Chapter Nine: A Tale Of Heartbreak
A/N: Shit is getting real, and some of the cracks are starting to show in Demelza's relationships.
Warnings: implied sex scene
As night fell over King's Landing, an inky darkness spangled with stars that glittered and winked down over the city, Demelza found herself restless. Something itched impatiently beneath her skin, and she couldn't decide if perhaps she might regret what she had said to Criston. Fortunately, Demelza's rooms had a spectacular view overlooking the city, so she sat in the window and sipped her wine in thoughtful silence.
Demelza loved Criston. That much, she was certain of. But Criston had constantly valued his reputation over his romance with her, and the daughter they had conceived. She had thought her rejection would have been a blessing, though he had not said a word to her after she had insisted they should no longer be lovers. Had he not realised that pushing their love aside was as painful to her as it was to him?
Sometime soon, she planned to return to Starfall to see Elyana. Perhaps when her daughter was older and the gossip and prying eyes turned away from her, Demelza could bring her to the capital. The idea brought a soft smile to Demelza's lips as she drained the last of the honeyed wine from her cup.
"Demelza?" Valko approached with a furrow in his brow. "The hour is late. Should you not be in bed?"
Demelza flashed him a wicked grin. "So that you may visit the Lady Jocelyn?"
There was an affection between the captain of her guard and Lord Strong's daughter, something that Demelza observed with amusement. Valko was far too cautious and aware of Westerosi customs to engage in something inappropriate with her, but Demelza suspected that their connection was more than a mere friendship.
"Demelza." The word was spoken with exasperation.
She eased herself to her feet, setting down her empty glass. The honeyed wine lent a pleasant buzz to Demelza's head, a warmth spreading over her body. There was a fluidity to her movements as she gathered her skirts and headed for the door. Before she could reach it, Valko's hand came down on her shoulder.
"Where are you going?"
"To see Rhaenyra." Demelza hoped that perhaps she could gain some insight into Criston's behaviour from the Princess, who spent so much time with him. When Valko didn't release her, Demelza raised her eyebrows. "You can send a guard with me if you like. I meant it when I put an end to my relationship with Criston."
"A decision I thank the gods for." Valko stepped back. Over the past two years, he had been less overbearing, perhaps trusting that Demelza was a woman grown and did not need to be tailed everywhere she went. "Try not to be up too late."
Beaming, Demelza swept from her rooms with a spring in her step. There was something thrilling about traversing the corridors of King's Landing at night, something that felt forbidden. It was in those late hours that she was bound to see something she was not meant to. An illicit affair between two nobles that certainly weren't married, a servant fleeing a lord's quarters. Perhaps, Demelza thought, people's inhibitions were released in the darkness.
It was odd, to approach Rhaenyra's room without a Kingsguard standing outside the door. Odd enough to make Demelza falter in her steps and slow. Should there be a Kingsguard outside the Princess's door? Had someone lapsed in their duties? Typically it was Criston who took the night shift, and Demelza could not imagine where else he would have gone. Criston regarded his duties as a serious affair.
A sharp gasp caught Demelza's attention, and she tiptoed closer to the door, her curiosity overcoming her caution. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pressed close to the door. It was too late an hour for Rhaenyra to have any guests, unless…the next sound that Demelza heard was a soft moan, followed by a man's groan. A groan that she recognised.
Demelza stumbled back from the door, pressing her hands over her mouth as her stomach twisted unpleasantly.
Criston was not guarding Rhaenyra's door, because Criston was inside doing something far more intimate with her.
She could have bolted, but instead she stayed, glued to her spot outside the room as the father of her child made love to the Princess. Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision, and she held back a sob. She had rejected her relationship with Criston, but how dare he act like he loved her when days later, he was in bed with Rhaenyra. Then there was Rhaenyra, who had spent so many late nights with Demelza talking about marriage and children and Demelza's love for Criston.
They were traitors, both of them. Absolute fucking traitors. Each of them had claimed to care for her, and yet behind closed doors, it was a completely different case. They shed their respect for her, if ever they had possessed any. Whatever Criston felt he had lost with Demelza, he had found it with Rhaenyra.
Each of Rhaenyra's moans was a log stoking the fire of Demelza's rage, a fire that built and burned into an inferno. Whirling on her heel, she marched down the corridor with a seething fury taking root deep inside her. She had trusted both of them, admired them, cared for them both in intimate ways. They had betrayed her.
Demelza swiped away furious tears. What good would it do, her rage and her devastation? Criston was clearly no longer her lover. Rhaenyra was the Princess, and could do as she pleased, which had been painfully evident tonight. Demelza was no one. The confidante of Rhaenyra and Alicent, perhaps, but also the mother of a bastard child. She held no power in Westeros, and likely never would. Her feelings did not matter.
"Lady Demelza." The familiar drawl made her pause in her stride. "The hour is late. What are you doing creeping about the halls?"
"I am not creeping." Demelza spun around to glower at Daemon. Normally she may have taken more of a care in how she spoke to him, but her annoyance overrode her common sense. "I am going for a walk, as I am at perfect liberty to do."
Daemon arched an eyebrow. "So defensive. You are clearly upset, has someone troubled you?"
The mockery in his tone was not lost on Demelza, who clenched her jaw and remained silent. What she had heard was none of Daemon's business, and as much as she was determined not to forget her bitterness toward Criston and Rhaenyra, outing their relationship would do nothing but cause more problems.
Demelza was not in a mood for being derided. She folded her arms over her chest, the velvet of the blue gown she had worn scratching at the bare skin of her wrists.
"I have no desire to engage in hostile discussion, Prince Daemon. Unless you happen to have a strong drink, then I will bid you goodnight."
Demelza went to march past him, but Daemon caught her arm. Her stomach twisted with apprehension, but there was something curious in his eyes as he examined her. She snatched her arm out of his grasp, indignant.
"I do have a strong drink, but not on my person, I'm afraid."
Demelza couldn't help but scoff. "Are you suggesting we visit a tavern?"
"I actually have a Dornish vintage in my room." There was a sly gleam in Daemon's eyes, a dangerous twist to his smile. "Unless, of course, you wouldn't wish to conduct such unseemly behaviour as to be alone in the presence of a man of my reputation."
It was a challenge, a dare, and Demelza rose to it magnificently. Maybe, after what she had heard, she didn't give a fuck anymore. People already spoke about her how they liked, and even those closest to her could not give less of a damn about her. If the castle would hear and whisper about her and Daemon, then let them whisper.
Her smile was cold as ice, sharp as glass.
"I think you will find I have a reputation of my own, Prince Daemon."
Daemon's rooms were as opulent as one would expect for a Prince of the realm, and proudly decorated with Targaryen heraldry. Demelza's discerning gaze raked over the decorations as Daemon stood by the hearth, pouring each of them a drink. Her earlier tipsiness had worn off, making her rigid in the Prince's presence, preferring to stand stiffly than take a seat anywhere in the room.
"Here." Daemon pressed a goblet into her fingers, and she immediately raised it to her lips and took a few deep gulps, making him smirk. "I have a fair bit of it, you don't need to drink it like it's the last thing you'll ever taste."
The Dornish vintage was stronger than the honeyed wine, and she could taste the richness of it on her tongue. It was a pleasant burn on the way down her throat, and Demelza stared down into the goblet. If she drank enough of it, maybe she could even forget all about Criston and Rhaenyra. Maybe she would wake up with a blissful lack of recollection, in a world where her former lover and her best friend didn't humiliate her behind her back.
"Something has upset you." Daemon sank into one of the chairs, sprawling himself across it and examining Demelza. "I'm not going to pretend I am one for conversation on what has upset eighteen-year-old girls, but…"
"Must you always be so derisive?" Demelza's lip curled in contempt as she examined him. Daemon was renowned for his scandalous behaviour. Perhaps he even had a bastard of his own in the streets of King's Landing. The only difference was that, as a man, none would ever question the Prince's behaviour…yet they would tear her apart for hers.
Daemon rolled his eyes. "What else would you like me to be? Do you want to be comforted and coddled? Do you want me to kiss your forehead and tell you everything will be alright? This world is cruel and unfair, Demelza. You of all people should know that by now."
"I of all people?" Demelza perched herself uncertainly on the chair beside him. She brushed her fingers over the crimson silk pillows, relishing in how cool the fabric felt against her fingertips.
Daemon leaned back, sipping his drink. "You are the mother of a bastard child. A child whose father you refuse to name. Everyone whispers about it at court. You probably already know they call you a whore."
Demelza's eyes narrowed, fingers tightening around her goblet. "If I was in Dorne, or if I was a man, no one would care enough to say anything on the matter."
"Yet you're not," Daemon pointed out.
The fire crackled in the silence that followed, and Demelza took the opportunity to refill her goblet. She would not crack, nor crumble. She would not let the whispers of an unforgiving court define who she was. Criston and Rhaenyra…they were another matter, one that had her drinking deeply from her goblet once again. The pleasant buzz was back, the wine giving her a boldness more casual and confident than anything her anger had lent her.
"Do you think I'm a whore then, Prince Daemon?"
Daemon set down his goblet with a thud, and there was something intense in the way he regarded her. Demelza recognised that gleam in his eyes for what it was: lust. Daemon's desire for her might be based on little more than her appearance, since he hardly knew her, and yet it was invigorating to know that a Prince wanted her. Her lips curved into a smile of satisfaction.
"I think you're a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to pursue it."
There was something feral lingering beneath the surface, and Demelza wanted to push and find out what it was. Daemon was restless tonight, as she was. That was why he had invited her back to his room for a drink. Perhaps he had needed it as much as she did. Demelza put down her own goblet as she contemplated that, contemplated him.
Rhaenyra had always possessed an affection for her uncle. Something other houses would consider unnatural, but an affection that was not misplaced in House Targaryen. Maybe she had hoped that they might wed, but a proposal from Daemon was yet to pass. Nonetheless, it was clear that the Princess held Daemon in high regard. It was with thoughts of Rhaenyra, with a spiteful heart, that Demelza leaned in to kiss Daemon.
Daemon reciprocated immediately, fisting a hand in Demelza's dark hair and pulling her closer against him. There was a ferocity in his response, the fire of dragons pulsing through him as he kissed her with fervour. She gasped as his lips moved to travel down her neck, teeth grazing against her skin. There was none of the careful restraint that Criston possessed, but instead the wildness of a man unleashed.
Demelza let her head fall back as Daemon's hands traversed the curves of her body, fondling her breast through the velvet fabric of her dress. He pressed her back against the silk pillows she had been admiring, his heavy weight resting atop her. She gripped his shoulders with trembling fingers, delighted and intimidated by his passion in equal measure. His breath was hot on her neck as he dragged her dress up her legs.
"Is that what you want, then?" He mumbled between kisses placed across her collarbone.
"Yes," Demelza gasped as heat built up within her. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it was the closest she was going to get to the ardour she sought.
Pressed back on Daemon's couch, she learned that love and lust were two very different things, and that perhaps she had betrayed herself by giving her heart so freely to people who would only break it.
By the time Demelza left Daemon's rooms, a familiar ache between her legs and lips swollen and wine-red, she crept back into her quarters in silence. If Valko was awake, she certainly didn't see him. Slipping into her room, Demelza huddled under the blankets and wept bitterly, for even the solace she had found briefly with Daemon could not counteract what Criston and Rhaenyra had done.
"Demelza."
The sharp whisper of her name, paired with someone roughly shaking her, made her jolt from sleep. She rubbed her eyes and winced as they adjusted to the pale morning light filtering in through the curtains. She could still taste last night's wine on her tongue.
"Hmm?"
"Queen Alicent has requested your presence in the godswood." The figure who had woken her stepped back, and she realised it was Valko. "She says it's urgent."
"Oh!" Demelza could not think what Alicent would want first thing in the morning, but she tumbled from her bed. Valko swept out of the room as she put on a deep purple cotton dress, quickly brushing the knots and tangles from her dark hair. Did Valko suspect anything that had happened last night? Had Alicent seen or heard something? Demelza's stomach twisted into anxious knots as she hurried from her rooms.
Demelza considered the godswood to be one of the prettiest places in the castle, and today was no exception. The leaves of the trees were striking with their reds, yellows and oranges. It would have been peaceful, if she had not been nervous. Alicent stood by the weirwood tree, and turned to face Demelza with a stern expression.
"Have I done something wrong?" Demelza blurted out. Her heart hammered a staccato in her chest. Could someone have seen her and Daemon? It would hardly be the most scandalous thing she had done, though after Elyana, she could see why her having sex with the Prince would not go down well.
"I am not sure yet." Alicent's gaze travelled past Demelza, and she turned to see Rhaenyra entering the godswood. "But everything Rhaenyra does, you are most certainly aware of. There is nothing the two of you do not share."
Including a lover, it seems, Demelza thought, though she dared not share that aloud. So this was not about her at all, but the Princess, and she had been called to the godswood as witness. Though it only mildly alleviated her stress, Demelza was grateful that she was not the topic of conversation.
"What happened last night?" Alicent demanded of Rhaenyra.
The Princess had her hands clasped behind her back, and seemed astonished by the question.
"What do you mean?"
"My father has made some worrying allegations about you. Were you with your uncle?"
Fucking Otto Hightower. Of course he was somehow involved in this, sticking his nose in other people's business where it did not belong. Was it possible that the Hand had learned of what Rhaenyra had done?
"Oh, I…" Rhaenyra laughed a little. "I haven't seen him in years. He took me into the city for some fun."
So that was where Rhaenyra had been prior to her clandestine encounter with Criston. Demelza had certainly not been privy to that either, and wondered just how much her supposed best friend was no longer telling her.
Alicent strode over to the Princess, jaw clenched. "Tell me the whole of it, Rhaenyra."
"Your father accused me of something." There was mirth still in Rhaenyra's tone. "What, that I drank wine? Left the castle after dark?"
"That you fucked Daemon in a pleasure house."
There was silence between the three girls, as Alicent glanced at Demelza to ascertain her reaction. Demelza was just as shocked as it appeared Rhaenyra was, as the Princess's expression changed from amused to affronted.
"This is a vile accusation."
"Is it? You Targaryens do have queer customs, and Daemon certainly knows no limit." Alicent turned her attention upon Demelza, her eyes sharp as flint. "Did you know about any of this?"
"I…I did not." Demelza shook her head fervently. She thought perhaps there had been a rumour regarding Criston and Rhaenyra, but it was about Daemon. Had someone witnessed him and Rhaenyra in the city, and then later overheard Daemon bedding Demelza and come to the wrong conclusion?
"Alicent. Your Grace. Sister." Rhaenyra stepped forward, beseeching. "You must know I would never. You cannot believe such gossip."
"My father is no gossip." Alicent insisted, though Demelza would have to say she disagreed with the Queen on that. Alicent's gaze landed upon Demelza once again. "Besides, I know that you two are close friends. Demelza has been engaged in some…questionable actions in the past. Rhaenyra, if you thought that meant it was excusable…"
"Are you accusing me of instigating this?" Demelza asked, stunned and hurt at the insinuations in Alicent's remark. When the Queen remained silent, the simmering anger within her reached boiling point. "Just because I have made my mistakes does not mean that I would encourage the same of Rhaenyra. How could you ever think I would be pushing Rhaenyra to bed her uncle?"
"Did your father see this?" Rhaenyra asked, perhaps thinking that she and Demelza were in unison on this occasion. "No, he did not. It never happened."
"He was told that you…"
"Told?" Rhaenyra examined Alicent with a growing frown. "Who made these claims to your father? I am the Princess, to question my virtue is an act of treason."
It was those words that made Demelza certain she could not bring up Criston in this conversation. If Demelza was to accuse Rhaenyra of such a thing, without proof, Rhaenyra would certainly deny it. Perhaps it would even be perceived as jealousy. No, that was a conversation Demelza would have with Rhaenyra alone.
"I do not know specifically."
"Your father did not tell you?" Rhaenyra pressed.
"He reported it to the King. I overheard."
So Demelza was not the only to have overheard something regarding Rhaenyra that had shocked her. Though she still smarted at the implication that she might have been responsible for Rhaenyra's lapse in morals, she remained silent as the tension between Rhaenyra and Alicent thickened palpably.
"So you are accusing me of slanders you overheard."
Alicent's voice became tearful. "I only want to help you, Rhaenyra."
Rhaenyra took a deep breath. "We drank in a tavern. Several taverns. It was getting late, and I asked to go home. But Daemon wished to continue. As he was my escort, I had no real choice."
Alicent looked disgusted. "Continue…in a brothel?"
"He took me to a show." Rhaenyra shook her head fervently. "I was only a spectator. I didn't do anything. And then Daemon sank into his cups and…abandoned me for some whore. I should've known better."
Some whore. Demelza did not think Rhaenyra knew what had occurred between her and Daemon, but it was just as Daemon had said. Many of the court thought her to be a whore. That was possibly the only reputation she would ever have. If Rhaenyra found out what had happened between Demelza and the uncle she so idolised…
"So you did not?" Alicent persisted.
"Must I truly refute that? Daemon never touched me." Rhaenyra stepped forward, taking Alicent's hands in her own. "I swear this to you upon the memory of my mother."
"It was foolish of you to place yourself in a position where your virtue could even come into question." Alicent removed her hands from Rhaenyra's, reaching out to instead link her arm through Demelza's as a show of apparent solidarity. "The King has strived to find you a good match, and so have I. If that lord were to think that you had been sullied it would ruin everything."
"I know, your Grace. I regret it."
"You knew absolutely nothing of this?" Alicent asked of Demelza, who swallowed the lump forming in her throat and shook her head.
"No. I know you think Rhaenyra and I share everything, but…it isn't always like that."
"I am going to have some breakfast." Alicent heaved a sigh, removing her arm from Demelza's and marching inside. For a few moments, there was silence between Demelza and Rhaenyra, as Demelza stared hard at the Princess.
"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you," Rhaenyra said.
Demelza arched an eyebrow. "About your venture into the city with Daemon? Or about the fact that you fucked Criston Cole?"
"What?" Rhaenyra brow furrowed, but panic flared in her eyes.
"You can claim whatever you like about your virtue with Alicent, but I know better." Demelza sneered, no longer having to hold back the vicious words that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue. "I heard you both. I know what happened. Don't you dare try and lie to me, Rhaenyra."
"It just…happened." Rhaenyra looked away, casting her gaze skyward towards the leaves of the weirwood tree. "It's not like you two can be together anyway. He told me that you're not lovers anymore, and so I thought…"
"You thought what?" Demelza demanded, planting her hands on her hips. "That I wouldn't care? He is Elyana's father, Rhaenyra. I respect his position as Kingsguard enough to let him go, even if I love him."
Rhaenyra's eyes welled with unshed tears. "I never meant to hurt you, Demelza."
"Maybe not." Demelza tilted her chin up, holding back tears of her own. If she started crying, she did not know that she would ever stop. "But you did regardless, and I do not know that I can forgive you for it."
Balling her hands into fists, Demelza stormed into the castle, ignoring Rhaenyra calling her name. She had watched one of her best friends lie to the other. Even if Alicent had the circumstances of Rhaenyra's loss of virginity incorrect, the fact remained that Rhaenyra was certainly no longer a maiden, and had pushed to convince Alicent that she would.
She would never confess the truth to anyone other than Demelza about her and Criston, and so it was a dirty, bitter secret that they must keep. A secret, and a betrayal that left the first scar on Demelza's heart. She could trust no one in this court, not even those she loved the most.