>CHAPTER SIX: MORNING GLORY<
Leila Lannister cursed silently while wrapping a bandage around her husband's forearm. He found it wise to go hunting, not taking into consideration - his lack of expertise. "The next time you go hunting, bring someone that knows what they're doing." she scolded, finishing her job.
"Otto knows what he was doing, I was a little clumsy - that's all." he defended, attempting to move his arm but Leila held it in place. "He's the clever one of us both, anyways." Lancel finished, rising to his feet. Leila's eyes darkened.
"He's not clever, Lancel - you're just dumb." she insulted. A knock prevents their fight from escalating further. A handmaiden enters the room - bearing the Hand's sigil. The woman bows and stares at the man.
"The Hand calls for you, my lord." the woman informs.
—
The man takes a deep breath, reaching the top of the tower. Otto opens the door, making haste with his revelation. "There's something you need to know. Something that might elevate our power in court." the younger brother informs and Lancel's eyes brighten at the thought of being powerful.
"If it is about your plan in making your daughter Queen - I couldn't care less." Lancel rolls his eyes, quick to reach for the goblet of wine on top of the table.
"It is about your mortal enemy - Prince Daemon." Otto reveals, and his brother turns around in intrigue. He's been working for decades to get rid of Daemon - and now the lock to his vengeance, finally has a key. "What is it?" he was quick to ask, but Otto had a conspiracy of his own.
Otto takes a step forward, easily manipulating his older brother. "I will tell you under two conditions." he levied, filling his goblet with red wine. "Anything, if it means getting rid of him." Lancel rasped, clenching his cup tightly.
"You will help me in my efforts in making Alicent, Queen - and you will be the one to tell the King about his brother's misdemeanor." Otto dealt and his brother nodded his head. Lancel lifted his hand, "Go ahead."
"A few nights ago, my informants told me that Prince Daemon was in Flea-Bottom - attempting to bed his niece, Saera. When he failed to do so, he returned the Princess and went back to that rat-hole - where he made an ill-jest about Aemma and Prince Daegon." Otto informed, his lips were pressed into a thin line. It was a white lie. It was half-true and half-false.
Prince Daemon did attempt to bed his niece, but he didn't make that jest about his nephew. Viserys might not send Daemon away after his attempt with Saera, but the King will definitely exile him after the alleged joke.
Lancel bit back a smile. "What jest?" he questioned, planning to tell the King right away - the staircase be damned. "Heir for a day. He called Prince Daegon an heir for a day." Otto answered in a rehearsed tone. "But you didn't hear it from me." he lowered his head.
"Of course not, thank you brother." Lancel smirked, quickly fleeing.
—
She was staring at her reflection. Trying to ease her mind off the words of the other ladies at court. They were mostly old and about to die - yet they found it in themselves to talk about her beauty. They say that she was beautiful - but her sister was more beautiful - that her personality was dull and unlikable.
Her hair was a darker shade than Rhaenyra. Her lips were pale and pink. Her cheeks needed a little rouge to stand out. Was she as special as her uncle believed? Or was it an illusion because he loved her?
Daemon entered her chambers, but she didn't notice him - not until his arms were wrapped around her shoulders, his lips were pressing kisses on her neck. "Daemon." her voice came out like a prayer. "Saera," he replied with the same dedication as the first time he said her name.
"You left - the ladies were wondering where you fled off to." he mumbled, pressing more kisses on her neck - down to her collarbone. Her hair was dripping wet - her skin was still cold from the bath. "Shouldn't they be looking for Rhaenyra? They love her more anyways," she huffed while placing the Valyrian necklace on her neck.
"Hey," he began, squeezing his body - so that they were both sitting on the vanity chair. "I was able to hear what they were talking about - they're all fucking cunts, my love. They don't know anything about real beauty," he comforted, reaching for the hairbrush on the desk.
He played with her silver tresses, carefully untangling her hair. "Don't say that - there is no need to compare," she said to herself, eyes meeting his. His lips turned upwards - finding joy in her kindness. "Of course." he cooed, hands trailing down to her face - wetting her cheeks with the water from her hair.
"You are the comeliest maiden in all the seven-kingdoms. The ladies can say what they want - it does not matter. Dragons do not listen to sheep." he whispered, wrapping his hands around her jaw - pulling her face closer until they were about to kiss.
Someone clears their throat from behind Saera.
"Father," she stood up - staring at him with wide eyes. "Brother," Daemon acknowledged, finding his place beside his lover. "The accusations are true then?" Viserys inquired, and the air suddenly turned crisp and thick.
Daemon places a hand in-front of Saera, protecting her from what he perceived as harm. "We love each other, brother." he defended, tugging her to be placed behind him. "Your grace - that is how you will address me." Viserys demanded, feeling blood surge through his veins.
The dragon was awake, protecting his own.
"We were about to tell you, your grace." Daemon repeats, not taking his eyes off his brother - nor his hand on his niece's arm. "Is your need for the throne that wanton? You seduced my daughter and mocked my wife." Viserys accused, eyes darkening with every second.
"Mocked? Kepus has done nothing but support us, father. He would never do that to my mother - who he has treated like a sister." Saera replied, offended by her father's notions. "Heir for a day, isn't it? He must've found it hilarious - and so did his whores." Viserys shunned, and a kingsguard entered the chamber.
Viserys' eyes darkened at the same time Saera's faltered. "Whores?" she asked, exchanging a glance with Daemon. Her uncle shook his head - denying his brother's claims.
"You do not know Daemon as much as I do. I know that he has promised to wed you - but there are things greater than him." he explained as one of the guards attempted to walk towards Daemon.
"Father, what is the meaning of this?" she grimaced, feeling her uncle reach for the Dark Sister.
"Do not give everything to him. He will only discard you, as he's done to his wife." Viserys gritted his teeth as more guards entered the room. He walked towards his daughter, pulling him away from Daemon - prompting more guards to overwhelm the Rogue Prince.
Daemon couldn't swing his sword - as these were his men. The new recruits of the gold-cloaks. His eyes darkened, seeing a new sigil on their chest. House Strong's sigil - no more of his gold and white dragon.
"Saera!" he yelled amidst the chaos, seeing only a wisp of her wet-silver hair.
"I will return." he promised, as she was hauled out of the room.
—
In his decades of living, Daemon has never stepped foot inside of the dungeons. They were dirty and nasty, there was a strange foul smell coming from the sewers - and he wasn't the one to complain about the scent. It was foul, the smell of rotting flesh.
He's been kept here for three-days. His clothes were tattered, bruised and wet. He hadn't taken a bath - and he was aware that he smelled like shit. A soldier of the gold-cloaks stumbled upon his cell. "My lord," the man whispered, trying to avoid the guards that were stationed around the dungeon.
Daemon turned his head to the source of the noise - but he couldn't see anything due to the blindfold blocking his eyesight. "Rusca? Is that you?" He did his best to decipher the voice. "Lower your voice, my lord, I'm not supposed to be here." the man leaned closer, hands gripping the grease-stained bars.
"I-I heard them talking about a compromise for you. I mean - the king doesn't plan on making you stay here for long." the man stuttered, keeping an eye out for roaming guards. "Fuck compromise." he cursed while turning his body away. Compromise was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't have to answer to a crime that he didn't commit.
"There's another way, but - none of the gold cloaks want you to pursue that." he mumbled, his grip tightened around the bars - grease coating his hands black and brown. It was a choice that he knew his lord would agree to. It wasn't a compromise, or a condition - it was a way to get out of King's Landing with his honor and reputation intact.
"What is it?" Daemon asked, his mind drifting off to Saera.
Did she believe their lies? Or was she waiting for him?
"You will fight the war in the Stepstones –"
"I will do it."
"My lord, you will waste your life there. The crabfeeder has taken hold of the island, the King does not plan to send more men. If you fight that war, the chances of your return are slim." Rusca whispered, not wanting such fate for his liege. The gold cloaks were his creation. All that they did - depended upon him.
Daemon's absence would weaken them - and in turn, weaken the kingdom.
"How is Princess Saera?" he asked, ignoring the man's question. The answers would come in due time - but not right now. Not when he couldn't see anything from that fucking blindfold. "She is kept in her chambers. According to Ser Criston, she doesn't believe the accusations. She is still in mourning, my lord. She is weakened and in need of you. Please, settle on a compromise." Rusca begged but there was no changing Daemon's mind.
"You and Mysaria will protect her while I go to war - tell her that I will return. I will honor my promises. But I cannot do that with the stains of lechery on my hands. Tell her that the accusations are mere accusations. I would never do that to Aemma or Daegon." he taught, hearing footsteps above him.
"Leave now. They are coming." he added, and the man swiftly ran away.