『 : ̗̀➛Two parts of a whole, destined to find their second half, and when the sun finally sets on them, the last ember of hope glows in their eyes. ☄. *. ⋆ 』
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Daemon came back in the early hours of the morning. The sky was yet to dawn, and their chambers were dressed in the dark. But a candle was lit, sitting on the bedside table—Daenerys was awake. She was scrolling through the pages of a book.
Of course, she heard him enter but ignored him, her lip twitching slightly in distaste.
Daemon stopped as he saw his wife, then walked towards the bed, slightly swaying left to right as if he had been drinking. He reached out to touch Daenerys's shoulder, but she shrugged him off and continued reading, her eyes fixed on the pages. "You are late," she said coldly.
Without a moment wasted, he let himself fall into the bed, face first, letting out a heavy sigh, followed by a growl-like groan. The scent of alcohol lingered around him, a clear indication of his indulgence in a few too many drinks.
Daenerys rolled her eyes, her annoyance evident as she turned a page without looking up. "Where have you been?" She knew well where he had lingered, but she wanted to hear him admit it.
He greeted his teeth and stubbornly squirmed in bed. His face was hidden by the bed as he stayed laying down.
"Daemon, I asked you something," she said firmly.
Daemon groaned again and grimaced at the sharpness in her voice. "Don't yell, my head is going to explode," he muttered into the mattress grumpily.
"It is not my fault you got drunk," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I've been here all night, waiting for you to come home like a responsible adult." She closed her book with a snap and finally looked up at him, her eyes gimpsy and filled with disappointment. "Aemma has died, Daemon. Now is the time that I need you most. And you go out, whoring?" Her voice broke, and she turned away from him, trying to hide her tears that were threatening to spill over.
Daemon let out a heavy breath and reached out to touch her arm. "I haven't touched any of them, I swear this to you, sister."
But Daenerys pushed him away. "Don't touch me." She wiped away her tears and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "You disgust me."
Daemon looked at her with a pained expression, his eyes filled with regret. "I never meant to hurt you, Daenerys. I too grieve, in my own way."
"Go to sleep, Daemon," she said with a cold tone. "I cannot listen to you anymore." She turned away from him, not wanting to see his face any longer.
Daemon sighed and relaxed back into his pillow. But unlike Daenerys, he did not turn away, causing him to face her backside. Like this, he could watch her, (until he fell asleep, of course). Like this, he could see her shoulders tremble softly as she tried to muffle her sobs. Like this, he could make himself suffer, for that was what he believed he deserved.
