Chapter Text
Even as you approached the forbidding throne and the King that sat upon it, your father was what frightened you most. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, your body shaking and your heart racing unforgivingly in your chest. Thoughts swirled around in your head as your mind tried desperately to process all you had experienced in the prior hour.
At last, the procession of gold cloaks halted before the King. One of them began to speak and you shrank into yourself as his voice bounced off the stone walls. “Your Grace, we come before you following an incident between the Prince, Daemon Targaryen, the Lady (y/n) Hightower, and the Lord Jason Lannister.”
The man paused, cleared his throat, and shot an anxious look in Daemon’s direction before continuing. “When the guards arrived, it was apparent that the Prince had cut off the Lord’s fingers.”
The gold cloak tasked with carrying the two fingers held them up, collaborating the story. Viserys took his time in responding, allowing himself a chance to take in the scene.
He noticed the way you trembled beside Daemon, the King’s eyes falling to your entwined hands just in time to see your’s tighten around his. Your gaze was cast on the floor, terror struck at the though of meeting your father’s eye. Daemon glanced over at you, studying you with a grimace. Then, his eyes met his brother’s and they shared a drawn out look before the King turned his attention to Jason Lannister.
By now, the Lion had, at the very least, recovered enough to stand up straight. His focus was on the cloth he was holding to his wounded hand, hoping to slow the bleeding.
“Speak the truth of this matter, brother, and speak it plain,” the King commanded.
Daemon stepped forward, his hand being pulled from yours with the motion. The loss of comfort only served to heighten your anxiety. You’d have felt more at ease if the floor opened up and swallowed you whole.
“Your Grace, I happened upon Lord Lannister attempting to force himself on Lady Hightower. I only sought to defend her honor from he who would threaten it.”
Viserys considered his brother’s words before he turned to you. “And what say you, Lady Hightower?”
Though you felt compelled to cower away, you still stepped forward to answer. Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, “I am very thankful for the Prince’s intervention, your Grace. I fear what could have happened, had he not been passing by.”
Your comment seemed to arouse the Lannister’s anger and he cried out in response. “The Prince has disfigured me!” His face was a fierce shade of red and spit flew from his mouth, “I demand more than some woman’s account before I be condemned!”
His thunderous voice sent you flying to Daemon’s side, a move that did not go unnoticed by the King. Somewhere deep within himself, he felt a tug as he imagined that his own daughter might one day face this same evil.
“I will not have you speak out of turn in mine own hall.” The King’s voice was even, yet threatening.
“Your Grace, I am of the house Lannister-”
“And I am well acquainted with the laws and justice upheld by the Seven Kingdoms,” the King spoke venomously. “Find a cell befitting House Lannister while it’s Lord awaits trial.”
Daemon couldn’t help the smirk that graced his features, as they dragged the man away despite his slew of protests. His satisfaction was short lived, however, as your father interjected.
“Your Grace, I beg that you grant leave for myself and my daughter, so that we may settle our end of this matter privately,” the Hand requested firmly.
His voice was so intense, you couldn’t help but spare a glance at him. Finding that he was already looking at you, your own meekness was evident.
"It would seem that the girl is but a victim here," the King tried, sensing Otto's anger.
"Even so, we have family matters that beg discussion."
Reluctantly, the King agreed, unwilling to question his steadfast Hand in a room full of people. The only sounds that followed were Otto's hurried steps and a few hushed murmurs.
You followed behind your father without another word on his part, glancing back at Daemon with wide, worried eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched downward as his gaze flickered over to Otto. When you disappeared from sight, a nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he had to get to you as soon as possible.
He turned to his brother, "might we speak alone, your Grace?"
Viserys nodded, "leave us at once."
The brothers remained silent until the last of the receding footsteps were cut off by the closing of the doors.
"Was that the full extent of the truth?" Viserys asked curiously.
"Aye. I may have gotten ahead of myself, but it was not without... just cause." Daemon's hands turned to fists at his side as he recalled the way Jason Lannister pawed at your body while you tried to push him away. "I should like to see him meet with the King’s Justice."
If not for the gravity of the situation, the King might have chuckled at his brother. Instead, he leaned back in the Throne and rested his head on his hand. "How amusing."
"How glad I am, hearing that the King finds such villainy within his own castle walls amus-"
"You truly care for this girl." The King's dumbfounded observation halted his brother's ever ceaseless irreverence.
The two stared at each other and Viserys raised his eyebrows teasingly, his lip threatening to curl upward. A man wholly unfamiliar with bashfulness, Daemon still averted his eyes.
When he finally spoke again, his voice would have been unreadable if not for the way it cracked as he uttered the last syllable. "If you know it to be true, then do not take her from me."
The King sighed deeply, his brother’s show of emotion stirring up his sympathy. "Love is no easy thing, Daemon."
"But you are wrong, brother." He took a step forward, a display of earnestness. "With her, it is."
That made the King think of his own wife, her comfortable company, and her endless devotion. A fond expression found its way onto his face. He remembered that when she first learned you and Daemon were involved, she suggested that Daemon may have finally found someone he might like to take to wife. He should have listened, as she knew long before he that Daemon’s intentions were sincere.
He contemplated long and hard about the decision he was about to make. Viserys always hoped his brother might find some sort of salvation, that he'd grow into a man deserving of the throne. He considered that you might be the only person capable of bringing that to fruition.
"If I were to set aside your marriage, you would wed this girl and be happy for it?"
Daemon swallowed before answering, "there is nothing I would not give up if it meant I could be with her."
Viserys struggled to remember the last time Daemon had been so unguarded with him. It was probably in their youth, when they'd travel to the island not far from their home, just the two of them. It felt odd now, having grown used to his callous, snarky demeanor.
"I will order it done."
Daemon's own pessimism forced him into a state of belief. He had no idea how Viserys was going to respond to the evening’s events, but he could not have dreamed this possibility.
He took one step toward his brother, then another, until he stood just feet from the Throne. Viserys rose from his seat there and was promptly pulled into a hug.
"Thank you, brother," Daemon offered under his breath. He let go just after, the embrace over as quickly as it began. Viserys still smiled warmly and placed a hand on Daemon's shoulder.
"Now then, go save her from the wrath of her father. But please, do leave my Hand intact."
Daemon simply nodded before turning swiftly toward the way you had went. The King felt for you after seeing the way you trembled and relied on his brother for support. Though it indicated your involvement with the man your father considered to be his worst enemy, he still hoped it would prompt Otto to go easy on you.
Regrettably, your father proved that would not be the case just moments after your earlier exit. He walked quickly toward the Tower of the Hand, your own legs struggling to keep up as you fell behind. Once he was certain he was free from any spying eyes, he stopped, but only long to grab you roughly by the wrist. "Dragging this out will not save you, daughter."
The pressure from his fingers caused you to hiss in pain and stumble over your feet as he resumed his pace. You saw his eyes only for a fleeting moment, but it was still clear they were filled with a dangerous fury. It made your blood run cold.
Eventually, you reached the bottom of the stairs leading up into the Tower. You were already breathless, but he didn't hesitate as he began his ascent, pulling you along with him. You knew that his grip had surely left a mark by now.
When you made it to the top, your free hand was resting on your heaving chest. The only moment he gave you to catch your breath was the one he spent slamming the door shut. He turned to look at you, disdain clearly etched into every feature of his face.
“You let that lecher ruin you like some common whore?” he accused.
“W-What?” you stammered, “Father, no! How could you-”
“Silence!” the veins in his neck bulged prominently as he cut you off. The resentment in his voice made your eyes well up. “How humiliating, to watch you brought before the court, latching onto him after he attacked a suitor on your behalf. What will people say?”
You wrapped your arms around yourself as your heart hammered in your chest. “I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry-”
“Do you think your apologies are of value to me? You are a poison to this family,” he spat at you.
His assertion ignited a fire inside your chest and your next words were angry. They bubbled up and spilled from your lips without a second thought. “You claimed that roll for yourself when you accepted being Hand! You destroyed us!”
His voice grew impossibly louder, “I did what duty and honor compelled me to do!”
“No,” you began. “You did what ambition urged of you when you brought us to this wretched place.”
“And Daemon Targaryen is your reprieve from the wretchedness?” he laughed at you, an attempt to make you feel small. “Do you truly believe he holds a shred of genuine affection in his heart for you?”
Your expression was answer enough to him. “You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”
Meanwhile, Daemon’s legs ached as he sprinted through the halls. You’d been through so much already and the thought of your father adding to your pain made him sick. He ignored the way his lungs burned as he began climbing the stairs of the Hand’s Tower.
“You... You are wrong,” you denied.
“My foolish daughter,” he sniggered, full of contempt. “The man has whored his way through the entirety of Flea Bottom, he would not take you to wife. Do you believe yourself special enough to turn him from his penchant for greed and havoc?”
“You are not worthy of passing such judgment,” you growled at your father. “Already, he has treated me with more warmth and care than I ever saw you extend toward my mother.”
In the following seconds, two sounds resonated within the room. First, the door swung open, smashing into the wall with such force it was a wonder the hinges were still intact. Then, your father’s open palm met with your cheek and the sharp sound it gave rise to rang mercilessly in your ears.
The pain that blossomed across your skin and the dissonant yelling that followed both garnered your attention equally. Your hand came to graze your reddened cheek, but your fingertips only served to worsen the stinging sensation.
Your own discomfort was subsequently forgotten for the time being, as Daemon pushed your father against the wall, the fabric of his shirt balled up in the younger man’s fists. A thin line of blood was running from the corner of his mouth and down his chin.
“Just two fingers... I fear I may have let your pet off too easy, you know,” Daemon seethed.
“What in Seven Hells are you talking about?”
You stepped forward, your eyes boring into your father’s. Daemon stayed quiet. The choice of whether to provide clarity was unreservedly yours.
“Naive girl,” you recounted Jason Lannister’s words to you aloud. “Your father so eagerly offered you to me, your own desires are of little concern.”
More than anything, you wanted to see the father of your childhood just one more time. The one you admired. The one who doted on you. You had thought that version of your father died along with your mother, but in truth, it was gone long before that. Now, at his core, he was a different person entirely.
“Your hunger for power is the only poison this family has ever choked on. You watched as your wife and daughters withered beneath your thumb, and now you curse everyone but yourself in the aftermath.”
Despite everything, you used what little strength you had left to hold your own, your next words spoken fiercely. “Perhaps you deserve a punishment harsher than the Lion’s.”
Your father tried to push against the Prince, but found himself too weak. “Enough of this! Get your hands off of me!”
Daemon pulled him away from the wall only to slam him back into it with a thud.
“The King would have no choice but to exile you,” Otto sputtered at Daemon, having deemed him the one more inclined toward reason.
Daemon’s forearm came to rest snugly against his windpipe, “I would gladly lose it all if it meant you would never hurt her again.”
Your father looked between Daemon’s eyes incredulously. The white haired man turned to you, his own opinion of how the next few moments should go not of import.
“What is your desire, my Lady?”
The tone of his voice nearly brought about a crippling breakdown, but you clenched your teeth and forced yourself to hold it together just a little while longer.
“Please just.. take me any place other than here,” you responded, weariness now clear in your tone. Your eyes pointedly avoided Otto.
Daemon moved toward you, leaving your father to drop to the floor. He coughed in an attempt to replenish the air that had been knocked from his lungs.
Daemon wasted no time in guiding you out of the room, but glanced back over his shoulder just before he stepped through the door. For the most part, he kept his word of leaving his brother’s Hand uninjured, but that was a one time deal.
“If you ever touch her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
With that, you descended the tower steps beside one another and his fingers threaded through yours in an attempt to comfort you. You had no idea where he was leading you as he slipped through an entrance to the tunnels, but you trusted him regardless.
He felt lost while deliberating upon what he could say to make it better, running through possibilities in his head. Each one made him cringe more than the next, so he stayed quiet. You tried your best to focus on your own breathing and the warmth of his touch.
Before long, you exited the tunnels and came upon a large door. Though you'd never been inside his chambers, you knew it was where he'd brought you. He held the door open and beckoned you inside, then shut it behind you gently.
You let out a shaky breath, and just as he was finally about to speak up, you collapsed to the floor and began to weep. Your cries made his heart feel as if it was being split in two. It still beat, somehow, but each one made the ache in his chest grow more violent.
He fell to his knees beside you, pulling your body against his and wrapping his arms around your shaking figure. As time passed, your sobs continued and you began gasping for air with each breath you tried to draw in. He knew you needed something to ground you, or at the very least, something to stop your hyperventilating.
He briefly pondered whether his next idea was ill considered, but in the end, committed to it anyway.
"Hey, look at me," he tried, grabbing your face between his hands and holding it steady. Even then, your breathing was ragged and you wouldn’t met his eye. "I love you."
Finally, you looked up at him, so he repeated his words. His voice was soft and sincere. "I love you."
A quiet whimper left your lips and your shoulders rose as you took a deep breath at last. You didn't respond verbally and he didn't need you to. Situating yourself against his chest, your arms encircled his waist.
"You're safe now," he murmured into your hair. "I swear it."
You both stayed like that for a while, him listening intently to each breath you took.
"I'm sorry," you croaked out without really thinking about it.
He shook his head at you even though you couldn't see it. "You don't ever have to say that to me, especially today." His voice tightened with guilt, "I should have protected you."
"You did, Daemon,” you reasoned quietly.
You felt the kiss he pressed to the top of your head in response and it drew a sigh from your lips. You felt like your body had been beaten bloody, and you couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt mentally. It was late into the night and the whole evening had felt like it spanned days rather than hours.
"Can we sleep?" you asked, peering at him with drooping eyes.
Daemon had been in dangerous situations before and he knew they took their toll, even if you survived them. Though, for all his experiences, he could not even begin to understand the things that must have been going through your head. He nodded, scooping you up in his arms before you had time to move.
He placed you on the bed as though he was scared you would shatter if he wasn’t careful enough. You sat up and began untying the back of your gown, Daemon quickly turning away out of courtesy. You slipped it off your shoulders and down the rest of your body, but your under dress still kept you mostly covered.
"You don’t have to look away," you assured him beneath your breath, moving so that you were under the blankets.
He turned back toward you and lingered at the edge of the bed, a nervous expression on his face. There had never been a moment in his life that elicited such caution from the man. A smile graced your lips and you patted the spot next to you.
Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his boots. He discarded the shirt before sliding into bed, leaving a decent amount of space between your bodies. You were laying on your side, your hands folded on the pillow next to your head.
He mirrored your position, but his hand reached out for one of yours before he brought your knuckles to his lips.
"Did you mean what you said earlier?"
"Mean what?" he questioned, his hand now holding yours.
"That you would... That you would lose everything for me."
For a moment, he said nothing, taking the time to find the right words.
"Even if all else perished, I would still find myself content in your company," he began, closely watching the way you reacted to his statement. His eyes did not leave your own and his voice grew impossibly softer. "Being fortunate enough to love you... Well, that is the privilege I hold most dear."
You'd have thought you had no tears left to cry, but they still swam in your eyes nonetheless. You could only nod at him, your voice failing you as you replayed his words in your mind.
You fought it off, but your eyes began fluttering and your body begged you for sleep. Daemon's desire to protect you had him longing to pull you close against him, but he was unsure if you'd want that, too.
"Can I..." he started, before his apprehension stopped him. Your eyes opened once more, just barely, as you waited for him to finish. "Can I hold you?"
You hummed in response, sleepily dragging your body closer to his. As you snuggled against him, your legs tangled with his and you were enveloped by two strong arms. It didn't take long before your breathing evened out.
Relieved that you had dozed off, he soon realized his own fatigue had been lost on him until then. He wanted to savor this, the momentary feeling of solace, but he soon followed you to sleep.
Hours later, after the sun had already risen, both of you seemed to rouse from your dreams at the same time. The glow of the sun made the room feel warm, and even if memories of the prior evening were prominent in your mind, you still managed a small, shy smile. His body had remained pressed against yours, both of you having clung to the other throughout the night.
"Good morning, little one." His voice was raspy from sleep and it made you blush.
"Good morning."
"Did you sleep well?"
"I worry I could sleep for days and still not be rid of this tiredness," you told him truthfully.
Looking you over, he found that your wrist was bruised, while a faint blue hue was painted high on your cheek. He gathered your wrist in his hand with care and pressed a kiss to the darkened flesh.
“Do you wish to talk about it?” he offered.
You shook your head. “No... Not yet.”
"Well then,” he began, thumb running over your skin. “If it is rest you need, you can sleep here for as long as you'd like."
"If you say that, I might just stay forever," you teased with the breath of a laugh.
He propped himself up on his elbow, and when his eyes found yours, you could plainly see the adoration and affection that lied there. Leaning down, his gaze flickered to your mouth, silently asking your permission. When you gave it, his lips captured yours sweetly, lingering there for a few moments before he pulled away.
"Love, there isn’t a thing in the world I’d like more.”
Your hair was splayed out on his pillow, lips parted and cheeks tinted pink. He still couldn't believe a woman like you would make space in her heart for a man like him. He would never be deserving of it, but by the gods, he’d still make every effort to that end.
"I love you," you just barely whispered, pulling him from his wandering mind and back to the bed you shared.
For one blissful moment, there wasn’t a thought in Daemon’s head. There was only you.
"Marry me."