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Delightful Duty Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2024-07-26 11:46:46 +0000 UTCIt was a wonderfully clear day that saw Rhaenyra take to the skies atop her little lady, and she wished for a moment that her destination was further away so that she could enjoy the warmth of the sun and the wind in her hair. Alas, her destination was Driftmark, an island mere minutes away from Dragonstone by flight. Seasmoke was behind her, ridden by a rather reluctant Laenor, who remained convinced that this meeting with his father was going to prove fruitless. A sudden shriek from Syrax made her jolt until she realized that her dragon was reacting to Caraxes and Vhagar, who were flying together in the skies above the island.
“No, Syrax,” Rhaenyra said firmly. “You can join them once we’ve landed.”
Syrax let out a whine but obeyed, ignoring the other dragons as she continued on her way towards the island itself. Rhaenyra looked up at the pair and felt her heart clench at the sight. Part of that was because her uncle was up there and her feelings towards him remained complicated, a complication not made easier by the knowledge that, if not for Jon’s intervention, she would have gone on to wed him and have his children. The rest of it was the sight of the dragons themselves.
“Those two have known each other for so long,” she thought to herself sadly. “Aemon’s and Baelon’s mounts at one point, and then the mounts of a wedded couple. How horrified would my grandfather and my great-uncle have been to know what would become of their dragons?”
Then again, her grandfather would likely have been even more horrified to know that his dragon would go on to to kill Meleys, his beloved wife’s mount. Just as Rhaenyra thought of the Red Queen, she noticed the ruby drake on the ground, having just landed with her rider still in her saddle. Urging Syrax to land, she smiled at her good-mother as she came into view.
“Princess,” Rhaenys called out as she dismounted Meleys, “we didn’t expect you so early.”
“That won’t be a problem, I hope,” Rhaenyra said as she dismounted as well.
“Of course not,” Rhaenys said, smiling warmly as she watched Seasmoke land. “Corlys and I are happy to see you both.”
“Happy to see Laenor, anyway,” Rhaenyra couldn’t help but think to herself.
The queen who never was, was an imposing figure. Tall for a woman, she projected power with her gaze in a way that only a dragon rider truly could. Imperious, often cold, and proud, Rhaenyra got the sense that she didn’t think much of her, but so long as she could rely on the woman’s loyalty, she didn’t care. According to Jon, she remained loyal to the end originally, despite how painfully obvious it was that Rhaenya’s children were not her grandchildren.
As she watched the woman, whose long dark hair was beginning to gray, greet her son, she watched the rare display of warmth from the proud princess and smiled. The Velaryons were on her side and would remain that way no matter what.
“I just have to make sure that the most important of them stays alive,” she thought to herself, looking up towards Vhagar as she continued to soar through the skies, joined by a happy-sounding Syrax.
“Your letter hinted at some business you wished to discuss with your father,” Rhaenys said to Laenor as Rhaenya joined them.
“Yes,” Laenor replied. “An idea Nyra and the maester at Dragonstone came up with.”
“Oh?” Rhaenys asked, cocking an eyebrow as she stared down at her.
“Something that I think might benefit us all,” Rhaenyra replied cagily as the three of them, quickly joined by guards, made their way towards Corlys’ solar.
She could only hope that they’d find him at least somewhat interested in the idea.
*****
“Why in the world would I fund a project that would make the Tyrells the richest family in Westeros?” Corlys asked incredulously. “It would infuriate the Lannisters, which would be amusing, I suppose, but that’s hardly cause to sink most of my fortune into the endeavor.”
“The only way this would work would be in the crown, Highgarden, and you shared the costs and therefore agreed to share the profits in perpetuity,” Rhaenyra replied.
“And you think that Lord Matthos would agree to that?” Corlys asked archly.
“I don’t know,” Rhaenyra admitted, “but I do know that the Tyrells could not fund this canal project on their own, nor could the crown provide enough to assist them alone, and I’m not about to propose this to my father and a lord paramount without having some assurances that I can arrange the financing.”
“What made you decide to look into this at all?” Corlys asked, still sounding baffled. “When you wrote to me saying that you wished to discuss a building project, Laenor, I never would have fathomed it being something as vast as a canal linking the Mander to the Blackwater.”
“Because it would harm the Hightowers, dear,” Rhaenys replied before either Laenor or Rhaenyra could.
“Oh!” Corlys exclaimed, his calculating blue eyes widening as he realized what his wife meant.
“The capital is larger than Oldtown and a far more profitable destination,” Rhaenys grinned. “Giving merchants a quick route there that doesn’t take them along the Dornish coast or through the bloody Stepstones will make the choice easy. Weakening your enemy in a way that they can’t object to without angering their suzerain lord. Smart.”
Rhaenyra twisted one of the rings on her right hand as she forced herself not to react to the surprise in the older woman’s voice.
“Is this truly necessary?” Corlys asked. “With that grasping cunt sent back to Oldtown, our alliance, and your father’s continuing support, your position should be unassailable.”
“Nothing’s unassailable where dragons are concerned,” Rhaenyra replied. “Harren Hoare learned that the hard way. Sunfyre might not be much of a threat, but Aemond and Helaena have yet to claim dragons at all. Were they to claim Vermithor and Silverwing, our factions would be far more evenly matched than they are now.”
“You don’t have to worry about Helaena on that front,” Corlys snorted.
“What?” Rhaenyra asked.
“Corlys just returned from a trip to the capital,” Rhaenys replied.
“I had other business to take care of and thought that I’d try to speak to your father and Lord Lyonel about the continuing issue of the Triachy, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise,” Corlys scowled. “All the man could speak about was the fact that his daughter had seemed to bond with Dreamfyre earlier that day.”
“What?!” Laenor exclaimed, the first word he’d spoken since the meeting started. “Dreamfyre?”
“Yes, you remember her,” Rhaenys chuckled. “The great blue and silver dragon once ridden by Queen Rhaena. I remember when I took you and Laena to the dragonpit for the first time, you said she was the prettiest dragon you’d ever seen. Then Laena said that dragons aren’t pretty, and you two got into such an argu...Laenor, what’s wrong?”
“I...I must be excused, sorry,” Laenor stammered, springing to his feet and rushing out of the room.
“Laenor!” Rhaenys exclaimed, looking alarmed.
“What in the seven hells is wrong with him?” Corlys asked gruffly.
“Perhaps something we ate didn’t agree with him,” Rhaenyra replied, her eyes locked on the door her husband had just gone through. “Excuse me, I’ll go check on him. In the meantime, please look through Maester Gerardys’ notes on the canal project.”
Handing him the scrolls, Rhaenyra took off after Laenor, finding him pacing back and forth on a balcony not far from his father’s solar.
“It’s true,” he muttered to himself under his breath, looking pale and terrified.
“Laenor, recollect yourself!” Rhaenyra hissed.
“It’s all bloody true,” Laenor muttered again, looking like he might hyperventilate.
“Laenor!” Rhaenyra hissed again.
When he once again didn’t even look at her, she scowled and looked around to make sure that no servants were nearby to see them. Once she was certain that the coast was clear, she quickly removed all of the rings on her right hand.
SMACK
Laenor snapped out of it as her hand cracked across his soft cheek, staring at her in shock.
“Feel any better?” Rhaenyra asked, shaking her hand to alleviate the sting.
“Yes,” Laenor sighed, rubbing his reddening cheek. “Thank you for removing your rings first.”
“You’re far too pretty to mar,” Rhaenyra snarked, making him snort.
“It’s all true, isn’t it?” Laenor asked, sounding haunted.
“I’m afraid so,” Rhaenyra replied as she put her rings back on.
“What are we going to do?” Laenor asked.
“Change things,” Rhaenyra replied, “starting with weakening the Hightowers and making sure that your sister spends the duration of her pregnancies on Dragonstone, where Maester Gerardys can keep an eye on her.”
“That’s going to be easier said than done,” Laenor sighed.
“We’ll just explain that Maester Gerardys is brilliant and convince her that she and her child will be better off in his care,” Rhaenyra shrugged.
“Rhaenyra, I love my sister dearly, but she’s fearless to the point of madness,” Laenor explained. “I’m still terrified of that giant monster she rides, and she was barely one and ten when she climbed atop her without a second’s hesitation and took her to the sky. She doesn’t understand danger, and I don’t think we’ll be able to convince her to leave her beloved home for moons on end as easily as you imagine.”
“We’re going to have a secret weapon on that front,” Rhaenyra said.
“What?” Laenor asked, intrigued.
“My uncle,” Rhaenyra explained. “Daemon’s wanted to be a father for a very long time, and once Laena’s with child, I expect him to become almost motherly in his concern for his child. Between the two of us and him, we’ll be able to convince her to come to Dragonstone, I’m sure.”
“I hope you’re right,” Laenor muttered. “In the meantime, we need to convince my father to help us.”
“Well, just don’t overdo it because you finally believe Jon,” Rhaenyra replied, “and try to befriend him. We’ll need his knowledge, and his presence in Dragonstone will become far easier to explain if he’s a close friend of yours.”
“Of course,” Laenor said, shaking his head. They needed him desperately, after all.
*****
Jon honestly didn’t realize just how attached he had become to Rhaenyra in the short time that they’d known each other until she left Dragonstone. There was, obviously, no justification for him to go with her, so they’d spent the previous night in each other’s arms, and he’d kissed her goodbye before heading into the training yard for his usual dawn training session. He was improving rapidly and already figured that he was very nearly back to his old proficiency before his body was radically changed. How good he felt about that, though, didn’t change the fact that he already missed the woman whose bed he’d spent only a couple nights outside of since she first seduced him.
“I’m being ridiculous,” he thought to himself. “She’ll probably be back tonight anyway, tomorrow at the latest. Surely I haven’t become that dependent.”
He was increasingly fond of her, though, feeling things that he never had before, and a part of him was dreading her coming pregnancy for the distance it would inevitably create between them since she couldn’t afford to allow any rumors of their relationship to begin to spread. She needed an heir, though, to help safeguard her claim, and he would just have to deal with things as they came. He already knew that having to pretend his children weren’t his was going to be incredibly difficult, though.
Shaking his head, Jon cleared his mind of his melancholy thoughts and continued marching through the rough, uneven terrain of the island towards his destination. He had gotten to know a fair few people in the castle over the last few weeks and could have sought out their company, but, with Rhaenyra gone, he decided to try to get to know someone in particular a little better.
“I hope he likes bloody goat,” Jon grumbled, holding the freshly butchered animal out in front of him as he made his way towards the caves.
He couldn’t be seen riding Morghul and had no intention of even trying to mount him for the time being, but there was no harm in getting to know the dragon, whose eyes he’d looked through for a short moment, a little better.
A thunderous roar erupted before him, and Jon heard a sharp cry ring out behind him before a sudden gust of wind knocked him down. Rushing to his feet, he turned around and saw a small, gray dragon peer towards him for another second before rapidly taking off in the other direction. The reason that the dragon, who had to be the elusive Grey Ghost, fled so quickly became apparent almost immediately afterward as Morghul landed behind him.
“Good morrow,” Jon said, looking up towards the bright green eyes of the giant dragon, which shone with obvious curiosity. “Thank you for scaring him off. I didn’t even hear the stealthy little bugger.”
Morghul cocked his head and looked down at the goat Jon had dropped.
“Ah, yes,” Jon muttered. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
He pointed at the goat and stepped away from it as the dragon opened his mouth. From his gaping maw erupted black flames, streaked with green and Jon’s eyes widened at the sight of them as they washed over the goat’s corpse. He had read that dragonfire was rarely the color of normal fire, being the same color as the scales of the beast in question, but he hadn’t seen it in action yet. Morghul cooked the goat for a few moments before leaning in and devouring it in one bite. Jon swallowed thickly as he got yet another indication of just how easily the dragon could kill him if he so chose.
Morghul looked at him once he was done eating the goat, bones and all, cocking his head as if to ask if there was more. He quickly realized that wasn’t the case, though, and turned around, walking towards his cave. He was a rather lumbering creature on the ground, and though the distance between where he had landed and his cave was quite short, Jon couldn’t help but think that he would have likely flown if he were alone. Choosing to interpret the dragon’s choice to walk as an invitation to follow him, he did just that.
“I’d ask him for help with this, but even if he knew what I meant, that would probably end poorly,” Jon thought to himself as he took a moment to light the torch he’d brought.
He entered the suitably large and spacious cave, once he had something to help him see, and balked at how unnatural it looked. Some maester, he couldn’t recall which, had written that the dragons carved their caves out themselves, positing that they had used their fire to melt the rock and crave suitable dens to rest in. From the angles of the walls and how different it was from other caves he had been in before, he had figured that there was some truth there. It didn’t look like it had been carved by human hands or anything, lacking the distinct precision found in the tunnels in the Wall, for instance, but it certainly looked like something had manipulated it.
Morghul suddenly moved his giant head towards him until he was so close that he could feel the dragon’s heated exhales. He was staring at him, his eyes narrow, and it took Jon a moment to realize that he was staring at the torch.
“Um, are you offended by the fire?” Jon asked, knowing that he wouldn’t get a response. “I’d be rather blind without it, I’m afraid.”
As though understanding his words, Morghul just huffed and turned around, continuing deeper into the cave. Jon followed, and began wading through a sea of bones and what he imagined were fragments of dragon eggs as he went further in.
“I’m going to need to somehow get him to stop preying on other dragons if this is going to work,” he thought to himself.
Of course, if he failed to prevent the war entirely, Morghul’s expertise in that subject would likely be quite helpful. The dragon stopped suddenly and turned around, lying down facing him. Setting his torch down against the nearest cave wall, Jon sat down next to his massive head and reached out to rest his hand on one of his large horns. The dragon stirred slightly before relaxing, and Jon closed his eyes, reaching out inside his mind towards his faint bond with the dragon.
He wished that he had dedicated more time to exploring his old bond with Ghost or managed to learn more about warging from the Free Folk, but he hadn’t, and he was going to have to learn as he went here. He had slipped inside Morghul’s mind accidentally when they first met, just as he had slipped inside Ghost’s mind countless times while he slept. Thinking that he just had to focus on what that felt like and try to recreate it, he slowed his breathing and just focused on reaching out to him mentally.
For several minutes, he sat there in silence, the only sounds in the cave being his breathing and the dragon’s. It was peaceful in a way that few things in his life ever had been, and as he enjoyed the comforting heat Morghul exuded, he found himself, without realizing it, letting go of all the myriad problems that bounced around his head day and night. The ever-looming threat of the Others, his murder at the hands of his own men, the fact that he was never going to see any of his loved ones again, the threat of the civil war he was trying to prevent, and even his growing feelings for Rhaenyra slipped away, leaving him utterly at peace.
He let out a rumbling breath as he felt the small creature, a human, he suddenly knew to call them, slip from consciousness. That one smelled of dragon, as he had before, and he felt himself enjoying his presence in a way that he never had with any of the others before. Figuring he would remain safe in the cave for a while and feeling a sudden, strong desire to take flight, he moved swiftly through the cave. With mighty beats of his powerful, outstretched wings, he soared higher and higher until the island he called home looked small.
“What in the…” Jon trailed off as his green eyes widened in wonder at the sights before him.
He was Morghul...in Morghul’s mind, and he was bloody flying. Laughing like a child, something that sounded utterly ridiculous coming from the giant dragon, he glided through the air so quickly that one would never have guessed that he was as heavy as he was. His previous two experiences with flight had both been on Syrax, and he had slept through the first and been too distracted by what had just happened with the dragon whose mind he was in now to truly appreciate the second. This he could enjoy though, and he finally understood the Valyrians obsession with dragons.
“Even if they couldn’t breathe fire, this would be incredible,” Jon thought to himself. “I’ll need to take care not to be spotted on my way back, but I think I’m going to stay here a while.”
Content to continue flying through the skies above Dragonstone, he briefly wondered how things were going for Rhaenyra on Driftmark.
*****
“I must say you and your maester put a great deal of thought into this,” Corlys murmured as Rhaenyra and Laenor reentered his solar. “You’re feeling better?”
“Yes, Father,” Laenor replied. “I really do think that the canal could benefit us all.”
“If any of this could actually work,” Corlys muttered. “Canals might be water-related, but that doesn’t mean I have any actual knowledge of the things. I know there was a significant one finished in Yi Ti about thirty or so years ago. The traders I dealt with on my trip there were quite excited about it, provided my translator was right. Other than that, I can’t rightly say if this is even viable, and I’m loathe to sink gold into something I’m not sure about.”
“I’m sure we could have other maesters look over the proposal,” Rhaenys suggested. “I already asked Maester Lucas, but he admitted that he knows little of such things.”
“Alright, I’m not going to promise anything,” Corlys said, “but if I can get some assurances that this could work and if you can get your father and Lord Matthos interested as well, then I’ll see if there’s some sort of deal that can be made here. I’ll warn you, though, Princess: Lord Matthos Tyrell is a short-sighted fool, and I don’t think it will be easy to convince him to sink funds into something like this.”
“I remember that pompous oaf coming to the Great Council of 101 with a retinue of five hundred men,” Rhaenys scowled, as she always did when she recalled the council. “The Tyrells are not the wealthiest family in Westeros, in fact; they might not even be the third largest, but he came with the largest retinue.”
“Despite having no expectation of having to fight for anything, right,” Corlys mused, stroking his neatly kept silver beard. “If you play on the man’s pride and obvious desire to make himself seem more grandiose than he is, that could work, I suppose.”
“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, smiling serenely. “Both for your advice and for keeping an open mind about my proposal.”
“Looks like they finally tired of flying,” Corlys muttered as he caught sight of Laena and Daemon through the window as they landed.
“More likely, Vhagar and Caraxes wanted a break,” Rhaenys chuckled.
“When are they to be wed?” Rhaenyra asked.
“Soon,” Corlys replied.
“In a fortnight, actually,” Rhaenys added. “We were going to tell you during the feast.”
“We’ll attend, of course,” Laenor smiled.
“It took more than twenty years, but she finally found something she can focus on that doesn’t breathe fire,” Corlys muttered, shaking his head. Under his breath, he added, “Though he may as well.”
Rhaenyra had always wondered what Daemon and Corlys’ relationship was like. They had been adversaries and allies both through the years, and each man could be rather abrasive at the best of times. She got the sense that Daemon irritated the older man greatly, yet they had fought together in the Stepstones, and her uncle was set to wed Lady Laena. Of course, both men had something else in common: their often tense relationships with a man who was not going to be pleased when he learned that Daemon and Laena had wed, her father.
“Daemon’s probably going to trade flying for humiliating your nephews in the training yard...again,” Rhaenys sighed.
“Well, they wouldn’t be humiliated if they finally realized that none of them could beat him,” Corlys muttered.
“That could be entertaining,” Laenor piped up, earning a momentary glare from his father, who rolled his eyes.
“If you two want to join the others in the yard, I’ll finish looking through your maester’s notes,” Corlys suggested, and the two of them quickly took him up on his offer.
“Ah, Laenor!” Laena exclaimed as she spotted them. “I thought I saw Seasmoke. Welcome back to High Tide, Princess.”
“I’ve said before, Laena, call me Rhaenyra,” Rhaenyra said, earning a smile from her good sister. “We are family after all.”
“Rhaenyra,” Laena grinned, “we’re about to become family in yet another way.”
“So I’ve heard,” Rhaenyra smiled, looking over at Daemon, who was sparing with Vaemond Velaryon, if she wasn’t mistaken.
They were using training swords, which meant that Vaemond would live to see another day since he was easily outmatched by Daemon. The one-time king of the Stepstones was clearly toying with his foe, whose movements were growing less precise as they went on. Daemon parried blow after blow with seeming ease as he waited for an opportunity.
When Rhaenyra first got there, Vaemond was attacking Daemon with some measure of skill, but his frustration was getting to him, and he had taken to striking at him like a half-crazed barbarian. Daemon practically danced around him, redirecting every slash and thrust like it was nothing and enjoying himself so clearly that she could practically see his glee despite his helmet blocking his face.
When Vaemond feinted towards Daemon’s head only to slash low, it was the first thing he’d done in about a minute that looked like an actual swordsman taught him to do it. It was also, funny enough, the last thing he did in that sparing session. Recognizing the feint for what it was, Daemon swung low, catching Vaemond’s wrist as he tried to slash towards his legs, and then bashed his shoulder into the man’s exposed chest, sending flat on his arse.
“I yield,” Vaemond practically growled as Daemon pressed the blunted tip of the training sword into his throat.
Daemon removed his helmet and smirked down at the fallen man before throwing his training sword to his squire, a boy whose name Rhaenyra couldn’t recall.
“Rhaenyra,” he said in greeting, his violet eyes raking over her, “what brings you here?”
“Laenor and I had something to discuss with Lord Corlys,” Rhaenyra replied. “I don’t have to ask why you’re here.”
“Yes, I heard that you’d been told,” Daemon murmured, looking over to Laena, who grinned at him. “I trust my brother has yet to hear the good news, yes?”
“He won’t hear it from me,” Rhaenyra replied quietly, and Daemon grinned.
Jon’s appearance in her life had almost completely erased her lingering vexation at her father for forcing her to wed Laenor, but that didn’t mean that she was about to do him any favors any time soon.
“Prince Daemon, I would spar with you if you’re willing,” a silver-haired young man who Rhaenyra assumed was another Velaryon, said.
“I’d be happy to knock you on your ass like I did your father, if you’re so determined, Daeron,” Daemon chuckled, putting his helmet back on.
Rhaenyra watched her uncle outclass every opponent he took on for a while as she chatted with Laena and Laenor. As she watched him spar, she remembered why he was so feared as a warrior. Even without Caraxes, one of the most vicious and dangerous of their dragons, he was still a highly capable warrior, and with Dark Sister in his hand, he was a terrible threat to anyone who would oppose him. He was not unbeatable, alas, and there was a living reminder of that fact in her father’s kingsguard that she didn’t want to think about.
“I wonder how Jon would fare against him,” she mused to herself, smiling at the thought of her lover.
“Should I be concerned?” Laena asked lightly.
“Sorry?” Rhaenyra asked.
“The look on your face just now as you were staring at Daemon…” Laena explained.
“Had nothing to do with him, I assure you,” Rhaenyra said, flushing slightly. “I saw you two flying together earlier.”
“I think my dear dragon missed the old blood wyrm,” Laena chuckled.
“Well, she’ll see far more of him now,” Rhaenyra smiled.
“I never gave much thought to wedding a man, to be honest,” Laena said. “How could any man compare to flying through the skies without a care in the world? With Daemon being a dragonrider, though…”
“It makes him a touch more interesting?” Rhaenyra asked.
“More interesting than that Braavosi, for sure,” Laenor laughed.
“Yes, I heard that you were set to wed another man before, right?” Rhaenyra asked.
“The son of the old Sealord of Braavos,” Laena explained. “Uthero was...less suited to become my husband than my father initially believed. He tried for a decade to find a way to break the betrothal without making it seem like he was going back on his word. Then your uncle arrived, insulted Uthero until he challenged him to a duel and took his head with Dark Sister.”
“Sounds like the sort of solution Daemon would try,” Rhaenyra sighed.
“The man could have taken the hint and buggered off at any point in the last decade, but he had squandered what wealth he possessed and saw the Velaryon fortune as his last remaining opportunity to live in wealth and comfort,” Laenor said snidely.
“Ugh!” Daeron grunted as he fell on his helmeted face.
“Oh, even with a helmet on, that can’t be pleasant,” Laena winced.
Daemon eventually tired of sparing, and the four of them took to the skies together, delighting in the opportunity to fly freely with good company. It was freeing and fun, and before she knew it, Rhaenyra was enjoying herself in a way that she hadn’t done in ages. The four of them spent the afternoon finding various ways to amuse themselves and then settled in for the night’s feast. After dining on things like crab stew, roasted fish of all sorts, and lamprey pie, which remained a favorite of hers, while drinking more than she probably should have, her uncle decided to corner her.
“Alright, sweet niece, why don’t you tell your uncle why you really came to Driftmark?” Daemon asked her just outside the dining hall.
“Lord Corlys explained the canal proposal already, Daemon,” Rhaenyra replied, “and I’ve had too much to drink to go over it in detail tonight.”
“Such a light weight,” Daemon chuckled. “Since when do you worry yourself about matters like this? Financing what would be the largest infrastructure project since my grandfather’s roads is an odd choice of pastime for a girl whose greatest concern used to be finding just the right piece of jewelry to go with her specific dress.”
“That girl realized that she’s going to be queen someday,” Rhaenrya replied. “Otto might be out of favor for the moment, but so long as Alicent remains queen, his influence will remain as well, to an extent, and he will stop at nothing to put Aegon on the throne.”
“If he tries, he will die,” Daemon scoffed, “as will anyone who tries to help him. You’re a dragon, Rhaenyra; you don’t need to buy loyalty, nor can you generally do so.”
“I’m a woman, Daemon,” Rhaenyra countered. “Ask Princess Rhaenys how well being a female heir to the throne can work out.”
“Rhaenys’ case is a perfect example of how you can’t buy loyalty,” Daemon argued. “Corlys could have bought off half the lords at the council, but in the end, they favored your father by a significant margin, both because he’s a man...of sorts...and because he was our grandfather’s choice, not that he outright said so. You’re father elevated you over me, in defiance of Jaehaerys’ precedent, and has continued to elevate you over your half-brothers, in defiance of all precedent.”
“As long as he lives, my place as heir is secure,” Rhaenyra said, “but I won’t reign within his lifetime, and once he’s gone, I fear I’ll find that the given word of many of these lords will turn out not to be worth the air they used to give them. I need to undermine my opponents wherever I can, and that means striking at the power and influence of Oldtown. There was something I wanted to ask you about that, actually.”
“My my, how you’ve grown up,” Daemon chuckled, sounding impressed. “What is it?”
“You’ve had dealings with various Essosi magisters in the past,” Rhaenyra began. “I’ve heard tell that there are merchant princes in the east wealthier than the Lannisters and even Lord Corlys. Is this true?”
“I haven’t counted the coins and jewels of any of the ones I’ve dealt with, but there were a couple who I would estimate were comparably wealthy,” Daemon replied, furrowing his brow. “Why?”
“The canal isn’t the only project I want to commission,” Rhaenyra replied. “I’ve also been mulling over the idea of a massive sept in the capital.”
“A sept?” Daemon asked, looking revolted.
“Half of Alicent’s appeal is her apparent piety,” Rhaenyra said. “The Hightowers, as the lords of the city, which is the center of the Faith of the Seven, are heavily connected to it. If the new central sept was a massive, beautiful building right in the capital, known as the Sept of Rhaenyra, that advantage they have over me would disappear.”
“Rhaenyra, you don’t want to get involved with Essosi magisters,” Daemon said more seriously than she could ever recall him sounding. “Go to the Lannisters if you need gold.”
“The Lannisters are…” Rhaenyra went to say.
“Cunts, I know, but even the most irritating lion is a harmless little kitten next to the sort of vile filth that populates the laughably named Free Cities,” Daemon warned her again. “You don’t want to owe them anything, my niece.”
“I wouldn’t agree to any deal that would see me owe them the money back,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “I’m not a fool. My hope was to find out if there were any wealthy merchants desperate enough for some new market in the west to at least give me the gold I would need to get the sept’s construction started. At that point, it wouldn’t be difficult to find other lords willing to contribute without losing my central connection to the project.”
Daemon sighed and pinched the bridge of his long, straight nose before saying, “The kingdom of the three whores is out for obvious reasons, and Norvos, Qohor, and Volantis are too far away to recommend. That leaves Braavos and Pentos since I doubt the Lorathi could afford to build your sept out of straw, much less cover the cost of whatever extravagant monstrosity you have in mind.”
“You told me once that the Braavosi by and large don’t care for us because we’re Valyrians,” Rhaenyra said.
“That’s true,” Daemon nodded. “Most of my contacts are in Pentos anyway. I could arrange to introduce you to Prince Nevio and some of the magisters, but only if you promise me that you won’t agree to anything without my approval.”
“Daemon…” Rhaenyra went to argue.
“No, Rhaenyra,” Daemon scowled. “Viserys is going to be furious enough with me for wedding Laena without his approval. I don’t need him complaining to me about you signing some ill-thought-out agreement that the crown will end up needing to pay for.”
Rhaenyra scowled at his insinuation that she was stupid enough to sign such a deal, but bit back her retort.
“Very well, Uncle,” Rhaenyra sighed. “I won’t sign anything that you don’t look over. You are the one with experience dealing with these people, after all.”
“Good,” Daemon sighed. “To be clear, Rhaenyra, I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for in Essos.”
“Perhaps, but it’s worth trying,” Rhaenyra said. “When would we go?”
“I was planning on taking Laena to Pentos after the wedding,” Daemon replied, “to put some distance between your father and I when he finds out. You and Laenor could come along, I suppose. We could argue that you’re rather recently wed as well, and Laena has missed her brother.”
“We could bring a sizable retinue too,” Rhaenyra thought to herself with a grin as she thought of just who she’d like to include in that retinue.
“That would work,” she said.
“I’m so glad the plan meets your lofty approval,” Daemon snarked. “Again, you will want to temper your expectations, though.”
“You speak of these men like they’re not men at all,” Rhaenyra commented, furrowing her brow. “What sort of monsters did you meet in Essos?”
“Most men are cunts, my niece,” Daemon replied. “In my experience, the further east you go, the more cuntish they become.”
That certainly seemed to be true of the Dothraki, from what Maester Gerardys had been able to tell her. The idea of one of her descendants being sold to one of those horse-worshiping monsters by her own brother still made Rhaenyra’s blood boil.
“Let’s get back to the feast before they send a search party,” she said.
“This isn’t the Red Keep,” Daemon chuckled as they made their way to the dining hall. “Unlike Viserys, Corlys and my cousin have better things to do than worry about me constantly.”
“You might find that changes once you’ve wed their daughter,” Rhaenyra said.
“They needn’t worry,” Daemon muttered and she got the sense that Corlys and Rhaenys had both spoken to him at length about their concerns. “Laena isn’t Rhea. This is one wedding I won’t have to be fucking dragged to.”
Daemon had consistently looked happy when speaking with or about Laena and Rhaenyra found his peaceful visage almost jarring. For as long as she’d known him, her uncle had been restless and dissatisfied. For years she’d dreamed of him looking thus on her account, but that wasn’t going to happen and she had made her peace with that.
“I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone off to,” Laenor said as she reached him.
“You were?” Rhaenyra asked, genuinely surprised.
“Well, Laena was wondering about your uncle,” Laenor clarified.
“What do you think of them?” Rhaenyra asked quietly.
“He’s definitely her type,” Laenor replied just as quietly. “I know how poorly his previous marriage went, and under normal circumstances, I might be concerned, given his history, but he seems to be as genuinely fond of her as she seems to be of him. I also can’t see him risking angering Vhagar’s rider, either.”
Rhaenyra grimaced at his poor choice of words.
“Are you two staying here tonight?” Rhaenys asked.
“Actually, I think we should go back home,” Rhaenyra replied before Laenor could. “I have much to do tomorrow and would like to get started as early as I can.”
“If you’re sure,” Rhaenys sighed. “It was lovely seeing you again, Laenor.”
“I’m not all that far away, Mother,” Laenor smiled. “You could always come visit.”
“I should,” Rhaenys said. “Take care, you two.”
“Good night,” Rhaenyra replied, looking over to where Daemon and Corlys were having a rather spirited discussion of something.
She had already been looking forward to the upcoming weddin, and now had far more reason to.
*****
Jon removed the last of his clothes and climbed into bed for the night. Dragonstone was so much hotter than anything he’d experienced before that he had trouble sleeping if he wore anything at all to bed. The fact that he rarely slept alone didn’t help his temperature issues, but somehow, Rhaenyra’s heat didn’t bother him in the slightest. Just as his mind turned once more to his lover, he was startled by Syrax’s distinct shriek and rushed to his feet.
“I had begun to think that she wasn’t going to come back tonight,” he thought to himself.
He sat back down on the bed, thinking that if he didn’t hear from her in a few minutes, he’d turn in for the night as he’d intended to. All thought of that disappeared, however, as he heard her slam her door closed, only to rush through the secret passageway mere seconds later.
“Jon,” Rhaenyra breathed, her face flush and her hair slightly damp from what he assumed was a light rain she flew through.
“Nyra, you nearly slammed the door in my fa...oh,” Laenor cut himself as he took in the sight of Jon’s nude form. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
He closed the door, and Jon just shook his head as he looked back at Rhaenyra, who was gazing down at his cock with a look of pure desire.
“I take it the wine was flowing at Driftmark?” Jon asked, amused.
“Luckily, Syrax didn’t have any,” Rhaenyra giggled. “Help me out of this dress; it got slightly wet on the way here.”
“I doubt it’s alone there,” Jon thought to himself as his cock rapidly hardened at how she was behaving.
Rhaenyra was wearing a purple gown with a tight pink bodice cut to display much of her creamy breasts. Jon would have been happy to tease her by slowly helping her out of it, but she was clearly not in a mood for slow or gentle tonight, and he was perfectly okay with that. He made quick work of helping her out of her dress, groaning as it slipped beneath her heaving breasts, unveiling them for his eyes to feast on. He cupped the heavy mounds as she shimmied out of it and practically pealed her small clothes off of her cunt for reasons that he was sure had nothing to do with the rain.
“Hmm, is this all because you were thinking of me?” Jon whispered in her ear as he pushed two fingers inside her already wet cunt.
“Yes!” Rhaenyra gasped, leaning back against him and reaching back to wrap her hand around his cock. Turning around, she looked up at him and purred, “The feast was quite fun and the food delicious, but it just wasn’t the same without my favorite after-supper treat.”
Without another word, she sank down to her knees and gave his cock a long, slow lick from base to tip, making him shudder. Rhaenyra had become increasingly fond of sucking his cock, as she found the reactions she could get out of him too arousing for words. Her habit of keeping her hair in a single braid that she draped over her shoulder made it quite easy to get it out of the way, something that she never would have dreamed of when she first started trying to emulate Queen Visenya.
“Gods, you’ve gotten good at that,” Jon groaned.
“Considering how good you are licking my cunt, it’s only fair,” Rhaenyra purred before taking him back inside her hot little mouth.
Bobbing her head up and down, she took more and more of him with each pass until, finally, she swallowed him down into her throat, making him moan her name loudly. He would have expected her to gag, but she turned out to have no trouble taking his entire length, and soon enough, her delicate upturned nose was buried in his wiry hair.
“That feels fucking incredible,” Jon whispered, grabbing hold of her braid and looking down into her purple eyes. He let her go on for a while, sucking vigorously and moaning around his cock in a way that nearly made his eyes cross, until finally he knew he couldn’t hold on much longer and said, “I’m getting close.”
Rhaenyra pulled back until just the head of his cock remained in her mouth and stroked him quickly until, with a grunt, he came hard. She had learned from the first time that she had tried this in many ways, among them being how to time her swallows with his spurts. Unlike the first time, she didn’t spill a drop, and as his orgasm ended, she let him slip with her lips with a playful kiss and went over to the table in the corner to pour herself a cup of water while he sat down on the bed.
“Mmm, it might not taste like honey, but I enjoy it all the same,” she grinned at him.
“What did I do to deserve you?” Jon asked rhetorically.
“Much and more,” Rhaenyra said softly as she climbed into his lap.
She kissed him and returned it eagerly, his hunger for her all-consuming. Reaching up to cup her breasts, he kneaded the large, full mounds, making her moan into his mouth.
“How did it go, anyway?” Jon asked.
“About as well as I could have hoped,” Rhaenyra replied, raking her nails through his hair. “Lord Corlys is wary about but not necessarily opposed to the idea. Do you really want to talk about him right now, though?
Rolling her onto her back, Jon grinned and said, “I guess not.”
“You guess?” Rhaenyra pouted.
“I do have better things to do, after all,” Jon smirked, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
Rhaenyra moaned as he planted hot kisses along the slender column and gasped as he nibbled on her earlobe. She was so wet that he could smell her arousal and knew that the last thing she wanted in that moment was for him to take his time. Moving lower, he cupped her breasts again and wrapped his lips around one of her pebbled pink nipples, grinning as she moaned and grabbed his head. Every inch of her delighted him utterly, and part of him still couldn’t believe that she had chosen to climb into his bed.
“Lower, please!” Rhaenyra begged as he switched to her other nipple.
“Tell me what you want, Princess,” Jon rumbled.
“I want that handsome face of yours between my thighs,” Rhaenyra said imperiously. “I want to cum on your skilled tongue, Jon.”
“Your wish is my command,” Jon grinned, kissing a trail down her soft, flat belly towards her dripping sex.
The sparse silver curls atop her sex were already damp, and as he parted them, he saw just how slick her beautiful cunt was. He gave her a long lick, making her cry out, and squueze her thighs around his head. He laughed and grabbed onto her thighs as he began to devour her.
“Oh gods!” Rhaenyra cried, grabbing his head with both hands as he lapped at her heated flesh. “This was all I could think about as I flew back home.”
“All?” Jon asked, cocking an eyebrow at her before returning to driving her mad with pleasure.
“Your...gah, fuck!...cock too,” Rhaenyra cried as he swirled his tongue around her throbbing clit.
Jon laughed and pushed two fingers inside her incredibly hot, wet tunnel, curling them upward as he sought out a rough patch that he had stumbled across by accident and which she adored having stroked.
“Right there!” Rhaenyra cried as he found it, and he grinned.
Wrapping his lips around her engorged little pearl, he sucked on it while pumping his fingers in and out of her cunt, swiping them over that little spot again and again. Rhaenyra clawed at the bedding on either side of her as she soared towards her peak, moaning and crying out in pleasure.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t you dare STOP!” she shrieked as she came, her back arching off the bed as she gushed all over his face.
Jon pulled back and licked his lips as she writhed in ecstasy, his eyes locked onto her jiggling breasts. Her clit was always too sensitive right after she came to keep touching, but he could draw out her pleasure further in other ways. Continuing to rub that spot inside her, he leaned in and kissed her softly as her orgasm slowly ended. It was a hilariously chaste kiss, given the circumstances, and she giggled as he pulled back.
“I don’t think...I’ll ever tire of...that,” Rhaenyra panted.
“Neither will I,” Jon smiled, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face. “I could sup from your cunt forever.”
“I think your jaw...would tire eventually,” Rhaenyra laughed. Reaching down, she grabbed his cock, already fully hard again, and whispered, “Fuck me, Jon.”
She was beautiful, her body utterly glorious, and as Jon lined himself up with her dripping wet cunt, he took a moment just to look down at her. Her pendulous breasts pooled only slightly toward her arm, as wonderfully full and supple as they were. Her skin was flawless from head to toe, with not so much as a freckle breaking up the expanse of porcelain perfection, though a gorgeous flush still covered her face, neck, and chest patchily. He smiled down at her, feeling his heart soar at the raw affection in her purple eyes, and he pushed forward.
“Gods, Jon,” Rhaenyra gasped as her slick tunnel was stretched obscenely by his thick length.
They had spent many nights together now, and her cunt opened for him more easily than it had the first time. That didn’t make it any less snug a fit, though, nor did it mean that the immense stretch didn’t still burn at first each time. He leaned in to kiss her passionately until her breasts were pressed tightly against his chest, and she wrapped her arms around him. Pulling most of his length from her molten depths, he thrust back inside hard, establishing the sort of pace he knew she wanted from the start.
“Jon!” Rhaenyra moaned as he bottomed out inside her again, throwing her head back into the pillows.
She rolled her hips up against him, matching his rhythm perfectly as he fucked her hard and fast. One might have expected Rhaenyra, being a pampered princess, to be rather still and lifeless in bed, taking what he deigned to give her without any effort on her part, but she was anything but still. His gorgeous princess was almost insatiable, and she craved him every bit as much as he craved her.
“More, more!” Rhaenrya cried. “Fuck me all night long!”
“Until the sun rises, if you’ll have me,” Jon grunted, pulling her braid undone so he could bury his face in her hair and inhale her scent.
The two of them rocked together wildly, and the sounds of the bed creaking and her wet, creamy cunt squelching filled the room, drowned out only by her moans, cries, and screams of pleasure. He couldn’t say for sure that Rhaegar Targaryen was his father, as she theorized, and had yet to truly come to terms with the possibility either way, but one thing he could say was that if he was, he did not pass down his apparent musical abilities. Jon had never taken to any instrument particularly well, but as he fucked Rhaenyra, he grinned at the thought that perhaps he had.
The sounds coming out of her mouth, the breathless gasps, strangled moans, sharp cries, and ecstastic screams, were sweeter than any music he’d ever heard. This Valyrian goddess beneath him was his instrument, and he was fast becoming a master of playing her curvaceous body. As the head of his cock drove deep inside one of the sensitive little spaces near her womb, she let out a particularly musical squeal.
“Right there!” Rhaenyra screamed. “More, more, more, GODS!”
“Fuck!” Jon grunted as her already tight tunnel spasmed around his pistoning cock.
He continued fucking her through her orgasm, having developed enough stamina at that point to last a while longer, and pushed himself up enough to be able to lean down and capture one of her nipples between his lips, grazing it lightly with his teeth. Rhaenyra cried out and collapsed back, staring up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes.
“I’d say you enjoyed that,” Jon chuckled, changing the angle of his thrusts enough to be able to brush past another sensitive spot inside her.
“Ro...roll over,” Rhaenyra panted. “Want to...ride you.”
“If you’re sure,” Jon shrugged, rolling onto his back.
She went with him, resting her head on his chest for a moment and giving him a chance to smooth out her long silver-gold hair. After taking a moment to rest, she pushed herself up, only to collapse back onto his chest.
“Riding would be easier...if I could feel my legs,” Rhaenyra panted, and he laughed.
“Perhaps later,” Jon said. “In the meantime, if you’re that numb, I could fuck you on your belly, unless you need a break.”
“I’ve made it perfectly clear that I never want you to stop until you’ve cum, Jon,” Rhaenyra grinned, dragging herself off of his cock with a whimper and crawling on shaky legs until she had her face buried in one of the pillows. Turning to look at him, she said, “Spill your seed deep inside me, Jon. Put a babe in my belly.”
“If I haven’t by now, it means I can’t,” Jon thought to himself.
He knew from the history books that she was exceedingly fertile, and he had been fucking her for a couple weeks at this point. She had yet to have her blood, though, so he had no reason to think that there might be anything wrong with him just yet. Parting her thick thighs, he brought his cock to her gaping cunt and buried himself to the hilt in one thrust.
“Fuck!” Rhaenyra cried, pounding her fist down on the bed. “Gods, you feel so bloody good!”
“So do you,” Jon groaned in her ear as he started fucking her again. “I swear the gods gifted you the perfect cunt.”
“Then they...gah...gave you the perfect cock,” Rhaenyra squeaked as he brushed against one of her most sensitive spots. “Give me every inch of it again and again until I pass out. I want to limp so badly come the morrow that you have to carry me to my throne.”
“Some people might talk if we do that,” Jon chuckled.
“It could be your official position here,” Rhaenyra laughed. “My royal steed. You certainly have the cock for it.”
Jon laughed at that and gently grabbed her throat, pulling her back so he could kiss her as he continued to fuck her into the bed. He loved how carefree she could be in moments like this, when she could focus on simple pleasure and ignore her many troubles. Her relaxation was infectious, and he found that he could also just focus on her and forget everything else when they were together.
“Jon,” she whimpered, staring into his eyes.
Jon held her gaze, seeing something in her eyes that he didn’t recognize and yet made him feel better than he ever had before in his life. He changed the angle of his thrusts again, fucking her in a way that let him brush against the spot he could reach with his fingers and glide right into the other sensitive spot at the very back of her cunt. Rhaenrya’s moans turned to screams as he pounded her in that position.
“Harder, faster, breed me!” she screamed so loudly that it hurt his ears.
His hips became a blur, his thrusts bruising as he fucked her even harder. Gods, she was loud, and he thought it was hilarious that they didn’t realize that first night that her screams would echo through the castle. Thankfully, Laenor assured them that exactly what she screamed wasn’t clear, even just two rooms away fom them, where he was, so even if she screamed his name, something she generally avoided for obvious reasons, it probably wouldn’t get out.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh FUCK!” Rhaenyra shrieked as she came hard, convulsing under him and clawing at the bedding as pleasure beyond anything she ever imagined before she met him thundered through her entire body.
Jon, who had been holding on by a thread for over a minute at that point, couldn’t take her already tight cunt squeezing and milking his cock again and let go with a roar, painting her inner walls white with his seed. Collapsing forward as he panted for breath, Jon caught himself on his forearms to avoid smothering her and buried his face in her hair. The two of them lay there in silence for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow and each other’s comforting presence.
“Lv...oo,” Rhaenyra whimpered into her pillow, so faintly that he couldn’t make out what she said.
“What?” Jon asked, pulling his soft length from her cunt.
“I...” Rhaenyra went to repeat, turning around and looking at him with misty eyes. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and said, “I’ve felt lost for so long, Jon, like I couldn’t truly rely on anyone or anything in my life other than Syrax. Being with you these past few weeks has made me feel better than I have in so long. All through today at driftmark, my mind returned to you again and again, I…”
“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” Jon whispered, not trusting his voice. “I miss you when we’ve spent mere hours apart and you’re on my mind constantly. Today, while I was with Morghul…”
“Wait, what?” Rhaenyra asked, her weeping eyes narrowing.
“I just went for a visit,” Jon replied. “I’ll explain later. I convinced myself from a young age that the Wall was the only path for me. I never let myself think of having a wife or what that would mean, and I know terribly little of such things. I know that we can’t be together...in that way, but just having what we’ve had these past weeks has made me happier than I ever imagined being.”
“Oh, Jon!” Rhaenyra cried, kissing him deeply.
Her body pressed against his tightly, and his cock rehardened almost instantly. As she parted her legs for him, he slipped inside her, and the two of them rocked together gently, their lips rarely parting for more than a moment over the next half hour as they expressed all of their growing, confusing feelings more succinctly than either could manage in words. When they finally passed out that night, it was wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.
*****
“Be careful with that!” Methero hissed as one of his slaves stumbled while carrying the massive chest full of scrolls.
“This one apologizes, Master,” the slave said as he set the chest down next to the others.
“Return to your duties,” Methero said dismissively as he looked through the treasure he had been seeking for years.
Valyrian scrolls, thousands of them by the look of things, on every topic imaginable from what he had managed to peruse so far. It was the greatest collection of knowledge from the Freehold in existence, far beyond the black library in Volantis. He had come across a couple texts on magic so far, a taste of the power he so desperately sought, but it was enough to convince him that he had been correct in his assumption about the kind of knowledge that he’d be able to find in Mataeryon’s library.
“The men say that the next crate or two should be the last, Master,” Toro said as he approached.
“Good,” Methero grinned, gazing down at his haul covetously. “They’ve found no other chambers?”
“I checked myself, Master,” Toro replied. “Unless there are chambers hidden by magical means, we’ve found the last.”
“Were there any other losses?” Methero asked.
“Not for days, Master,” Toro replied. “It seems you were correct about the problem being stale air rather than a curse.”
That was something that he should have anticipated, not that he would admit such failure aloud. He had heard before of long sealed tombs causing death to the first people to venture down into them in centuries, but in his haste, he sent his slaves to investigate the first chamber they unearthed immediately and lost a few in the process. He narrowly avoided disaster since, if he had lost enough to need to go procure more, he would have needed to have his men rebury it before they went, lest someone else come upon his discovery. The mere thought of losing this place after spending so much time searching for it was enough for him to pull out the last of his hair.
“Master,” one of the slaves said as they rushed over to him, “this is the last of them.”
He pointed to a pair of slaves who were carrying a chest, followed by the rest of them, it would seem.
“You’re certain?” Methero asked, his eyes narrowing.
“This one swears,” the slave replied. “We checked many times to be sure.”
“Alright,” Methero smiled as the final chest was laid down. “Toro, tell the men to prepare for our departure. I want those chests on my ship as soon as...Toro?”
He looked over to his most faithful and capable slave, who looked like he was listening intently to something.
“Toro!” Methero snapped.
“A thousand apologies, Master, but I thought I heard galloping,” Toro said.
“Galloping?” Methero asked, a chill going down his spine at the thought of what could mean. “Everyone be silent!”
He closed his eyes and listened, hoping against hope that Toro was just hearing things. His own ears weren’t what they used to be, but as he listened for any sound at all, it eventually reached him. In the distance, there was the distinct sound of a multitude of hooves hitting the ground, as though thousands of horses were charging in one direction.
“Oh gods, no,” he thought to himself.
Comments
Erinnyes
Great chapter
GrouchyGritic
I love them😭
Sparda
They're both so infatuated with each other I want them to stay that way for as long as they live
TheWateringWizard
Jon and Rhae are so sweet together, I love it! I’m really looking forward to Jon fighting against Daemon, it would most likely be an interesting fight.
