~The Blood of Old Valyria ~
Chapter V
Music filled the hall. Wine of all kinds was flowing, and the tables were crackling with the number of viands. The walls shook with the hum of voices filling the great hall. Dayraena boredly glanced at the dancing lords and ladies. She held a glass of wine in one hand and propped her head up with the other. Dayraena caught multiple and meaningful glances, some young men even came up and tried to talk to the woman, but she had no time for the annoying sons of lords. Thoughts buzzed in her head, keeping her awake. Dayron's arrival, Alicent and Rhaenyra's quarrel, the king's illness... Everything had to be dealt with. The friendship of the princess and queen had to be saved, or else it was frightening to imagine what might happen. A war for the throne, multiple deaths and the death of either Alicent or Rhaenyra. Yes, Dayraena was well aware of what kind of catastrophe would ensue after Viserys' death if the girls did not reconcile. Alicent and her supporters would put her eldest son on the throne, and Rhaenyra would fight for herself and her future children, trying to prove that she was the true queen and she should take the throne.
Such thoughts did not please Dayraena at all and she tried to shrug them off, but it did not work out well. The quarrel between the princess and the queen was replaced by thoughts of Dayron. And that was even worse. To kill her spouse, Dayraena needed to find a suitable spell, and the book Daemon had found would help her do it. Later, when the spell was found, Raena would proceed to carry out the death sentence for Dayron.
At least another hour passed when the woman became truly bored. Lucerius and Dayra were chatting with the lords and ladies, and Meireya was nowhere to be seen. Apparently she had decided not to attend the feast tonight. The elder Gelarion continued to sit and stare at everyone with a hazy look. The drink of the dornish wine caused all thoughts to recede into the background. She watched the couples circling the hall, the people clapping and stomping to the beat of the music. Everything was already blurring before her eyes when someone landed imposingly on a chair nearby. Dayraena turned her impassive gaze to the unexpected guest. It was Jason Lannister... Or was it Tyland? The silver-haired girl always got them mixed up. Dayraena raised an eyebrow questioningly, not that she cared much for the pompous lion. But what kind of lion was that? A pathetic excuse for a...
"We've never met, Lady Dayraena, but I've heard a good deal about you. My name is Tyland Lannister," the man smiled as he gazed upon the woman, who should have been charmed by his smile, but it was not a happy one. Disgust. He was met with a cold, completely disinterested look, but Tyland apparently wasn't repulsed by it.
For the next half hour, Dayraena listened (or rather, pretended to listen) to Tyland's sweet speeches. Later, apparently finally brazen, he tried to ask Raena about personal matters, but received only a cold stare and a brief answer that gave no exact information.
"May I ask you to dance?" the man's large palm was extended toward Raena.
"I'm afraid I must disappoint you. I have no desire to dance with you," Dayraena did not want to feel the man's hands on her. I don't care what people think. I don't care if they think she's rude. But she'd rather burn in dragon fire than dance around with this man and listen to him talk softly. She has heard of Tyland and his brother from Rhaenyra. It didn't work out with the princess, and now he must be trying his luck with Dayraena. A married woman. He thinks he's got a point! Fool. A naive fool who thinks his looks, wealth and status make everyone swoon in front of him.
"Have I done something to offend you?"
"Qogralbar hen," Dayraena cursed softly in Valyrian, her eyes closed in suppression. Why doesn't he let it go?
"No, my lord, you haven't," the woman breathed out, shielding her eyes so that she could collect her thoughts without raising her voice. "A dragon dancing with a lion is unbecoming," Lannister's eyes widened, his mouth opened to form a phrase, but not a word escaped his lips.
"Lady Dayraena is right - a dragon must dance with a dragon," a voice came over the woman's head, and she looked up to meet Prince Daemon's violet eyes. His lips played the familiar smirk, and his eyes burned with a strange fire. Dayraena lowered her eyes. It appeared that the prince was holding out his hand to her.
Her savior.
"Have a good evening, my lord," Dayraena said, and she put her hand in the prince's hot and somewhat rough palm as she rose. Daemon led her toward the dancers. Dayraena was surprised. She didn't think the rogue prince would dance. The music changed, a fast and cheerful tune began to play. People began to do little jumps in place, throwing up their hands and clapping their hands. Daemon and Dayraena repeated after them. The prince was a surprisingly good dancer and Lady Gelarion enjoyed watching his effortless movements. She did not often get to dance with her husband, but when she did, Raena tried not to look in his direction or touch him unnecessarily. And she never enjoyed dancing with Dayron, and now she even felt joy. She was having fun. The pace of the dance quickened, her breathing became labored after a couple of minutes, everything around her was spinning-it was impossible to concentrate on anyone but her partner. Her eyes clung to the movements of the prince's hands, to the gaze of the violet eyes fixed on Raena. She thought for a moment that he was admiring her.
She was not mistaken. Daemon Targaryen was indeed admiring the woman, who moved gracefully and beautifully despite her fast dance. She mesmerized and drew eyes to her. Her silver hair was not styled in a coiffure like all the other ladies. At the nape of her neck and temples the white curls were adorned with fine gold chains with small sapphires. A purple dress, whose top and sleeves were embroidered with black patterns, emphasized her breasts and waist. As the woman twirled, curls fluttered and then fell heavily back onto her shoulders, breasts, and back, enveloping her body. The dragon prince couldn't take his eyes off her happy smile. Daemon hadn't danced with anyone in a long time, but he suddenly decided to take this step to take Dayraena away from Tyland Lannister.
Dayraena and Daemon's hands touched. It was as if lightning struck their bodies. They spun around, looking into each other's eyes. Smiles played on both their lips, their breathing was ragged, their hair disheveled. Something unusual was going on, and Dayraena didn't understand what it was. At one point she noticed Rhaenyra looking at her from the crowd. The princess suddenly winked at her and Dayraena turned away, turning her gaze back to Daemon. She could feel her cheeks burning, the heat spreading throughout her body. It was incredible.
Suddenly strong hands squeezed her waist and Dayraena pulled away from the floor for a few seconds. She dug her fingers into Daemon's shoulders, staring at him in surprise. His eyes continued to glow with a strange fire. When she was back on the floor, she took her time removing her hands from the man's shoulders, and he took his time removing his from her waist. They were suddenly frozen, looking at each other in surprise. The music, the voices, the scraping of the cutlery, seemed to have receded into the background. It was as if Daemon and Dayraena were in a vacuum, in a world of their own, where nothing could stand in their way. He lowered his gaze to the woman's plump scarlet lips. So beautiful, so inviting, so desirable. His gaze slid lower, to her dainty collarbones, and then to the cleavage of her breasts. The prince swallowed hard, struggling with sudden excitement.
Dayraena noticed how he averted his eyes and licked his lips. She involuntarily repeated his actions. Quiet music played and the couple returned to the world. Daemon, without saying anything, quickly disappeared from sight, and Dayraena, seeing him off with a surprised look, went to the table and picked up not knowing which glass of wine to take. A pleasant, sweet liquid filled her mouth. It seemed that she drank all the wine in a gulp.... It became quite stuffy and hot. What is it with her? Why were her eyes involuntarily searching for a male silhouette in the crowd, even though the woman knew Daemon was gone?
"You danced beautifully," Dayraena woke up from her thoughts and saw Rhaenyra. Her husband was standing beside her.
"Oh, thank you."
"Is something the matter, my lady? You look confused," Laenor said, glancing over at the princess. Dayraena looked into his eyes and saw the sadness in them. And the bruises under his eyes made Laenor look rather miserable. It must have something to do with the events of last night, Dayraena thought. Rhaenyra had said that Ser Kriston Cole had beaten up some fellow of the Velarion retinue. Perhaps that boy was a friend of Laenor's? Or someone more?
"No, it's all right, just tired," Dayraena said, smiling. She caught Rhaenyra's piercing gaze on her. It was as if the princess was trying to get inside her head to make sure that nothing had happened and that Dayraena's words were just an excuse. "I'll leave you, I hope you don't mind. I'm going to rest. Have a nice evening."
Such a quick, even abrupt, farewell surprised Rhaenyra. She frowned and stared longingly at Raena's back before she disappeared into the crowd. Had Daemon offended her? Gelarion didn't seem upset, though...
Dayraena jumped out of the hall before some drunken lord spotted her and started harassing her. There was no way Daemon could have saved her. There was an echo of music in the corridors that came from the great hallway and as Dayraena made her way to her chambers, she enjoyed the pleasant music. The woman sighed in relief as she felt the cool breeze walking through the empty corridors of the Red Keep on her face. The fever began to gradually subside, her cheeks stopped burning, and her ragged breathing returned to normal. Dayraena walked leisurely toward her chambers and listened to the sounds of the castle. The sounds of flutes, lyres, drums, violin, and lute slowly faded until they were finally silenced when Raena closed the door behind her.
The room greeted the woman with coolness and dim lighting. The candles were almost burned out, but that didn't stop Dayraena from seeing the sack on the bed. Gelarion remembered exactly that it wasn't there. Where had it suddenly come from? Had Elevette brought it?
Dayraena looked out the door. The maid was not to be found. Dayraena cautiously went to the sack and hesitantly opened it. It was hard to see what was in the canvas sack in the semi-darkness, so she had to shake out the contents, but she didn't do it on the bed. Gelarion stepped back to the ottoman with the bag, and then slipped her hand into it. She fumbled with the fabric, which was not very pleasant to the touch, and pulled it to pull it out. It turned out to be a shirt, the kind worn by commoners. Dayraena examined it critically, noting that it smelled foul of damp and sweat.
"Could it have been taken from someone else?" The woman twisted the thing in her hands, then tossed it aside. The next thing she pulled out of the bag were pants and boots. She was frightened to imagine where the person who had brought the bag had gotten these things. The very last piece of clothing Dayraena pulled out was the cloak. As she unfolded it, the woman noticed a crumpled piece of paper had fallen out. Unfolding it, Raena grinned.
"A secret passage? Seriously?"
Dayraena was not at all happy that one of the secret corridors that Maegor the Cruel had built appeared to lead to her room. It meant that she could be overheard at any moment. But why the clothes? What awaited Dayraena beyond the wall that contained the passageway? Curiosity overpowered common sense, so Raena, trying to get her dress off as quickly as possible, put on the clothes she had brought, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant smell. She braided her hair into a tight braid and pulled on her boots. They were a little too small, and they put pressure on her toes, but it was bearable. Then Dayraena threw her cloak over herself and hid her head under the hood. The last thing she did before she set out on her strange nighttime adventure was to pull a dagger with a curved blade from her chest and fasten it behind her waist on the belt she'd taken out with the knife. Dayraena, now fully prepared to face the man who had planned all this, walked over to the wall where the secret passage should have been and pushed. It didn't give way the first time, but thanks to Dayraena's persistence and curiosity as to what drove her, it did open.
Gelarion cautiously stepped out into the dark corridor that reeked of damp and closed the door behind her. There was only one way out, and it led to the street. To be exact, to a small platform, where someone was already waiting for her. Dayraena approached cautiously and quietly the cloaked figure with his back to her. The silhouette turned around. Beneath the large hood, Raena discerned familiar facial features.
"Glad you are here, my lady"
Daemon Targaryen. Of course, who else was there to see? Dayraena stepped closer and peered into the prince's face. His face was serene, but his eyes... they were full of anticipation. Daemon was up to something unusual and interesting, and Raena's curiosity grew more and more piqued.
The woman folded her arms behind her back and raised her head to look the prince straight in the eyes.
"I am consumed with interest, my prince. Tell me, what is the purpose of all this?" Dayraena asked, though she was already guessing. And the thought made her blood boil. If what she thought was going to happen, then...
"I hope you don't mind a night out on the town" Daemon's lips spread into a small, faint smile. He leaned his elbow on the stone railing, and looked down at the guards wandering about.
Dayraena thought for a moment that her joy was palpable. So strong was the emotion. The woman smiled openly and moved abruptly closer to Daemon, taking his hand. The man was not expecting this, so he stared at Dayraena in surprise, frozen. Targaryen saw her beautiful joyful smile and wanted to smile himself.
"I would be happy to stroll through King's Landing, my prince," Dayraena spoke quickly, keeping her radiant gaze on Daemon. He grinned kindly.
"I've never met a woman of noble blood who wants to stroll among the commoners."
"Nor would my sister Meireya refuse such a night's adventure. At eighteen she had already visited Essos, mingled with the commoners, even the poorer ones, drank in the tavern, traded with merchants, and even... Visited brothels. And I only escaped a couple of times to the village on Fire Island. For me, your offer is the perfect opportunity to begin exploring the world!" Dayraena stepped back from Daemon and gazed dreamily at the waning moon. The prince involuntarily admired her. Dayraena's facial features had become...childlike?
"What an interesting life your sister has..." said Damon thoughtfully, walking slowly toward the stone stairs. "And how did your parents feel about her after her adventures?"
Dayraena grinned, remembering the looks on her parents' faces when they found out their daughter had lost her innocence. Maylor and Veiserra had not spoken to Meireya for a month then, and the younger Gelarion was happy because she understood that now she would never be given away in marriage, or it would be a disgrace to the family.
"Our father was indignant at her behavior and reprimanded my sister for a week, and our mother... Mother chastised Rhea. She made her reread all the books in the castle library that dealt with etiquette, noble houses, types of weddings, and more. It was months of agony for Mayrea... But the lesson parents wanted her to learn my sister did not understand," Dayraena laughed. She was surprised to notice that she felt relaxed around Daemon.
"Had she escaped?" Daemon turned slightly so he could see Dayraena.
"Yes, again. This time she came home every two moons for a week to check on me. Dayra and Lucerius lived on a small island not far from Fiery, and they had a small castle there, Sombāzmion hen Kasta Perzys. Mayrea visited them, too," Dayraena jumped down the last step and almost bumped into Daemon. "Parents eventually came to terms with Rhea's free life."
"Why didn't you do what she did? Why didn't you run away before you got married?" The prince inquired, walking toward the secret passage that led to the city. Daemon wanted to ask Dayraena about many things, wanted to know better. And he certainly liked the fact that the woman was being frank with him now.
"I was locked up as soon as it was announced that Dayron would be my future husband," the woman's voice became colorless and low. A strange feeling pricked Daemon's heart. He suddenly realized that he felt sorry for Raena. He understood what it was like to live with someone he didn't love. And given that Dayraena was also a woman, that made it doubly worse for the situation she found herself in. A man can be unfaithful to his wife and no one will blame him, while a woman will be scolded for that and called a whore. And in many other ways, men were more privileged. Daemon had pondered the plight of noble ladies more than once. His conversations with Rhaenyra had given him these strange, uncharacteristic thoughts. She doesn't want to spend her life carrying children and end up dying because of a botched delivery or childbirth fever. Rhaenyra wants to enjoy life, fly her dragon and explore the world.
'That's probably what Dayraena wants, too...' thought Daemon. Maybe that's why the princess and Raena found common ground. They understood each other.
"And where are we going, my prince?" Dayraena asked, wanting to change the subject. They went out through an inconspicuous gate and found themselves in a dark street.
"Daemon."
"What?"
"We're not in the castle anymore, there's no need to address each other so formally," the man explained and turned to Raena, holding out his hand.
The woman pondered the prince's words for a few seconds and then put her hand in her warm palm with a slight smile.
"Well, fine... Daemon," he liked the way she said his name. Tentative, but gentle. Daemon smiled softly and squeezed Raena's cool palm.
"Hold on to me tightly, I don't want you to get lost."
The streets of the city were noisy. People were walking in an endless stream, despite the time of night. Street musicians were playing to make money, fire-eaters were showing their skills, artists were gathering people for performances. The city seemed to be just beginning to wake up.
"The real life begins at night," Daemon said without looking at anyone. He's known these streets since he was young, and nothing surprises him anymore, unlike Dayraena. The woman gazed admiringly at everything in sight: the people, the cats and dogs, the musicians and their instruments. Everything interested her.
Daemon was leading the woman in a direction only he knew. Dayraena felt happy. She had gotten out of the castle for the first time in her life and was now walking through the city on her arm with Prince Targaryen. The feelings she was experiencing were new to her.
"How often do you come here?" She had to raise the voice for Daemon to hear the words. The streets were noisy because of the crowds. Everyone was jostling, not paying attention to who was being jostled or whether that person was falling or bumping into someone else. Dayraena sucked in the air sharply with her nose, wrinkling against the unpleasant smells of the street, when she felt an arm around her waist. Daemon held her up to keep up. The flow of the crowd might well have carried the woman with it.
"When I'm not sent away from the court, I spend every night here. It's far more interesting than sitting in a stuffy hall and watching lords and ladies dance and endure conversations with them. And you can also find almost complete freedom here," the prince told her, and Dayraena listened. She envied Daemon, for she had never had such freedom.
"And how do you spend your time here?"
"Drinking and playing with the commoners of the capital, sometimes with the golden cloaks. I also... I spend my nights in the company of lecherous women. That's probably what I do most of the time," Daemon said, not realizing for some reason that he was being honest with Dayraena. He glanced at her. Raena didn't look confused after what he said, or surprised. She had probably heard enough about the dragon prince spending a lot of time with whores.
"Do you find the girls there beautiful if you frequent the brothels?" Dayraena asked, startling the prince with her words. That was certainly not what he had expected her to say. Dayraena felt no embarrassment at all. She asked this not only out of interest in Daemon, but also because she just wanted to know if pleasure is the only reason men visit pillow houses. Although, there are some women who wouldn't mind spending a night in a brothel either...
"There were some really pretty girls, but that's probably not what's most important to me. And not even the pleasure I get, although I certainly enjoy it. But there's something interesting..." Daemon paused for a few seconds, as if he were deciding whether or not to talk. "In a brothel, a man lets his essence out, shows his true face. You don't have to pretend. Lust pulls you in, makes you feel different. It's like you're liberated. I know it sounds crazy," Damon grinned.
"The washerwomen," Damon grinned (the washerwomen, they called them, to keep the ugly word "whore" out of people's mouth) swarm over him like flies over honey at the sight of his white hair. Everyone wants to sleep with the Valyrian prince, everyone wants to be rewarded for a night well spent. Daemon felt like a king in a brothel.
"Sounds really weird, but... That's about what Mayrea said to me when I asked her about her travels," Dayraena tripped over the drunken man, causing her to press sharply against the prince so that she wouldn't fall. He gripped her waist tightly, helping her to regain her balance. They had finally arrived where Daemon wanted to take Raena. The Tavern.
"Your sister really is an interesting person," Daemon grinned as he opened the door to the place and let the woman go ahead.
"Yeah, but don't try to have a relationship with her," Dayraena said and chuckled. The room they entered was bright and warm and filled with drunken voices, laughter, and music. Raena noticed a small stage where a group of colorfully dressed bards were now performing. People were dancing merrily in front of the stage. People were sitting at tables, entertaining themselves with games of chance and drinking. They drank a lot. The atmosphere in the tavern struck a cheerful and carefree tone.
Damon pulled the woman behind him to the far table so as not to draw too much attention to himself. The hall smelled of alcohol, sweat, and fried meat. It all made for an unpleasant aroma, but no one seemed to care.
"Don't talk to anyone else until I get there," Daemon said, and then, waiting for Dayraena to nod, he left.
The woman pulled her hood tighter so her face and hair were certainly out of sight. The last thing she needed was for some strange drunken man to come up to her and start harassing her. Dayraena huddled in the back of her chair and watched people from under her forehead. Perhaps Dayraena would never forget tonight.
The woman bit her lips nervously, looking for Damon in the hall. He was nowhere to be found, and so she grew more uncomfortable and anxious by the minute. No, he couldn't leave her here alone. Dayraena sighed, trying to relax. She humbly sat and waited for the prince, hoping he would return soon. She was undoubtedly enjoying this evening, but the situation she was in now made her feel like an abandoned kitten.
Finally, after a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, she was able to exhale as two mugs filled with frothy liquid dropped onto the table. Opposite the woman sat Daemon.
"I'm sorry it took so long, it's really crowded in here tonight, we had to wait our turn to get us drinks," Daemon said and leaned back in his chair imposingly. Dayraena moved closer to the table and peered into the mug.
"What is it?" The woman inquired curiously, glancing at the prince. He raised his eyebrows. "Don't be surprised that I don't know such things. I've never been in a tavern before and I've never drunk anything but wine."
Daemon nodded understandingly.
"It's ale, I hope you like it."
"I hope, my prince, that it won't make me feel too bad. I don't think I want to go back to the Keep drunk," Dayraena grinned, gripping the handle of her mug.
"I'll carry you," Daemon grinned, pushing the mug toward him. Dayraena smiled at the thought of it.
"Here's to a lovely evening," the woman raised her mug of ale, and Daemon saluted her.
"Not bad," Dayraena said as she tasted the drink. Damon looked at her without hiding the fact that the woman amused him. And Dayraena could see it, but she wasn't offended. A contented smile played on her lips. The woman felt relaxed, peaceful, and content. Spending an evening like this was much more pleasant than sitting around bored in a castle.
"I... I want to thank you for tonight," Dayraena leaned her elbows on the table and propped her head up. "I really appreciate it. For the first time in my life, I feel so... I don't even know how to describe it. It's such a nice and unusual feeling..."
"I'm glad you like our night out."
They were silent. Dayraena listened to the sounds of the tavern, and Daemon stared at the woman, trying to understand why he'd decided to ask her to come to town with him after all. It hadn't originally been part of his plans. The prince wanted to go to the brothel, the excitement that had overtaken him about an hour ago was unbearable, but as soon as Daemon's thoughts went to the idea of going to the pillow house, his excitement was blown away like the wind, and the man didn't understand why.
The music grew louder and more cheerful. Drums, violins, and whistles began to sound. People who had been sitting at the tables suddenly began to rise and dance to the quick beat. Their dancing was nothing like that of the lords and ladies. Their movements were simple and impromptu, people simply enjoying the music and the merry company. The drunks fell off their feet and the women stumbled over them, but they did not fall. They were picked up by the dancers and helped back into the frenzied dance.
Dayraena watched them spellbound. She wanted to join them too, felt her soul reaching for the music and the crowd. The woman even stood up, driven by a strange feeling, but then felt a tight grip on her wrist. It was as if Dayraena had come out of a trance.
"You can't, they might recognize you. Do you want to be seen with me? It would be a scandal," Daemon said, glancing into her eyes. There was sadness in her eyes, but also a look of understanding. The woman nodded.
"Yes, you're right. I don't want any trouble. There are whispers of cheating on my husband," she said with a wistful glance at the other dancers.
"Finish your ale and let's go."
The couple left the tavern. There were no more people outside - maybe they'd gone to the houses, the taverns, the brothels. Daemon led Raena along the streets. They talked and laughed a lot, and then watched the street performers. Dayraena felt as if she and Daemon were old friends who had met after a long separation. The woman would have loved to walk with the prince until morning, but, sadly, that was not possible.
The pair returned to the Red Keep unnoticed, despite the fact that Dayraena was laughing at Daemon's stories and jokes. They said their goodbyes, and Raena headed to her bedroom through a secret passage.