Daemon let out a gentle, contented sigh as he slowly woke up. The gentle rocking of the ship became more and more obvious as sleep left him, as did the quiet snores of the beautiful woman in his arms. He buried his face in her thick, inky black curls and breathed deeply of her comforting scent, his lips tugging upward into a smile. He pressed his lips to her scalp and gently freed his arm from its heavenly prison, where she held it between her full, perfect breasts. As much as he would have liked to stay where he was, he needed to piss desperately.
Getting out of bed carefully so as not to wake his lovely wife, he thought of Old Nan and his aunt's septa in a desperate attempt to wilt his cock enough to take care of his morning business while he retrieved the chamber pot. He sighed in relief as he emptied his bladder and then resealed the pot and stuffed it back away.
"Daemon," Arianne cooed softly.
He turned to see that his wife hadn't woken but was just talking in her sleep, as she did occasionally. He felt his cock harden again when he saw how she was lying, having turned onto her back, unwittingly displaying her tits fully. He owed his father for arranging his marriage to her, that he could not deny.
"Arianne?" he whispered, knowing he was unlikely to get a response. When his deep sleeper of a wife said nothing in reply, he kissed her cheek and grinned. The light of dawn was streaming in through the porthole in their cabin, and he knew she wouldn't mind him waking her, depending on how he did so. Luckily for him, he knew exactly how she preferred to be woken.
Daemon trailed kisses down the slender column of her neck and around her shoulder. Her breath had hitched when he kissed her pulse point, and it did again when he placed gentle kisses on her hardening nipples, but she appeared no closer to escaping sleep's deep embrace than before. He continued downward, along the flat expanse of her stomach, and couldn't help but snort at the memory it still didn't fail to elicit.
To say that Maester Caleotte had been confused by how certain the young couple had been about Arianne's apparent pregnancy would be an understatement, and when her blood had come not a full day after they spoke to him, they had both been embarrassed. Though Arianne had walked away from believing she had been pregnant feeling better about the idea, she had started taking moon tea again, arguing that they could wait a year or two to start having children, and he hadn't disagreed. A couple months later, he was glad that she had as well. He wouldn't have been comfortable taking a trip, even to a place as relatively safe as Braavos, with his wife if there was any chance she was pregnant.
He reached the thick black curls of her womanhood and let out a shuddering breath at the scent of her arousal. He might not have woken her up yet, but he had clearly gotten her wet, though given that she had said his name in her sleep, the gods alone knew what sinful dreams his horny little minx was having. With great reluctance, he skipped over her cunt and started kissing his way down her right leg. His fingers grasped her thick thigh gently, not wanting that particular touch to be what woke her. He continued lower, his lips trailing across her inner calf and ankle. When he reached her foot, he picked it up in his hands, fulling intending to kiss the top of it before switching to the other one and moving back up towards her sex.
Two things happened in quick succession just then. A horn sounded, one louder than any he had ever heard, and as the sound bellowed through the air, Arianne woke up, screamed, and kicked him in the face.
"Gah!" he grunted, falling backwards and landing square on his ass.
"What in the seven he...oh gods!" Arianne cried, her hands going to cover her mouth as mortification over what she had done set in. "Daemon, I'm so sorry!"
Daemon sat on the floor of his ship cabin, naked as the day he was born, his cock still saluting the room at full mast, and was about to reply when he heard the scrambling sound of someone clearly running outside his door.
"My Prince, I'm sorry," Edric said, from the other side of the door, sounding out of breath. "Areo sent me to tell you we had spotted the Titan, but I didn't think we were that close."
Daemon glared at the closed door his squire was standing behind. The look on his face promised a particularly grueling week of duties for his squire.
"Welcome to the Sealord's Palace," a rather slight, not particularly tall man said in accented common. "I am First Sword Qarro Volentin, chief of the palace guard."
Daemon would have been impressed by the beautiful grounds of the Sealord's palace and the Moon Pool they had just passed, or the towers and domes of the palace itself, or even the simple fact that a city this size didn't smell like King's Landing, if he wasn't still deeply irritated by how his morning had gone.
"Well met, Ser," he replied. "I am Prince Daemon Targaryen, and this ravishing creature is my wife, Princess Arianne Martell."
Arianne winced as she looked at the growing bruise on his cheek, something she hadn't managed to keep herself from doing once since she kicked him, but she greeted the First Sword without wavering, saying, "good morrow. May I just say that your city is beautiful and this palace is resplendent. I wish I had seen it all sooner."
"You are most kind, Princess," Qarro said with a warm smile. "Alas, I must extend the most sincere apologies of His Eminence. Sealord Ferrego has been quite ill these last days and is not yet able to greet you in person."
"I hope it is nothing serious," Arianne said.
"A sweating sickness that spread through the palace," Qarro said dismissively. "His Eminence held strong as servants and members of his family came down with it, and it appeared that he might not catch it all, but he ended up being one of the last two. He should be perfectly well again in a couple days."
"Well, we shall pray for his good health to return," Daemon said. "I'm not sure if he told you why we are here."
"He did," Qarro replied. "You are hoping to meet with Termo Bakayn. Unfortunately, there is a problem with that."
Daemon fought the urge to groan. "He's the other one you mentioned, isn't he? The second one who caught that sickness last"
"Most perceptive, your Grace," Qarro replied. "His Eminence has extended his hospitality for as long as it takes for your business with Termo Bakayn to finish. His recovery will likely also take another day or two."
Daemon felt his left eye twitch, which in turn made the mild soreness in his left cheek flare.
"This sweating sickness has passed, right?" she asked.
"Yes, Princess," Qarro replied. "The only two people still sick with it are cloistered in their chambers, well away from the guest wing."
"Well, in that case, we shall take the Sealord up on his generous offer," she said, smiling brightly.
"Very well," Qarro said. "I had already instructed the servants to set up a suite of rooms in the guest wing, but your party is somewhat larger than I thought, so if you will excuse me, I will inform them of the changes."
"If you would tell them to set up a bath in our chambers, we would appreciate it," she said.
"Of course, Prince," Qarro said before departing.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Daemon turned to Arianne.
"It seems strange to send your captain of the guards to greet guests," he murmured softly.
"The First Sword is more than that," Arianne replied; "he is the Sealord's personal bodyguard and, in many respects, an extension of his will. It would not be so different than my father sending my uncle to greet someone in his place."
"He's not his brother, but then, I suppose that family doesn't mean quite the same thing here that it does in the noble halls of Westeros," Daemon commented. "It seems to work for them, but I really can't fathom having the nobles pick a new king every time one dies."
"We've had great councils," Arianne argued.
"And they both made stellar choices," he snorted. "Actually, come to think of it, both times they picked kings whose reigns weren't bad, but who couldn't control their families worth a damn."
"You're forgetting the council after the Dance, though that one didn't end so well either," Arianne admitted.
The two walked in silence from there, trailed closely by Areo Hotah and followed by the rest of their various servants and guards.
"I really am sorry," Arianne murmured as she rested back against his chest in the tub.
"It's fine, really," Daemon replied, sounding just as relaxed and casually massaging her breasts. "I've had worse injuries just from sparring, much less actually fighting."
"It has turned rather dark," Arianne said.
"It'll be yellow before long and gone entirely soon after that," Daemon said dismissively. "It was a glancing blow,1 really. I'm just glad you missed my nose."
"I just feel so bad for marring this handsome face," she said, reaching behind to cup his right cheek. "I'm glad it won't scar."
"That would be tragic," Daemon snorted, "a scar I couldn't ever tell the tale of."
"You wouldn't want to tell the other warriors about the time your wife accidentally kicked you in the face," Arianne giggled.
"I'm never telling another living soul that I was knocked on my ass by my generally harmless, five-foot-nothing wife," Daemon said, "and I would ask you not to either. I'd never hear the end of it from Obara."
"She would have been there too if she and Nymeria hadn't gone to keep Tyene company," Arianne pointed out.
Tyene's mother had fallen and broken her leg, and Tyene had gone to visit and check up on her at her Motherhouse. Her sisters had gone with her.
"I'll keep your secret, my love," Arianne said. "It's the least I can do."
"Thank you," he said, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tighter in the still-warm water.
"Actually," she said, leaning her head back on his shoulder, "I think I should make it up to you."
He walked his fingers down towards her sex and buried them in her soaking wet curls. "What do you have in mind?"
"I want you to fuck my ass," she whispered.
His cock was hard as steel in seconds. It had been months since she had first watched him fuck Nymeria in the ass, and though she had seemed confident in the moment about letting him do the same to her, she hadn't brought it up, not even when he had repeated that performance in front of her. In her defense, neither of the other Sand Snakes had been willing to test out that particular thrill either.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I've wanted to for a while," she replied. "Why not use the first time as an apology?"
"The others' reactions will be fun," he said.
Arianne giggled. "Tyene will call me mad, and Obara will be angry that I found my nerve before her."
"Come," she said, standing up and walking out of the tub. Her large, round arse swayed as she walked to pick up one of the towels the servants had left for them, and when she bent over to pick one up, Daemon groaned at the sight. He had wanted to fuck her arse since he first saw it. She laughed at his reaction and threw another towel at him as he stood up.
"We will need some sort of oil," he pointed out.
"The servants left a bottle of some sort of scented oil for the bath when they thought it was just mine," Arianne said, picking up the bottle. She removed the stopper and smelled the oil before adding, "it's rose oil."
Daemon brought his hands to her hips and kissed her neck, saying, "So you're saying when I fuck your little arsehole, I'll leave it smelling like flowers too?"
He sank his teeth lightly into her pulse point as he said that, making her moan.
"Such a crude brute you are," she said with a shudder, and then yelped as he brought his hand down to smack her gorgeous ass.
"And you fucking love me for it," he said. "Now get on your hands and knees on the bed."
"Yes, Daemon," she whimpered.
He watched her arse sway as she ran to the bed and grinned. Arianne was every inch a princess out in the world, confident and demanding in a way only someone born into power could be. When they were alone, or at least in their bedchambers, though, she transformed into such a submissive little thing, especially once he got her hot and wet.
As he walked over to her, she was practically shaking, and he knew her well enough to know it was out of need, not fear. The idea of him fucking her up the arse clearly excited her more than he knew. Her cunt was dripping wet, and he was struck with the sudden desire to bury his face between her legs and spend as much time there as he had hoped to that morning. Thinking of devouring her cunt, though, gave him a different idea, something that he had wanted to try before but had never found the right moment for.
"Ah fuck!" she cried out when he started licking her cunt from behind. "Fuck Daemon, that's it."
He specifically stayed away from her clit, working his way up towards her hole. He dipped his tongue in there for a moment, gathering some of her wetness, and then skipped up to her puckered arsehole.
Arianne squeaked; there was no other word for the sound that she made as he flicked his tongue over her.
"Daemon!" she exclaimed, sounding scandalized, for the first time since he met her.
"Yes, my love?" he asked.
"That's dirty," she said, sounding like she had struggled to find even those words.
"No, it's not," he countered. "I just washed it."
"I...ugh," she trailed off to groan as he swirled his tongue around her wrinkled hole. "Why does that feel so good?"
He continued to eat her arse, experimentally licking in various directions but mostly sticking to tight little circles. His touch was light, almost teasing, and before long Arianne was moaning almost continuously.
"Spread your arsecheeks for me," he said commandingly.
"Wha...waht?" she asked.
"Reach behind yourself and hold your arsecheeks apart for me," he repeated.
"But that would…" she trailed off.
"Require, you to bury your face in the pillows, yes," he finished.
She just let out a shuddering breath as she complied, her face going redder than he could remember ever seeing it. Arianne was harder to make blush than the women Daemon had had back in the North, and not just because they had been so much paler. She was usually completely shameless, and Daemon was relishing the rare opportunity to make her seem meek and innocent. She did as he told her after a moment, resting her head on its side on the pillow and holding her full, round arse spread for him.
Daemon buried his face back in her arse, licking harder than he had before, and while he did that, he buried two fingers inside her overflowing cunt.
"Oh fuck!" she cried at the sudden stimulation. From the sounds she had been making, she had clearly enjoyed getting her arsehole licked, but she also didn't seem to be able to cum from it. He curled his fingers downward, pressing them into a spot that he knew she adored.
"Oh gods, that's it," she moaned.
"You're saying that you're enjoying it?" he asked teasingly.
"Yes!" she cried, wiggling her arse in his face, "don't stop, please don't stop!"
He went back to licking her arse and fingering her cunt, delighting in the increasingly desperate sounds she was making.
"I'm close, so close," she babbled, "just a little...gah fuck...a little more!"
Daemon wet the thumb of her other hand in her slick and brought it to the throbbing little nub that he knew would finish her. Rubbing it, stroking the rough little patch inside her, and licking her arse at once, it was mere seconds before she came undone.
"DAEMON!" she screamed, thrashing under him as her orgasm hit her like wildfire. It was the hardest he had ever seen her cum without him inside her, and he had to remove his hand from her clit to hold her steady as she writhed and shrieked. As a gush of fluid from her cunt soaked his neck and chest, he just knew he was going to do this again. Finally, she collapsed, and he eased off.
As she recovered, he went over to the jug of wine the servants had left out for them and poured himself a glass. Her arsehole hadn't tasted bad; being clean, it hadn't really tasted of anything other than skin, but he still felt the need to drink something after that.
"I could use some of that," he heard her say behind him. He turned around to see that she was lying on her side, staring at him, and still breathing heavily. He took a mouthful and brought the cup to her, giving her the rest.
"I hope you don't want me to do that to you," she said once she'd emptied the cup. "There are many things I'm willing to do in bed, but that isn't one of them."
He just shrugged and replied, "I wouldn't ask it of you. I am rather hairier after all."
Arianne relaxed at that and settled into the clearly comfortable bed. "That was strange, very good, but strange. I'm honestly glad you did that, because it's made me feel more comfortable about the next part."
"Nymeria has insisted that you'd like it," Daemon said.
"She's insisted that you would too," Arianne retorted, and before he could say anything else, she turned around and got back on her hands and knees.
"You should probably go back to arching your back up like before," he suggested. "It'll probably make things easier.
Arianne slowly lowered herself until she was resting her head on her arms, moving too slowly to be natural. Daemon felt his already throbbing cock twitch at the sight of her arse in the air and her face on the bed. There was something so unmistakably primal about the position. He grabbed the bottle of rose oil and carefully poured a tiny bit on her still-wet arsehole. Her breath hitched at the sensation.
Daemon rubbed a gentle little circle around her puckered hole with one finger, just like he had done with his tongue, slowly getting it coated in the oil as well. Once he felt that the tip was sufficiently oiled, he pushed in gently, just to the first knuckle.
"Oh," she gasped, "oh, that's different."
He pulled his finger out and poured a little of the oil into his other hand to help him properly lubricate the digit. Once it and the ring finger were both completely coated, he returned to her arsehole and slowly pushed the finger inside.
"Ah, slow!" she cried.
He knew that going slow was going to be his only option. Her arse was as tight as a clenched fist. He knew from prior experience that it would be possible to stretch her enough to accommodate his cock, but this being her first time, it was going to be an even slower process than normal. That thought then made him realize something that he hadn't until then.
"You're a maid back here," he said.
"That's right!" Arianne exclaimed, "you can claim my maidenhead. It's yours, husband; you're the only one I ever would have trusted enough to give it to."
Daemon couldn't get the smile off his face as he slowly worked his finger in and out of her tight arsehole. He hadn't minded that Arianne wasn't a maiden when they wed. Thanks to the size of his cock, the few times he had taken a woman's maidenhead, it hadn't been the greatest experience. Beyond that, he knew that the furthest depths of his wife's cunt were places only he had ever touched, and she had made it very clear that he had long since eclipsed her prior lovers. That said, he couldn't deny that the idea of being the first and only man to claim her arse greatly appealed to him.
When he felt that she had relaxed enough, he added his second finger and poured more oil into the hole.
"Fuck, I'm actually starting to like that," she grunted, already grasping the headboard in front of her.
He pulled his fingers out and used the oil in her arsehole to coat his ring finger before pushing all three inside carefully. Arianne's grunts and moans grew louder, but she did not complain or even ask him to slow down. Once she was able to take three of his thick fingers together, he figured that his cock would be a simple enough step up from there. He wasn't about to try fisting her arsehole; not even Nymeria was mad enough to try that.
He pulled his fingers out and poured a good amount of oil into his other hand to start coating his cock, trying to get it as oiled as possible. Once every bit of it was covered in the rose-scented oil, he brought the tip to her still-widened hole and pushed forward. Even with how he had stretched her out, it was still no small feat to push something as thick as his cock inside her arse. It took a couple attempts, but eventually, the head of his cock popped past the tight ring.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah," she stammered.
"Are you okay?" he asked through gritted teeth. The heat of her arse was sweltering.
"Holy fuck, you're big!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Just stay there, okay?"
"Alright," he replied. There were maybe two inches of his cock inside her, and even just that felt heavenly. "Try to relax, Ari."
"You say that like it's easy," she whined. "Seven hells, you've never felt bigger."
Slowly, her trembling stopped, and she felt ever so slightly less vice-tight around him. She looked behind her at him, and he saw the desire and love in her eyes.
"Just a little more," she said.
He pushed forward again, sinking another inch or so of his cock inside her, and she moaned, "more."
Arianne was relaxed enough that he could start to fuck her. He still had more than half his cock left to bury inside her, but her arse had stretched enough that he was confident he could manage it without hurting her. He pushed further, slowly burying himself bit by bit inside the molten furnace of her tightest hole. She was gripping the bedpost so hard that her knuckles had gone white, and he would have been worried that she was in pain if not for the breathy moans and gasps she was letting out almost constantly. When he only had a couple more inches to go, he pulled back a ways and plunged to the hilt, drawing a long, pleased moan from his wife.
"Swear...you're part...horse," she stammered, her body shaking from the exertion. "How...do you like...being in my ass?"
"It's fucking incredible," he replied through gritted teeth. "I love you."
"I love you too," she said. "Now make sure I can't sit straight for a week."
He laughed and pulled half of his cock out of her before slamming back as hard as he dared. She grunted and moaned, but didn't seem to be in pain, so he continued, building up to a steady rhythm. He tried thrusting at slightly different angles, seeing if anything made much of a difference. After one particular thrust made Arianne shriek, he stopped moving at all.
"Ari?" he asked.
"Oh fuck," she moaned, "no wonder Nym loves this so much. You know that spot deep in my cunt you can hit when I'm on my back?"
"Yes," he replied.
"It felt like you just hit it," she said.
"Oh," he thought to himself. That actually explained a lot. Fucking Nymeria in the arse never failed to leave the pale brunette a babbling, insensate wreck, and she had said repeatedly that it was better with him than she had ever experienced before. If he was hitting that same sensitive spot from the other side, then it was his size that helped.
"You've taken me so well," he said. "You're so fucking perfect for me."
"The gods made me for you," she cried, "you and your perfect cock. Now fuck me, Daemon!"
Her urging was all he needed to start truly pounding her arse. His finger dug into her fleshy cheeks hard enough to leave bruises, and soon the room was filled with the sound of his hips hitting her rippling arse and her screams of pleasure. He knew that even he wouldn't last long in her almost painfully tight hole, but knowing that he could hit that sweet spot she loved even there, he also knew he'd have no trouble making her cum first.
"So fucking good!" she sobbed in pleasure. "It feels like you're in my stomach!"
As he fucked her harder and faster, his heavy balls started to slap against her soaking wet cunt. Her arsehole started to flutter around him, and he knew she was getting close.
"You're dripping," he groaned, "practically soaking the bedding. You're loving this, aren't you?"
"Y...yes!" Arianne cried. "You're amazing! I love your cock!"
"Say that louder!" he growled. "Let the whole city hear you!"
"I love your giant cock!" she screamed. His balls happened to hit her throbbing clit just as she finished, and she came hard, absolutely shrieking. Her arsehole was almost painfully tight to begin with, but as she came, it became too much for Daemon, who let go with a roar, painting her bowels white with his thick seed.
Daemon collapsed on top of her, pushing her down into the mattress. Their chests heaved in unison as they came down from their maddening peaks. His own orgasm had been so hard that he felt his cock wilting inside her faster than normal and managed to pull out and roll over before long. He stared at the canopy of the bed they'd been given, his mind still dazed.
"Love you," he mumbled, and he heard her moan something in return that was likely the same words.
When he had recovered, he got up and went over to the tub to clean his cock and hands in the cooling bath water. It was better than nothing, and the soap in the Sealord's Palace was more than adequate. By the time he had finished and turned back around, Arianne was lying on her back and had caught her breath, if the slow, even rise and fall of her chest was any indication.
"Since we have nothing better to do, we should explore the city," she said, adding, "once I can feel my legs again, that is."
Daemon laid down next to her and put his arm around her when she turned to rest her head on his chest. Burying his head in her hair, he breathed deeply of her scent. He always loved how she smelled after he'd had her.
"I take it you enjoyed that as much as I did," he said.
"Enjoy is putting it mildly," she said. "We are definitely doing it again, and can't wait to tell Nymeria. Of course, you know that as soon as Obara hears about this, she'll likely outright demand that you fuck her gorgeous ass too, and once all three of us are your eager anal whores, Tyene won't be hard to convince as well."
He felt his cock harden at the image and groaned. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"What none of your ancestors had ever been willing to do," Arianne replied, "deal with Westeros' pirate problem, and not the one your namesake tried to deal with."
"I suppose I do owe the Ironborn," he laughed.
"You wouldn't be here without them," she said, "twice over, actually."
Her words reminded him of why they were in Braavos in the first place.
"What in the world?" Arianne asked, unable to believe what she was seeing as an entire fleet of ships had been docked in Sunspear's harbor.
"The king gave you the entire fucking fleet?" Obara asked, equally flummoxed.
"That is correct," Ser Lewyn Martell replied, his white cloak practically shining in the Dornish sun. "His Grace had determined that, as the conquest was yours, regardless of how he feels about the matter, the lion's share of the treasure should go to you."
"Meaning the entire IronFleet?" Daemon asked. Even after reading his father's letter, he still barely believed what he was seeing.
"As well as a great deal of the actual treasure," Lewyn replied. "A portion of the valuables were given to House Mormont, and the Royal Treasury gained a portion as well, but most of it is kept on the ships here. The most valuable chests are on the ship called The Silence, docked over there."
He pointed to one particular Galley, the only one that had been given sails in the colors of House Targaryen instead of the Martell colors that the rest of them had.
"House Martell hasn't had a fleet since Nymeria," Oberyn pointed out.
"A fact you hardly have to tell me, nephew," Lewyn said flatly, "and yet his Grace felt it was an appropriate gift to mark the further union of our houses."
"Kind of like a reverse dowry," Tyene giggled, earning a throaty chuckle from Nymeria.
Daemon glared at her for the comment, but he couldn't exactly dispute it. This was a generous gift from his father, and it suggested that the man wasn't quite as annoyed with him over his handling of the Ironborn problem as he had seemed or that someone had talked him out of it.
"Let's go see the treasures," Arianne said, sounding unmistakably excited, and Daemon couldn't help but chuckle at her obvious eagerness. To say that his wife was fond of gold, jewels, and other shiny things would be an understatement.
He took her hand in his and led her down the way towards the Silence, the ship that had belonged to Euron Greyjoy, the wealthiest member of his family who had died on Bear Island, or so their servants had claimed after the fact. As they entered the main cabin, Daemon noticed that it was filled with multiple heavy chests. He opened the first one he came across and saw that it was filled with precious jewels.
"Fuck me," Nymeria muttered at the sight.
"You said that this isn't the only ship full of treasure, right?" Obara asked her great-uncle and when he nodded, she asked, "how the fuck did you manage to take all of this?"
"After the...calling it a battle seems wrong...slaughter was done," Daemon began, "there was some disagreement on what to do next. No one on Bear Island failed to grasp that we won against impossible odds. If the Ironborn hadn't taken the bait, we would have been fucked. Some wanted to leave it at that: take the ships and the fortune in armor and weapons, including two Valyrian steel swords, and celebrate that we survived."
"You disagreed, though," Oberyn said.
"A lot of us did, not the least of which were most of Lady Maege's daughters," Daemon continued. "Our blood was up, and we all knew what those pirate fucks would have done if we hadn't managed to stop them. Eventually it was decided that we would take a number of the ships, don their armor and try sacking a few of their keeps."
"You assumed that their servants and guards wouldn't question if it lookedlike their men were returning to their castles," Arianne surmised.
"Correct," Daemon replied, "and since the crazy cunts insisted on sailing in full armor, it wouldn't look in the least suspicious to see them fully armed, returning from a successful raid. The sun was justrising when we arrived at the islands."
"You had to know that you would have limited time wherever you went since you'd either have to shoot down ravens sent by the people in the castles, which would look suspicious, or risk the men in other keeps being warned," Oberyn said.
"We did know that, and we turned out to be wrong," Daemon replied, and at the older man's confused look, he explained, "the Ironborn don't use ravens."
"What?" everyone but Lewyn asked in unison.
"In their religion, ravens are seen as servants of the Storm God, their god's ancient enemy," Daemon said. "They've never used them, preferring to send runners out to bring messages by boat."
"So they had no warning and put up no defense wherever you went," Obara said, burying her face in her hands.
"We hit the largest castles first and had intended to only hit them, but we kind of became victims of our own success," Daemon continued. "All of their best warriors had died on Bear Island, and the castles were guarded by sparse forces made up of men not good enough to be taken along on the raid. It was just so easy that none of us wanted to stop after our first successes. I had taken Ten Towers, and Dacey Mormont had taken Pyke. When our ships met on the sea, we nearly attacked each other because we both thought that the other party belonged to actual ironbron. She and I both assumed that we had been unusually lucky and had gone off to help the other."
"So you just raided all of them?" Arianne asked.
"There were some castles on Great Wyk too far inland to bother with, but by the time we set off back to Bear Island, we had filled our ships with more treasure than any of us expected," Daemon said.
"How did your uncle react when we found out what had happened?" Oberyn asked.
"He was not happy," Daemon chuckled, "and he wrote to my father, who was even less pleased. When he arrived in Winterfell, the first words out of his mouth were that I was going to be returning with him to King's Landing. I had brought the Valyrian Steel swords with me, hoping that handing them off to him would help, but it didn't."
"You tried to bribe the king?" Tyene laughed.
"In my defense, it was no small bribe," Daemon replied dryly, "and he did ultimately give me one of them."
"He was worried more than anything," Oberyn said. "He learned by raven that you had invaded a region of his kingdoms after fending off an assault from them. According to Elia, he was livid with your uncle at first as well. What did you name the sword?"
The Red Viper had pointed to the moonstone-pommeled blade resting in its scabbard on his hip when he ask the question, and Daemon drew it a couple inches to show off the smoke colored, patterned blade as he replied. "I've been jokingly referring to it as Nightsister after Father renamed the other one Redfyre. They were originally called Red Rain and Nightfall."
"Seven hells, what are these!?" Nymeria exclaimed.
Daemon looked to see his beautiful lover looking through one of the chests. She picked up what appeared to be a very large, jewel-encrusted golden egg. It was a little bit smaller than the blood-red dragon egg he had found among the treasures of the Iron Islands, something he highly doubted his father had given him, but incredibly valuable-looking.
"We have no idea," Lewyn replied. "At first everyone thought that they were merely decorative, but they aren't solid, and if you tap them, it seems like there is something inside, not that any of us could figure out how to open them without breaking them. Elia and the princesses all thought that they were rather gaudy, and she suggested including them in your spoils on the off chance you might figure out how to open them."
"They aren't wrong," Arianne said. "I can't think of anywhere we could put them where they would look good other than in our treasure rooms."
"I might know of someone who could figure out how to open them for a price," Oberyn said.
"Someone at the Citadel?" Tyene asked.
"No," Oberyn replied. "Whatever those things are, they look very old and very Essosi. The man I'm talking about is an expert in treasures of Essos, particularly old Valyrian artifacts."
"You think these could be Valyrian?" Daemon asked.
"It's possible," Oberyn replied. "They don't have any Valyrian steel on them, or Valyrian lettering, but its still a possibility. At any rate, the man's name is Termo Bakayn. The Sealord of Braavos employs him as an advisor of sorts, similar to a Maester here. I met him when I visited the Sealord's Palace some years ago."
"I've always wanted to visit Braavos," Arianne said. "Could you write to this Bakayn man and the Sealord?"
"I'll make some inquiries," Oberyn replied, grinning at his niece's enthusiasm.
By the time they received confirmation from Braavos about the trip, they hadn't been able to take the Sand Snakes, and Oberyn himself had gone with his daughters to the Reach.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Daemon asked, not for the first time since they left the palace.
"I'm fine, really," Arianne replied, limping as she walked. "Trust me, I would rather walk than try to sit right now."
"I'm sorry," Daemon said, looking unusually sheepish.
"Don't be," Arianne said. "I had a great deal of fun; a little soreness is a small price."
It was more than a little soreness, but she wasn't about to tell her worried husband that. Her peak while he fucked her in the ass had made her see stars, and she'd be damned if he was going to be reluctant to do that to her again once she had recovered. It's not as though there had been any blood on his cock; she knew very well that he would have mentioned it to her if there had been.
Their guards were following them at a distance, far enough that if they spoke quietly enough, they wouldn't be heard. Not that any among them hadn't heard the couple fucking at one point or another over the last several months. She had to admit that Braavos was beautiful. The day was warm, the sky was clear, and all around her was a city that was clearly well taken care of by its rulers. It was a very large city, probably bigger than King's Landing, though she couldn't recall for sure, and yet it did not smell like the notoriously rank city did. She would have to ask about that at some point.
To her right, she could see the Titan in the distance, which had so rudely woken her that morning, and she cringed at the memory. The worst part for her, beyond the simple fact that she had kicked her beloved husband in the face, was that she did it while he had been about to wake her up by feasting on her cunt. His enthusiasm for the act was him unlike that of any other man she had ever known or even heard of, and the thought of striking him while he was doing something for her that she adored made her feel awful. She scowled at the admittedly magnificent statue and clung more tightly to his muscular arm. As he turned to her, probably to ask what she was thinking, they were interrupted by sudden sounds of exuberance coming from close by. They turned the corner to see a small but loud crowd gathered around an announcer of some sort.
"...Nestoris welcomes any and all Bravos or fighters of any kind to a tournament of skills," the announcer said in bastardized Valyrian. "Let any man brave enough to answer the challenge throw his name into the lists. The winner will gain glory beyond imagining, a prize of ten thousand gold pieces, and the pleasure of having the beautiful Bellegere Otherys!"
The crowd erupted at that, with men throughout the crowd clamoring to join the tournament and fight for the prizes. Whether all of the men shouting would enter or not was to be seen.
"Why does that name sound familiar?" Daemon asked aloud.
"It was the name of one of Aegon the Unworthy's lovers," Arianne replied. The tale of Westeros' horniest king had always been one of her favorites. "She was Braavosi, if I remember correctly. I wonder if there's any relation."
"You are well read," a sultry voice replied behind her.
Arianne turned around, and her breath hitched at the sight she beheld. One of the most beautiful women she had ever seen stood before her. As tall as Obara, the woman had little else in common with her most ornery cousin. She clearly had some ancestry from the Summer Isles, for her skin was a rich light brown, and yet she had to have been some generations removed from that ancestor, for the features of her gorgeous face were distinctly Valyrian. Her lips were slightly fuller than Daemon's but her nose was slight and straight, with an upward point. Her cheekbones were prominent, and her brows were full yet well-shaped. Her most stunning feature was her eyes, though, a beautiful light blue, like two shining ice chips. They stood in remarkable contrast to her dark skin and the dark brown hair that fell from her head in ringlets like Arianne's own.
Her body reminded the heiress of Dorne of her own, holding the softness of a woman who had grown up in comfort and seen no reason to exert herself outside of the bedroom. The blue dress she wore covered everything, and yet it was so tight-fitting that it hid nothing at all, showcasing her large breasts and wide hips perfectly. Her breasts seemed comparable to Arianne's, and yet her hips were wider, perhaps even wider than Tyene's. All in all, this woman was easily one of the most stunning creatures she had ever laid eyes on.
"I'm sorry, my lady, you are?" Daemon asked, moving in front of Arianne. His sudden movement shocked Arianne out of her reverie and for the first time she realized that the woman had slipped past their guards without notice.
"I am Bellegere Otherys," she replied, "known throughout Braavos as the Black Pearl. I am the woman the announcer mentioned."
"The Black Pearl," Arianne said as the memory occurred to her, "that was a name Aegon's mistress was known by, or the name of her ship, I can't recall."
"She was known as the Black Pearl," Bellegere said, grinning openly at Daemon, "a woman renowned throughout Braavos and beyond for her passion. I am her direct descendant."
"Ah, then that would make you our distant cousin, I suppose," Daemon chuckled. "I am Prince Daemon Targaryen, and this is my wife, Princess Arianne Martell. We both descend from Aegon IV."
"Or at least, we both descend from Viserys II," Arianne thought to herself.
"Really?" Bellegere asked, her beautiful eyes lighting up. "I've always wanted to meet a Targaryen. My family has long believed that we descend from your King Aegon, as he was the original Bellegere's only Valyrian lover, and her daughter Bellanora's purple eyes could have come from nowhere else, but we know little about him."
"He was said to have sired three children by your ancestor if I remember correctly," Arianne said.
"All three came out with purple eyes and other Valyrian features," Bellegere replied. "For as free as that Bellegere was with her passions, it;s honestly amazing that her only children came from the one man."
"He was a virile man," Daemon snorted. "He sired at least a dozen children here and there, so it's not all that surprising."
"He was a man renowned for his great appetites," Arianne said. It was probably the most diplomatic thing one could say about the man mostly remembered for nearly tearing the realm apart with his puerile antics.
"I wish I had time to hear more," Bellegere said, sounding genuinely regretful, "but I need to make sure my servants have prepared my barge for the winner of the tournament tomorrow. It was lovely meeting you both."
With that, they said their goodbyes, and Bellegere walked off towards the docks. As she went, Arianne couldn't help but let her eyes be drawn to the other woman's ass, and she felt her mouth water. The Titan of Braavos was not the most magnificent thing in that city.
"Fucking hells, should I be worried?" Daemon asked teasingly.
"That depends, my love," Arianne replied with a grin. "Are you planning on losing this tournament?"
"I wasn't aware I was entering it," he said mirthfully.
"Oh, please," she snorted, "a chance to test yourself against men you've never fought before? I know you too well to think that you weren't already strongly considering it."
"You have me there," he chuckled.
"And when you win, we'll have her," Arianne cooed. "You must admit as far as prizes go, she is quite alluring."
"I can't recall the last time I saw you so instantly taken with someone," he laughed.
"Can you blame me?" she asked. Leaning in until her face was just by his ear, she whispered, "can you really blame me for wanting to see those beautiful eyes staring up at me from between my legs while you split her in half?"
He let out a shuddering breath and gazed at her with darkening eyes.
"Show these Bravos how a real man fights, and then we can show that gorgeous creature how one fucks," she whispered, her voice already thick with lust.
"Your father asked me to make sure you two didn't cause any diplomatic incidents, and fucking in the streets of Braavos would do just that," Areo piped up from behind them. Next to him, Ser Lewyn snorted.
"No worries, Areo," Daemon said, glaring at the older man. "Ari and I were just discussing my entry into this tourney."
"If you're sure that's wise, my Prince," Lewyn said cautiously.
"Oh, we're both very sure, Uncle," Arianne replied as Daemon went to sign up. The only thing that got her hotter than watching her handsome husband fight was watching him fuck, and if the gods were good, she was going to get to enjoy both tomorrow.