"What did you do?" Rhaegar hissed under his breath as the crowd reacted loudly to the turn of events.
"Ser Gregor, I command you to renounce this madness and come here," Tywin barked.
"No," the mountain replied dimly, barely even looking at his suzerain lord.
"Ser Gregor…" Tywin growled, looking incensed at being disobeyed by his most intimidating weapon.
"My lord, it's too late for that, at any rate," the High Septon smirked. "The challenge has been given and accepted before the gods. Ser Gregor and Prince Daemon will participate in this trial by combat, and the gods' decision on the matter will be made clear by its outcome. We will meet back here at high noon."
"The courtyard would be better," Daemon drawled, pointing to an open space near the tower of the hand.
His father, still looking like he wanted to murder him, had the presence of mind and experience to school his features quickly enough once he realized that the lords were looking their way. Rage remained clear in his violet eyes as he said, "Daemon is correct."
"Then in the courtyard it shall be," the High Septon said before turning and leaving, followed closely by the rest of the crowd.
"Your grace, I don't know what madness has overtaken Clegane, but I swear to you, I will deal with it," Tywin said quietly, having rushed over to them the second the conversation died down.
"Don't," Daemon said with finality. "Lord Tywin, I appreciate your unfortunate position in this matter, but you heard what that mad old cunt accused me of. I need to fight and win in this to clear my name."
"The prince is, alas, correct about that," Ser Arthur chimed in, looking grim.
"My solar, now," Rhaegar hissed. Turning to Lord Tywin, he said, "My lord, know that this does not reflect on you, in my eyes at least. As you said, some dread madness has clearly overtaken your bannerman, and you know as well as I that no one else is to blame when such things happen."
"As you say, your grace," Tywin replied stiffly, still looking like he wanted to take the mountain's head with his own hands.
As Rhaegar stalked towards his solar, followed by most of their family, Tyrion rushed over to catch up with them, moving surprisingly quickly, all things considered.
"Word of warning, your grace, my father isn't going to handle such disrespect from one of his bannermen very quietly," the imp said.
"See to it that he does," Daemon commanded. "He won't have to worry about Ser Gregor for much longer anyway."
"You're confident," Tyrion commented.
"If the need arises to reinforce our orders, Tyrion, I want you to be there to do so," Rhaegar said.
"As you will, your grace," Tyrion replied before taking off to find his father.
As soon as the door to the king's solar, was closed behind them, Rhaegar growled, "What did you do?!"
"I needed Varys to feel both enraged enough to come after me and confident enough not to hesitate at all," Daemon explained. "It is as I explained weeks ago on the Silence."
"You did not mention that you were planning to fight one of the most dangerous men in Westeros," Elia argued.
"To feel confident, Varys needed a champion whom he believed could kill me," Daemon said.
"Because he can!" Rhaegar exclaimed. "I knighted that monster myself, impressed as I was by his skills at arms during a tourney I was present at. I regret doing so, for he has become the darkest sort of knight. Were he not a favorite bannerman of a lord paramount, I would have had the rumors about him looked into and, if proven, had him dealt with long ago. The one good thing anyone has ever been able to say about him is that he is unfailingly loyal to his lord. How in the world did you even manage to arrange this?"
"I enraged him weeks ago when I prevented him from raping a young girl," Daemon replied. "I'm sure Aegon told you about the incident."
"I did," Aegon replied.
"I've made a point of getting under his skin in the weeks since and made my antagonism obvious enough to reach Varys and the High Cunt," Daemon continued. "As I expected, they reached out to him to try and make use of my apparent mistake in making an enemy of such a dangerous man. I might not have told you who specifically, but I did tell you that I'd need to arrange for them to gain the allegiance of a man they believed could beat me in a fight. Now, I just need to kill him, enact the rest of my plan, and the threat to our family will be dealt with."
"You really believe that you can kill that abomination?" Viserys asked.
"Do you think that Ser Arthur could?" Daemon asked.
"Of course, but...could you, Ser Arthur?" Viserys asked.
"Yes," Ser Arthur replied simply. "It wouldn't be easy, but with Dawn in hand, I could slay him."
"And Daemon?" Rhaegar asked archly.
"Yes," Ser Arthur replied again, surprising his oldest friend. "My Prince, you are one of the finest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms and one of only two men I've ever met whom I thought could potentially surpass me. I understand your confidence in thinking that you can defeat Ser Gregor, but don't allow yourself to become overconfident. While I'm sure that I could kill him, no man is invincible, and against an opponent like that, it can take only one mistake to meet your end. More than anything, I'd advise you not to think that just because he's large, he'll be slow, because Clegane is anything but."
"Thank you for the advice," Daemon said genuinely, though he knew that his opponent would not be at his best for their coming duel. After all, while he'd been honest with his father about how he'd intentionally set up this fight, he'd lied about just how he'd done so.
"Forgive me, my prince, but you want to do what?" Garth asked.
"I need you to find me an actor among your company capable of playing the role of a merchant," Daemon replied, "one who will advertise that he's selling remedies for pain, sell barely useful concoctions for the most part, and sell Gregor Clegane something very particular."
"My prince, there are many things that I'd do for you and your family, but I cannot allow my playing company to become associated with the sale of poisons," Garth protested.
"Oh, it won't be poison, or at least, it won't kill him," Daemon grinned. "It will alleviate his pain for a time, and then he'll need more, and more, and more. Out of curiosity, are any of the actors working under you deathly ill?"
"As it so happens, I do have a man who's going to be leaving us to spend his last days in the care of septas," Garth replied.
"Does he have a family?" Daemon asked before the other man could ask why. "Any children or wife he'll be leaving behind?"
"Are you planning to have the mountain arrested for murder?" Garth asked, looking confused.
"No," Daemon replied. "Given his importance to Lord Tywin and Lord Tywin's importance to the realm, that wouldn't happen anyway. I ask, because after whoever I get to do this has sold a few doses to the mountain, I'm going to need them to deny him, and he will not react well to being denied."
"Hugh has five surviving children," Garth said. "Truth be told, he'd have stepped away from all of this a while ago if he wasn't terrified about what will become of them when he's gone. His wife passed some years back, and the eldest child, Essie, is only one and ten."
"What's he sick with?" Daemon asked.
"A pox of some kind," Garth replied. "He was lonely after Lanna went and took up with a whore he shouldn't have. His mind's still sharp for now, but it'll go soon."
"Ah," Daemon replied. "Getting beaten to death by Clegane will be quicker, at least. Offer him the role and make clear that if he does it and does it well, I'll see to it that his children are taken care of when he's gone. On my word as a prince."
"Why are you doing this, anyway?" Garth asked, pouring himself some more ale.
"The answer to that is actually where you and the rest of your company come in," Daemon replied.
"I'm not risking our lives against Gregor Clegane," Garth said flatly.
"Not at all," Daemon replied. "He's mine, because if Hugh plays his role well, Clegane's going to end up fighting on behalf of a man who's going to accuse me of something that I will need to demand a trial by combat to get out of."
"Who would dare?!" Garth exclaimed. A moment later, the rest of what Daemon had just said clicked in his mind, and he asked, "Wait, you mean to tell me that you actually want to fight the mountain?"
"I'm going to need to," Daemon replied. "No one else will make the cunt in question confident enough to challenge me openly. To answer your other question, what would you say if I told you that the faith of the seven is in the hands of a madman bound and determined to destroy the royal family and plunge this entire continent into chaos?"
"What?!" Garth exclaimed.
Daemon explained everything, watching the playwright's eyes go wider and wider as he learned just how bad the situation with the High Septon truly was. Daemon left out Varys' involvement, as it wasn't relevant, and, as much as he trusted that Garth was a loyal servant of the crown, he couldn't be entirely sure. He was going to need to rely on him a great deal for his plan to succeed, though, and was pleased when, after he finished his explanation, the man agreed readily and without stipulation to help him however he could.
Noise. Everywhere around him in this fucking city, there was so much fucking noise. It wasn't the fun kind either. The clanging of steel on steel, the galloping of horses, and the agonized screams of the dying, he could tolerate, because that noise at least came from fun. The noise the people of King's Landing made was the other kind of noise, the kind that his sister had made before he silenced her. His wives had all made noise too. Why were women so bloody loud anyway? It didn't matter; all that mattered was that he quieted the people around him enough so that their wretched voices didn't worsen the near constant throbbing pain in his skull.
"Ser Gregor, you are doing the will of the gods this day," the High Septon proclaimed, smiling widely as the giant of a man threw away the empty vial in his hands.
Ser Gregor looked over at the fanatic he'd found himself needing to swear his allegiance to and growled, making him step back. The momentary look of fear on the old man's face brought him some pleasure, but not enough to counteract his headache.
"Damn everything to the seven hells," he thought to himself as he waited for the elixir to take effect. "Work, damn it!"
He ground his teeth together in rage as he remembered how he'd ended up in this mess in the first place.
"Come one, come all, and witness the miracle of the elixir," an old man with a reed-thin voice proclaimed, making Gregor's head throb.
It had been such a good day, too. Walking over to the annoying man, he physically moved the few people crowded around him out of the way and glared down at him.
"Shut your mouth if you know what's good for you," Gregor rumbled. To his shock, the man didn't react at all, showing no fear at his obvious anger.
"Ser Gregor Clegane, welcome to my humble stand," the man smiled. "Would you care to try the elixir?"
"Are you fucking slow?" Shitmouth asked. "Ser told you to shut your fucking mouth, so shut your fucking mouth or we'll feed you your own fucking kidneys. Got it, Cunt?"
"What's it do?" Chiswyck asked, curious.
"It soothes even the greatest pain," the man replied, ignoring Shitmouth, "and without muddling the mind like milk of the poppy does."
"Really?" Gregor asked, suddenly curious.
"Indeed, Ser," the man replied. "The maesters themselves would make use of it, but you know how set in their ways they are."
"Interesting," Gregor murmured. "Hand it over. If it works, I'll pay. If it doesn't, I'll rip off your arm and beat you to death with it."
"My arm will be just fine, I assure you," the man said jovially, still possessed of that bizarre lack of fear.
He handed Gregor the vial, and the giant uncorked it and gave it a sniff. Detecting no discernible odor, he paused and handed it back to him, saying, "Try a sip."
"As you will, Ser," the man replied, taking a small sip and swallowing it quickly.
Relatively confident that it wasn't poison at that point, Gregor downed the remaining contents of the vial and gave it a moment to take effect before he decided to express his displeasure at having his time wasted.
"Ah!" he gasped a moment later.
"Ser?" Shitmouth asked, his hand on his blade as Chyswick moved to draw his.
"Stand down," Gregor ordered, his hands flying to his temples.
For the first time in years, he felt no pain, and the effect was so sudden and shocking that he could scarcely recognize what he was feeling. He drank milk of the poppy often, despite hating most of the effects of it, because it was the only thing that gave him any relief, but this small vial had done more to help him than far greater quantities of the other concoction ever had.
"What's in this?" he asked in awe.
"Don't rightly know, Ser," the man replied. "The alchemist I got it from didn't say. All I know is that it worked for me, and I agreed to sell it."
Gregor looked over the man before him and noticed for the first time just how gaunt and pale he looked.
"How much?" he asked.
"A silver moon, Ser," the man replied.
Gregor didn't even bother haggling, knowing that that was more than a fair price for relief from his torment, and he quickly handed the man his due.
"How long will it last?" he asked.
"A couple days," the man replied. "It doesn't store well, so I'd suggest you come back then. I'll still be here."
"You'd better be," Gregor rumbled.
A couple weeks passed, and it was bliss for the giant of a man. Milk of the poppy left him slightly sluggish, and he was happy to be off of it. He had briefly feared that ceasing his consumption of the notoriously addictive concoction would have consequences, but he felt nothing but the bliss caused by the elixir. That should have been his first clue that something was off, but he was too overjoyed at having finally found a real solution to the problem that had plagued him all his life to care. He returned to the merchant every two days for weeks, consuming seven vials of the elixir. When he went for the eighth, however, he ran into a problem.
"What do you mean you don't have any?!" Gregor roared in the man's face, holding him against the stone wall of the house behind him by his throat.
"The alchemist has said that only true followers of the faith can have more," the man choked out. "He sent me to tell you and the others to swear yourselves to the High Septon if you want another dose."
Gregor, who had begun to feel the headache creep back as he had each previous time he felt the effects of the elixir start to wane, felt a black rage overtake him. If he'd been thinking clearly, he'd have ordered the man in front of him to lead him to this alchemist so that he could threaten him for more, but his patience, a severely limited resource at the best of times, was at its end, and he immediately drove his mailed fist into the man's face. The first blow shattered his nose; the second sent broken fragments of his teeth flying in every direction; and the third split the back of his skull against the stone wall.
Gregor stepped back, his eyes going wide as he realized what he had just done, and he roared, "FUCK!"
He cursed up a storm worthy of Shitmouth as he realized that the man, whose very name he'd never bothered to learn, had left him no clues about who the alchemist was or where he could be found. He couldn't even go to the guildhall because the fucking king had shut that down not long after he took the throne. Wherever the man was, he was working in the shadows and likely difficult to spot.
"Ask around and find out where this dumb cunt lived and who he was seen with," Gregor ordered his frightened-looking men. "I want to speak to the man who makes the elixir."
"Yes, Ser," Joss said as he and the other scrambled about.
"Ah," a new voice sounded once they had gone.
Gregor whipped around and saw a cloaked man staring impassively at the dead body of the merchant. He was pale, paler than any man he'd ever seen, and, from what he could see under the man's hood, completely bald.
"Was that truly necessary?" he asked.
"Are you him? The Alchemist?" Gregor asked, his hand on the pommel of his greatsword.
"This...I am he," the man replied. "Named Mohor, Ser."
"Give me more of the elixir, or I'll…" Gregor went to say.
"You'll what?" the short man asked fearlessly. "Kill me too? Who will make it for you then?"
"I can make you make it," Gregor said darkly.
"You would drink something made by a man you've tortured?" Mohor asked flatly. "Or trust a man you've spent days torturing not to poison himself when you made him drink it first just to escape you? It is not much that this o...I ask for. The High Septon has pledged to restore the faith to its former glory and to do that, he will need men like you. I can think of no greater service to the gods than to send men his way to aid him in his holy task, and there is nothing I would not suffer in their service."
"Fuck," Gregor thought to himself as he stared down at the annoying little man before him.
He hated faithful types like this, the sort who had concerns beyond their safety or that of their loved ones. Normal people could be reasoned with if one could call threatening people reasoning with them, but this sort were different. He could feel his pain returning with each passing moment, and the idea of having to suffer through it for the days it would take to make this mad cunt break, if they could break him, filled him with a dread he'd rarely felt in life.
"What would he ask of me?" he asked tentatively.
"Whatever the gods will," Mohor replied, "but given your size and reputation, I would hazard a guess that it will mostly involve standing by him and looking threatening."
Gregor considered it for a moment, during which Mohor reached into a pocket in his robe and pulled out a vial of the crystal clear liquid, the sight of which immediately made the giant knight salivate.
"Here you are," Mohor replied. "Servants of the faith need not pay for the elixir with anything other than their service."
Gregor grabbed the vial and downed its contents without hesitation.
"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll go pledge myself to the fucking septon."
What all could the man truly ask of him, after all?"
"Killing a fucking prince, as it turns out," Gregor thought to himself, grinding his teeth as he waited for his opponent to arrive.
This wasn't going to end well, that much he knew, for while he knew that he was going to win this fight, its aftermath was going to be unpleasant, but he couldn't back away now. Having spent weeks drinking that fucking elixir, he couldn't bring himself to even consider not taking it. When the High Septon told him what he needed from him, he balked but agreed as he realized that the alchemist would cut him off if he refused. He wasn't a stupid man, and he recognized this plot against the royal family for what it was. Whoever Mohor actually was, the man had obviously targeted him for this very purpose.
"And this last dose isn't even working," he grumbled again. "When I get my hands on that alchemist cunt, I'm going to make him choke on his own cock."
He just had to win this fight and then fight off whoever the king sent after him after that. So long as he got his hands on more of the elixir and it actually worked, he'd be able to endure anything.
"I know we worked it all out ahead of time, but I still can't believe you're going to fight that," Arianne fretted as they looked down upon the crowd gathering outside the keep and the giant in the middle of the open space. "He makes that large man in Braavos look tiny. What was his name again?"
"Cragho," Daemon replied.
"Tyene, you did give White Flea a vial of water to give him, right?" Arianne asked.
"As requested," Tyene replied. "You won't be facing him at full strength, Daemon."
Daemon grunted at that and said nothing. As they came up with this plan, Arianne insisted that the Mountain's last dose of the elixir her cousin had come up with be nothing but water. It was scentless, so she figured he wouldn't be able to tell until it was too late. Part of Daemon wanted to protest, wanting to test his mettle against the Mountain at his best, but his more practical side won out in the end. It wasn't his life alone that he was gambling here, after all. Their entire family needed him to win, and that meant more than his pride.
"I still can't believe how well this worked," Daemon murmured, noting the tell-tale robes and carved heads of the sparrows in the growing crowd.
"Using Valyrian root's addictive properties while countering its sleep-inducing effects would have been a tall order if not for that scroll on failed attempts to make new potions we found among Illyrio's things," Tyene murmured.
"Why in the hells someone would write down a scroll full of failures, I have no idea," Daemon chuckled.
"So that people could know that such things didn't work," Tyene replied. "The man who wrote it even noted in the section on the pain relief concoction he tried to make that valyrian root could counteract the side effects of extreme restlessness, but that it was too dangerously addictive to make it any more useful. Truth be told, I didn't need to do much actual work here."
"Well, I'm grateful all the same," Daemon smiled, and the beautiful blonde preened at the praise.
"It's time, Daemon," Obara said, stumbling inside the room.
"Obara, are you alright?" Arianne asked before he could.
"Fine, just something I ate didn't agree with me," Obara replied, looking rather green.
"You too?" Tyene asked. "Puked my bloody guts up this morning. Could it have been the chicken?"
"No, I ate bad chicken once, remember?" Obara asked. "That was worse, much worse."
"Hmm," Arianne mused next to him. When Daemon cocked an eyebrow at her, she just mouthed, 'later.'
"Time to go then," Daemon muttered.
"Daemon," Arianne said, grabbing his gauntleted hand.
"I'll come back to you," Daemon whispered, leaning down to kiss her. "I always do."
"I have every confidence in you, my love," Arianne said. "I just wanted to point out that it's been six weeks since Maekar was born."
"It…" Daemon trailed off, and his eyes widened as he realized that she was right. He had to have been distracted over the last little while if he had forgotten that particular fact.
"After you kill him, you're going to make the last six weeks up to me," Arianne said with such imperiousness that he almost laughed at the absurdity.
"You'll limp for days, my love," Daemon rumbled, smirking as she shivered. "Trust me."
"You know I do," Arianne smiled.
"Well, now you have to win, or her cunt might get so hot it actually catches fire," Tyene joked, though he could see the fear in her eyes.
"No, it's far too wet for that," Daemon replied, earning a squawk from his wife as he kissed the blonde.
"I still taste like puke, so you'll just have to kiss me later," Obara said, and he smiled at her.
Heading downstairs, he went out into the courtyard, where the crowd had gathered. It was a larger crowd than would normally be allowed within the keep's outer walls, but then, he had been rather insistent about that. The nobles were gathered on one side, with a wall of Unsullied dividing them from the open space where he would fight Clegane, and the smallfolk gathered on the other side.
He saw his family seated on a raised platform that had been hastily assembled on the nobles' side, sitting in the shade of the tower of the hand, and nodded to them. His lovers were seated with them, swiftly joined by Arianne, Tyene, and Obara, and the looks on their faces ranged from confident, like Obara and Nymeria, to somewhat worried, like Missandei, to outright terrified, like Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Falia.
"I'll just have to end this quickly to assuage their fears," he thought to himself as he approached Edric.
"Your helmet, my prince," his squire said, handing him the dragon inspired black metal great helm.
His squire had already helped him into his armor earlier, but when Arianne and the others came to speak, he'd sent him off with his helmet to wait for him. It said something about the many battles they'd fought together that Ned didn't even seem to consider asking him how he was feeling about the fight. He knew enough to know that Daemon would be at least a match for his opponent in this and stayed silent.
"Do you want your shield?" he asked.
"No, it would just get my arm broken," Daemon replied as he drew Nightsister and watched one of the sparrows hand the mountain his heavy kite shield.
It looked to be the better part of an oak tree with a rim of black steel or iron; from the fifty yards that separated them, he couldn't tell. It was painted, not with the dogs of the Clegane's banner, but with the seven-pointed star, and Daemon smirked under his helmet at the sign of just how thoroughly the High Septon had conquered him.
There were a few points in his plan where he knew it could fail if something went wrong. One of them was the possibility that Clegane would tell the High Septon of the elixir and the circumstances by which he came to be in his service. The prince had wagered that Clegane, not really being the talkative sort, wouldn't bother, and seemed to have been proven correct on that front.
His father raised his hand, which was impressively still for how worried he must have still been, and the High Septon approached them and beckoned them over, not speaking until there were only ten yards between them.
"May the Father Above gift us his divine judgment on this day," the man called out as the crowd quieted, "and may the Warrior lend his strength to the fighter whose cause is just. This is a fight to the death, and it will be through death that the gods give us our answer. As soon as I am seated again, you may begin."
"Were you truly so desperate to rape that poor girl?" Daemon asked.
"Huh?" Gregor asked, confused for a moment, before he recalled the memory. "This has nothing to do with that, Prince, but I will return the insult all the same."
"You'll try, anyway," Daemon chuckled, making him growl.
It was so slight that he could barely notice it, but there was a definite tremor in Clegane's right hand as he held his massive greatsword. That he could effectively wield that thing with one hand was a testament to his size as much as his strength. On a smaller man, such a thing would have been both awkward and heavy, but at nearly eight feet tall and massively strong, the mountain could pull it off. His heavy platemail, dull gray and scarred from battle, was just as unique to him, and Daemon doubted that a normal man could effectively move in it, much less fight. He was not without his weaknesses, though, even beyond the one that the prince had purposefully given him.
The second the High Septon sat down, Clegane swung wildly at Daemon's head. Daemon dodged the blow easily, but the next one came almost immediately, and he sidestepped quickly to get out of the way. He stepped backward, putting a little more distance between them, but the man pursued quickly. Ser Arthur had been right; Clegane was far faster than one might expect a man of his size to be, but as Daemon continued to dodge and jump out of the way of his blows, he realized that the man was far from the most skilled swordsman in the kingdoms.
"Hold fucking still," Clegane growled as Daemon dodged yet another blow.
"I would, but I plan to live," Daemon remarked, earning a cruel laugh from the Mountain.
"You're already dead, Prince," the man chuckled. "I just haven't delivered the blow yet."
Daemon smirked at that and swung towards the Mountain's right thigh. He blocked with his shield, which Nightsister carved a deep gouge in, and went to drive his shoulder into Daemon's chest. Daemon rolled to the side and redirected Clegane's responding thrust of his blade wide before stepping back. The mountain let him get some distance, and the two circled each other for a moment, each considering their opponent.
It had rained the night before and the ground was wet, not enough to be hazardous, something he was glad for since he really didn't want to get into a grappling match with a man who probably weighed somewhere between half-again and twice what he did, but enough that their boots were already caked with mud. Thinking that that might be useful, he struck next, feinting towards Clegane's helmet, only to swing lower and catch him in his left pauldron. The castle-forged steel was strong but not enough to stop Valyrian steel, and Nightsister sliced a deep gouge in the pauldron, nearly slicing into Clegane.
Enraged, the Mountain thrust hard towards Daemon's chest, only to drive his shield right into him when he sidestepped the attack. The prince was knocked back and had the wind knocked out of him. Nearly slipping on the ground, his eyes widened as he saw Clegane lunge at him for a massive downward swing and barely managed to jump out of the way. Even weakened by his dependence on valyrian root, he was still incredibly dangerous, and Daemon knew that he needed to do something to slow him down soon.
"You don't have to worry about that little wife of yours, Prince," Clegane chuckled. "I'll make sure she doesn't feel lonely after you're gone."
Daemon glared up at the man but forced himself to ignore the obvious attempt to rattle him. He dodged Clegane's next few blows, studying his technique, such as it was, a little more, and tried to find an opening. As Glegane feinted towards his head only to thrust towards his groin, he jumped out of the way and swung across at his right side, slicing a deep groove in his platemail.
"A few dozen more slices like that, and I might actually reach flesh," he thought to himself in frustration.
If Daemon managed to land a direct thrust into the man's chest, his armor wouldn't stop Nightsister from reaching his heart, but as thick as it was, it did keep him protected from slashing blows in a way that normal platemail wouldn't have against such steel.
"Fucking die!" Clegane growled as he attacked again.
"Gods be good," Rhaegar muttered, his heart racing in his chest.
"He's slowing down," Ser Arthur murmured in that same analytical tone he took on whenever he watched a fight.
"No, he isn't!" Arianne snapped without looking away from Daemon for a second.
"Not the prince, Clegane," Ser Arthur clarified. "It's odd. Normally, I'd swear that man could fight for hours, but he's been slowing down almost since the start."
"Well, let's hope he slows further," Aegon muttered.
Daemon laughed as he parried and redirected another of Clegane's slashes and riposted with a thrust towards his head, which he easily dodged.
"What in the seven hells are you laughing at?" Clegane growled, breathing heavily, as he took a step back.
"I'm just enjoying the fight," Daemon replied.
"You won't for much longer," Clegane rumbled as they began circling each other again.
"On that, we can agree," Daemon grinned.
Clegane was obviously starting to get tired as his growing need for another dose of the elixir took its toll on him. He charged first this time with another heavy downward slash, which Daemon had come to realize was his favorite opening move, and he sidestepped it easily. Rather than letting him follow through with a second slash, he brought his blade downward diagonally, forcing the man to dodge. The mountain hadn't been stupid enough to try and catch his blade yet, being well aware that it could slice through his own.
As he stepped back, Clegane slashed wide, hoping to force Daemon back as well. Instead, the prince ducked under the blow and scooped some of the thick, wet mud under them into his gauntleted hand. Reaching back, he threw the mud up at Clegane's face, aiming for the thin eye slits in his heavy helmet, and grinned when he saw that it struck true. Suddenly blind, the Mountain roared and swung wildly again as he stepped back, trying to clear his helmet with his shield hand.
Daemon ducked under his blow and stepped to the left, thrusting his sword towards the gouge he'd carved in the Mountain's left pauldron. He felt the blade pierce both steel and flesh and pulled back just in time to sidestep Clegane's enraged responding slash. He raced backward, eager to put some distance between himself and his livid opponent, but the mountain raced after him. As Daemon dodged the next blow, he saw just how badly he had wounded the man, and his eyes widened in shock.
Clegane's shield arm hung limply at his side, and Daemon realized that he must have sliced clean through the shoulder joint. Weighed down by his own heavy shield and half-blind, as he'd managed to clear the mud from his right eye slit, he knew that he was in trouble. The shield was strapped to his arm and wouldn't fall off cleanly without help, and as he tried to rip it off, Daemon struck. Thrusting towards the giant's groin, Clegane parried the blow and stepped back.
The crowd went wild as the momentum of the fight turned abruptly in Daemon's favor, and the prince grinned at their enthusiasm. He wanted to glance over at the High Septon, eager to see the look on his face as his champion failed, but didn't dare while Clegane still had functioning limbs. The giant of a man was badly wounded but not defeated, and he continued on, thrusting and slashing away with decreasing skill. Daemon dodged the blows with ease, and when he saw his opponent overextend on a thrust, he took full advantage. Sidestepping the blow, with his sword held next to his head, he took a page from his opponent's book and swung downward, slicing through the strap on the back of his right gauntlet and taking off his sword hand.
A barely human-sounding scream of pain erupted from the Mountain, who kicked wildly at him. Rolling behind him, Daemon turned and sliced just above his knees, going through the joints where the greaves met the cuisses and severing his lower legs. Clegane screamed again and fell forward, landing on his face with a deafening crash. The crowd, which had collectively gasped when Clegane lost his hand and had gone silent since, erupted in thunderous cheer at the spectacle they'd just witnessed.
Daemon looked over at the High Septon, seated among the small folk in attendance, and saw a look of resigned acceptance overtake him, followed by a small, serene smile.
"You still think you're going to be a martyr," Daemon thought to himself with a grin obscured by his helmet.
"See here and now, the champion of this false septon failed," Daemon called out, earning a few gasps from the crowd. Walking up, he pulled off Clegane's helmet and shoved Nightsister through the base of his skull, adding, "You asked the gods for their answer, and there it is. Your charges were false, and you are no man of theirs."
"The gods alone know what foul sorcery you used to win this fight," the High Septon replied, rising to his feet with a grin, "for indeed, how could any normal man so easily defeat the Mountain that Rides without such…"
Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as one of the men in the crowd pushed forward and he landed in the mud.
"You'll die for that!" one of the sparrows shouted, trying to push through the crowd.
"Your Holiness, here," another man from the crowd said, helping him up.
"Thank you, my good man," the High Septon said. "As I was saying…"
"You dropped this," the man who helped him up said as he bent down and picked up a coin.
"Oh, thank you again," the High Septon said without looking as the man wiped the coin on his clothes to get the mud off. "Now…"
"Wait a moment, what in the hells is this?" that man asked as he looked down at the coin in horror.
"What...it's a coin," the High Septon replied in exasperation. "I'll take it back if you'd be so kind."
"This is one of those Starry Night coins!" the man cried out. "The kind the cultists that play warned us about carry."
"What?" The High Septon asked in bewilderment.
"You mean Starry Wisdom?" another man in the crowd asked.
"Yeah, that's them," the first man replied. "Look."
With that, he tossed the coin to the other man, who held it up and said, "It is one of those coins!"
"Why in the hells would the High Septon have a coin from a demon-worshiping cult?" yet another man asked.
"I don't!" the High Septon cried, perturbed by how some of the people in the crowd were looking at him. "I didn't. I don't even know what that is!"
"Maybe he is a false septon like the prince said!" another man in the crowd in called out.
"Shut your blaspheming mouth!" one of the sparrows growled.
"Why did they carve stars in their heads anyway?" a man in the crowd asked. "That's not in any part of the Seven Pointed Star I've ever heard of."
"It's a mockery of the faith!" someone else cried. "They're all Starry Wisdom cultists!"
The crowd, which was already full of adrenaline from having watched the fight, grew more and more agitated as men started shouting about how the High Septon and his followers weren't true members of the faith.
"I hear they eat babies!" some random woman cried, making Daemon snort and half the crowd erupt in anger.
He stood by Clegane's corpse and watched the growing spectacle, deeply amused by it.
"It really is easy to rile up a crowd," he thought to himself, "especially when many among them are paid actors."
Garth and the most trustworthy, like-minded actors from his playing company continued to enrage the crowd, shouting down the sparrows and their leader, who looked and sounded increasingly worried. The High Sparrow tried in vain to reassure the crowd that he and his followers were men of the gods and eventually turned to look at Daemon, with recognition on his face as though he'd just figured out that this was his doing. Before he could hurl that accusation at the prince, though, someone, whether an actor or otherwise, he couldn't tell, hurled a rock, hitting him in the back of the head. The sparrows cried out in rage and attacked, but they were vastly outnumbered.
Daemon walked towards his father and nobles, who were growing increasingly concerned about the display of violence in front of them as the guards in front of them rushed out to make it look like they were trying with all haste to quell the angry crowd.
"My lords, we should go inside," Rhaegar said calmly. "Our guards will swiftly restore order."
"But what about the High Sep…" Mace Tyrell asked, only to pause as he realized that the man was lying face down in the mud and bleeding so profusely from his head that he was likely already dead.
"I ordered them to prioritize securing him," Rhaegar replied. "For now, I think it's high time that we moved onto the next part of the feast. We had, after all, only gotten through the first day of the wedding celebrations before we were so unfortunately interrupted."
The promise of food was enough to get most of the nobles to head back into the keep. A few of the more pious ones looked back at the crowd, which was being quickly settled by the Unsullied, but quickly turned and joined the rest of them. Even they were well aware of what a threat to them the strange High Septon had been and were ultimately willing to move on and hope that the next one was far more sensible.
"That was fucking amazing!" Obara purred in Daemon's ear as soon as he joined them. "Gods, watching you fight makes me wet."
Arianne had run into his arms as soon as they were inside and was quickly joined by the others, who hugged him tightly.
"My armor is caked with mud and blood," Daemon pointed out, chuckling as the most feminine of them all jumped back and looked down at their dresses in horror.
"We should go change," Arianne winced as she tried to wipe blood off of her orange gown.
"Luckily, I have more than one good dress," Falia muttered, still not used to such things.
"I need to get out of this and bathe before I rejoin the others," Daemon said. "I'll meet you in the main hall when I'm done."
"See you there," Bellegere smiled, a sentiment the others quickly echoed.
Making his way to his chambers, he ran into Edric along the way.
"I had the servants run a bath for you," his squire said. "I figured you'd need it after that."
"Thank you," Daemon smiled. "Once I'm out of this, feel free to go join in at the feast."
Edric smiled and nodded. Daemon led him inside his spacious chambers and pulled off his helmet as soon as he entered. Looking around, he was surprised to see his father standing there, waiting for him.
"Leave us," he commanded, looking at Edric, who swiftly obeyed.
"I was hoping to get out of this," Daemon muttered.
"It's been many a year since I was a squire, but I still know how to help a man in and out of his armor," Rhaegar chuckled. "Come."
"Who did you squire under?" Daemon asked, taking off his gauntlets and setting them down. "I've never asked."
"Same as you," Rhaegar replied, removing his pauldrons, "though I also learned from Ser Gerold. Ser Barristan was the finest knight in the land back then, between the death of Ser Duncan and the ascendance of Ser Arthur to prominence."
"He never said," Daemon murmured, wondering how long his father intended to keep up this small talk before he decided to lay into him. He winced as his cuirass was removed and realized why a moment later as he removed his chainmail shirt and leather armor.
"That's going to smart a bit," Rhaegar remarked as he saw the prominent bruise already forming on Daemon's chest from when the mountain struck him with shield.
"I've had worse," Daemon shrugged.
"One of these days, you're going to realize that you aren't invincible, son," Rhaegar said, his eyes narrowing. "I can only pray that when you do, you survive the lesson. What you did was foolish and reckless."
"In my defense, my options were limited," Daemon protested. "I needed to draw Varys' focus to me and me alone, and to do that, I needed him to have someone in his corner who could believably kill me. At the risk of sounding conceited, the list of such men is quite short. The number of men on it that I would actually want to kill is shorter still."
"Why Ser Gregor, though?" Rhaegar asked.
"For one thing, I knew that his reputation and size alone would make Varys feel immensely confident," Daemon replied, "but beyond that, I never told you who first alerted me to the problem of the High Septon."
"Who was it?" Rhaegar asked, intrigued.
"Asha Greyjoy," Daemon replied.
"Greyjoy!?" Rhaegar exclaimed. "Why in the...how in the…"
"She was in the Stepstones when her father decided to attack Bear Island," Daemon replied, cutting off his father's sputtering. "She brought me the information in the hopes that I might be able to help her reclaim her home. Pyke, not the islands as a whole."
"Which had been given to Gregor Clegane," Rhaegar sighed, burying his head in his hands. "Daemon…"
"I promised her nothing other than that I would do what I could," Daemon said, cutting him off. "What I can actually do is rather limited, but I would point out that Lord Tywin is going to want to make amends for his bannerman's actions."
Rhaegar laughed humorlessly and said, "You orchestrated all of this without consulting me."
"I've grown rather used to keeping my own counsel through the years," Daemon admitted. "I apologize for keeping you in the dark about much of what I had planned, but I knew you'd object to me fighting the Mountain and I really did think that it was the best course of action. With his death and the aftermath, it will be difficult to say that the crown acted against the High Septon directly. Instead, it was an act of spontaneous violence from the smallfolk. We can even compare it to the storming of the dragonpit."
"That isn't a reference anyone but the most well-educated would know, but I see your point," Rhaegar said. "Connington got to work immediately to spread news of what had happened. The fact that you won a trial by combat and thereby proved false accusations from the High Septon himself is beyond dispute. Rumors both confirmed and creative about the dead man will spread far and wide from here, and by the time rumors start to spread about you or Aegon, it won't be hard to say that they came from a discredited lunatic."
"What sort of rumors?" Daemon asked.
"That he had his followers bribe and intimidate the Most Devout to select him, for one" Rhaegar replied. "Beyond that, we'll go with the standard fair. Sexual deviances with boys and beasts, worship of other gods, something that will have already been spread by the crowd who killed him and his followers, and that he was planning to name his own son as his successor. Had he been able to make a bigger spectacle of his accusations against you after the fight, this would have been less one-sided, but the crowd took care of that."
"Do you want the pleasure of informing Varys of his failure?" Daemon asked.
"I'll leave that to you," Rhaegar replied. "I don't intend to see the eunuch again until his execution tomorrow."
"How is he to die?" Daemon asked.
"He will suffer the fate of traitors," Rhaegar replied harshly. "He'll be hanged, drawn, and quartered for all to see."
"Sounds appropriate," Daemon murmured. "We'll have to skip the gelding part, alas."
"I'll tell the others that you're resting after the fight," Rhaegar said, ignoring his comment. "Come by my solar after the execution tomorrow. There's something else we must discuss at length, and I don't have the time just now."
"I will," Daemon promised, wondering what that was about.
His father left, closing the door behind him, and Daemon relaxed a little. He'd honestly expected him to be angrier than he was, and he was both pleased by the man's calm and a touch concerned. Whatever else was coming, though, he could at least be relatively sure that he'd truly defeated Varys this time. He'd spent much of his time in the many weeks since he returned to the capital investigating the eunuch and found no proof of any other plots. He'd remain on guard for a while after the execution, but he was relatively sure that the High Septon and his ilk were the last of the eunuch's major plots.
Removing his breeches, Daemon stepped into the tub of pleasantly hot water and sighed in relief as he felt his aches lessen almost immediately. Gregor Clegane was by far the strongest opponent he'd ever faced, and while the man wasn't as skilled as some of the other knights he'd fought against, he really didn't need to be when he could hit as hard as he could. He'd known that he couldn't allow himself to be hit directly, even once, or he'd be dead, and he'd managed to avoid that, but that didn't mean he'd come out unscathed. The shield blow and the reverberations from the swings he'd parried rather than dodged had been heavy, and he knew he'd feel this fight for a few days, but as he cleaned the grime off of his body, he grinned at the feeling of absolute victory.
"I'd say you look quite clean, my prince," a sultry voice came from behind him.
Daemon smiled as he looked around and saw his gorgeous wife standing behind him, having slipped inside quietly while he bathed. He remembered well those words, the first she'd ever spoken to him outside of their brief introduction in the throne room before, and as he looked at her and saw the revealing violet dress she was wearing, he decided to play along.
"An unmarried woman coming upon a man in his bath? What would your septons say?" he smirked.
"I've never been one to care what they say," Arianne replied, "and besides that point, I am not unmarried. I'm wed and bred now."
"Your husband is a lucky man," Daemon said teasingly, his smile widening as she approached.
"I'd say I'm the lucky one," Arianne purred, cupping his cheek and staring down into his eyes. "He's tall, strong, gorgeous, gallant, and his cock would put a horse to shame."
Daemon laughed and took her hand in his, pressing his lips to the back of it. "It was in this very room."
"Yes, it was right here where you ruined me for all over men," Arianne sighed and smiled.
"Technically speaking, it was over there," Daemon grinned, pointing to his bed.
"No," Arianne whispered, running her nails through his long, dark hair. "I was ruined the moment I laid eyes on your cock. I knew at a glance that I wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until I'd taken every thick, throbbing inch inside me."
"Fuck, Ari," Daemon groaned.
"That is the idea," Arianne giggled. "It's been so long, my love. I haven't felt you inside me since Essos."
"Your sweet cunt must be leaking down your thighs," Daemon rumbled, running a hand up along the skirt of her dress.
"There's only one way to find out," Arianne purred.
Daemon rose out of the water, and his gorgeous wife shuddered in delight at the sight of his rock-hard cock. She helped him dry quickly while he worked just as quickly to get her out of her gown. Soon enough, they were equally dry and naked, and he wasted no further time sweeping her into his arms and kissing her passionately.
"Mmm," Arianne moaned into his mouth as he cupped one of her large, full breasts, still full of milk and kneaded it gently.
A spurt of her milk dribbled down onto his hand, and he broke the kiss to look down at it. He licked it off of his hand, grinning as she gasped at the sight. It was thin and slightly sweet, and he knew that he was going to enjoy drinking from her as he fucked her. Reaching down, he ghosted his fingers over her fleshy pink folds and groaned at the heat emanating from her core.
"Gods, I've missed this cunt," he groaned as he pushed two fingers inside her.
"Not as much as it's missed you," Arianne moaned. When Daemon stilled and cocked an eyebrow at her, she said, "Oh, you know what I mean!"
Daemon laughed and picked her up, making her squeal as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, grinding her heated flesh on his turgid length. He captured her lips with his own and plunged his tongue into her mouth, loving the way she immediately yielded to his dominating kiss. It might have been a while since they were truly together, but he remembered well what she liked and was eager to show off just how well he did. Walking her to the bed, he deposited her onto it carefully and started grinding his cock between her already-slick folds.
"Oh fuck, I need you, Daemon!" Arianne cried. "Fuck me, please!"
"Soon, my love," Daemon whispered in her ear, nibbling on the lobe. "I need to taste you again first."
Arianne whimpered, her whole body shaking with need already. Daemon kissed his way down along her body, paying particular attention to her breasts before continuing along her soft belly. She was a little softer and curvier than she'd been before her pregnancy, but she had shed most of her baby weight quickly.
"I almost can't believe our Maekar was in here," he murmured softly as he kissed her belly.
"He came out of another part of me that I'd much rather you kiss," Arianne gasped, making him laugh.
"Such a needy thing you've become," Daemon chuckled.
"I haven't gone this long without pleasure since I learned what it was," Arianne whined. "I can barely think these days; my need is so great."
"Well, don't worry," Daemon said, kissing his way further along until he was right above her dripping cunt. "You know I'll take good care of you."
"You always ha...oh gods!" Arianne cried as he gave her folds a long lick.
Her trembling thighs clamped around his head as he licked and kissed all over her cunt, save for his clit. She snaked her fingers into his dark locks, her long nails teasing his scalp as she held him in place. He was a god among men when it came to eating her cunt normally, and she adored how not only skilled he was at the act but also eager to do it. With how pent-up she was, though, she imagined that the most clueless man in the world could get her off just then, and though he refused to touch her clit, insisting on teasing her more to start with, in no time at all, he'd reduced her to a quivering, babbling wreck.
"Don't stop, don't stop, please higher, please, Daemon, please...gods!" Arianne cried, sounding like the words barely escaped her throat.
When her legs started shaking badly, he knew that she was right on the edge and moved higher, wrapping his lips around her throbbing little pearl and sucking gently.
"DAEMON!" Arianne screamed so loudly that he feared the sound might reach the main hall as she came.
Her back arched off of the bed, and Daemon took the opportunity to grab and knead her plump arse cheeks as he continued to stimulate her, drawing out her pleasure as long as he could. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked her entire body, and her vision went white at the sheer intensity of it. After a moment, he backed away from her clit and let her collapse back on the bed, panting for breath.
"Love...you…" she gasped, staring in his direction with glazed, unfocused eyes.
"I love you too," Daemon replied, moving between her parted thighs.
Fisting his cock, he lined himself up with her spasming, dripping hole and pushed forward, managing to bury his entire length inside her in one long, slow thrust. Arianne gasped, staring up at him in awe, and let out a long, loud moan as her inner walls were spread wide.
"Oh fuck, I missed your big cock!" she cried.
"You're still so fucking tight," Daemon groaned.
He knew there was little chance of her feeling loose around him, given his size, even after having had Maekar, but that didn't mean he didn't appreciate the proof all the same. Her hot, wet depths clung to his invading length like a glove, and when she grinned and squeezed her inner muscles hard, he moaned, making her laugh.
"I'm taking moon tea for at least the next year," Arianne sighed. "As much as I love our son, I don't want to go another week without this, much less entire moons."
"I'm sure we'll have plenty of children running around the Water Gardens soon," Daemon smiled, pushing her hair behind her ear and exposing the slender column of her neck to him.
"Sooner than you...ahh...think, I suspect," Arianne moaned as he nipped at her pulse point.
"Oh?" Daemon asked.
"I think Obara and Tyene might be with child," Arianne said, and his eyes went wide.
"Really?" he asked, overjoyed.
"I could be wrong, but I suspect so," Arianne replied. "For one, neither one has bled in over a moon, and there are a few other signs as well. Don't tell them just yet; I want them to see if they begin to suspect it on their own."
"Given how Obara trains, we'll have to tell her sooner rather than later," Daemon said.
"Another week," Arianne replied. "Now, enough about our other lovers. I need you to fuck me."
"We have a lot of time to make up for," Daemon rumbled.
He pulled most of his length from her cunt and slammed back home, making her cry out. Quickly working his way up to the hard, fast pace he knew she loved, he watched her breasts begin to jiggle and roll across her chest and smiled. Palming the heavy mounds, he kneaded them gently and brought one of her stiff nipples to his lips, sucking gently. Her warm milk filled his mouth, and he swallowed eagerly.
"Oh gods, that feels so good," Arianne cooed, tightening her legs around his waist and wrapping her arms around his neck.
She had always had very sensitive nipples and figured that having Daemon drink from her while he fucked her would be enjoyable, but she had underestimated just how incredible it felt. She rocked against him as he thrust deep inside her again and again, soaring towards another peak so quickly that it startled her.
He switched to her other nipple, drinking deeply from her, and she cried out in pleasure. Reaching behind her, she clawed at the pillow as the pressure in her core grew more and more intense. When her tight inner walls started to spasm around his pistoning cock, Daemon pulled his head back and grinned at her. Changing the angle of his thrusts a little, he quickly found that spot deep inside her that never failed to make her scream and slipped the head of his cock inside it.
"YES, YES, YES, FUCK!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs as her vision went white.
Soul-searing ecstasy, the likes of which she hadn't felt in moons, consumed her completely. Wave after wave of pleasure, more intense than she'd ever dreamed of before she met her husband, coursed through her body, which seized and spasmed as she clung to him tightly. Daemon didn't slow his thrusts even a little bit, maintaining that brutal pace as he prolonged her pleasure for as long as he could. As always happened when she came this hard, she lost all sense of anything but it as her orgasm felt like it would go on forever. Eventually it ended, and she collapsed on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling and panting for breath.
"More," she gasped, the fires of her passion nowhere near quenched.
"On your knees," Daemon commanded, and Arianne swore she nearly came again at the tone of his voice alone.
He pulled his massive cock from her depths, and she whimpered at the loss before rolling over and scrambling to stick her arse in the air. Daemon stared down at her plump, round arse, which had grown slightly from her pregnancy, and groaned at the sight. She was nearly on par with Bellegere now, which only made him wonder how she'd look after he'd bred her too.
"Please fuck me more, Daemon," Arianne cooed, reaching behind and pulling her arse cheeks apart. "I'm still so terribly wet."
"My wonderfully wanton wife," Daemon chuckled, brushing her angry pink nether lips with the head of his cock, making her gasp in pleasure before sinking inside her to the hilt.
"Oh fuck!" Arianne screamed, grabbing the sheets in front of her as he started fucking her again.
He grabbed her wide hips, sinking his fingers into her pliant flesh, and held her tightly as he worked his way back up to the same brutal pace he'd fucked her at before. The sound of his hips smacking her plump cheeks soon echoed through the room, only drowned out by the loud squelching sounds of her soaking wet cunt and her screams of pleasure. Daemon watched her cheeks ripple and jiggle with each thrust, just as mesmerized as he always was by the sight.
"So fucking good!" Arianne cried, burying her face in the bedding as his every thrust made lights go off behind her eyes.
Daemon grinned and carefully gathered her hair in his left hand before pulling her head back. Arianne cried out at the sensation and slapped the bed. She didn't know if it was just how long it had been for her, if Daemon was just better than normal, if her body had changed in some way that could explain it, but everything seems so much more intense than normal. Staccato cries escaped her lips with every hard thrust as his cock speared her again and again.
"Gods, I love your fucking cock!" she moaned.
"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk," Daemon snarled, making her core clench.
"Do it!" Arianne screamed. "I don't need to...ugh...walk when I can just...fuck...just stay in bed and be your toy!"
Daemon groaned and pushed her arse down until she was lying prone on the bed. In that position, he cock brushed hard against one of her most sensitive spots with each thrust, and when she felt the head of him slip again into that incredible pocket deep within her, a warbling scream escaped her lips. Daemon let go of her hair and brought his hand down hard on her arse.
"Fuck yes!" Arianne shrieked.
"Cum for me again," he ordered, spanking her again. "I want to feel your perfect little cunt spasm around me as you scream my name."
"OH GODS, FUCK!" Arianne squealed, feeling like she was going to lose her mind. A familiar sensation that she'd once feared meant she was going to piss grew powerfully within her, and the next time Daemon's large hand came down onto her arse, delivering a crack that echoed through the room, she shrieked, "DAEMON!"
"Gods," Daemon groaned as he felt her cum hard around him.
A geyser of fluid erupted from her spasming cunt, splashing his swinging balls and flooding the bed under them. Feeling her cum around him and hearing her scream in pleasure after so long was intoxicating, and Daemon let go with a roar, filling her to the brim with his seed. The two of them writhed together in ecstasy as their orgasms thundered through them. Daemon's was the first to end, and he collapsed forward, rolling them both onto their sides to keep from smothering her. It was as he buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply that he noticed the sniffling.
"Ari?" asked, pulling his softening cock from her depths and looking around. When he saw tears in her eyes, he grew alarmed and exclaimed, "Arianne!?"
"I'm...alright," she choked, wiping her eyes.
"Just really intense?" he asked, and when she nodded, he relaxed.
He settled back down behind her, wrapping an arm around her middle, just under her large breasts, and holding her tightly. The two of them lay like that for a few minutes, just basking in the afterglow and enjoying each other's touch, until finally Daemon decided to break the silence.
"As good as you remember?" he whispered.
"Better," Arianne sighed, shifting and rolling until she was facing him.
He kissed her softly and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and shifted down to rest her head on his chest as he ran his fingers through her long, dark hair. With a sheen of sweat covering her from head to toe and her practically glowing with happiness, Daemon didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful.
"We will need to go down to the feast at some point," she murmured.
"Fuck that," Daemon sighed, more than happy to stay where he was.
"I can't imagine that your fight with the Mountain isn't what everyone's talking about," Arianne argued. "Given what you did it for, it might be a good idea to go drink, make merry, and let the various lords of the realm toast your health."
"If I must," Daemon groaned.
"Worry not, my love," Arianne cooed. "We'll continue this tonight, joined by the others. As much as I've enjoyed watching you take them over the last few weeks, actually participating fully again will be so much more fun."
"I can't wait until we're back in Dorne," Daemon sighed.
"That makes two of us, I assure you," Arianne whispered before kissing him softly.
She got out of bed then, her legs shaky as she went to retrieve her dress and small clothes. Daemon watched her eagerly and sighed in delight. The day was won, he was victorious, and he was by far the luckiest man in Westeros. He sure hoped that what his father wanted to talk to him about wouldn't end up being that important.