Daemon looked around, seeing his Golden Cloaks, a bunch of stray mongrels, now trained to be loyal and fierce hunting hounds, a proud grin adorned his lips.
Though he hadn't touched the wine all that much yet, seeing his men shout and toast his name filled him with arrogance that had almost been trampled on in that chamber of the Small Council.
If those men thought that all it took to get rid of him was an infant with a cock between his legs… They were wrong. They were really wrong.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Mysaria, his whore lover, walking towards him with a seductive sway to her hips. Her hair was silver, and much like his own, her blue eyes entranced him in their depth. This Lyseni prostitute was, by fair, his favorite, and since he met her, none of the others would suffice. After all, her Valyrian heritage called to his own.
She approached with a wine jar in her hands. She circled him with feline grace, one of her delicate hands tracing the contour of his powerful shoulders, while the other poured his cup full.
She leaned down and bit his earlobe. "What troubles you, My Prince?" She whispered seductively.
Daemon smiled. "What makes you think I am troubled?"
She rested her weight against him, deliberately pressing her feminine body on his back. "Quite simple… Your hands are still, even though I am so close to you." Her smugness was evident in her tone.
"You take me for a dog in heat, do you?" He challenged.
While still giggling, she spoke as she covered her mouth with her slender fingers. "Maybe not a dog, but certainly a dragon in heat, My Prince."
Daemon chuckled. "Maybe…"
"So? What ails the mind of the Rogue Prince on this night?" She asked once more.
"And what makes you think I would confide my deepest thoughts to you, whore?" he said with a raised eyebrow.
Without being offended, she replied while shrugging. "I heard it helps."
Daemon scoffed. "The fools of the council seek to undermine me yet again. Emboldened by Viserys' child. A child that might not survive to see his first nameday."
Mysaria hugged his neck. "There is none more suitable for the Throne than you, My Prince."
He smiled. "Honeyed words." He raised his cup filled with wine to his lips, taking a sip, before resting the cup on the table. "Yet wise words, nonetheless… Coming from a whore that is."
"Wisdom can come from the most unexpected places," she said.
"You are certainly full of it tonight, huh? I find myself wanting to pound it out of you." He spoke with a husky tone.
"All in due time, My Prince," she said, surprising Daemon that she would 'refuse' him. "I believe there should be a toast. After all, seems like a dragon has found his fangs again."
Daemon sneered. "I have never lost mine, woman."
She shrugged. "A party isn't quite the same without a toast."
"That, I can agree with." He said as he rose from his chair.
Seeing the commander rising to his feet, one of the men—with a naked whore still dancing around his lap—urged for the silence of the rest. "Silence! The Prince is going to speak! Silence," He shouted.
The whole brothel went quiet, as all who were there turned their attention to Daemon. Some gazes were filled with pride, others with curiosity; there were even a couple of lustful ones as well, those he made sure to take notice of for later tonight.
"I believe a toast is in order!" Daemon said as he raised his cup. "For today, my brother was graced with a son. And what a son he is…" His expression twisted into mockery. "The rightful heir of the Realms was born on this here day. So, I propose a toast to him!"
Daemon's cup spilled the crimson liquid within, and as the Prince presented it forward with renewed vigor. "Here is a toast to the Red-eyed Abomination, may his reign be long and prosperous!" Daemon mocked.
"To the Red-eyed Abomination!" All toasted in unison. All but one, that is… As in the far corner of the brothel, a single and more quiet Golden Cloak studied the scene with watchful eyes. His lips threatened to curve into a wolfish grin, yet he held back with all that he had. It was, after all, quite amusing to see a man dig his own grave with so much excitement.
"May this child last longer than the last!" Daemon toasted again, intoxicated by the feeling the moment gave him. "After all, funerals are quite expensive, and the crown could use a bit of time to fill their coffers before the next one!"
Everyone seemed to laugh at the joke. Even the watching man. Though his laugh seemed a bit more sinister.
Daemon raised his cup for a final toast, though this time he appeared to hesitate. But that hesitation vanished when he saw the gazes of those around him. "Though I must say it again, I am quite envious of my brother… After all, he has achieved the dream of having a son. And all he had to pay in turn was a single wife. A fair bargain, don't you lot think so as well?" He exclaimed.
Everyone seemed to flinch before roaring in laughter and excitement. Aemma was beloved by all; that wasn't up for question, even those present could do nothing but praise her. Yet mocking royalty carried the deep rush of doing something forbidden. Even more so when the one doing the mocking was another royal. Hence, punishment seemed unlikely in their eyes.
The mess inside the brothel began once more, this time with even more fervor. As if a slumbering beast was spurred awake.
The night, which should have been one of grieving and mourning, turned into a loud celebration.
Yet the silent man on the corner couldn't get a single phrase out of his head for the remainder of the night.
'He is a fool…'