Chapter Twelve: Commander of the City Watch
A/N: Helloooo it's been a little while since the last update! We're working through some of what has been happening over the decade between episodes 5 & 6, because there's a fair bit to cover ;)
Warnings: sex scene
King's Landing was a flurry of motion in the wake of news that Prince Qoren Martell would be arriving in the capital for negotiations with King Viserys Targaryen. Demelza was excited, for she had not seen Qoren in many years, though she knew Lindon frequented his court at Sunspear and was widely considered to be one of the Prince's closest friends. It was mildly amusing, however, to see the level of preparation put into the impending Dornish visit.
"Well, isn't this nice?" Harwin Strong appeared by Demelza's side in the corridor as she watched the servants bustling about with House Martell colours. "Centuries of enmity with Dorne, forgotten the moment the Prince announces he will come to negotiate."
Harwin and Demelza had become close friends since her return to King's Landing. While her friendship with Rhaenyra would take longer to mend, Harwin was a different story. He was the one she would gossip with at feasts and tourneys. They would place bets on what sort of drama would unfold in court next. When Harwin was around, Demelza did not feel the unease she did around the rest of the court, and no one dared question the lilac-eyed one-year-old in Demelza's arms when the Commander of the City Watch was with her.
Demelza and Harwin's dynamic was enough to stoke the whispers of the court, which kept their prying gaze off the truth: Harwin had become Princess Rhaenyra's lover. Demelza aided them in what could certainly be considered treason, however she was still struck with memories of walking to Rhaenyra's room only to hear the Princess and Criston. She might have forgiven the event, but she certainly had not forgotten it.
"Only for a time, while Qoren is here." Demelza shifted Rhyanon to her hip. Walking around with her daughters was a foolproof way of attracting attention, for the mere sight of the bastard children was enough to elicit whispers and even gasps. As though the court had never seen a bastard before.
Demelza considered Qoren. He was a decade her senior, and had recently welcomed his second child, a son named Qyle. She vaguely recalled that his wife was from House Vaith of the Red Dunes, but could not remember the woman's name. They had married only a few years previously, and soon after had come Qoren's heir, Aliandra.
"The Princess wishes to speak with you." Harwin touched Demelza's arm, drawing her from her reverie. She nodded and handed Rhyanon to Valko, who took the child without complaint. The captain of the guard had become increasingly fond of Demelza's daughters. Elyana followed him around like a shadow, and Rhyanon's wails could always be settled by Valko's presence.
Demelza accompanied Harwin to Rhaenyra's chambers, wondering why her friend might want to talk to her. Over the past year since Demelza had returned to court with Elyana and Rhyanon, her friendship with Rhaenyra had been tense. Things may have been repaired, certain events put behind them, but she knew that she and the Princess would never be as inseparable as they had at fifteen.
"Rhaenyra." Demelza entered the Princess's chambers, closely followed by Harwin, who closed the door behind him. Rhaenyra was curled on the couch among the pillows, easing herself up at the sight of her friend and lover. Her skin was even more pale than usual, her hair swept back messily with a clip as if in haste to draw it back from her face.
"Demelza." Rhaenyra's smile was tired as she patted the spot beside her. "Come, sit."
Demelza examined her friend critically. Her initial thought had been that Rhaenyra was unwell, and yet there was something more at play. When Rhaenyra rested a hand over hers, the skin of her palm was clammy against Demelza's skin.
"I am with child." The words trembled coming out of Rhaenyra's mouth, and Demelza understood why. Rhaenyra's own mother Aemma had died in childbirth, and though circumstances dictated she would be a mother due to her station, Rhaenyra had never been someone who wished to be a mother.
Demelza had borne two children. Alicent had borne three. Rhaenyra was the last of their trio to fall pregnant, but rather than something she was happy about, the Princess's eyes were full of dread. Demelza's eyes flicked to Harwin, standing over by the door. His lack of surprise indicated he already knew this. If she had to guess, and she would not do so aloud, Demelza strongly doubted that Laenor was the father of Rhaenyra's child.
"Congratulations." Demelza squeezed Rhaenyra's hand lightly. It would not banish the dread from the Princess's eyes, but perhaps it may help ease the burden Rhaenyra now felt that she carried.
"Father will announce it soon, I'm certain." Rhaenyra sighed heavily, reclining further back on the pillows.
"How do you feel about it?" Demelza asked.
"I don't know what to feel." Rhaenyra bit at her lip. "This is my duty, as heir to the realm. My opinion doesn't matter."
It was strange to Demelza, that in a way, she had found a sort of freedom in the births of her daughters, a freedom that others may never understand. Yet to Rhaenyra, this pregnancy reminded her of shackles, chaining her to a fate she did not want: to be a mother.
For a court that spent much of its time sneering at Dorne, Demelza was amazed at King's Landing's ability to throw such an extravagant feast in Qoren Martell's honour. Though it had been some years since she'd last seen the Prince, he was a close friend of her brother Lindon. Demelza mixed kohl and glitter to line her eyes, had her hair done in an elaborate braid, and donned a plum velvet dress that accentuated her cleavage and waist.
She looked stunning. She felt powerful, even if it was an illusion.
Yet when she strode into the hall and the whispers began, Qoren turned to her with a wide smile across his handsome face, sweeping across to embrace her and kiss each of her cheeks, indicating a familiarity they did not share. Demelza let him take her hands in his, a dazzling smile crossing her own face. She wanted the entire court to watch, to leave it to her imagination what she might have in common with the Prince of Dorne himself.
"Demelza Dayne. You truly are a vision." Qoren kissed the back of her hand. She did not recall him clearly from her childhood, but the man who stood before her now was as attractive and charming as rumour implied. Yet she knew from her time in King's Landing that his genial nature aside, Qoren could be as stubborn and determined as any of the nobles from the rest of Westeros. His charm was his mask, as frivolity and promiscuity were hers.
"Prince Qoren." She dipped her head in a show of demurity. "It has been a while. I hear a lot about you from Lindon."
He laughed. "Good things, I hope."
"What if I said bad things?" Demelza's smile grew wicked and broad.
"Then perhaps he has been speaking ill of us both." Qoren examined her, and she noted the delight in his expression. It was not precisely desire, but there was intrigue. "Twenty years old and an unwed mother with two bastard daughters. Whatever must the Westerosi court think of you?"
There was amusement in his tone, but Demelza's smile faded. "Whatever I want them to."
The vicious whispers and the rumours that circulated King's Landing regarding Demelza no longer bothered her as they once had. No matter her actions, their opinion of her was not going to improve, her reputation marred following the birth of her first child. Her closeness with Qoren was certain to cause a stir in a similar manner, for what else could a woman be worth to a man than to end up in his bed?
"Very good." Qoren's eyes sparkled with mirth, and he kissed her cheek once again before striding over to the King. Demelza watched him go with uncertainty. Was the Prince of Dorne in the capital to prevent further animosity between Dorne and Westeros, or to aggravate existing tensions?
"You never told me you and Qoren Martell were so close." Harwin appeared by Demelza's side, breaking her from her reverie. He had a cup of mead in each hand, one of which he handed to her. They always made quite a pair at these events, and so Demelza had come to accept his presence without question.
King's Landing was a pit of sycophants and snakes. Harwin was different, Demelza had surmised. He kept his affair with Rhaenyra discreet, openly engaging in flirtation with Demelza to disguise it. He had not once made a snide word about Demelza's daughters, or the fact that she remained unwed and flaunted her children about court.
"Hardly close." Demelza took a sip of the mead, letting its sweetness wash over her tongue. "The Dornish have a different sense of familiarity."
"Demelza." Rhaenyra approached, garbed in the traditional red and black colours of her house. There was a bright smile on her face, but her eyes were tired. Demelza wondered if she was still experiencing morning sickness, and whether she had disclosed to Viserys her condition. "May we speak in private?"
"Of course, Princess." Demelza linked her arm through Rhaenyra's, curiosity gnawing at her. As the pair wandered to the edge of the crowd, Rhaenyra turned to face Demelza with a mischievous expression on her face.
"I know that look." Demelza heaved a sigh, taking a deeper gulp of her mead. "It always means trouble."
"Not trouble," Rhaenyra insisted, taking Demelza's free hand and squeezing lightly, "I am matchmaking, Demelza."
"Matchmaking?" Demelza's brow furrowed in confusion. She had no doubt that this scheme involved her, for why else would Rhaenyra have tugged her aside? Yet there were none in court that could possibly spark the Princess's interest in such a topic. Demelza's prospects had been diminished by her own actions, something she had learned to revel in rather than despair of.
"Harwin admires you." Rhaenyra's voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper.
"Harwin?" Demelza repeated, eyes widening in shock. "But…he is your lover."
"He thinks you are beautiful, do you not see that?" Rhaenyra tilted her head to the side. "I have no jealousy of it. I am a married woman, and though I care for Harwin it's not…it's not love. But Harwin has an affection for you. He accepts you as you are, he would accept your daughters."
"Rhaenyra." Demelza blew out a long breath. "I do not wish to marry, Harwin or otherwise."
"You would be Lady of Harrenhal one day," Rhaenyra persisted, and when Demelza remained silent, she gripped her arm, "I was once the same as you, relentless in my refusal to wed. But Laenor is a good man, and a good husband. Harwin would make you a good husband, Demelza. Would you deprive yourself of happiness, your daughters of a future?"
Demelza tugged away, irritation at Rhaenyra prickling beneath her skin. Rhaenyra had been forced to wed due to her station. The situations were not comparable, and Demelza disliked the implication that she was depriving herself and her daughters of anything simply by refusing to marry a man.
"Don't do that. Don't act as though I need a husband just because you did."
"Demelza…" Rhaenyra reached out again, but Demelza stepped away from her. Their friendship ran hot and cold, far more so than when they had been teenagers. Rhaenyra had a habit of saying and doing what she pleased, and her thoughtlessness often grated upon Demelza's nerves, especially when that extended to Demelza in particular.
"If you are happy for Harwin and I to have a relationship, then it is in my hands, not yours." Demelza stared hard at Rhaenyra, and there was silence between the two as each waited for the other to baulk. "I appreciate what you are trying to do, Princess. But my husband, or lack thereof, is my business."
Demelza was not a fool. She had indeed noticed the way Harwin looked at her, flirted with her. She had thought it a mere farce, that he was a good actor in disguising his affair with the Princess, but perhaps it was more than that. Harwin and Rhaenyra had an understanding, and maybe Demelza and Harwin could have an understanding of their own.
Love was for fools. In her younger years, Demelza had thought she might gain something from her love for Criston, as though it might triumph over his duties. She had since hardened her heart against such romanticism, though she would admit sometimes she was…lonely. She had her daughters, whom she loved dearly. She had her friends at court, despite the way most would sneer and mock her. But she wanted something else, something more. Something perhaps Harwin might be able to give her.
With that thought in mind and a desire to top up her mead, Demelza turned from the Princess and strode across the hall toward Harwin with a raised chin and a ready smile upon her lips.
There had been many occasions when Demelza and Harwin had seized a pitcher of mead or wine and returned to Demelza's rooms to continue their celebrations. Knowing what she did about Harwin's attraction to her, and Rhaenyra's permission for it to go further, Demelza's heart thundered in her chest as she sank down onto one of her couches and refilled her goblet with mead.
"The Princess told me something interesting tonight."
There was a time and a place for small talk, but Harwin was not typically one for the games of court.
"Is that so?" Harwin sighed contentedly as he flopped beside her. "What might that be?"
"She believes you care for me, in ways other than that of friendship." Demelza let the honeyed taste of the mead caress her tongue as she awaited Harwin's response, which was a sly grin spreading across his handsome features and a twinkle in his eye.
"Ah. Well, she isn't wrong about that."
Demelza was well versed in the gilded truths and half-lies of court. She could stand toe-to-toe with many of the simpering courtiers and their saccharine smiles. Yet she found something refreshing in being able to speak the truth without restraint, a relief that spread to her limbs as she sprawled across the couch.
"So then, what are your intentions?"
She was not fifteen, believing this was love. She was not eighteen, acting out of spite. Demelza could recognise that she and Harwin may have a convenient dynamic between them, and that she only needed to take another step forward to add another layer to that relationship. It was a tantalising prospect, that she really could have what she wanted without needing to make herself a man's property to do so.
"I would leave that to you."
"I see." Demelza set her goblet down, getting to her feet with boldness coursing through her veins. Or perhaps that was simply the mead. She stood before Harwin, planting her hands on her hips and looking down at him with a wicked smile on her lips. "So you want me to take control?"
Harwin smirked. "I think I would like that."
There was no dancing around the subject, no feigned modesty or innocence. Harwin knew Demelza had past lovers, after all she had two bastard daughters. Demelza was aware of Harwin's relationship with the Princess, and that he was the biological father of the baby that Rhaenyra now carried. Everything between them was laid bare, out in the open for both of them to see. Lies may be survival, but the fact that she could be fully honest with Harwin was intoxicating.
Demelza caught Harwin's hand and tugged him to his feet, so fast he almost didn't have time to set down his goblet. She put a hand on his chest, pushing him back toward the bed. There was a mixture of curiosity and lust glimmering in Harwin's eyes, and he made no comment as she nudged him back so that he fell on his back atop the silk sheets.
Demelza tugged up the hem of her dress, swinging a leg over him and straddling him. She grinned down at him, feeling his cock harden in his pants as she settled over him, tracing her hands down his chest. Her fingers worked at undoing the laces on his doublet, and he lifted his arms to assist her in yanking it over his head. Her eyes travelled approvingly down the muscular expense of his chest.
Harwin's hands skimmed up her legs, pushing the velvet fabric of her dress up her thighs. Without a word, he flipped them so that Demelza was on his back beneath him. She narrowed her eyes up at him.
"Didn't you want me in control?"
"There's something I want to show you first."
Harwin pressed against her, kissing her sensually. Demelza wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, enjoying the feeling of his heavy weight atop her. Harwin kissed her passionately, fingers weaving into her dark hair. His hands roamed her body, palming at her breasts through the fabric of her dress and making her squirm against him. A low chuckle rumbled from his throat as his lips descended down her neck, hands moving from her breasts to slide her skirts up around her waist.
Criston had kissed her with hesitation, like he was always trying to hold something back. Daemon had barely kissed her at all, probably trying to pretend that she was someone else as they both drowned their miseries in each other. But Harwin poured all his passion and lust into her like it wasn't something forbidden. There wasn't a single part of him that would regret this, or her.
Demelza arched up as Harwin slipped a finger inside her, choking out a gasp. He moved his finger experimentally for a few seconds, before adding another. She let her head fall back against the pillows, watching as Harwin drew back to prise her legs apart. He had made no move to undo his pants, leaving Demelza puzzled.
"Harwin, what are you…?"
"Let me take care of you, love." Harwin pressed kisses along her thigh, before his mouth descended between her legs, his tongue working a magic that Demelza had never experienced before. A jolt of pleasure shot through her, and she couldn't restrain the moan that crept out of her.
Women in Westeros did not often experience pleasure like this. Sex was for men to enjoy, for women to endure and produce children through. In Dorne, she knew it was more common for men to seek pleasure without anticipating anything in return. She had heard of Lindon speaking about this, Calix trying to hush him as though Demelza, a teenage mother, knew nothing of sex.
An intensity began to burn without Demelza, her pleasure heightening at the feeling of Harwin's tongue working her toward the edge. Nonetheless, she did not want to reach her peak just yet, and she wriggled insistently until Harwin drew back, examining her through lustful eyes. She reached down and tugged at his pants.
"I want you. I need you."
Harwin pushed his pants down, flipping them once again so that Demelza was on top of her. For a moment, her stomach twisted with anxiety, unsure what to do in control of the situation. But she was Demelza Dayne, the Slut of Starfall, and she intended to live up to her derogatory moniker. She took Harwin's cock in her hand, sliding her fingers up and down, smugness replacing her nerves when he groaned.
Demelza positioned herself over him, sliding down onto his cock with a low gasp. Harwin's hands rested on her hips, thumbs rubbing her skin in soothing circles. She chewed on her lip for a moment, adjusting to the fullness of him. It was deeper than she'd taken a man before, a new angle she was yet to experience, though she could not say that she minded.
Bracing her hands on his chest, Demelza began to rock her hips back and forth, moaning softly at the pleasure that seared through at the movement. Harwin raised his hips to rock against her, hands skimming up her body to settle on her breasts. Demelza rode him with fervour, craning her neck back so that her hair tumbled down her back as a sensation of tingling euphoria began to spread through her body.
"Good girl," Harwin said hoarsely, shifting to sit up and gripping her ass to pull her tighter against him.
The new angle made the pleasure singe through her like fire, and she moaned loudly, gripping his shoulders tightly as she bucked against him. Harwin's lips pressed down her neck and over the curve of her breast, and she whimpered softly as he took a nipple in his mouth. She tried to move her hips in a rhythmic fashion, but knew that she wouldn't last too much longer.
"Harwin."
There was something dizzying about having the control, about Harwin having allowed her the control. Demelza's nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him hard and fast, her wanton moans echoing through the room. Harwin groaned loudly, thrusting against her and burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Demelza cried out loudly as she reached her peak, waves of pleasure pulsing through her body as she shuddered against Harwin. He gave a few short pumps before following with a grunt, spilling himself in her.
The sound of their laboured breathing filled the quiet room. Demelza slipped off Harwin and flopped beside him, exhaling deeply. A smile spread across her lips, and Harwin propped himself up on his elbow to examine her.
"Are you alright?"
"More than alright." Demelza stretched out her sweat-slick limbs. She'd had sex for many reasons, but it had been some time since it had been for pure pleasure, practically forbidden for Westerosi women.
She found that she rather enjoyed whatever this was with Harwin. Neither had expectations of the other, and yet Harwin did not sneer at her in the hallways as many of the other noblemen did. She thought perhaps she had found an equal, a man who did not hold himself above her, and consider her actions with contempt when he committed the same.
With Harwin, Demelza did not expect to find love, but maybe she could make do with contentment and friendship.
Qoren Martell invited Demelza for breakfast and a walk in the garden on the day he was due to leave King's Landing. The invitation warmed Demelza's heart, but ambition also clawed its way into the forefront of her being. There were already whispers regarding her closeness and affection with Qoren. She let them run rampant like weeds through a garden. If the court considered her comfortable with Qoren, then they would believe scorning her would be an affront to him, and to Dorne.
"How has your time here been, Prince Qoren?" Demelza asked as they took a turn about the castle gardens. She had linked her arm through his, today donning a dress of pale blue silk. It billowed about her legs in the soft morning breeze.
"A waste of time, it seems." Qoren sighed, shaking his head. "I had hoped, after a century of the Targaryen dynasty, they might realise that Dorne is off the cards. Alas, they have not, and attempt to entreat me into making Dorne one of the kingdoms."
"Is that something you are considering?" Demelza's arm tightened instinctively through his, concern washing over her. The idea of Dorne being subjugated was one that disagreed with her immensely, even if she was not as involved in Dornish politics as she one day hoped to be.
"Of course not." Qoren sounded scandalised that she needed to ask. "So it seems that my time here, though well spent in your company, was mostly for nothing."
Demelza considered his words in silence. Perhaps she could be more than simply a fallen Dornish woman in King's Landing. She could be an ally of Qoren's at court. She had no wish to be a wife, or even Qoren's mistress, handsome though he was. She wanted her value to be greater still, a value to Dorne rather than to any man from there.
"I know it must be hard for you, alone in King's Landing." Qoren stopped, withdrawing his arm from Demelza's. He reached out and swept a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Just know, should you need anything, all you must do is ask."
"Perhaps it is you who may need to ask me if you need anything." Demelza responded coyly, looking up at him through her lashes with a sly smile playing about her lips. Intrigue sparkled in Qoren's eyes, a delighted smile crossing his mouth in turn. He did not laugh at her, as she had feared he might.
"My dear Lady Demelza, you are an interesting creature."
"Well, they simplify it here and call me a whore." Demelza shrugged her shoulders, nonchalant at the lack of understanding she faced in a Westerosi court. They had never tried to understand her, never once attempted to respect that her Dornish values and morals might not coincide with their own. So after years of stuffing herself into a box to fit what they wanted her to be, she had let herself out, and thrived all the more because of it.
"You must come to Sunspear sometime soon." Qoren raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. "You would be radiant there. The shining star of Starfall."
Heat flared in Demelza's cheeks. "My Prince, you give me far more credit than I am due."
Yet the flattery pleased her, more than she could say. She might not have the Prince of Dorne wrapped around her finger, but she did have his attention. In time, she would have to prove that she was more useful than simply a peacemaking attempt.
For now, she would do more than suffer the pit of snakes. For now, she would continue to thrive in it, like a weed that they couldn't pull out.