Chapter 117: When the Daughter Chose Her Father’s Lap

Zephyra’s consciousness shattered the moment the full weight of the truth settled inside her.

Daemon was her father.

The man she had just driven a deadly arrow into... was her father.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. Her knees gave out without warning. The world tilted sideways. Before her body could hit the floor, strong arms caught her. Daemon’s voice cut through the haze, low and urgent, calling her name again and again as if the sound alone could anchor her.

"Zephyra. Zephyra, look at me. Stay with me."

Morwenna was at their side within seconds. Her expression was tight with concern as she checked her daughter’s pulse and breathing with practiced speed. Together, they carefully lifted Zephyra and carried her to the bed.

Daemon moved with unusual care, almost as if any sudden motion might shatter the moment. He laid her down gently, brushing a strand of silver-white hair away from her face. His fingers lingered for a breath longer than necessary, as though confirming she was real.

Morwenna turned to him. She stood straight, her voice calm but firm.

"I’m going to remove this arrow from your chest. It will hurt."

Daemon barely registered the words. His eyes never left Zephyra’s sleeping face. The sight of his daughter lying there, unconscious because the truth of who he was had been too heavy, held him completely. Centuries of absence pressed down on him in that single image.

Morwenna did not wait for a response. With one clean, precise motion, she pulled the arrow free.

Daemon’s expression hardened, his jaw flexing under the sudden wave of pain.Fresh blood welled up immediately and ran more freely down his chest, staining what remained of his clothing. The pain was sharp and hot, but he still did not look away from Zephyra.

Before Morwenna could fully stem the bleeding and begin healing, Daemon’s regeneration activated. The reward he had received from Roxanna surged through his body. Torn muscle and damaged tissue began knitting themselves back together at a visible rate. New flesh formed over the wound in layered waves.

Morwenna did not stop. She placed her hand firmly over the injury and poured her life energy into him without hesitation, accelerating the process until the wound closed completely and the skin was smooth once more. Only then did she withdraw her hand.

"She needs rest," Morwenna said quietly. "We can check on her later."

Daemon finally spoke. His voice was low but unyielding.

"You go. I’ll stay here."

Morwenna studied his face for a long moment. She saw the stubborn set of his jaw and the way his gaze refused to leave their daughter. She already knew he would not be moved. With a soft sigh that carried both understanding and quiet acceptance, she turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Silence settled over the chamber.

Daemon sat on the edge of the bed. Carefully, almost reverently, he took Zephyra’s hand in both of his. Her fingers were cool against his palms. He held them as if they were the most fragile and precious things left in any world.

Time passed in stillness. He did not move. He simply watched her breathe, memorizing the shape of her face the way a man who had lost too many years might. Every soft rise and fall of her chest felt like something he needed to burn into memory.

Then Zephyra’s lashes fluttered.

Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first. The first thing she saw was Daemon sitting beside her, still holding her hand with both of his. Memory returned in a sudden, crushing wave. The arrow. The revelation. The collapse. All of it crashed back into place with brutal clarity.

Her lips parted. The word came out soft and cracked.

"Father... I’m sorry."

Daemon’s expression softened at once. The hard edges he usually carried melted away. He leaned forward and pulled her into a careful embrace, one hand stroking her back in slow, steady motions while the other supported the back of her head.

"You did nothing wrong," he said quietly, voice rough with emotion. "You were protecting your mother. If I had been here all this time, I would have done the exact same thing. Thank you... for doing what I couldn’t."

Zephyra’s fingers tightened against his back. She rested her forehead against his shoulder for a long moment, letting the solid warmth of him settle the storm still raging inside her chest. When she finally pulled back, her eyes drifted down to the place where the arrow had struck him. The wound was already gone. Completely healed. Not even a scar remained.

She stared at it, lost in thought.

If she had ever met her father again, she had prepared so many things to say. She wanted to demand why he left them. Why he abandoned her mother to centuries of waiting.

She had even imagined striking him once or twice for the years of loneliness he caused, for every night her mother had stood alone under the moonlight. She had rehearsed the words over and over in the quiet corners of her heart until they were sharp enough to cut.

Now that the moment had finally arrived, she could not speak any of it. The prepared anger felt suddenly small and childish in the face of the man sitting in front of her, holding her hand as if he were afraid she might disappear.

Daemon watched the conflict flicker across her face. He understood more than she realized. He had carried his own mountain of unspoken words for far too long.

"Zephyra," he said gently. "Don’t think too much right now. Come. Let’s go see what your mother is doing."

He stood and offered his hand. After a short hesitation, she took it. Their fingers intertwined naturally. She shifted closer as they walked, lightly pressing his hand against her side as if afraid he might vanish if she loosened her grip even a little.

They made their way through the quiet corridors toward the dining hall.

Inside, Morwenna was already seated at the long table and speaking with a handsome young high elf. His features were sharp and refined, the kind of beauty that seemed carved from moonlight and winter wind.

His long hair was a pale silver-gold that caught the morning light with every small movement. His posture carried the natural, effortless grace of pure high-elven blood. This was Aelthar — Zephyra’s boyfriend.

The moment Daemon and Zephyra stepped into the hall, Aelthar’s eyes sharpened. He took in the human walking so closely beside Zephyra, their hands still linked, and a faint crease formed between his brows. Surprise flashed across his face before he forced his expression back into polite composure.

Zephyra noticed him and her expression brightened with familiar warmth.

"Aelthar. When did you arrive?"

He offered a polite smile, though his gaze lingered on their joined hands a fraction longer than necessary.

"Just now. You told me to come today to meet your mother."

Zephyra released Daemon’s hand only long enough to step forward and give Aelthar a quick, welcoming hug. The gesture was natural and affectionate, but she turned back almost immediately, as if the brief separation had already been too long.

Morwenna’s eyes moved between the three of them. A small, knowing chuckle escaped her when she saw the bright excitement and happiness still glowing on her daughter’s face. The truth had settled deep into Zephyra’s heart, and it showed in every glance she gave Daemon.

"Come," Morwenna said, gesturing toward the empty seats. "Both of you, sit. We’ll have breakfast and talk."

They took their places. Zephyra deliberately chose the seat between Daemon and Aelthar, settling in as if that arrangement was the only one that made sense. Morwenna sat on Aelthar’s other side. Maids soon entered in quiet formation and began serving the morning meal — fresh bread still warm from the ovens, roasted meats with light herbs, seasonal fruit, and delicate elven dishes that carried subtle floral notes.

Everyone began to eat.

Aelthar ate with the composed, precise manners expected of a high elf of good standing. Daemon remained mostly quiet, occasionally glancing at his daughter as if still confirming she was real. Zephyra picked at her food for only a short while before something shifted in her expression. A quiet decision settled behind her eyes.

Without warning, she stood up from her chair.

Both men looked up at the sudden movement.

Zephyra stepped around the side of the table with calm, deliberate steps. She turned, faced Daemon, and sat directly down on his thigh as if it were the most natural seat in the entire hall. Then she looked up at him with clear, expectant eyes and spoke in a voice that carried no hesitation.

"Father. Feed me."

The dining hall fell into a brief, stunned silence.

Daemon’s eyes widened slightly. Aelthar froze completely. The piece of food that had been halfway to his mouth slipped from his fingers and dropped onto the plate with a soft, almost comical sound. His carefully maintained composure cracked for the first time that morning.

Morwenna’s lips curved into a quiet, deeply amused smile as she watched the scene unfold, her eyes warm with something that looked a lot like satisfaction.