"A dragon might not be the only thing you ride tonight."
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Where the Dance of Dragons is stopped before it truly begins-with Rhaenyra as the Heir to the Iron Throne, Daemon Targaryen decides to stick it to Alicent and Otto Hightower one last time...
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Marcellus had paid for a room above the tavern that night.
Daenaera was left pleasantly surprised as they walked to the bathing room down the hallway, and he stood outside the door for her while waiting for her to bath herself.
The water was ice cold, and she ran her fingers through the water. She hadn't undressed yet.
She hadn't felt clean and full in days, yet here and now this man had saved her from another night sleeping out on mounds of dirt and grass and starving.
Daemon had always told her the world outside the Keep was not like in the stories. There was no glory or wild adventures to be had—only the men who knew how to wield a blade and the ones who did not.
Yet, here she found solace and peace with Marcellus. And she hadn't even properly thanked him yet.
She opened the door and Marcellus was standing guard as he promised he would. He was leaned on the wall by the door, flicking a dagger in his hand with skillful fingers.
Marcellus didn't respond, his gaze locked onto her. Silence filled the air, and he seemed to be analyzing her every sheepish movement, his expression unreadable. He stood still, the dagger in hand now gripped tightly.
He finally spoke, his tone neutral, his face stern and emotionless, "To bathe, you need to undress." He pointed out. The dagger still in his hand, but his fingers no longer fidgeting.
"The water is like ice to the touch," Daenaera said with a small pout. Then, she looked at him concerned. "Did you not want to bathe as well?"
He raised a brow, his expression still serious, and stared at her. But a small smirk played upon his lips for but a brief moment, before his face is hard again.
"You're... an annoying lass, aren't you?" He said teasingly. "Yes. I need to bathe."
She didn't seem to catch that first part, or perhaps she just ignored it as she gestured for him to go ahead.
"You can go first. I can stand outside the door and wait for you," She suggested.
"I'd rather not have you waiting for me near the rooms these drunken men are staying at," He said simply. "I wouldn't want them to take advantage."
He glared at the drunken men still lingering in the tavern hall by the stairs, a few of them from the fight an hour ago had been eyeing Daenaera downstairs.
