𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐍 | daemon targaryen

𝐯. the toothless lion bares it's fangs

( TW talk of attempted SA )

❝survivors have scars
victims have graves❞

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The Lannister couple were sharing the bedroom that had been hers as a girl whenever her family had visited at court. Dark red walls with books lining most every surface. Her childhood was buried here. Her foolish wants and desires, her tears shed over coming betrothal. This room was the last fragments of her girlhood before it was taken out from under her. It had been a place of peace for her, a safe haven in her tumultuous life as a member of the royal family.

But that night, she was sure it would become hell.

Vissera sat silently on the chaise in front of her fireplace, her skirts askew as she watched the flames spiral on the coals. She could hear Tyson moving behind her, she could hear his gloves being pulled off and his shoes being kicked from his feet. She could hear every motion as though it were amplified.

Something terrible was going to happen, she could feel it in her bones.

She couldn't help her eyes flicking to the door every few moments, awaiting rescue like she was some pitiful princess who feared her own husband to this disagree. But she was, she was so very afraid.

It was a deep rooted fear from the curse of growing up a girl, a fear that clung to women like dirt beneath finger nails. It was centuries deep wound inflicted upon each woman who was a victim from birth.

Vissera still cursed herself for this. She was a Targaryen of fire and blood, she possessed the fury of House Baratheon to a fault. It was not unknown to the world that Vissera Targaryen, the rogue princess and silver tongued dragon, was a force to be reckoned with.

And yet when she was left alone in a room with Tyson Lannister, she could hardly move from fright.

"Well, my dear." Tyson said, slowly walking up behind her as he spoke. He rested his thick hands on her shoulders and leaned forward so his head rested in the crook of her neck. It took everything in Vissera not to cry out. "On this night of celebrations, I believe it is time to truly consummate our union, don't you think?"

"The hour is late, husband." Vissera said unflinchingly, not even attempting to turn to see him. "I should rather take my rest if it pleases you."

Tyson pulled away from her so quickly, Vissera herself felt dizzy and she hadn't even been the one to move. Her husband stepped back, pacing as his hands balled into tight fists. Vissera stood slowly, inching towards the door as Tyson traversed the room in his ire.

"Since when do you care about pleasing me? All you care about is making me the cuckhold of this blatantly obvious incestuous affair you are having with your own cousin!" He bellowed turning to her.

"Why should I care about pleasing the toothless lion of Casterly Rock when he cannot even please me?" She said with a snarl, meeting his angry gaze. That was a mistake. See the lion may be toothless, or perhaps he truly wasn't, but he is still a lion and a lion is a predator. And you do not look predators in the eye.

Tyson strode forward to her and backhanded her across the tenderness of her cheek. His golden rings scraped against her skin and she fought to stay standing. She refused to let him see the power he had over her in that moment.

"You dare to strike me in my own home!" Vissera hissed, remembering Daemon's words from earlier and holding her cheek as it throbbed.

"This is not your home." Tyson roared, taking her by her shoulders and shaking her as though it would loose the rebellion lodged in her skull. "You must know your place, as a Lannister of Casterly Rock and my wife."