Chapter Ten: Dulcinea


A/N: So it's time for a wedding, and time for things to absolutely boil over ;)


King's Landing bustled with activity in preparation for the most prestigious wedding since that of Viserys and Alicent. This time it would be Rhaenyra, marrying Laenor Velaryon. It was all Demelza had heard about from Alicent. Viserys had not believed Daemon did not sully Rhaenyra and to save face, had quickly organised the wedding between the two powerful families. It was no secret to anyone, in truth, that Laenor was not interested in women at all.

Demelza's teeth crunched down on an apple as she watched Alicent and Larys meeting in the godswood. She did not trust the man at all, the sly way he spoke to the Queen, the way he listened without interjecting an opinion of his own. It was the way a spider assessed flies caught in its web, deliberating what to do with them next. Larys Strong was not, in Demelza's opinion, a man to be trifled with.

The warm afternoon beamed down over the whispering leaves, a gentle breeze stirring Demelza's dark hair. She had issues of her own these past few moons, a distinct lack of her moon's blood leading her to unsettling realisation that she was, once again, with child. The timing meant that the baby was none other than Daemon's. While Demelza had been cutting her fingers and letting them drip onto her sheets to convince the servants she had her bleeding, it was in an effort to stall.

By the time of Rhaenyra's wedding, she would be a little more than four months along, a time at which she had begun to show with Elyana. She would need to come to a decision before that. Logic told her, and she was certain Valko would tell her the same, that she should rid herself of it rather than face the scandal of bearing yet another bastard.

Yet…where was the harm? Any damage done to Demelza's reputation was already set in stone. As Alicent, and now Rhaenyra, were wed, Demelza herself avoided such a fate. By courting scandal, she was blessed without courting men. This child, a babe of royal blood, would serve as a companion to little Elyana. The thought coaxed a smile to Demelza's lips. She could already feel the court's fury.

"Come, Demelza." Alicent crossed back over to her friend, offering her arm. "I've been organising our dresses for the wedding. There's a seamstress from the Reach in the capital, her work is spectacular."

"Oh." Demelza did not want to appear ungrateful, however she feared that being measured and prodded at by a seamstress might expose her condition earlier than she wanted. "I could just wear an old dress, I have plenty."

"Come now." Alicent nudged her in the side playfully. "It would be an expense the crown would cover, of course."

Demelza did not have the heart to tell Alicent that money was not the focus of her uncertainty. Instead she summoned her sweetest smile and accompanied the Queen to her chambers. Neither of them had spoken much to Rhaenyra since the incident with Criston, though Alicent did not know the truth of what had happened and Demelza had not told her.

The seamstress, it turned out, was a middle-aged woman named Marilda whose skill making dresses apparently compensated for her lack of manners. At least, that was what Demelza had to believe, for Marilda was certainly brusque and held no degree of charm. Alicent's fitting was first, as was to be expected for the Queen. Demelza ate fruit and injected her commentary on choices of fabric and dress style.

When it was Demelza's turn, Marilda frowned as she poked her way around with some measuring tools.

"You are not as slender as the Queen. You have wider hips. It will be an effort not to make your teats look big."

"That's because they are big," Demelza ground out, swatting at Marilda's hands once they reached the stretch marks on her stomach from her pregnancy with Elyana, "Stop it. I've no wish to be insulted about my body."

"Pregnancy does not suit everyone." Marilda shrugged her shoulders, narrowing her eyes at Demelza. "Nonetheless, I am certain we can find something that might flatter you somewhat."

"Fuck off," Demelza snapped, wondering if it was simply the shaming or also her pregnancy hormones that were making her so irritable. She didn't care if this woman was the best seamstress in all of Westeros, she would not be treated in such an appalling manner. Spinning on her hall, she stormed out of the Queen's chambers, hands clenching into fists.

Mothers came in all shapes and sizes, Allydia had once told Demelza. Some women regained their figures once they had children, while others did not. While Demelza was certainly not what one would regard as overweight, she did carry more weight on some parts of her body, something she had never much minded.

She would wear an old dress, something that she thought suited her. She would be damned if the opinion of some hag from the Reach would dig under her skin, not when she had far bigger concerns.


"This is a jape."

Valko Sand paced back and forth as Demelza picked at the sleeve of her dress, guilt wriggling in her stomach at the captain of her guard's obvious distress at the situation she had found herself in once again. When Valko whirled to face her, his jaw was clenched tightly and it was obvious he was restraining himself from harsh words.

"I thought you and Ser Criston were done with this nonsense. You told me that you were taking precautions."

"I was." Demelza inhaled deeply. "He is not the child's father."

Valko raked his fingers through his hair, looking very much like he might want to throw himself on his own sword at Demelza's complete lack of discretion. She had not wanted to feel like she was lying to Valko, for she had been honest: it had been her intention to visit Rhaenyra the night her baby was conceived.

"Who, pray tell, is?"

"Daemon Targaryen." Demelza mumbled. When fury flashed across Valko's face, she lurched to her feet. "I promise, I meant to see Rhaenyra that night. I was not lying to you. But…something happened, and I encountered Prince Daemon instead. One thing led to another, and…

"What happened?" Valko forced out through clenched teeth.

The memory of that night was bittersweet to Demelza. She had conceived another child, but she would not lie to herself and pretend that her child's existence was because of anything other than spite for Rhaenyra and Criston. She looked down at her feet, tears blurring her vision as she remembered the things she had heard, the way she and Rhaenyra had not been as close since.

"Criston and Rhaenyra were having sex in her room."

Valko's stunned silence said more than words, and when Demelza dared to look up, she saw the surprise etched across his face. It was quickly replaced by sympathy, which was perhaps even worse.

"Demelza, I'm sorry. I know how much you cared for Criston."

"He is Elyana's father." Demelza gave a nonchalant shrug. She had learned precisely by now what she had to be to survive this court. Opening her heart to others would only result in her being hurt. "That is all."

"I would never tell you what to do with your own body." Valko sat beside her, placing a hand over hers. "But remember this: you returned to the capital to fix your tainted image. If you go ahead with this pregnancy, you will never find a husband here."

Demelza scoffed. Spite and bitterness coiled in her like weeds, choking out the flowers that were her kindness and empathy. She could be the perfect image of a lady, but they would never stop seeing her as a wanton woman.

"I will always be a whore to them. Always a mother of a bastard child. Even before that, I was Dornish. This court will never accept me as one of them, Valko, and it's time I stopped trying to make them. I may never wed, but that is something I am content with."

Valko sighed heavily. "You should have grown up in Dorne, not surrounded by dragons. It is ill-fitting for a Dornish girl."

"I have made my home here." Demelza gripped his hand tightly in her own. "But a home must be comfortable, and I will make it so. No matter what the rumours say, no matter what they whisper behind my back."

"Lady Demelza, you have grown up." The ghost of a smile tugged at Valko's lips as he examined her. "So you intend to keep this baby, too?"

"Yes." It was the only word on the matter, the final word on the matter. Elyana would have a younger sibling. Demelza would ignore the jeers of court, for she knew gossip would come. She was Dornish, not Westerosi. Her people were not restricted by legitimacy and marriage, and neither would she be.


By the night of Rhaenyra and Laenor's wedding feast, Demelza's body had changed even more drastically. She now had a bump, one that she could still disguise beneath a dress, but prominent if she wore something that accentuated her stomach. Perhaps she should have been cautious, perhaps she should have been demure, but she was feeling neither of those things. Instead, Demelza donned a violet silk dress that revealed her condition, let the servants twist her hair high above her head so that it spilled down her back and swished with every step. Instead, she chose spite.

The hall was already teeming with activity when Demelza entered, a hand deliberately placed on her stomach and a saccharine smile plastered across her lips. She curtsied prettily to the King and Rhaenyra, noting that Alicent was yet to make an appearance. There was no mistaking the shock on the Princess's face, as though Demelza had slapped her. It made her smile widen as she turned away to engage in the festivities.

"Lady Demelza." Harwin approached her with an easy smile, arching an eyebrow as he appraised her. She awaited judgement, but none was forthcoming. "It seems as though congratulations are in order. Your second?"

"Yes." Demelza rubbed her stomach, fingers gliding over the silk fabric of her dress. She had always been quite fond of Harwin, not one to indulge in vicious gossip of court. Since Daemon's departure, he had been part of the City Watch. He was one of the few men in King's Landing who didn't sneer at women like her. His curiosity regarding her condition seemed genuine, and she brightened for it.

"May I sit with you at the table, Ser Harwin?"

His smile broadened and he inclined his head. "Of course, Demelza."

Demelza sat beside Harwin as the rest of the guests stood also for the entrance of House Velaryon. When she cast across the hall at Criston, standing guard near the royal banquet table, his jaw was clenched and his dark eyes were burning with fury. She couldn't help but feel a vicious sense of satisfaction. She sat down again, whispers suddenly beginning to circulate the hall. She had the feeling she was not the recipient of them, and cast her gaze toward where everyone else was looking: at the unexpected entrance of Daemon Targaryen.

Demelza's heart thundered in her chest as Viserys, annoyed, gestured for his brother to be brought a seat at the table. She knew full well that he had not been invited to the wedding, considering he had departed King's Landing on ill terms with Viserys. It made her wonder why he was there.

Viserys began his speech and Demelza tuned out, examining the food set across the table. It seemed that the crown had spared no expense for Rhaenyra's wedding feast, though what should she have expected? Many a time, Viserys acted like Rhaenyra was his only child, despite the attempts of everyone else to get him to recognise Aegon as his heir.

The King's words halting made Demelza look up to where Viserys was staring, and she craned her neck around again to see Alicent entering the hall in a dress that caused whispers to begin anew. Not for the cut or the fabric, but because Alicent had worn red and black, the colours of her husband's house…until tonight when she wore green.

"The King will not be happy," Harwin said from beside her, "Right in the midst of his speech."

Larys leaned across to his brother. "The beacon on the Hightower, do you know what colour it glows when Oldtown calls its banner to war?"

"Green," Harwin responded, and the pair shared a sly smile.

Demelza couldn't help but feel pride for her best friend. Since she had been married to Viserys. Alicent had only ever been seen as the Queen. This was her making her mark as her own person, and Demelza could not help but wonder if this was a response to Rhaenyra's recent actions, or something different.

Demelza watched with the rest of the hall as Rhaenyra and Laenor embarked upon the first dance, however her eyes locked onto Criston. There was no mistaking the anger in his expression, no doubt at her obvious condition. She raised her cup as if in toast to him, taking a deep gulp. It did not escape her notice that Harwin looked between the pair of them.

"Is he the father?" he muttered in her ear.

"Quite presumptuous of you," Demelza retorted, but she grinned, "No, not of this one."

Harwin's eyes sparkled. "The first one, then. Elyana."

Demelza couldn't help the thrill of delight that Harwin knew her daughter's name. Many of the court had little care for a girl they had simply deemed a Dornish bastard. Harwin may not have taken an interest, precisely, but it was evident that he paid attention.

"That would be telling." As Rhaenyra and Laenor concluded their first dance and the crowd applauded, Demelza got to her feet and offered Harwin her hand. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

"Of course." Harwin rose magnificently to the occasion, a finer dancer than one might expect of such a broad-shouldered man. Demelza found that her laughter was genuine, her smiles less practised and more natural. Here was a man who thought of her not as a Dornish whore, but as someone in the court he may one day call a friend.

When their dance finished, Demelza's eyes latched onto Criston once again. He still appeared to be controlling his temper, and she took that as the perfect opportunity to saunter over to him, her silk dress moving like liquid violet around her feet as she moved to stand before him. He raised his eyes from the ground to observe her, and the anger there was bright as day.

"It's not mine, is it?"

"No," Demelza admitted, "Though perhaps you should have considered the ramifications of your own actions before you judge mine."

Criston's brow furrowed. "My actions?"

"I know about you and Rhaenyra." The words were a vicious whisper, and she found that she enjoyed the panic that flared in his dark eyes. "Did you truly think that I wouldn't find out? The father of my child and my best friend, in bed together? And you are quick to believe that I am the one without shame."

"It happened once," Criston assured her quickly.

Demelza waved a dismissive hand. "How many times it happened isn't the issue. You've been staring at me all night with a burning resentment for the baby I'm carrying. You wanted nothing to do with me when I was pregnant with Elyana, and this time, it is certainly not your concern."

"Is it him?" Criston's eyes locked onto Harwin, now dancing with Rhaenyra.

"I don't believe it's any of your business." Demelza's voice dripped with icy disdain. She wanted to hate Criston and Rhaenyra for what they had done. She may not hate them, but she thought it only fair if she made them squirm.

"Do you plan to marry the father?"

Demelza laughed at the thought. She could tell Daemon, and he would know it as the truth. He may acknowledge the child. He may even, at a stretch and to garner attention, make her his wife. But Demelza had no desire to be a Princess of the realm. Whatever her destiny was, she doubted it was that, and she had no wish to make a resentful husband of a man who was rumoured to have murdered his first wife.

"No."

"Another bastard then." There was barely restrained contempt in Criston's voice.

Demelza lifted her chin. "Do you deride our daughter too?"

Criston sneered, an ugly look coming over her face. "No, I deride her whore of a mother, content to take any man as a lover and bear the fruit of such an encounter."

Incandescent rage flared through Demelza. How fucking dare he. She had expected to be called such a thing, but never by him. She squared her shoulders and drew herself up to full height, bearing all of her teeth in a wolfish smile. If Criston's words aimed to cause harm, hers would aim to kill.

"A whore. How original." She laughed mirthlessly. "Better than you. A liar. A false knight. An oathbreaker."

Demelza expected more cruel words, something more hurtful than what she had said. What she did not expect was the blind fury that flashed in Criston's eyes, his hand cracking across her cheek faster than she could blink. Demelza stumbled back, raising a hand to touch her throbbing cheek, shocked and indignant.

Yet even then, a savage smile spread across her lips, for she had provoked a violence in him that proved her words correct. Criston might play the role of the Kingsguard, but something far more dangerous lingered beneath the surface.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" It was a voice that Demelza didn't recognise. Joffrey, she thought, Laenor's friend and rumoured lover. "You can't just hit a lady like that."

"She is no lady." Criston's voice trembled with barely concealed hatred.

Joffrey placed a hand on Criston's chest, pushing him backwards so that he put space between Criston and Demelza.

A terrible mistake.

A fatal mistake.

Something in Criston snapped, and he grabbed Joffrey's doublet and threw him to the stone floor. Demelza staggered back, watching the violence unfold with growing horror. Nearby, someone screamed, and the crowd pressed in against her, hemming her in. Criston's fists hammered down on Joffrey's face, again and again. At the sight of Joffrey's mutilated face, flesh and bone caved in, a scream fought its way up in Demelza's throat, but she remained rigid in terror.

Her former lover. Elyana's father. A knight of the Kingsguard. Criston was a man capable of the most heinous brutality, the passion of his love matched only by the strength of his hatred.

Someone seized Demelza by the arm, making her flinch, before she realised that it was Valko. Laenor shoved through the crowd, falling to his knees with a howl as he stared down at his dead lover. Demelza noticed that there was blood staining the hem of her beautiful silk dress. Valko grabbed her shoulders, whirling her to face him.

"Are you hurt?" He demanded, inspecting her cheek and glaring at Criston with a livid expression. "I should cut off his hand for touching you."

"No, please, don't." Demelza gripped Valko's arm. "There has been enough violence tonight."

She knew it was her plea that prevented Valko from launching himself at Criston, for the captain of her guard looked like he dearly wished to harm the Kingsguard. Demelza reached up to wipe her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. She didn't realise how badly she was trembling until she went to take a step and found her knees buckling underneath her. She was only stopped from falling by Valko's firm grip on her.

"Come. You need to rest."

Valko caught her elbow and marched her from the banquet hall. For once, he was met with no protest from Demelza, who was still reeling from the events of the night. The tenderness with which Criston had once treated her was a distant memory, paling in comparison to the violence he had shown. Was it really her that he had wanted to punch the life out of? Her, and the baby she carried?

Perhaps this was what they were now: embittered by everything that had happened between them, resentful of one another, scratching until someone drew blood.


Demelza found herself out in the godswood just after dawn, the sky still pale as the sun made its ascent. Her dark hair was tangled and knotted, and she was clad in the bloodstained violet dress she had worn the night before, too exhausted to have changed. She sat at the foot of the heart tree, staring up at the autumn-coloured leaves as if they could provide her with some kind of answers.

"Demelza?"

The familiar voice made her pause, shifting to glance over her shoulder. Rhaenyra cautiously crossed over to her, and when Demelza gave no objection, she sat down beside her. The pair were silent for a few moments, before Rhaenyra spoke once again.

"I heard about what happened last night. With Criston. I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Demelza murmured. She was no longer certain whether she believed anything Rhaenyra said.

"Yes." Rhaenyra reached out to catch Demelza's hand in her own. Demelza did not draw away, and a hopeful smile crossed the Princess's lips. She glanced down at Demelza's bump, her brow furrowing slightly. "He isn't the father, is he? Was that why he was angry?"

"I think there were a lot of reasons he was angry," Demelza admitted. She was far too weary for this conversation, and feared that her lack of sleep would edge into blatant disrespect toward Rhaenyra.

"Who is the father?"

Demelza thought of remaining silent. She thought of lying. But somehow, she knew the truth would cut the deepest, and for that reason, it was the truth she offered in answer to Rhaenyra's question.

"Daemon."

Rhaenyra snatched her hand from Demelza's grasp as if her touch was suddenly scalding. Her mouth opened and closed in shock, assessing Demelza to see if there was a lie on her best friend's face. Finding none, her jaw clenched and her expression became far more resolute.

"Is this a ploy to get him to wed you? Is that what this is about?"

"I don't give a fuck about marrying Daemon." Demelza pushed herself to her feet. "In fact, I don't want that at all."

"Then what is this about?" Rhaenyra stared up at her, eyes hard as marble. "Why keep the child? I know for a fact you feel nothing for my uncle."

"This is about us." The truth again, seeping with bitterness and hurt. "It always has been, Rhaenyra. You were the one who began our destruction, I simply continued it. We are both more than capable of hurting each other."

"That isn't what I want." Rhaenyra's voice hitched, tears welling in her violet eyes. "You and Alicent were my best friends, Demelza. How can things have changed so much between us? The three of us were inseparable."

Demelza smiled coolly. "We are far past that now."

"Then what more can I say?" Rhaenyra exclaimed, pushing herself up to confront her friend, though she stood a few inches shorter than Demelza. "I cannot undo what has happened, as much as I wish to."

Demelza realised that Rhaenyra was so used to things going her way. As Viserys's only child for many years, as the child he still favoured whilst her younger half-siblings were ignored. She thought if she pushed hard enough, Demelza would bend and allow the sins of the past to slide. Demelza closed her eyes, letting tears track down her cheeks. If only it could be that simple.

"Stop looking to the past for what we were, Rhaenyra. You won't find anything to fix it there. We have to move forward, not backwards."

"So there is a chance?" Rhaenyra's eyes widened, expression brightening. "That we may be friends as we once were?"

"Not as we once were," Demelza admitted, "But perhaps friends, yes."

She would need her allies at court now that she was pregnant with a second bastard. She did not wish to return to Starfall quietly and in shame. Those days were over. She would find another avenue, and perhaps, a friendship with Rhaenyra could accomplish that. A friendship could be of mutual benefit to both of them, but Demelza would not stumble in with wide-eyed innocence.

Rhaenyra was no longer her trusted best friend, the girl she might be half in love with. Rhaenyra was the Princess, a powerful ally and a friend that Demelza needed at arm's length.

Somewhere, between babies and blood and marriages, the three of them had changed. Alicent, Rhaenyra and Demelza had been the closest of friends as girls. But they were women now, women who had not grown to adulthood unscathed by the hurts of the past. Women who, for better or worse, all had their own motives.