The night had truly fallen on Kings Landing as the hour of the owl drew near. Two Lysene men and a blue-haired Tyroshi woman put on a live sex show on the dancing stage.
The pleasure house is packed full with gold cloaks, sat with Daemon laughing and drowning in their cups of ale and red wine.
The gold cloaks were seated drinking, eating and enjoying the pleasures of harlots and tarven wenches, all paid in gold by Daemon.
The captains of the City Watch along with a full coterie of Daemon's hangers-on drink and carouse with the half and fully naked whores who roam about.
Captain Randyll Barret is pleasured by one of the whores right at his table, her face buried in his lap, slowly gliding a whore's mouth on his cock as she gave him pleasures of sweet nectar.
Every gold cloak is in his cups. Not the least of which is Prince Daemon Targaryen, wearing his city watch commander's uniform. He leans against the bar, staring ahead. His mood is unknowable.
Captain Randyll Barret, taking this as permission, looses his own laughs. The other sycophants in Daemon's entourage join with guffaws and japes.
Daemon smiles thinly at the power he holds over this room of flatterers and fools. He drinks his wine.
Mysaria, Daemon's paramour, comes through the crowd. She takes a flagon of wine from a serving boy.
"The king's sole heir once again. Might we drink to our future?" Mysaria seems to vibrate with an energy that straddles the sexual and the dangerous.
"Thank you..."Daemon stares at her, aroused. He kisses her, then takes the flagon of wine and raises it.
There was an uproar, cheers and delight, cups banging the table in celebration.
"Indeed! Our Prince will speak! Silence!" Captain Randyll Barret yells. Daemon chuckles and stood up in his state of stupor, as the music and the cue ceased.
"King and council have long rued my position as next in line for the throne. But dream and pray as they all might, it seems I am not so easily replaced." Daemon began.
The Targaryen prince's toast snares the room's attention. The room hisses and jeers Daemon's playful opening. He darkens.
"The gods give... just as the gods take away.
To the king's son, Baelon -"The Heir for a Day."
Most of the men don't know how to react to the seditious toast. But Mysaria tilting laughter breaks the silence. "To the heir for a day." She declares.
"TO THE HEIR FOR A DAY!!!!" The men cheered, merried, drowning in their cups.
The encouragement gingered Daemon, he was the right heir, the rightful king of the seven kingdoms not Aenar, not Rheanyra and certainly not Daenerys.
An urchin spy in the pleasure house emptied his cup, stood up casually and exited the brothel to go report straight to his Master.
•••••••••
Still Alicent Hightower kept visiting King Viserys chambers offering him comfort, day and night as her father had commanded. Nonetheless Otto is determined to get rid of the King's brothers to put his blood on the iron throne and Daemon was his first target.
Protruding lights illuminated the room through a large window, the brightest sun since Queen Aemma's untimely death.
Dressed in black, King Viserys sits at the head of the small council table, looking stronger, more alive than he did the day before.
Rhaenyra dutifully delivers a cup of wine to her father as he smiles at her. "Thank you."
The princess returns the gesture. "You're welcome Your Grace." She smiles back sheepishly, her orbs gleaming with joy, glad her father is coming out of his shell gradually.
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Of Bastards & Dragons || Aenar Targaryen
Fantasy"F-fuck." Alicent's shudders bitting her lips as his girth shifts her womb. "Argh!..." Aenar groans into her ear as he grasped her hips and thrust, hours and hours of his own pent-up desire, fuelling each lunge into her, the silky sheath of his stee...
