𝒜𝓁𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇

She's less shocked that she managed this than when she made her first demand of him. Enough time at his side had shown her that the best way to earn his respect was to surprise him and never defer outright. It was something her father would never have tolerated nor would her brothers allow. A finger could only be picked at so often before finally a callous grew beneath. The anxiety of the night, the heightened tensions of the past week and finally the sear of pain he always seemed to bestow pushed her to this point. It was a strange thing for fear and anxiety to disappear so suddenly. It left her chest feeling like a chasm and in its place was a cold gael.

He pulled back and there isn't so much relief on her face as drawn recognition. He still has hold of her. His hand at her wrist could twist it simply and the blade would fall to the bed, but somehow she suspected that he wouldn't. She was proven right as he guided the tip over his heart. Her eyes broke their locked gaze to study the position of the dagger. One singular thrust and she could bloody the bed. Her brothers would near worship her, the people would hate her and her father-

While her grip remained on the hilt, that momentary idea passed out of her mind. Her father wouldn't be moved, even if she killed Daemon. She had already disappointed him and he would make her work daily to even earn a hint of recognition. All of that approval she chased, all of the seeming love, it was gone and it was unlikely to grow from nothing. Her sail was hitched here now.

Her father wouldn't approve, but it seemed Daemon might.

"Then I would have used it properly at your throat," there's a hint of smile, dark like her eyes. "It's dragonglass?"