DAMON RAVENSWOOD

Damon scoffed a smile as he watched Zephyr take his leave of the Great Hall, a smile furtive about the edges of his lips in truth. He enjoyed what he had seen happen, how could he not. It seemed as though the bastard king had begun to lose his senses, he wondered in relish. It was already bitter enough that he had to bear sitting down here in this hall as a mere member of the royal household and not as the king, but at least something somewhat sweet came forth from this feeling of bitterness.

As his mind embraced the little fun he had been blessed with, a serving girl placed before him a trencher of goat meat that dripped overtly with nut and black pepper juices, alongside a curtsied bow of her head the same way Melisandre had done when she had filled his cup. It had been days since he had last had her frequent his chambers, a longer while than he was used to without her. His lack of a juncture for pleasure proved it impossible to seek her like he used to, and even when he had a little chance to solicit her body she was always nowhere to be found, lost somewhere in the walls of the castle, ravens know where. She scurried about more than before these days, and in truth, he thanked her for that now. He reached for the young lady of Blackwood seated next to him and grabbed her hand. Melisandre’s scurries had brought him someone that would give him both pleasure and the crown, the latter he had more love for.

The painful screech that came from the trail of a chair on the ground pulled his mind to his mother who had once been seated to his right. She was up on her feet now at the same time waving dismissal of the trencher that had been brought to her presence. The appetite he lacked she lacked as well. Every lord and lady in the hall were munching and drinking gracefully with glamour on their faces, but her's—the queen’s—was plain and disgruntled. He knew why, but he did not like this situation anymore than she did. Should he say something? What could he possibly say? His feeling of bitterness returned.

With a sigh Queen Ophelia turned around on her feet and pottered away through the back door of the Great Hall, seeing it fit not to spare Damon any glance as she left the seats to his right bereft of anyone he was accustomed to aside from his brother, Dante. He grit his teeth in response to his mother’s actions, and out of its own free will his hand loosened from his beloved Lady Valora’s. What would she have me do…? Damon intoned a question at himself. It was not his fault, it had never been. His father had chosen his successor of his own volition, he did not have a say in the matter. Where was she then? Did she even do anything, say anything, convince him to change his mind? Damon bristled as he began to grow more vexed. He was trying his best, but she was not seeing. He was trying all he could… he even… he even had a whole family killed, ordered their deaths. Maybe if he had told her about that she would have shown him some more appreciation for his efforts. Maybe…

“My lord,” a soft whisper breathed into his side. “Is there a problem?” He turned to her, Valora in all her feasting splendour. Flushed at the cheeks and freckled beautifully. He loved that the most of her face features, the freckles.

Damon sighed. “Hardly, my lady.” He smiled.

“You choose not to feast?” She took hold of his hand beneath the cover of the table.

He reached for his cup of wine. “This I prefer,” he chuckled softly. “Wine’s a better meal.” He drank from it and she smiled. Damon turned to peek at Lady Eira seated on the end of the high table beside her daughter and halfway through her guzzles of the feast she had been served. “Did you speak to her?” He directed his question at Valora.

“Yes, I did.” Her gaze remained anchored on his stern features. She knew what he was asking of, and she need not remove her eyes from his face to answer.

“And?”

“She has chosen to ally with you.”

Damon put his brown eyes back on Valora, the pair having nothing of complete belief in her words within them. “The truth, I hope?”

Valora puffed her lean cheeks. “The truth it is. I would never lie to you.”

“Pardon, my lady,” Damon was not apologetic, he just had to sound like he was, “I do not want to lose you, but I just find it hard to believe that she would so quickly choose to take part in such.”

Valora rubbed his hands lecherously. “I am her daughter. She listens to me before any other.”

Damon smiled. “Then I should put my belief in you.”

“You should,” Valora said.

The clamour of the feast went on for a little over a while longer, but it broke to a halt now, all done according to the will of the clanging cry of Thalia’s goblet. The high lords and ladies crowding the hall murmured into silence, and if they could then the ones of lesser status dared not do what their liege lords could not. The hall breathed stillness.

Queen Thalia rose to her feet. The second time she had done such during this feast. It was time, Damon knew. If Zephyr was not here then it was she that would do the honours. “Forgive me, my lords and ladies, for putting a halt to your feasting.” They raised their cups at her and she nodded. “My son will not return to the hall for whatever time is left of this feast. He has taken leave to his chambers to rest. The tourney was quite a daunting pomp.” They all chuckled after her and Damon scoffed at them, a barely noticeable one.

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Lords and ladies, all lickspittles they were, they had no honour. But he fancied that, as long as it would be in his favour he had no problem with their weak-kneed morality. Half of them or more would sprawl over to his side soon enough. They all went where they would gain the more. Bend their knees to who they believed would tend greater to their needs, and once he takes control of the Blackwoods, that he would have. There was no greater strength in the realm than the Blackwoods, and there was no house with a greater stash. With strength comes more strength, and with enough money knights and their liege lords can be bought. Soon enough I will have the Blackwoods on my side, Damon relished in his thoughts, and mother would finally get to see what I am capable of, then she would think to get grandfather to give me his men-at-arms. Surely the crown will become mine then…

“He has left me with a word,” Thalia continued at the expense of Damon’s delightful thoughts. “Good lords and ladies of the kingdom of Ravenwing, on behalf of the king, Zephyr Ravenswood, first of his name and watcher of the lands and seas of the realm, you all are to give ears to the announcement of a binding that will bring further prosperity and peace to this kingdom. A binding between Lady Eira Blackwood’s daughter, Lady Valora, and—”

“I, Damon,” Damon cut in as he rose to his feet, calling forth gasps and bewildered stares from the crowd. He turned to look at Thalia in a daze of confusion. “I am to wed the lady Valora.”

Thalia scoffed. “Surely this has to be one of your japes. The king made no mention of your name.”

Damon tsked. “Valora and I are to be betrothed. The king has no say in that matter.”

“My prince.” Damon turned away from Thalia’s scrutinising gaze to look down from the high table at who had called for him, and it was not someone that he thought far fetched. The auburn haired Flynn of House Claymore was standing close to the raised platform with even more shock taunting his face than the queen. “Your brother is the one to be betrothed to Lady Valora. That is what was decided between the king and the lady of Blackwood.”

“Pardon me, my lord, but I had no say in that.” Valora rose to her feet, and Damon smiled.

“I ask for your pardon as well, my lady, but this conversation was between your mother and the king,” Flynn carried on unrelentingly. “It has been concluded with the king all in an attempt to foster peace and strive for growth between the Blackwoods and the royal household. Please do not take to taint the king’s words before the lords and ladies of the court.” Those lords and ladies he spoke about all gaped in silence, and Damon loved every bit of it. It was going just the way he wanted.

“Brother,” Dante finally spoke. Damon had wondered how long it would have taken him. “What are you doing?” He rose to his feet.

“Making my claim.” Damon told him. “Can I not any longer?”

“She is to be my betrothed,” Dante insisted. “You have no claim over her. Cease this nonsense. Can’t you see what you are doing before the members of the court? If you had any claim you should have brought it prior to the king himself not make a scorn of his words at the feast of his name-day.”

Damon gave a half suppressed laughter. “You speak as though anyone else knew of this. Tell me, brother, did anyone else know?”

Dante sighed, his frustration evident, but Damon had little care. This was his way to the throne, and he would have it. He would not be stopped by someone that was so scared to have a feel of power. “This is unnecessary. Do not make a fuss out of this, brother, those that were to know knew,” Dante held out.

“Then,” Damon turned to the lords and ladies of the hall and gestured at Lady Eira of House Blackwood, “should we ask one of those that were to know?”

“You should stop this nonsense, Damon,” Thalia glared. “Do not soil my son’s words anymore than you’ve done already.”

Damon turned a face at her, he could see her little brat looking at him from where he sat. “You should let the mother of the one that is to be betrothed speak.” Damon turned to his brother. “We are both sons of ravens, does it really matter which of us she takes to wed?” Damon raised a brow in query.

“The king—” Dante began, but never finished.

“Since we were both born ravens,” Damon put in, “and the purpose of this betrothal is to foster peace between our houses, then in truth it does not matter who the king has chosen. Let us let the lady of Blackwood make the choice and have the final say for her daughter. Between me and you, brother.”

The royal advisor found no words, his brother found none as well, Thalia fell silent, and her brat just looked. No one found any words for this situation. He had won. The hall fraught still until Lady Eira finally rose to her feet, her trencher completely depleted of whatever had been served on it. “It is true that His Grace and I had come to think of this a good way to foster peace between our houses,” she began to say to the good lords and ladies of the court sat in the Great Hall, “and I intend to honour our agreement.”

Damon’s face tightened. What was this? What was she doing? He glanced at Valora, but the young lady was looking at her mother with nothing of question in her eyes. Damon was anxious. There was no way he was about to fail, right?

Lady Eira took a look at Dante and took one at Damon, before turning back to face the members of the Great Hall. “In honour of our agreement to foster peace, I have decided to have my daughter, Valora, be betrothed…” Damon’s chest tightened. There was no way… “to the prince, Damon, in the good faith of the ravens, and to foster peace between House Blackwood and House Ravenswood. Bear witness to this day, my good lords and ladies, and may their union be blessed.”

Damon dragged in a deep breath victoriously and exhaled calmly. Finally, it started now.