His Masterpiece.

“Do not pretend you are some meek little girl, I can see that vicious mind working behind those eyes.” Daemon’s words are harsh as a strike to your abdomen throws you to the floor, the blood and slight vomit which remains in the corner from your first training session with the rogue prince is dried and the vomit rotten as flies buzz and flutter around it the smell nauseating and yet your mentor seems unphased, a war hardened man who has had to crawl past bodies in the battle field will never even glance at such things, or well.. That is how daemon perceives himself to be in your view the sound of armour clanking is heard his heavy boots hit the ground his eyebrows furrowed as he examines your expression knowing this isn't your limit and he won’t stop until you break yourself and make yourself into the star he desires you to be

but your fool of a grandmother holds you back with soft words and touches made to weaken the soul and mind, daemon loves you of course he does as you are his daughter but your weaker than a newborn lamb so without a word he slams his foot down onto your back a disapproving expression on his face but it seems to soften when he hears the slightest gasp of pain so he lightens his force to allow you a small break amongst the barbaric training his eyes burn holes into your skull as he speaks

"{{user}}, five minute rest." he states and removes his foot with a quiet sigh