove's Nest
———  King's Landing   )

          Time fell still in the confines of Lillibaeth's apartments though life continued to bloom outside her windows; the darkness shifting into hues of teal and pinkish oranges and blinding sun rays as the calming and elegant symphony of singing birds cut through the pleasantly warm air.

Soft snores expelled from Lilly's parted mouth, the deepest and longest uninterrupted sleep she'd gotten since the barbaric crime committed against her. Darconia, who was practically a second shadow to Lillibaeth in the last nine moons that she has had her, laid sprawled out next to her in the empty part of her bed but was wide awake; observent dark brown eyes always scanning the room and her large head resting heavy on Lilly's thigh that peaked out from under the covers that twitched every so often in her slumber.

Daemon, who hadn't gotten a blink of rest, moved from his spot in front of the fireplace sometime during the night to the velvet chaise that resided under the bay windows; a perfect distance between the platform that held the princess' canopied bed and the large iron clad doors where ser Abyl Lash was posted. A bulging ache rippled through his skull and as the hours passed by and the sun took the moon's spot his steadfast upright position slowly fell into the piece of furniture, his body turned sluggish but his lavender eyes remained leering between where Lilly slept and where the doors sat shut, even occasionally cocking his ears to the window listening for anything that shouldn't be there.

All was silent, comforting even, with the sweet sounds of the sleeping princess, until it wasn't and it was sliced in ragged halves when Abyl could be heard arguing with someone. Hostile sibilant whispers muffled through the thick span of the wooden entrance.

Relaxed turned rigid as Daemon swung his legs over to plant his feet steadily on the ground and swiftly stood up, hand finding his designated spot on the hilt of Dark Sister, skin stretched so thin over the bone his knuckles were white. Hackles raised between his shoulder blades just as much as Darconia, who too now stood rigid on all fours on the edge of the bed, black ears perked toward the voice that belonged to a man who shouldn't be anywhere near this part of the castle.

"Is a man not allowed to walk the halls of his own home?" Otto sniped.

"Not here you are not." Abyl's bitter response could be heard over the heavy fall of Daemon's steps as he hastily approached after hearing the unwelcome gravelly tone of Lord Otto Hightower in a shut off barren place that only Princess Lillibaeth resided in.

The handle creaked under the pressure of Daemon's fist who gave a brisk glance to Lillibaeth still sound asleep before swinging one of the doors open with a controlled force that startled the two men at its abruptness though the princess remained undisturbed.

His hand dragged off the handle, the cooling metal abandoning his body and in its wake fire pulsed through him as he took a heavy stride over the threshold of Lillibaeth's bedchambers and into the dimly lit hallway. Some of the tumbling stone from the wall crunched into a bellowing pale red hue of dust under his foot and into the air. His arm fell heavy by his side, his fingers clenched in a vice grip; the stinging bite of breaking skin lanced through the grooves of his palm.

"Leave." Daemon commanded lowly and calmly but the scrape to his voice unveiled the single chance of a warning.

He had a firm set to his jaw, the muscles there aching a steady throb. His violet eyes bore into Otto's as his fingers twisted and squeezed around the leather hilt of the dragon winged sword.

"I only came to check on the princess." He mustered out innocently enough with a friendly shrug and nonchalant raise of the eyebrows but his mouth held a wry smirk that boiled both the prince and kingsguard's skin, irritation tugging on both of their expressions.

Otto's attempt of a single step closer to crossing into Lillibaeth's quarter's failed with the single fluid movement of both men cutting him off from any advances further, their touching sides forming a large and broad wall made up by leather, metal, and pure muscle — like protecting Lilly was hardwired into their every nerve.

Darconia had been assessing the situation from her position on the bed where her owner slept safely under plush covers, jumping down at the sudden movement of the blocking of the entrance, her slow prowling steps accompanied by the clicks of her nails could be heard behind them.

"Be wary. She detests the pests that slither around these halls." Daemon quipped in reference of the large dog looming menacingly at his heels, a flicker of a cold smirk lifting up one corner of his mouth, "Though she finds them quite tasty – greasy. But pleasurable nonetheless."

Otto clasped his hand around one of his wrists behind his back with an unamused hum of acknowledgment and a purse of his lips; seemingly unfazed by the intimidation tactics imposed by the three of them. He straightened his already obnoxiously upright posture before giving Abyl a sideline glance as if the dutiful guard meant nothing to him before moving onto Daemon, eyeing him up and down with slitted eyes.

"You should speak with your brother." The hand of the king spoke with finality.

Daemon scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "I would rather chop off my own cock." He griped, displeasure and contempt evident in his tightly drawn expression, "He is aware I am here, I assume —" He gave a quirk of his eyebrow, "If he wishes to talk, he knows where to find me."

The solo whisper of a strangled panicked "Daemon" drifted through the door alongside the wind and the spit of its salty brine that came up through the windows from the surging and crashing ocean waves below and into the ears of the men.

Lillibaeth was violently awoken with a full body jerk. Confusion and fear puddled around her as her bleary eyes blinked frantically around the span of her room. Shredded breathing accompanied her racing heart that constricted her chest so much it burned with each laborious pump of the strained organ.

The princess' body was clammy with a sickly sticky sweat, her white nightgown sticking uncomfortably to her skin. The pain in her head drummed violently and her stomach was sour, churning with nausea so intense it made her dizzy.

Time was indeed moving by and will continue to every time she woke with the rising sun, but her mind and body will always be tethered to that night no matter the distance that was put between it — it won't be the last. It will be the first of many. Lillibaeth will suffer until her last dying breath because someone decided he would take and touch what was not his to take or touch. Because a girl is never safe in the ravaged world she lived in. Because she wasn't a man.

"Daemon?!" Her uncle's name came out much louder than before, almost shrill with the way it bounced off the paintings and tapestries on the walls.

Daemon was the first thing Lilly saw when the muddy clouds of disturbed sleep that obstructed her vision cleared; his face was set in deep worry, hands reaching out for her, landing gently on her thigh in the hopes of it settling her down with his needed physical company. Abyl was quick to follow behind him with his armored hand unmoving on the hilt of his sword, his own eyes wide and eyebrows pinched with concern for his princess.

Otto took the opportunity of supposed distraction to take a sneaky step into the space, assessing her chambers and scanning her personal belongings that lay neatly atop various surfaces with his narrow beady eyes. He emulated a snake; how he slithered and snuck around looking for any opportunity when no one was watching. His long slender shadow violating the floor that belonged to Lillibaeth.

He just finished noting the squished disarrayed pillows of the chaise that he assumed Daemon had laid on all night when the snapping of clashing teeth pulled his attention down to his feet.

Darconia pulled back her jowls in a snarl, pristine sharp teeth on perfect show for the man, nipping in his direction; not touching him, just enough for Otto to head her warning seriously. Still, he jumped back with a low hurried curse, his back and the back of his skull bumping into the portion of the double door that was still shut closed. A ghost of a kick had licked his leg but he thought better of it.

Lillibaeth looked a lot worse this morning than the day prior, her wounds and injuries finally settling in and making their unwelcome home atop her skin and beneath — the pain was worse, radiating throughout her body in waves; stiff, sore, and throbbing.

She was more swollen than she was the day before; mainly her face and abdomen where most of the trauma was executed. She couldn't open her left eye, the delicate skin under it was a deep blue and purple, almost black, as the bruise trailed to the inner eye and down to the cheekbone.

Daemon moved to sit her up with gentle but calloused hands; hands that other wise didn't know a lot of tenderness. He went to prop pillows behind her but a pained bellow dragged up and out of her throat at the upright shifting of her body.

"My apologies princess. I'm sorry, but we got to sit you up." He crooned kindly and sympathetically in her ear.

Lilly shook her head in response, meek raspy protests leaving her lips; she was never good with pain. She gripped onto his shoulders whilst he gingerly got her situated, one hand right under the side of her rib cage and the other fixing the lush pillows atop of each other behind her back. Her head topped over, forehead slotting with his sternum with puffs of air pushing out of her nostrils as the pain and stiffness flared up.

Outside Vhespyr joined her; feeling the affliction and overwhelming emotions that lanced through her rider just the same if not more. The black dragon screaming with such eerie vibrations as she began to take flight, the flap of her heavy pristine and shimmering leathern wings booming against the wind trapped underneath them.

It seemed Otto was the only one taken aback. He snapped his head toward the windows, large eyes pulling back and forth in haste and panic for any signs of the princess' dragon.

He took in the roars from the both of them with a grimace, the only physical evidence of his facade crumbling — he couldn't begin to understand or respect how connected they were; they were not two separate entities —— They were one.

Daemon was by him in a moment, Abyl taking his place to tend to Lilly. She took hold of his hand and tugged it to her person which he squeezed back in silent solace. She tried to will her scorched and shredded breathing down to normal but everything hurt; every pore, every cell, every nerve ending. She felt as if she were on fire.

"Out. Now." Daemon spit out, each word spoke with brunt vigor, lips drawn back in a snarl. The muscle in his jaw jumping and straining.

His eyes, glowered and narrow, hid beneath the shadow of his low furrowed brow as his palm pressed to the column of Otto's throat with a single shove and then slam of the door. With the grooves of his splayed hand still leaning against the wooden entrance he quickly collected himself with a lowered head and deep weighted breath before facing back towards the princess and her sworn sword.

"Ser Abyl I have it from here." He stated firmly, his eyes flickering to the closed door where he knew his brother's hand still loitered behind.

With a solid single nod and the release of Lillibaeth's hand, Abyl left the room to deal with Lord Otto.

It was a slow process leading her to the chaise; stopping at every shaky uneven step that brought forth the slipping of a feeble whimper through her cracked lips. The cold ground a surprising relief to the uncomfortable heat her body held as it tried to heal the best it could.

He tipped almost fully to the right to hold her body up straight, his arm wrapped securely around her torso and tucking her into his side, cautious and aware on where he laid his splayed palm on her hip.

His hands gingerly moved to her sides, almost not even touching the span of covered skin right under her rib cage, guiding her as she took a seat. His fingers found their way up the silhouette of her body to brush back a stray piece of her damp sweat filled hair out of her face, careful to maneuver around the gnarly bruise on her swollen cheekbone, twirling the ends around his finger with a light tug before tucking it neatly behind her ear to join the rest of her long black locks that were such a stark difference to the color of his own silver hair which otherwise flowed very similarly to his own over her shoulders and cascading down her back.

"Skoros kostagon nyke gaomagon syt ao?" His eyes traced back and forth across her face, assessing her, "Kostilus ivestragon issa." He pressed further, almost a whisper. A sense of guilt wrapped around his words like barbed wire.
{What can I do for you?}
{Please tell me.}

Daemon fucking hated feeling helpless. It was a foreign parasitic feeling. A live thing, squirming and poking as he tried and tried to push it back into dormancy. He wanted it to stop. He wanted all these new bubbling feelings to stop — it was too fucking much.

He wanted Lillibaeth's pain to stop, he desired to be everything for her. She looked for his comfort and he didn't know what to do to make her feel better. The deep ache in his bones that he couldn't name embedded itself more permanently in him the longer he looked at her; felt her on his fingertips; felt her breath on his skin; as visions and thoughts about her swirled deliriously around his head.

"Nyke jorrāelagon iā nykeā iēdar." Lillibaeth spoke softly, her lips twitching in a small wan smile. It almost came out like a question, like she was preparing for him to deny her request.
{I would love a bath.}

"I will fetch your ladies to prepare one for you." Daemon replied in a soothing tone heavy with affection.

He stood up straight, Lilly's gaze following him, her doleful eyes fixed intently on his face.

"Where are you off to then?"

"You needn't worry about me, I''ll return shortly." He hinged at the hips again, pressing two slow tender kisses where her cheek met her jaw, away from the more significant scuffs on the rest of her face, goosebumps breaking out all over her body from just his touch, "Enjoy your bath, my princess."

          Her ladies aided her naked body into the water shortly after Daemon found them in their servant quarters and told them of the princess' wishes. The soapy liquid sloshing around her as she settled in the large round bronze tub.

It took a minute for the stinging she experienced when she first submerged herself to go away. When it did, the aches and throbbing subsided substantially. Hot water tore through her wounds and the smell of sweet and bitter floral infiltrated her nostrils.

Still, Lillibaeth flinched and let out faint cries each time Alia and Fluer touched her with their gentle cleaning; examining the brightly discolored skin of purple, blue, and red blooming hot across her body. They paid extra attention to her eye, the swelling still creeping around it and the pressure keeping it almost entirely closed; the girls were eventually able together coax her to open it with heavy praise and encouragement as they glided a warm rag across it to calm the angry swelling.

The Maester's did not believe she had sustained any broken bones, that there be no prominent scarring beside the deep vertical gash in her left eyebrow. Her nerves were a different story, frayed beyond repair as her body heavily shook even sitting in the hot and comforting bath water.

"I do not know why I cannot stop crying." Lilly sniveled, her voice wobbling and her throat raw.

"Crying does not indicate that you are weak, princess. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive." Fluer began to respond, placing a loving hand along her jaw, her fingertips scratching slightly against her scalp right behind her ear which Lilly promptly leaned into, "You cry as much or as little as you please, princess. Work on healing – however that may look like."

"Princess," Aila's voice quiet and sweet swirled through the air, Lillibaeth's eyes flickering over to gaze at her with seemingly now permanent glassy, sorrowful eyes, "We will be here. Daemon will be here, Rhaenyra will be here. You are not alone."

And almost on cue Darconia decided to join in on the conversation. Her front paws, large and full of shiny black fur, jumped on the curved lip of the tub, her claws clanking against the metal. Her mouth open with a wide smile, large tongue flopping out from under low upper jowls. Dark brown eyes staring fondly at her owner.

"Oh! And draconia!" Aila exclaimed with a joyful squeal, open palms going up in a childlike surprise, as the Cane Corso gave Lillibaeth a sloppy kiss on her cheek which drew out a small bubbly giggle from her lips.

The remainder of the bath was a comfortable silence with soapy tender swipes of a warm facecloth across her body until her handmaidens had left the princess in the company of Rhaenyra and her best friend and daughter of the hand of the king, Alicent Hightower.

Her own relationship with Alicent was one she truly did not know what to think of. She knew her little sister adored her and trusted her and for that she too opened her arms to the timid Hightower girl but beyond that there still laid doubt.

Lillibaeth couldn't ignore the bitterness that swarmed around her or just the Hightower name itself; it wasn't often that feeling, that energy, came through and most people didn't even take notice of it, but if you stared long enough at Alicent Hightower the air around her began to warp and ripple. Her loyalty lay with someone who directly and blatantly opposed the Targaryen sisters and the entirety of their family and legacy; Otto Hightower.

Lilly feared she will break that trust Rhaenyra had of her by exercising that loyalty. When it came to Otto Hightower she cannot be a good daughter and a loyal friend to the younger Targaryen. She will eventually have to pick one and Lillibaeth was almost certain it wasn't going to be her sister.

But nonetheless, the dark haired princess could not deny the gratitude and appreciation she felt towards Alicent and her sister in the coming and very needed hours, doing all they could to make her feel comfortable and safe, making her laugh and smile; caring for her. She wouldn't forget it.

In her apartments was where she spent her day as the sun glided lower and lower in the sky and as the light filtered through the large floor to ceiling windows got dimmer and dimmer, changing from clear and bright to a dusty orange and pink. The three girls ate creamy and fruity frozen desserts, the bite of the cold feeling good on Lilly's raw and dry throat as she swallowed the colorful sweet dish.

She was wrapped cozily in a thick maroon bed robe embellished with embroidered golden swirls that vaguely resembled the outlines of dragons. Rhaenyra and Alicent sat cross legged in front of the lit fireplace combing and twisting Lillibaeth's freshly clean hair from the bath into several small and thick Valyrian braids in intricate placements and designs with gentle hands throughout the otherwise loose flowy black locks down the span of her back. The younger Targaryen Princess having made a loving, and deeply earnest comment at one point about making her older sister look like their fierce and brave ancestor, Queen Visenya, in which Lillibaeth had responded with a bashful smile.

          The sun had long said her goodbyes. The moon taking her place guarding life below; protecting them from total darkness. Lillibaeth sat on the cushioned stool in front of her vanity, the moonlight making her green eyes shimmer like the irises contained millions of the tiniest specks of glitter.

She had just excused her ladies-in-waiting after Alicent and Rhaenyra each pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek shortly before that, bidding goodbyes as they left to ready themselves for bed in their own respective rooms.

The coarse wiry bristles of her brush slid smoothly through her thick hair after somewhat hesitantly undoing the braids the girl's did. She put her hair into a long thick braid, it lying over her shoulder with the ends resting on her lap, a few stray pieces framing her face. Her stark white nightshift, a ruffled square neckline with sheer bishop sleeves made up of a loosely fitted cotton fabric that dropped just above her knees, was all she could bear to focus on, petrified to get a glance of her face and her skin.

She looked on with slow blinking and face ridden with a lost, numb look. The slow rise and fall of her sternum felt heavy, the air thickening around her even with the light sea salt breeze. She felt like she needed to purge her body and clean out her insides; like all her skin had been ripped clean off her body and it didn't belong to her anymore.

The searing chill that had rushed up the notches of her spine when she realized what was about to happen to her; the thrashing of her heart, just pure dread, complete and utter terror as he took everything from her that was not his to take. No self worth, no self identity could be found. He stole it from her. No barrier between her and the world. No protective layer to keep her safe — bare to Westeros where they could do anything they wanted to her and she just had to lay there on her back and take it.

Alia and Fluer cleaned up her bandages after her bathing. The garish scratches on her arm had already calmed down significantly from the ointment Daemon had slathered on them the night before when she gave a quick timid peek as they did. The garish bruises on her abdomen and ribs hurt the most with every breath and movement. Her nails, still hidden safely and securely behind bandages, where most were pulled back and had blood pooling underneath and some had been completely ripped off; stinging and throbbing, numb and tingling.

With a deep breath through her mouth, pausing shortly in her chest before releasing back through her lips along with a fluttering of her eyelids to wash away the dizziness beginning to flare and anxiety swarming in her belly, her drooping exhausted eyes finally found her reflection. She examined the small scrapes across her face and the faint bruises forming around them, trembling wrapped fingertips grazing them with a winced grimace, the marks flushed crimson. Tears welled up in her waterline, prickling at her eyes and nose; heartbroken at what her body looked like.

She had never hated herself, she never truly considered herself as beautiful or worth paying any mind to, but she never hated herself. And she supposed deep down that even now she still held those feelings for herself but she couldn't get the assault or him out of her head. It tore her sense of self, sense of the world, up by the roost.

Her searching fingers inched closer to the column of her neck, her porcelain skin marred with a blurred handprint. She swiftly moved on, fearing if she stayed in one spot for a moment too long, the panic; the guilt; the dread; the shame, will feel it was welcome to enter her shattered psyche. She then continued her wary but needful assessment by scooping out the greasy salve of the ointment tincture and sweeping over the vertical stitching cutting through the middle of her left eyebrow after peeling the itchy bandage off and tossing it aside, and although the gash only panned the length of her brow it was the deepest wound on her body.

The thrashing throb under the skin and behind the brow made it difficult to ignore the lasting scar that will form once the pain had long resided. It'll be a prominent jagged disfigurement, and with the hair stunted from growing there will be no chance hiding it — a permanent reminder for not only herself but every single pair of eyes that will lock on her face; forever branded and having to deal with the pitiful expressions and empty words of sympathy in her direction that will follow.

Lillibaeth felt as if the taste of the moontea still lingered sourly on her tongue, the act of taking it another form of assault. Her brain and soul cooked while simultaneously scraped raw. Daemon was right. This was a calculated attack — the red cloth embroidered with the three headed dragon; what he said to her.

She got careless. She strolled along those cobbled pathways in the gardens on most nights, she should've been more aware of her surroundings. She knew that people wanted to hurt her; why didn't she think it would not occur during something she frequently found herself doing?

When her defense was at an all time low, her routine giving her a false sense of security..

She should've —

A knock on the door swept her away from the ground that was quickly crumbling, saving her from the blame and the terror before it took her under into darkness where those emotions festered and writhed and grew, constricting her into a deadly grip like a snake ready to devour its next meal.

It made her jump in her skin, her heart seizing in her chest cavity. Darconia immediately on guard; solid stance in the space between the doors and where Lilly was sat off to the left on the platform containing her bed, vanity, and a quaint garderobe hidden behind a wooden paneled room divider off in the corner.

It was only Daemon. Coming in without a word, face deeply set in concentration. Long and straight silver-blonde hair swaying elegantly with his movements, a pillow and thick comforter stuffed messily under his arm. His eyes sweeping swiftly over towards Lilly when he took a step up before bringing his attention back to where he stood infront of the large canopied bed.

"What are you doing?" She wondered, looking over her left shoulder with brows pinched together and confusion plastered on her face as she watched him push the ottoman placed by the edge of her bed off to the side up against the wall opposite of her.

"What does it appear I'm doing, princess?" He responded with a small groan at the exertion of moving the heavy furniture, beginning to create a makeshift bed on the stone floor at the foot of her bed.

Daemon's bedchambers were far too away for his liking and the single staircase entrance into Black Dove's Nest left a sour feeling in his stomach. Even the chaise only feet away where he slept the night prior had too much of a distance. He had lost both his parents and little brother by the age of twenty; the need to protect, to be on the defensive for his family imbedded itself at an early age — Lilly would not have the same fate so many woman in his family were cursed with.

Lillibaeth twisted around on her stool to face him with a hissed wince scraping through her teeth, her fingers playing aimlessly with the ends of her braided hair bounded with a leather cord.

"Issi ao sȳrī?" he asked with a sad grimace, concern evident in his features and composure, "Se ōdres, iksos ziry..."
{Are you well?}
{The pain, is it...}

The words trailed off his tongue when his attention latched onto her ridden up nightshift, trying not to stare at the scratches and bruises peeking from her inner thighs. Fighting the urge to act with impulse, his second nature. Demand that Lillibaeth speak his name; unveil the identity of the man she kept in the dark confines of her mind; treat her like he would anyone else. But Daemon couldn't. Not her. Aggression doesn't exist in a room with her.

She uncomfortably readjusted her garment, despising that not only must she see the injuries, the marks on her skin and on her soul; so can everybody else. She was utterly exposed and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Tolvie jelevre." She answered simply, almost emotionless, like there was a disconnect to the words. It was all she could manage, not wanting to focus too long on the pain pulsating throughout her body as she would begin to flare up with panic if she did.
{Every breath.}

Daemon didn't seem to have a response, and Lillibaeth couldn't particularly fault him. She could see how hard he was trying to keep his temper under control in the way his mouth tightened after he let a hum of disgruntlement slip out and with the muscle in his jaw jumping under his skin; and as fast as it came it left, his hardened face disarmed with a soft press of his lips into a sympathetic line and the creases in between his brows deepening in tender concern.

With a shaky press of her palms on her legs she struggled to stand to her feet, dull pain radiating in her lower abdomen and thighs, "It feels as if my head is no longer attached to the remainder of my body. I hardly recognize myself, uncle."

His eyes softened with a few quick blinks and tilted his head to the side at her vulnerable confession  — his slow, reverent expression of care on a body she was not even certain she remained inside of anymore.

"You will find your way again, Lilly–"

What he was about to say died on his tongue when the foreboding moaning cries of Vhespyr vibrated through his chest and eardrums.

The princess rushed as fast as she could muster to the window, leaning against the sill with the briney sea smell wafting in her nostrils, and whistled — slow and eerie, stilled and mellow.

The sound still being heard over the rushing and receding waves colliding violently into the jagged rocks below her, travelled to Vhespyr where she impressively matched the tune with skilled precision. She followed with a deep rattling grumble, and then silence, matching the still of the night, seemingly settling back down in content of hearing and being heard by her rider.

"I propose a plan" Daemon leant down to speak lowly in her ear.

"Of what?" She quirked an eyebrow, turning around.

She reared back, unaware at how close he was standing by her this entire time but he stayed planted where he was, hinging faintly at the hips and lowering his head to stare down at her. His hand curving around her back to twist and play with her braid. He gazed at her freckles, the natural flush on the apple of her cheeks, how fiercely green her eyes shone.

Insecurity began tugging on her heart, chewing on the inside of her cheek, hands held shut and close against her abdomen. She assumed he was fixed on the cuts scattering her features but he was doing anything but, he was admiring how heart-achingly beautiful she was. Something he feared was lost on her.

"We visit Vhespyr on the morrow." He concluded softly, his gaze finding hers, a smirk tugging playfully on his lips.

"Can we?!" She beamed, her eyes bright and twinkling like the stars above them.

He went to open his mouth but paused halfway before shutting it as something akin to remembrance flashed in his eyes, "You can." he corrected, tentative contemplation displayed on his features as if he was wondering if he should just forget what was arranged with his brother and stay with her, "I will be occupied, but Ser Lash can escort you down to the beaches. However, in the meantime –" He began to lead her in the direction of her bed only a couple feet away, "it is late, we should attempt to get some rest."

She hid her disappointment as he prepared her sheets, hesitating only when he wordlessly asked her to crawl into them by lifting the covers, her feet digging into the ground.

"Is something the matter?"

Blushing crimson climbed her features, face and ears blazing hot with embarrassment and shame. She hung her head low, look fixedly locking on her champed hands, averting her face from his line of sight. She remained silent. Trying to move her body and get into bed but she couldn't. She was frozen. Paralyzed.

She knew he's not there, he couldn't possibly be under the bed, but the way the shadows seemed to lurched tauntingly towards her she swore it looked like his hand.

"Lillibaeth—"

"Can you check beneath the bed." She interrupted with an abrupt lift of her head, imploring with wide, worried eyes.

Daemon did not hesitate. Did not joke. He just did it. Lowering to his knees, lifting the flowy piece of the dark burgundy bed scarf and checking throughly. Head moving side to side, observant eyes scanning the darkness. When he deemed it clear and safe for her, he returned to her.

Pressing his forehead to hers, hand coming up to encase her fingers in a reassuring squeeze where they lay tightly across her belly in nervousness, "No one's here, princess. It's only you and I. You're safe — you're safe with me. I swear it."

author's note,

this was supposed to come out the day of the season premiere 🤡

quite proud of this chapter tho,, got heavy at times but
i'm happy that i was able to showcase what i wanted in
the terms of the after affects of an assault

buttttt shits going down next chapter starring the menace that is daemon targaryen doing what he's best; getting pure pure revenge

with love ,
sloane