10 Months Later - 97 AC
Diana struggled to breathe normally as Yelena and her mother worked together to lace her into the elaborate and beautifully crafted wedding gown her mother had made. The dress was gorgeous and expensive, a shimmering white with bronze, red and black accents; it perfectly meshed the house colours of House Royce and House Targaryen together, symbolizing her and Daemon's union.
The wedding, of course, was set to take place in the Converted Dragon Pit in several hours, the family having arrived in King's Landing a week ago for a series of feasts and tourneys that had lasted 3 whole days, with Daemon and Diana in the centre of it all. Two perfect strangers playing at being madly in love for the masses.
In that time, surprisingly, Daemon had been the perfect intended, attentive and always on time, but instead of reassuring the brunette maiden, it only made her more anxious, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She has sent and received enough letters with Daemon to know he couldn't resist a little mischief, especially at his family's expense. It was in his nature.
Diana couldn't say she hadn't grown a little fond of the young man in the time they'd spent writing to each other and in the far and few times he flew Caraxes out to Runestone to visit for a day or so. She was only human, and Daemon was handsome and charming. He'd taken time to help her translate old Valyrian texts and seemed to take a genuine interest in her hobbies of hunting and breeding animals.
He could have been faking the attention, but the 16-year-old chose to forget that, whether she liked it or not, they would be man and wife for the rest of their lives, and she'd chosen to make the best of the circumstances instead of being bitter like Rhea, who her parents had to drag to King's Landing by threatening her inheritance. Many male Royce cousins would kill for a chance at the Runestone seat, and Rhea knew that.
With one final, rib-defying tug, her corset was laced, and Diana's veil was placed on her intricate updo. The veil had been a gift from Queen Alysanne to borrow for the ceremony; it was made from Myrish lace and was attached to a silver, dragon-shaped tiara filled with red rubies. It was beautiful, just like everything else in the Red Keep.
Afterward, a cloak depicting her family's sigil was placed around her shoulder. It was thick and heavy, perfectly crafted and made to last. Her mother and grandmother had worn it at their weddings into House Royce. It had been handcrafted by her female ancestors, and it showed in the love and care that went into it.
The trip to King's landing had been the first time either of the Royce daughters had left The Vale, and Diana had loved every second of travelling, choosing to spend that time riding her horse with her father and Rhea, despite the aches her muscles obtained in the process and the callouses in strange places she'd received as a byproduct.
She'd marvelled at the new sights and smells that had assaulted her along the way, the new people she had met. Even the stink of shit and piss in Flee Bottom had filled her with excitement because soon, she might be able to make a difference for the people there. She would be Princess Consort to Daemon Targaryen; she would have the power to make changes and right wrongs if she played her cards right.
Princess Diana Royce of House Targaryen would be her name soon, one that she would hold until her death. She'd had 10 months to come to terms with that, even with Rhea's sulking and her father's brooding to contend with. Diana knew she'd put a wrench in her family's plans, but what was done was done, and she could only look forward.
A sniffle had Diana turning on silk-slippered feet to see her mother dabbing her wet eyes with a handkerchief, her eyes glued to her daughter in all her finery. Diana felt tears sting her eyes in response, and she stepped forward, pulling her mother into a hug, ignoring the squeak the seamstress let out in dismay. Fuck the dress; this was her mother, the only person who had been wholly on her side through all of this.
And her mother had been with her. So while her sister and father pouted and made passive-aggressive marks, Hera Royce had stepped up, shedding her usual shy and passive nature to be there for her youngest daughter. She'd stood against her Lord Husband and stood steadfast by Diana's side, coaching her through preparing to be a good wife and mother. In addition, her mother had helped plan the wedding with Queen Alysanne's input, ensuring that Diana could have her opinions heard and assuring that the day would be as perfect as possible, considering the circumstances.
And helping Diana hadn't come without sacrifice for the Lady of Runestone. Hera and her husband had been going through a rough patch, which involved her using the private chambers she'd been given at marriage for the first time in decades and cold, silent, filled dinners filled with accusing glares.
But her mother had stood firm in the face of adversity, and thankfully, as the wedding loomed closer and it became almost certain that it was going to happen, her father had lost some of his resolves to be bitter and seemingly made amends. He'd showered her mother with gifts and gestures until she was coaxed back into their shared chambers, and they had been stronger for it. Her mother had proven herself to be a strong and capable woman in her own right, despite her husband's disapproval.
That was to say, not everything was perfect. Her father was still slightly cold to Diana and had come to favour the 'spited' Rhea, who cleaved to him, the pair almost always together. The Lord and his heir, together as one. But he had softened towards Diana and began to allow bonding to take place once again.
Holding back tears, Diana pulled away from the embrace, clearing her throat and smiling softly as her mother straightened her hair with her fingers and palmed her cheek briefly before letting go.
"Are you ready, my dear?" Her mother eyed, smiling at her warmly, with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Diana could only nod in response, her throat clogged with emotions. Then, turning, she looked at herself in the floor-length mirror and tried once again to picture herself as a bride.
Only a couple of months ago, she'd turned 16, considered a woman grown in the eyes of the court, and while she had grown, developing curves in new places and losing some of the baby fat she clung to in childhood, she didn't feel grown up. How could she? A dove in a gilded cage is hidden away in a castle with no real responsibilities.
To her chagrin, she hadn't grown any taller, only standing an inch over five feet, but she had developed a nice, thin frame with gentle curves. She had wanted to die when some of her mother's lady friends commented that she had good 'birthing' hips when she first began to notice her old gowns didn't fit in the chest and hip area. Her mother had to order a whole new set of gowns to accommodate the growth spurt.
But now, standing in her wedding gown, with a crown on her head and her mother standing proudly behind her, she felt grown. She felt ready.
A solid knock on the large wooden doors leading to the chamber Diana had been given in the Red Keep had her pulling herself out of her thoughts and spinning on her heel, making sure not to mess up her skirts too much as a maid went to answer it.
She wasn't surprised to see her father standing there. In all of his bronze finery, he would have to escort her down the aisle after all. What shocked her was Rhea coming in after him, looking utterly uncomfortable, also dressed in a beautiful bronze dress with black accents.
Clearing his throat and rubbing at his freshly trimmed salt and pepper beard, her father, stepped forward and asked, "Are we ready to go?"
Nodding, Diana stepped forward and replied, "Yes, Father."
As he looked her over, Diana was shocked to see him take a deep breath and obviously choke down some emotions. His eyes weren't wet with tears, but they did look melancholy and full of grief. Grief for what she couldn't know, maybe the time they'd spent apart these last 10 months?
But whatever it was, Yolden worked hard to shove it back down and keep his Lordly appearance, despite being surrounded only by family and close servants. Swallowing down her own disappointment for getting her hopes up, Diana took the arm he offered and walked with him out to the waiting carriage.
Crowds filled the streets on the way to the Dragon Pit, celebrating the nuptials of a prince. Not surprising considering the small folk called Daemon, The People's Prince, due to his love of Flee Bottom and his willingness to co-exist with the small folk residing there. She knew the lords and ladies sometimes mocked Daemon for this; Otto Hightower was recognized for proclaiming Daemon The Lord of Flee Bottom. A backhanded insult if Diana had ever heard one.
The entire ride, she clutched her hands together and struggled to steady her breathing, thankful the curtains were drawn to hide her until her grand reveal at the steps of the sept. Beside her, her father sat strength, back tense and eyes forward, seemingly lost in thought.
Diana thought they would spend the entire time in silence as they neared the sept, going by the sounds she heard outside rising in a cacophony. But, just as the carriage slowed and Diana began to sit up, her father took her hand in his, squeezing it gently until she paused and looked at him.
"Father?"
"I know that I haven't been… entirely fair to you these past months Diana. I had ideas about how your life would be, and all of this…" he swept the air with his hands, symbolizing everything happening outside, "Has put me out of sorts. And I took it out on you. So, I'm sorry, my sweet girl, and I hope we can begin anew after some time away with your new husband."
The tears Diana had been holding back all morning won the fight, and a single tear rolled down her cheek as she clutched her father in a tight embrace, relief sweeping through her. Her words were breathy as she whispered, "Yes, of course, Father. I'm sorry too."
A knock on the carriage door had them pulling back, and with one final cluck on the chin, they were ready. Smiling at her, Yolden Royce escorted his daughter up the steps, stopping every so often to allow her to wave and smile at the celebrating crowd of small folk gathered around the steps in the hundreds, if not thousands. They a crowded together in a sea of white and brown, their clothes ragged and covered in dirt, many of them deathly thin. Diana wanted to frown in the face of all of that suffering, but she didn't; there would be time later to make changes. Today was a happy day, not just for her but for the small folk looking for an escape. She could give them that.
After the appropriate amount of time, she retook her Father's arm and allowed him to lead her towards the doors that opened before them, revealing the inside of the Dragon Pit. It was beautiful and terrifying, massive and covered in dragon memorabilia.
The circular room, cleaned and redecorated. And was filled to the brim with noblemen and women from all over Westeros, flowers and beautifully crafted finery marking the occasion. Looking past them, Diana lost her breath when she saw him, her intended Daemon Targaryen standing at the top of a Dias, in front of the High Septon wearing an intricately detailed leather doublet over a red tunic undershirt. His trousers were also leather and deep black over black knee-high boots. At his side, as always, hung the Valyrian blade Dark Sister in its detailed sheath.
He stood tall and proud, his silver hair pulled back and combed straight without a strand out of place. When they made eye contact, his smirk was softer than usual, and his face was open and seemingly pleased as he looked her up and down, pausing to ogle her curves.
He walked down to meet them at the bottom of the steps, nodding his head at her father, who kissed her on the cheek before handing her off. Forcing herself to smile through her nerves, she made eye contact with Daemon as he kissed her hand, gently put it in the crook of his arm, and led her up the steps to where the High Septon stood.
Stopping in front of the septon, with a flourish, Daemon pulled her bronze cloak off and quickly replaced it with a Targaryen one, its black and red fabric no doubt pairing well with her dress. Then they stood across from each other, holding hands while the septon tied them together with a silk tie before they exchanged vows.
"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon called, his voice loud and heard throughout the room, "Let it be known that Daemon of House Targaryen and Diana of House Royce are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words."
Maintaining eye contact with Daemon, Diana allowed herself to get lost in his deep indigo eyes as they said their vows, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…."
"I am hers, and she is mine. From this day until the end of my days,"
"I am his, and he is mine. From this day until the end of my days."
Diana held back a giggle as exhilaration shot through her at Daemon's dark, lustful look as he stared down at her, smirk firmly in place, ignoring the masses watching them. Then stepping even closer, he murmured, almost too softly for anyone else to hear, "With this kiss, I pledge my love."
Then, taking his unlinked hand, he reached up, grabbed her firmly by the back of the neck and pulled her in for a deep, almost indecent kiss, uncaring of the scandalized and shocked gasps and murmurs that rang out in response. Finally, after a few long, heart-racing moments, he pulled back and nuzzled their noses together before looking out at the crowd.
"I present to you Princess Diana Royce of House Targaryen!"
And the crowd erupted into cheers. Even those who looked scandalized were forced to play along, despite their snide looks.
After that, everything was a blur as Daemon and Diana were hustled back to the Red Keep, where the wedding feast awaited them out in the garden. The entire time, Daemon kept a firm grip on her, guiding her by the waist and not letting her out of his sight or grasp.
Diana knew she should have been shocked by his blatant display of affection, but something about it felt right for Daemon to be as possessive of his wife as he was his dragon and Valyrian blade, and she played along. Feeling special and allowing herself to flourish under his attention.
It was all a blur as she sat in the seat of honour next to Daemon and ate rich, decadent foods, accepted gifts from lords she didn't even know the names of and sipped daintily at her wine, just as her mother recommended. It wasn't until Daemon reached over and gripped her chin gently, turning it towards him, that she realized how out of it she really was. The whole day had been exhausting, and she was daydreaming as a result.
She let out a shaky breath and allowed her shoulder to drop as she smiled at her husband. He smiled back at her, a slight quirk of the lips before saying," Dance with me."
Diana snarked, allowing her sass to come out, "Is that how you talk to a lady, Lord husband?"
Daemon didn't disappoint. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "Either you dance with me, and we last long enough to make it socially acceptable for me to carry you out of here and rip that delectable dress off, or we don't, and I do it right now."
By the time he pulled away, taking the time to rub his nose along her jaw slowly, Diana was practically panting. The one glass of wine she had been sipping all evening seemed to go to her head all at once as she whispered, "And if I wanted you to take me?"
Daemon's eyes darkened as he stood up, sending his chair crashing to the floor with a clang and sweeping her up to stand beside him. Before they could run to the exit, hand in hand, they were stopped by King Jaeherys calling out, "And where do you think you're going?"
Daemon was already sauntering, almost creeping with Diana at his side as he replied, "To do my duty, Grandfather. Please, enjoy the festivities."
And with that, they were gone, running down the hall and up several flights of stairs, giggling the entire way. Diana felt like she was walking on air, allowing herself to fall again and against into Daemon's arms as she tripped on her long skirt. Every time, Daemon took the opportunity to kiss an exposed part of her face and upper body but avoided her lips, making her burn with desire.
It seemed like it took forever, yet no time at all, to reach Daemon's chambers, and in one practice movement, Daemon spun her and pulled her into another breathtaking kiss. Then, reaching down with one hand, he opened the door and shoved her backwards, holding her at the waist so she would fall as they shuffled back into his chambers.
Pulling back, Diana gasped for air, her blood racing in her veins and her head dizzy from both lack of oxygen and arousal. Staring off into Daemon's indigo eyes, almost black with lust, she hesitated for only a second before she spun on her heel back to him. With quick, jerky movements, she pulled her hair out of the way, and Daemon got her unsaid message, undoing her corset with deft fingers.
Diana hadn't realized how heavy the dress had been until she shrugged the loos fabric off her shoulders, and it fell to a heap at her feet. Then, kicking it off with her slippers, she stepped forward barefoot, jumping at the coldness of the stone floors.
Trying to slow her breath, she kept walking, ignoring Daemon as he shrugged his doublet and tunic off, leaving him bare-chested and staring after her, panting. But he didn't pursue her as she explored his space, taking in the tapestries and various weapons strewn across the room. His bed was massive, easily twice as big as her own back at Runestone and covered in a goose feather duvet cover and fluffy pillows with red, black and gold covers.
Choosing to take her time, she walked over to the dying fire and quickly stoked it back up with the nearby firewood. It wasn't until the fire was blazing, bathing the room in heat and light, that she looked back at her new husband and withheld a smirk at how bemused he looked.
His boots and leather trousers were gone, leaving him in only a pair of white underpants, the material obviously tenting in the front. Having regained her composure and come to a concrete conclusion, Diana decided to take pity on him and strolled over to the bed, standing in front of it, facing him.
With one slow finger, she hooked one of the shoulders of her nightgown and, with one flick, sent the whole gown tumbling to the floor, leaving her bare. Daemon shook his head in amazement and was on her in a second, taking her mouth with hungry movements and exploring her body with his hands, making her whine with pleasure and surprise.
But despite her inexperience, Diana was determined to give as good as she got and began to explore Daemon's body as well, tugging at his silky smooth hair and studying the defined muscles on his torso. Once she thoroughly felt him there, she moved further south, taking pleasure in the sounds he made in the back of his throat when she grazed the front of his shorts on her way to cup his arse, curious about how it would feel.
In retaliation, Daemon pushed her back, climbed on top of her and mouthed at her neck, making her gasp and cry out as he bit and sucked on the sensitive flesh there.
On instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush to her and revelling in the feel of his hardness against her damp heat as she began to rock against him, seeking friction.
Pulling back, ignoring the sound of protest Diana made, Daemon asked, eyebrow raised, "Have you done this before?"
In response to his words, Diana narrowed her eyes and pinched him down below, taking pleasure in the sound of pain her made, growling as he took her arms in his and pinned them above her head. Snarling back, she said, "No, I'm just not some naive little girl who doesn't ask questions. Now," she fought against his hold and snapped her teeth at him in agitation, "Are you going to help me consummate this union or will I have to bloody the sheets myself and use my fingers to reach -"
She was cut off when Daemon pulled her into a bone-crushing kiss, depositing both of her wrists into one hand, he reached down and cupped her sex, swallowing her cries as he began to play with her there, ignoring her struggled to regain control of her wrists.
And even though Daemon held almost all of the power, Diana wasn't afraid. In all of the tails told about the prince, in none of them was he cast as a raper. A seducer, yes, a rogue, most certainly, but all of his partners seemed willing. And for a good reason, going by how quickly her blood began to boil, and her breaths came out in pants as a sunami seemed to grow inside her lower belly, looking to escape.
With a final cry, she released, soaking his fingers and undulating against his hold as Daemon smirked down at her, a self-satisfied look on his handsome face. Then, smirking down at her, he let go of her wrists and pulled down his shorts, pulling them off and throwing them over his shoulder while Diana wrapped her arms around his neck and climbed on his lap as he sat up.
Their position put her at a slight height advantage, and she understood why Daemon had chosen it. He wanted her to take control of this moment and feel comfortable giving himself to him. Never one to back down from a challenge, she reached down and explored his length, surprised at how soft the skin was, with short pubic hairs and all. It was also bigger than she'd expected, having to be at least 7 inches in length and rather girthy to boot.
With clumsy, unpracticed movements, she brought herself up onto her knees and, with Daemon's guiding hands, slowly sank down onto the shaft, wincing at the slight burn it produced when she tried to get it over with and went too fast.
Daemon slowed her down, pulling her into a soft kiss and reaching down to play with her nub, making her relax as pleasure mixed with pain as she slowly sunk down on him. Once she was fully seated, she sat still, with Daemon still pleasuring her, getting used to the feel until she began a slow and rhythmic rock, not going up or down yet.
Daemon's eyes closed, and his mouth opened with a sigh to match hers as they moved together slowly, exploring each other with grasping touches and kisses. Once she got into a rhythm and was used to the movement, Diana picked up speed with Daemon's help, his hands on her hips and his hips rocking in time with hers.
When she felt her release rising again, their movements were almost violent, with Daemon on his back and her holding herself up with her palms on his chest. Rocking hard back and forth, up and down in time with his thrusts. Crying out, her movements stuttered to a halt as her release hit her once more, taking all of her mental faculties with her and making her scream with pleasure.
As soon as she stopped moving, Daemon turned them, still inside her and began thrusting anew. Hard, fast thrusts for his pleasure, not caring that the movements made Diana's orgasm all the more intense, drawing it out and making her almost sob with oversensitivity. And then, with one hard, deep thrust, the prince came hard, growling and hiding his face into her throat, sucking on the skin hard to muffle his cries.
Both of them panting, they fell into the pillows in a tangle of limbs, basking in the afterglow of what they had just done. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the weight of Daemon's whole body on hers had Diana struggling to breathe, and she shoved at him to lay next to her. Then, to soothe her rejection, she quickly turned to lie across his chest and reached up to play with his long, tangled locks, eyes closed in contentment.
Daemon didn't resist her affection; he seemed to revel in it. Pulling her close and stuffing his face into her curls to breathe deeply. No words were needed as they relaxed into the pillows, pulling the sheets over them at some point and falling into a deep sleep.
When the maids found them the following day, they found them still all tangled up, naked as the day they were born and clutching at each other, despite the hot temperature and the thin sheen of sweat covering both of their forms, cooling their flesh. There would be no contemplation of whether or not the newlyweds had consummated their union.
And then, once the maids were gone, Daemon awoke and proceeded to consummate it repeatedly.
