This Mysterious Love (Alicent x Daemon)

Chapter 1

So I know this was posted already, but when I went to check the fic in my story section it showed me that it only had Daemons pov. I'm sorry  if I posted this twice for no reason but I got worried I didn't post it all so for my own health I deleted and reposted.

Daemons pov

I grip Mysaria's hips as I fuck her from behind, I try to think of anything but her. I'm about to feel the bliss of release when her face enters my mind. I abruptly stop my thrusts pulling out of my paramount and walking away to see the people of the streets. I slip a blanket over my shoulders fighting the chill that reaches my sweaty skin.

“What ails you my prince?” Mysaria says walking over to me. 

I say nothing as I know what she believes is ailing me. My brother's babe, if the thing is a boy I would rejoice with the rest of the court for my brother has wanted this for years. All I want is for him to be happy, and if that means having a son so be it. 

“The King can not replace you, my Prince. You are the Rogue Prince, rider of Caraxes. He would be a fool to replace you.” She says stroking my hair back comfortingly. 

Ah there it is. I think dryly. Can I truly not be seen as a man who wants the happiness of his family? Or must I always be questioned about the love I feel for my family? 

I see she is getting desperate to please me, she knows being my favorite whore gives her many benefits and much power in establishments like this one. 

“Perhaps I bring you a whore with silver hair? I can make sure she's a maiden as well.” She says and finally has my attention.

“No, bring me one with auburn hair and brown eyes, make sure she's a maiden.” I say in the tone I know makes even men tremble let alone a woman of low standing. 

She seems shocked but nods none the less walking away to grab her sheer shift slipping it on and leaving me to this piss poor wine and the sounds of people cheering and dogs fighting. 

Maybe if I fuck one that looks like you, Little Hightower, you'll finally evade my mind. I think hopefully, for why would I ever want a Hightower, let alone Otto's daughter? I can't want her, I don't want her.

Alicent's pov

I can't believe I actually wore the neck the Prince gave me. As I was getting ready for the tourney a maid knocked on my door and only handed me a sealed note before leaving. Upon opening it I quickly found the Prince's writing stating. 

Wear the necklace I gave you, Little Hightower, if you wish for me to take your favor as my own. D

I spent the next hour picking which dress matched the necklace best. I kept telling myself he demanded it of me, but I knew that was a lie. I wanted him to ask for my favor, I wanted to know we had a scent agreement, I wanted the Prince to choose me. 

So here I am, in a grey dress that compliments the pearls on the choker and my hair pinned up with a gold clip to match the gold chain. I try not to think about why I pulled my hair up so he would see his gift upon me. But from the way my cheeks warm I know I am failing. 

I turn to where Rhaenyra should be sitting as the King begins his speech. I try to fight the scowl that rises as I watch her sneak in trying to act like she was here the whole time. 

If I tried that I would have my hands beaten with a ruler until my knuckles were bloody by the Septa. I think, biting my tongue when Rhaenyra starts to joke about how she's late and her father doesn't even care. 

“He just continues on with his speech, what a pushover am I right?” She says with a light hearted giggle. 

All I can do is give a pinched smile and nod. I take in the outfit she chose for today, a rich red dress with frills at the neckline to imitate the look of a dragon. Golden rings she twists and turns around her fingers, and a matching golden necklace with a ruby pendant her mother gave to her two years past for her nameday. 

I take in the fact she is not wearing anything new, or should I say nothing I didn't know about. 

“Did your uncle not give you anything? He usually gifts you something to wear.” I ask curiously.

She frowns and shakes her head. “No, I was hoping for something though, but it seems he couldn't find anything.” She says trying to sound nonchalant even though I can tell it pains her. 

I nod and turn back to watch as the Baratheon is knocked off his horse by Ser Cole. 

I hear Rhaenyra ask questions to Ser Harrold about the Cole. The urge to step in with the knowledge I've picked up about the Ser Cole is on the tip of my tongue when I hear the announcer declare. “Prince Daemon, The Prince of the city will now pick his first bout!” 

I watch him walk back and forth upon his horse assessing each critically. Sadly I know when he has chosen, for it is my brother who seems to make him stop his horse and tilt his stick.

Oh please warrior, I know my brother will not win this but please let him live. I pray quickly before watching the match, hoping the gods have heard me. 

I feel the sting of my nails digging into my cuticles, but no matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I command my body to stop this self-mutilation, I can’t. For there is something grounding in the act, the sting makes me stay present and not ide in the dark recesses of my mind. I know it is cruel upon my body, but how am I to break a habit I do not realize I am doing half the time? 

I watch with bated breaths as the Prince and my brother charge, the sound of hooves hitting the ground, metals rattling, and the resounding crunch of a jousting tick meeting a shield is all I can hear. I know Rhaenyra is talking to me as I feel her move about, the way she does when she thinks she’s telling a funny story. I know the King and my father must be muttering to each other behind me, I know the Princess Rhaenys is scoffing at any knight that walks by. But all I can hear, all I can see, is the Prince and my brother as they joust. 

I thank the Warrior when my brother makes it through the first bout, I almost believe he could possibly win this. But that hope comes crashing down when the Prince leans so his jousting stick hits my brother’s horse’s leg, sending them flying through the air and landing on the ground hard. 

Why isn’t he getting up? Isn’t he supposed to get up? I think biting into the inside of my lip until I taste blood. I about collapse into a pile on the ground when I watch two squires drag my brother out of the jousting ring. 

I watch as the Prince rides over to the royal box with his signature smirk. I fight the scowl that threatens to rise to my lips. I watch as his smirk widens when he notices the necklace, I fight the urge to rip the necklace from my throat and throw it at his feet. The feels as if this necklace is a show of my betrayal, of my idiocy as it burns into my throat. 

“Nicely done Uncle.” Rhaenyra says and I about gasp at how insensitive she can be. 

“Thank you, Niece. Now I’m sure can win these games, but having your favor, Little Hightower.” He says already leaning his jousting stick towards me. I want to say no, to tell him to go burn in the seven hells, but I know that it is improper to reject a knight so I turn to grab my favor and slip it onto the stick.

“Good luck, my Prince.” I say letting him see in my eyes the hate I feel for him now.

I walk back to my seat praying this Cole who seems to be promising, will take this smirking, good for nothing, Prince to be knocked down a peg or two. 

I sit there halfway listening to Rhaenyra halfway watching the joust between Cole and the Prince. The smile that comes to my face when the Prince is knocked off his horse, is nothing short of pure unadulterated joy. 

But soon I’m taken out of my thoughts by the whispers of the court, and only four words make me know how much mine and everyone’s lives are about to change.

The Queen is dead