He loved you, he said. He’d say so every night he’d sneak in your room through the forgotten corridors. He’d say so every time he took you, every time he reached his peak, and even though you didn’t know every dawn, when he’d kiss your face before he snuck out of your room again.

After Daemon returned from the Stepstones, he knew very well what he wanted to do. And one of these things was to bed a maiden again. The only women he’d find at the battle were not interesting and ones that multiple men would have a night. So when he came home and saw his youngest niece had blossomed as you had he knew he had to have you.

And here he was, next to you in bed, putting his clothes back on and tightening his boots again as you sat up against the bedframe covering yourself with the sheets, your gaze making Daemon look back at you and huff.

“What?”