That night when Rhaenyra went back to her chambers, the smile never left her face.
She passed by her sworn guard, smiling at him, "Good night, Ser Criston."
"Sleep well, Princess," He mutters sweetly as he turns to face the wall again.
She had a date with one of the kindest lords she had ever met. Someone who did not want the Princess, but rather just Rhaenyra.
She was ready to put on a simple cloak over her head until she found a note and a bag on her table. Peeking into the bag, she found dirty clothes and a page's hat.
It was a scroll of some sort. She opened it to find instructions on how to open a secret compartment. The words were in High Valyrian and there was no other person who knew this language than her family.
Her uncle wrote this?
No it could not be.
Was he asking her to leave the castle? With him?
She was supposed to meet Mason in a tavern near the Cobbler's Square, the further side of town. It was decided as their rendezvous point instead of them both leaving the castle at the same time.
Rhaenyra looked back at the scroll and looked for where this compartment could be.
She strode over to a large wardrobe she had, putting her weight against it and pushed it aside. There was no door. At least that she could see. She ran her fingers along the wall, trying to find a crack. She sees the tiniest bit of uneven wall and pushes against it again.
She nearly stumbles as the wall came off to reveal a long stairway going down into the lower levels of the castle.
•
As Rhaenyra came down the stairs, she saw Daemon waiting for her by a small balcony. She had torn away her pretty dress and put on the dirty clothes.
She figured she would walk around with her uncle to catch up and meet Mason at the Square.
"Where are we going?" Rhaenyra asked as Daemon smiled at her.
"I felt that a trip to the city might raise your spirits, Princess," Daemon smirked and Rhaenyra quirked a brow.
"It's just what she was going to the city for so why not?" she thought to herself.
He grabbed her shoulder, leading her forward. She let out a breath of air as she descended down the stairs with Daemon.
•
Mason managed to sneak out of his chambers but not before he went over to plant kisses on his daughter's foreheads.
They were both sound asleep as Mason stroked his eldest girl's hair, "Forgive me for what I am about to do." He whispered as he planted one last kiss and left the room.
He snuck his way through the corridors, having learned their rotations and where the knights and their posts were.
He made it out into the city, taking in the scenery. People were playing games, fires were raging in their pits, drinking, and men enjoying themselves with women and other men alike.
He made it to Cobbler's Square, outside of the tavern they had decided on. He stood up against the wall
One girl approached him, taking in his clean shaven face to and styled curls.
"I can tell when a man is of noble blood with a beautiful and fresh face like yours," She says with a slight accent as she runs her hand across his cheeks. He leans away, grabbing her hand.
"You flatter me, my lady," Mace says as he puts her hand down.
"I am no lady..." She runs her hands through his silky cloak. "But you are a lord. Have I got it right?"
Mace laughs, "I'm afraid you already know the answer to that question. Have I got it right?"
"The girl's lips curl into a mischievous smile as she leans closer to Mason, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Perhaps," she murmurs, her breath warm against his skin. "But you're not here to talk about titles, are you?"
Mason looks at her, unsure of what she is trying to achieve here. "No," he says firmly. "I'm here for something else entirely."
"So, why do you stand here alone, lord?" She says as she puts a hand on his arm and he shifts uncomfortably with her touch.
"I am waiting," Mace answers.
"What do you wait for?" She asks, leaning in closer. Mace looks at her amused. So many questions—He hated to call her a whore but he wondered why a whore would ever ask so many questions.
"I am waiting for the girl I am in love with," Mason states, "We made plans to drink wine and laugh like we never have before."
"I have never met a man like yourself. A man who wants the woman and not her services," She tells him as Mace shakes his head.
"I would never ask that of her," Mace says, "There have been many times in which we have come close to it but I could never do that to her."
"Does she not want to share a bed with you?"
"It's not—" He lowers his voice when a large group of people walks by, "It's not that at all," Mace replied, "It is rather complicated."
"Then drink your frustrations away, my lord," She says as she gestures to the tavern beside them. Mace shakes his head, and pulling the cloak further over his head.
"I am still waiting—"
"No one said you had to leave," She argued, "The tavern is right here."
Why not?
•
Rhaenyra is delighted by the fun and excitement around her in the city. She smiles as she sees the crowds drinking without a care in the world.
She bumps into someone and the man pushes her off, "Fuck off, boy!"
The Princess laughs at this. She was truly unrecognizable if some man was able to push around the Princess. "He called me a boy," She told her uncle who followed her around.
She keeps a lookout for Mason as she makes her way down the alleys.
A large crowd had gathered for a show of performers. Rhaenyra curiously made her way over with Daemon right on her toes. The performers were dressed in a mockery of royal clothes and wigs. She listened in as they began their show.
"And now we come to the matter of the great Iron Chair...," One performer begins, ".. and whose bum it might bear. Our good King... names his daughter, a girl, his heir." The audiences boos and makes noises to which Rhaenyra frowns.
"But then to him, a babe is born," He says as everyone "oohs" and "ahhs".
"A son!" Everyone gasps and laughs. "To which heir might the chair bear? Who will it be? The brother? The daughter? Or the little princeling of three?"
People begin to shout Aegon's name and some Rhaenyra's.
Daemon watches her reaction to the play.
"Rhaenyra... the Realm's Delight," Everyone laughs as the man goes up to a woman who seems to be playing the Princess, "a girl so young and so slight... loved by all of her people, but would she make a powerful queen, or would she be feeble?"
"Feeble!" The audience answers.
"Though Aegon, the babe Prince, might long for a claim, he has two things Rhaenyra cannot: a conqueror's name... and a cock!" He says, pretending to pull out his own.
"Lies, slander! Boo!" Rhaenyra shouts as she watches everyone cackle at the show.
" Jest if you will, but many of the smallfolk are like to believe that, as a male, Aegon should be the heir," Daemon said as Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.
"Mmm. Their wants are of no consequence," Rhaenyra says as she gets out of the crowd. Daemon chuckles as he follows after her.
"They're of great consequence if you expect to rule them one day," Daemon tells her as the audience cheers behind her.
"For one night, I wish to be free of the burdens of my inheritance," Rhaenyra says as she makes her way down an alley.
She sees a food vendor and makes her way over to him. She grabs some of his product and stuffs some in her mouth.
Daemon stands beside, "Four coppers, street rat. In King's Landing, we pay for our pleasures."
Rhaenyra chucks the food at him and runs away. "Stop, boy!"
"Wait, I'll find him," Daemon declared as he followed after Rhaenyra. The Princess makes her way down another alley, enjoying her freedom. She bumps into a knight of the City Watch.
"And who might you be running from, now?" He says, gripping her arm tightly.
She pants, "Ser Harwin."
"Princess," He realizes and she shakes her head slightly. He sees the figure of Prince Daemon coming towards them.
"Don't." She mutters.
"You take care, boy," He says firmly, pretending he didn't notice and lets go of her arm, "Next time, you might not be so lucky."
"Enjoyed that, did you?" Daemon asks Rhaenyra as they regroup again. She laughs loudly.
"I am enjoying my taste of freedom," Rhaenyra says as she spins around and Daemon reaches for her hand and to follow him to Cobbler's Square.
•
"What are your tastes?" The woman asks Mace who sits with his head resting against a wall, cups of wine all over the table.
"Blonde," Mace answers drunkenly as he takes another sip, smiling to himself. He did not even mean to drink that much but somehow this woman convinced him to drink another and another.
And he didn't even realize it.
"I meant wine," She laughs and Mace is falling asleep, wanting to dream of fantasies and tales. He felt incredibly relaxed.
"Any wine as long as I can drink it," Mace giggles as he opens his eyes, "But I have always wanted to try ale from the North."
The woman subtle pushes another cup towards Mace, "That could be arranged."
"Arrangements," Mace muttered, "I arranged for a meeting but I think I have been deceived." He starts to laugh loudly as he swallows down another cup. "She's not here at all."
"But I am," She says as she puts her hand on top of his. "All women are the same. You might as well have me." He quickly removes it.
"But you are not her," He says softly as he rests his head against the wall again, "No one is like her which is what I love most about her."
She sighs as if she has failed to convince him of something. "Then tell me about her."
•
As Rhaenyra and Daemon make their way through the bustling streets of Cobbler's Square, they come upon the tavern where Mason sits, lost in a haze of wine and conversation with the woman. She cannot even see her face as the two sat in the dark, closest to the entrance. But she could see that Mace's hood was off, revealing his pretty face. Rhaenyra's heart sinks at the sight, her earlier excitement giving way to a gnawing sense of unease.
She stomps over to him only to be stopped by Daemon's strong grip on her arm.
Daemon observes the scene with a knowing smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement, "This is what men do, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of disdain. "They lie and deceive to get what they really want."
Rhaenyra frowns, her gaze fixed on Mason as he laughs and jests with the woman beside him. But unbeknownst to her, he was describing the way Rhaenyra's eyes shined in the sun. "But Mason is not like that," she protests, her voice tinged with defensiveness.
Daemon raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Oh, but he is. Why else would he be sitting with a whore," he counters, his tone matter-of-fact. She watched as Mason spoke with such a passion and even pointing to the woman's eyes, "He wants something. They all do."
The something was pretty clear for Rhaenyra as she suddenly lost all her enthusiasm and energy.
A flicker of doubt crosses Rhaenyra's features as she watches Mason's drunkenness unfold before her eyes. Despite her lingering affection for him, a seed of doubt takes root in her mind, uncertainty where once there was only trust.
"Perhaps it's time you learned the truth about men and lords, Rhaenyra," Daemon suggests, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "I could teach you a thing or two about how to give him what he wants. Because even I know now that you still want him the way any woman wants a man."
Rhaenyra hesitates, torn between her loyalty to Mason and the unsettling truths Daemon seems intent on showing. In the end, curiosity wins out, "And if I learn, he'll want me again?"
"It is certain," Daemon replies as he looks back at Mace and the woman once again, Rhaenyra facing them too.
She stares at them long and hard, her stomach twisting at the sight of the woman reaching for his hand. Even worse when he leaned in again and pointed to her cheeks, presumably talking about her smile. She was angry, frustrated, and felt confused.
Was she living a lie? A fantasy?
Is this what Mason wanted out of her?
With much hesitation, she takes Daemon's hands and follows him, taking another route. Down to the other side of the city: Fleabottom.
•
"And when she smiles, her cheeks turn a crimson red," Mace goes on, pointing to the woman's.
"She sounds like a woman out of those fairytales you tell children when they cannot sleep," She says and Mace nods eagerly.
"That is quite it," Mace smiles, "She is unlike any woman you have ever seen."
"And where is she?"
Mace looks around to the spot where his lady had been standing just a few moments ago, "Not here..."
"Did she not tell you she was coming?" She asked and Mace shrugged his shoulders.
"She told me...We made these plans together," He said.
"Then she must have deceived you," She says as she drinks her own cup of wine.
"Rh—" He clears his throat. Even in his drunken state, he knew not to say her name, "She is not like that." He said, defending her.
"It seems you overlooked her greatest flaw," She smirks.
"And what would that be?"
"Princesses like to lie, Lord Mason," She says and Mace's smile fades.
•
Daemon leads Rhaenyra into Fleabottom where brothels and sex thrived.
Rhaenyra looks around as she sees women moaning in pleasure and groaning, as well as the men. They all seemed to be in their own worlds of pleasure and it didn't matter who they were getting it from.
"What is this place?" She asked him.
"It's where people come to take what they want. Fucking is a pleasure you see. For the woman as it is for the man."
Rhaenyra is backed into a corner by her uncle. She couldn't. She had to learn. If sex is what Mace wanted, then she wanted to learn. She was willing to learn with anyone. And that included her rogue uncle.
"A marriage is a duty, yes. But that doesn't stop us from doing what we want. From fucking who we want. The stag lord knows this. It's time you knew this. It's why we are here after all. To give him what he wants."
Rhaenyra could not help but feel that he meant something else. But Daemon went in for the kiss and she reluctantly returned it.
She was learning, she reminded herself.
They undressed each other, Rhaenyra nearly naked.
They kissed, their tongues battling each other. Heavy breathing filling their ears but then he stopped. She pulled on his hair, expecting for it to be long curls but finding short and pale hair instead. She was in too deep, she thought. But regardless, she went against her gut as she was here for a lesson and she was eager to learn if it meant she'd satisfy the Baratheon lord. Rhaenyra tried to kiss him back, but Daemon backed away.
"Daemon?" He disappeared into the night and she was left dumbfounded, and with a hunger for more.
She picked up her clothes, putting some back on and ran back to the Keep.
Part of her wanted to run back to Mason but he was probably in a brothel himself, getting what he wanted but was too polite enough to ask it from Rhaenyra.
At least that is what Daemon had told her. And even if she was to run back to him, he wasn't himself and was drunk.
But so was she if she was being honest. Daemon had given her a rich wine from one of the vendors and it had taken its effect.
As she was making her way out of the brothel, a young boy who sat outside of it on a stone staircase made notice of her and decided it would be of useful knowledge.
The Princess made it back to the Keep, making it up to her room where Criston was falling asleep whilst keeping guard of her door.
"Princess?"
"Princess? Princess, are you, are you hurt?" She goes right past him and opens her door. She xould hear him from the other side, "I should alert the Lord Commander."
She opens it, grabbing his helmet, "No!"
"Teach me," She said as she held up the helmet. Criston is confused by her command.
He ignores it and reaches for his helmet, "My helmet.." He says but Rhaenyra pulls it away, leading him into the room.
He stares at her, expecting her to stop this. "You finished?" She giggles and holds it up again.
"Thank you," He says, reaching for it and she does it again. She smiles at him but he's fed up and walks away to the door. She runs over to the door, closing it and trapping him.
Criston doesn't know what she is trying to do.
She holds up the helm again, "Teach me." She says softly but Criston doesn't know what she means.
He reaches for it and she puts it behind her back, kissing him.
She pulls away and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Rhaenyra drops the helm and begins to undo the laces on her tunic.
"Stop," Criston tells her as she grabs his hand, moving towards her chest. He is tense as he tries not to stare. While still grabbing his hand, she leads him further into the room.
They stop as Rhaenyra's gaze drops toward his arm. Still breathing heavily, she goes to undo his forearm guard straps. She drops it on the floor, eyeing him.
He stands stiffly as she goes to undo the other one and he doesn't stop her. He doesn't know where to look and Rhaenyra crouches, meeting his gaze and lifting his chin to look at her.
She stands straight and holds one of his cheeks before kissing him again. Rhaenyra takes off a part of his chestplate and goes behind him to take off his white cloak.
She unclips it and hands it to him.
His white cloak. One of purity and goodness.
He puts it on the chair, sighing.
Rhaenyra then begins to take apart his armor and putting it all on the floor. He takes a moment to himself, bending over and hands on his knees. Rhaenyra watches him, unsure of what he is doing but her answer came when he straightened up and kissed her now.
They make their way to her bed when he stares at the door. He looked back at her as she gives him a drunken smile.
They begin to undo their clothes together until they are both vulnerable. He slowly pulls off the dirty tunic off of her as she kisses him again. She wraps her arm around him and jumps up, wrapping her legs around him.
He holds her, carrying her over to the bed where he lays her down. He leans over her and smiles as they kiss again. Rhaenyra runs her fingers through his long black hair.
He puts himself between her legs and puts her hands above her head, taking the lead and unknowingly teaching her what she wanted.
They interlace their fingers as she squeezes her eyes shut and opens her mouth, moaning in his ear. He thrusts against her as she grips his hair. She starts to get lost in the pleasure and Criston feels different. She doesn't realize that she is envisioning what Mason would feel like. She begins to taste him instead in Criston's kisses.
She was now convinced that she was kissing Mason Baratheon, feeling Criston's hair reminded her of his hair.
This conclusion leads Rhaenyra to roll on top of Criston and straddles him, wanting to show the man pleasure.
She cranes her head and gapes as she rocks her hips back and forth. Criston moans, putting his hands on Rhaenyra's hips, guiding and teaching her.
She never once looked him in the eye.
Ser Criston Cole doesn't realize that he is being envisioned as another but yet, here he was under the Princess's touch.
Something he never would have imagined would happen.
•
Around that same time, Otto Hightower was told to meet a source outside for there was news that he really needed to hear.
"Apologies for the late hour, my Lord," A knight says as Otto enters the courtyard.
"What is it?"
"A messenger brings word from the White Worm," The knight says as he gestures to the little boy from the brothel staircase.
Otto nods his head slowly at his words, ready to hear everything.
A few minutes away, Mason sat by himself now after the woman revealed that she had known who he was the entire time.
He had made a fire and sat with a few people who were keeping warm. He had taken off his cloak until it was only his white tunic and a dirty rag he had to clean himself up. He didn't care anymore.
What had he done wrong?
Did something happen?
•
Mace watched the sunrise from a roof of an old apartment. He leaned against the stone railway, watching the choppy water of Blackwater Bay. He sighed and hanged his head, rubbing his hands together.
He took a deep breath before making his way over to the Red Keep, where servants and knights were up and running around tending to their duties.
He easily blended in and made his way up to his chamber, his mood completely cloudy and feeling sick.
"Good morrow, my lord," The knights and servants would say and were surprised when he didn't answer them.
He walked all the way up to his chambers and sat down on his bed for a long time, staring at the wall.
•
Daemon stirred awake, laying in a pool of blankets. He looked around and saw Mysaria, his former...lady.
"Am I your prisoner?" He asks groggily, struggling to open his eyes.
"As I once was yours? I did what you asked," She said to him and he rolled his eyes. "And you used me....again." She pours a drink into a metal cup and walks over to the Prince.
"This will cut the fog," She says and he takes it, dumping it all beside him. She exhales a large breath.
"He is a good man," She says, "Why would you ever want to ruin that for the Princess?"
"I don't need criticism from a common whore."
"I am not so common." She answers defensively.
"A not-so common whore then," He breathes out.
He looks away and lays his head back. He peeks back over to her when he sees a young boy walk into the stone chamber and give Mysaria a handful of coins.
"After tonight, I have decided to leave that life behind," She says as she smiles at the handful of coins. "I learned that skin-trade could only take me so far in this life."
Daemon chuckles, "You never were one to stay idle."
"Hard lessons are not welcomed but suffered," Mysaria declares as she walks up the steps leaving Daemon alone.
"You can pay for the room on your way out," She says, waving her hand at him.
"Mys-Mysaria," He tries to call out to her but he was tired, drained, and the light hurt his eyes.
•