chainedqueen | Open Post

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On their wedding, a sizable dowry is secreted into the coffers of House Hightower. Daemon barely thinks about it. Since the king is credited with the wedding's grander successes, he-- or rather, his people-- handle the transaction.

A new bed is bought and assembled in the prince's wing, to much tittering and gossip from the servants. The thing is massive: a new fashion from across the sea, Daemon says, but really, he wants it to be so noticeable in its placement and construction that Otto Hightower cannot miss it. If it is also very comfortable, very spacious, to sleep and fuck in, all the better.

The rumors, as they currently stand, include no whispers of the girl's maidenhead being taken the night of the engagement fete. Coincidentally, Rondra the laundress is promoted to Alicent's personal laundress, overseeing only the cleaning and mending of one lady's clothes, instead of half the castles. Daemon enjoys tests, and Rondra passed hers.

Much thought is put into what to give a bride. He wants to accomplish several things at once-- to give an image of devotion to his wife, to give her the proper respect her position demands in this moment, and to amuse himself. He consults his own little council of advisors on this matter-- a maid in his employ, a jeweler, and Mysaria.

Since the agreement was made, to set aside his mistress, he has only had her once in parting. They no longer see each other face to face. But Alicent never said he could never speak to the woman again, and her mind is an invaluable asset. Mysaria writes encoded missives detailing rumors and reports, but also fashions and fancies ladies are known to have. She also gives advice for how best to treat a woman on her wedding night, which Daemon finds quite comical; the woman has never had a wedding, and likely never will. Out of affection, or maybe respect, he does not chide her.

On the morning of her wedding, Alicent is presented with finely tailored kidskin gloves that fit perfectly to her hand. They reach up to the elbow in a fashion that is somewhat outmoded, but Daemon suspects wearing them smartly, with the right outfit, may bring the fashion back again. She has also given a heavy necklace made from polished green dragonglass, the pieces interlocking together in the shape of dragons, one head eating the next. A small dagger is also presented to her, made with the same dragonglass, gleaming in emerald. It is small enough to be hidden beneath petticoats and whittled sharply down to a fine and subtle point. A wax seal is presented, in the shape of the Hightower crest, except the tower is a dragon's head, mouth open, fire spitting out. Last, two keys are presented in a small paper box, clearly well-worn things that have seen real use.

No note is included. Alicent will know who the gifts are from. If not all of their meanings are obvious, she will gather them in time.

The ceremony is lavish. It is also very long. Daemon is deadly bored through most of it. But it is a Targaryen wedding, so it is outdoors, so Caraxes may attend. He sits lazily behind the officiant, an aged septon drones on about faith and love and duty and reconciliation. Daemon's major amusement, through the ceremony, is to grin at the bride's brothers, who stand by, waiting for their father to appear and give the girl away.

He does. In the end, Ser Otto Hightower walks down the line of spectators, and takes the Hightower cloak off Alicent's back. Daemon replaces it with a Targaryen one, finely embroidered in blood-red thread. He does not break eye contact with Otto as he does it.

But then his attentions are on Alicent. The Septon speaks a little more, but this is a Targaryen wedding, and those are special affairs. The King takes over, and pronounces them wed, their houses joined, under blood and fire.

A pin is used to prick a bit of blood from the lips of both participants, and Daemon, bloody-mouthed, whispers dracarys. He kisses is bride with flame just feet above their heads, blood on his tongue.

From:

chainedqueen

The days heading towards the wedding, Alicent had been left in a daze. As she suspected, her father had torn through her room, searching for anything that Daemon Targaryen might have used to seduce his daughter. The letters had been burned, no evidence of his early attentions would be found. He saw the emerald but thought nothing of it. After all, Otto Hightower had more important matters to think over than his daughter's jewels.

There were threats, discussions about possibly sending her back to Old Town in secret or even induct her as a Silent Sister. He'd be more than willing to lose a valuable pawn than to let Daemon Targaryen debauch her. Alicent kept her silence, allowing herself to be pushed about, wary of the waves that sought to pull her into an undertow.

Perhaps there was some level of guilt. She had avoided Rhaenyra of late, remembering that her dear friend had shown a level of interest in her uncle. They had their secrets and it was clear she was a bit enamored with them. Now Alicent was set to marry him and it made matters awkward between them. Beyond that, what happened that night at the fete pushed against her deeply ingrained sense of duty and propriety, the strict morals and behaviors she had followed since young.

She loved what they did, but now the guilt was as heavy as a cloak. She reread the Pointed Star, she spoke to her Maester several times about proper behavior. At night though, her fingers teased between her legs, thinking of all they did.

The night before the wedding, she was nearly hurried secretly into a carriage, though the destination was not told to her. It was only when one of Otto's spies raced to his side and whispered in his ear that Otto relented. There was some reason that he could not follow through.

That he even gave her a way was remarkable. He muttered under his breath the whole time, reminding her to tell her all she learned about the prince before handing her over. The dragon leaves her nervous, the fire dangerous but inviting. Once the kiss is done, she licks her lips, tasting the blood left there.

"Dracarys," she murmurs back.

From:

andblood

The look on Daemon's face is carefully calculated, all smug lust. Otto sees it, and that vein starts bulging in his forehead. Wonderful.

As they make their procession back to the castle for the wedding feast, the smallfolk cheer. Daemon throws gold and flowers from side of the carriage. The coins are all stamped with the sigil on Alicent's new seal: the dragon's head, pointing upward, breathing Hightower flames. The meaning, he hopes, is obvious to her.

It's too loud, too public, for them to talk of anything meaningful. He encourages her to throw coins as well, to point and cheer, to make herself known. Daemon steals kisses from her at certain points, and they are patently all for show. The crowd begins to cheer each time; he trusts, at this point, that she can see what he's doing.

And if he pauses, struck still, when they pass one woman gazing at him through the crowd, dark eyes full of longing, well. Does Alicent even know what Myseria looks like? It doesn't matter, if one smile out of a hundred, is genuine.

The feast is another lavish affair, stuffed with food and dancers, all manner of entertainment. Daemon and Alicent sit at the head, and Daemon continues to steal kisses, though these are longer, more languid and far less proper. Now is the time for it; some level of lust is expected. That it is once again in full view of Ser Otto is grand, but more importantly, it sells the story that this is a love match, or at least one of lust, as much as it is strategic. From Rhea, Daemon has gotten the reputation that he was cold toward a wife; he will not make the same mistake twice.

The truth is in what can't be easily seen. Beneath the table, Daemon's hand rarely leaves Alicent's knee, her hip.

From:

chainedqueen

It was the strange hinderance to her father's attempt to send her away that occupied Alicent's thoughts. She did as Daemon instructed, only realizing that the smallfolk were watching when he put the coins in her hands. 'What stopped father?' She tossed the coins into the crowd, hearing a few women call her name, but it seemed the cheers were more directed at their beloved prince. Their love for him was likely another sticking point for her father, making him unable to full remove Daemon from King's Landing. If he meant to exact revenge, it would be done out of sight.

During the feast, Alicent takes it upon herself to keep wine from her glass and Daemon's, quickly putting her hand over the rim. It might seem as if she were controlling him, doing her best to keep his lusts free from influence, but the color and smell, it left her feeling queasy. The others nearby drank heartily, but they had their own servers, not sharing the same wine as the couple.

All of this heightened anxiety keeps her from behaving as amorously as she would like. If her father was thwarted, he'd find another way to remove Alicent from Daemon's side. She couldn't pick at her fingers as she wanted, the gloves concealing the work she had done earlier that day. There was no outlet for her fear and she could only pray to the Seven that the feast would pass quickly without incident.

She feels his hand at her knee and sometimes at her hip. She shivers, feeling the heat of him even through her gown. She wished she could be more attentive and yielding, but each time a servant approached Daemon, that bolt of fear returned.

"Have one of your men check our room." Were the sheets new? Had they been out of anyone's sight? Servants and men came and went, leaving the possibility open that somewhere, there might be some trace of poison waiting for them.

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