House of the Dragon -- Fire and Blood
NOTE: All character in this story at 18 years of age or older. Nameday is a reference to Birthday.
Daemon strode through the dark, murky streets of Kings Landing. His hooded figured cut through unlit alleyways and backstreets, his eyes darting left and right as he looked for a sight of her.
Down another alley then a quick turn left. Was that her turning the corner up ahead? Daemon's pace increased as he tracked his niece through the shadowed, winding streets. This was not the place for a princess to be without an escort. King's Landing at night could be a ghastly place for a young woman.
Emerging from a side street, Daemon was suddenly in a small square. The city was alive with activity as people drank, sang, gambled, fucked and fought; all on the same streets they would go back to work on the next day. Fire breathers blew billowing clouds of fire from elevated stands. A portly bard stood outside the tavern, singing songs of travel and adventure. Men sat drinking wine with whore on their laps, while others had moved to the cobbled alleyways to fuck in shadowy corners.
The prince moved purposefully through the crowds, his eyes following the coloured cap he had provided to Rhaenyra only an hour ago as part of a disguise to smuggle her from the Red Keep.
Seeing her disappear down another alley, Daemon walked faster. Pushing past a man wearing a Crone festival mask, he followed her into the darkness.
Rounding a corner, he slowed as he saw Rhaenyra talking to a city Watchman. Was this the end of their night? The end of their game? Would they be marched to the Red Keep and turned over to his brother, King Viserys?
Instead, the Watchman continued walking, leaving the princess alone in the shadows; unable to make eye contact with Daemon as he shuffles past. Pathetic.
"Less of your foolery! Enjoyed that did you?" Daemon cried as he grabbed his petite niece around the shoulders and embraced her.
"I'm just trying to make an enjoyable evening, Uncle. That play was so dull, after all," The beautiful princess replied, with a dazzling smile.
"Tarnished your hubris, have they?" Daemon mocked his young niece. Barely past her 18th nameday, the naΓ―ve princess would soon learn the people had very... colourful views on the royal family.
"Hardly, I simply want to enjoy this night. Show me the city!" Rhaenyra demanded as she tuned heel and strode back towards the square.
The uncle and niece walked arm in arm along the narrow alley. Emerging back into the square, they donned their disguises to mask their identity.
The pair walked through the thronging crowds, Rhaenyra marvelling at the carnival atmosphere: costumes, masks, music, fire breathers. They passed through the dancers, the singers, the jugglers, the drinkers and the fighters; pausing to watch or sing or dance as they wandered through the streets.
Daemon slipped a small flask from his tunic, swigging deeply before handing the leather pouch to his silver haired companion.
Hesitantly, Rhaenyra sipped the libation, shocked by the burn as it moved down her throat but also warmed by the sensation as it settled. The princess took another sip and grimaced. Why did men drink this swill?
After basking in the ambience of the uninhibited nightlife for some time and sipping the vile tasting concoction, Daemon led his niece away from the crowd and into a winding alleyway, pulling her by her hand into the deepest parts of the city.
"I'm going to show you what life can be," Daemon muttered cryptically, without explanation, his eyes lingering on Rhaenyra's as they bore down into her soul.
Taking her hand, he led her through an unremarkable doorway, entering a long corridor with smaller side rooms facing off it, each covered by white hanging sheets.
Rhaenyra could hear the moans, cries and giggles of people behind the sheets as they moved down the hallway; undistinguishable eyes and faces peered round corners as they passed.