"Prince Daemon?" the old guard asked as he spotted him. "Thank the gods."
"Well met, Calon," Daemon smiled tightly. "White Harbor looks emptier than I've ever seen it."
"Your uncle has called the banners to deal with the wildling threat," Calon replied. "I'd be there myself, but some of us had to guard the city. I must say, I'm surprised you remember me."
"I never forget a face," Daemon replied, "provided I meet them sober."
Calon threw his head back, laughing at that, and Daemon saw the wound where the man's right ear had once been. In truth, the old guardsman was the first person the prince ever met who had lost an ear in combat, and his name had stuck with him because of it, but there was no reason to say such.
"You've brought quite the army, my prince," Calon murmured as he looked around at the other ships.
"Aye," Daemon agreed. "Thousands of my best soldiers, ready for battle. We'll make short work of the savages."
"I only wish I could join you," Calon murmured wistfully. "Alas, we all have our duties."
"That we do," Daemon muttered. "Excuse me."
Calon nodded, and Daemon made his way over to the ship White Flea was captaining and found Asha waiting for him, having already arrived.
"That one was called Lord Dagon once," she murmured as he drew near. "Named for my great-grandfather."
"It is an impressive ship," Daemon said, unsure of what else to say. "The voyage went well, though we could have done without that bloody storm."
"That wasn't a storm, prince," Asha snorted. "You should see how bad it can get in the Basilisk Isles. There are stretches of the sea you would swear the Storm Lord called his home."
"Every time you sail out in the world, you put your life on the line," a man rumbled as he came by. He wasn't terribly tall, but he was broad and stout, with a wild red beard and angry green eyes. "Where has that daughter of mine gotten to?"
"Helga went with Grimtongue and Cromm to secure supplies for our trip to Winterfell," Asha replied. "They should be back soon."
The man grunted and wandered off.
"Your lover's father is part of your crew?" Daemon asked.
"Aye," Asha replied, her dark eyes meeting his. "Hagen's one of my best men and one of the first I ever recruited. He talked me into taking his daughter onboard after my first few voyages, and though I was skeptical…"
"You got one look at her tits?" Daemon asked, earning a bark of laughter from her.
"There's no room on a ship for anyone who brings just a pair of tits, no matter how spectacular," Asha replied. "Hagen taught her how to use that axe of hers well, and she does. She's a mad little thing when her blood is up and a right demon in bed after a fight."
Daemon grinned at that, well aware of the fact that Asha intended for the both of them to warm his bed during this little adventure. They were both beautiful in their way and strong. On the whole, he liked his women soft and curvy, but there was always something to be said for fucking one who could hold her own in a fight. Thinking of that reminded him of Obara and Nymeria, and his face fell.
"Once we've all assembled, we'll begin our march to the capital," Daemon murmured.
"I must admit that I've always wondered what Winterfell looks like," Asha commented.
"Huge," Daemon replied. "It's one of the largest castles in Westeros and easily one of the most defensible as well. It might not have the natural advantages of the Eyrie or Casterly Rock, but it more than makes up for that in its sheer immensity. It's probably packed full just now."
"Most of the fighting men are already there then?" Asha asked.
"It takes the North a long time to assemble their banners, just because it's so ridiculously big, but they've had moons to do so, and I suspect that at least most of them are already there," Daemon replied. "I wrote to my uncle before we left to tell him that we were coming."
"My prince, we're mostly all assembled," White Flea reported as he drew near.
"Mostly?" Daemon asked.
"Two of our ships are unaccounted for," White Flea replied.
"Maybe during the storm, two of the ships in our group got lost and started following the bomb carriers," Edric piped up.
"Better that than the alternative," Daemon scowled, thinking that he'd have a look around later. "If they are with the others, we'll learn of it later on. They should reach Eastwatch-by-the-Sea soon enough."
The dragonpowder bombs would have been wasted on the wildlings, he knew, so he ordered his men to sail the ships carrying them to the easternmost castle along the Wall instead. With the precious weapons stored there, if it became necessary to use them against some mythical force, at least they'd be at hand.
"The last of the ships are docking now, Prince Daemon," Edric murmured. "We'll be ready to leave soon."
"Good," Daemon replied, looking up at the sky.
It was clear above White Harbor, and the sun was still relatively high in the sky. They'd likely be able to reach the nearest bridge across the White Knife before dusk and could set up camp on the other side. Tomorrow, they'd reach the Kingsroad. and from there. the journey would not take long.
He stretched his neck to either side, feeling the pleasant pops and sighing at how stiff he was. He'd spent much time over the past couple years at sea, but he doubted he'd ever truly get used to it. His place was on dry land, and while he knew that he enjoyed flying from having seen through Brynden's eyes so many times, he doubted that ever truly come to enjoy sailing. Even camping in the middle of nowhere was going to be more pleasant.
It took them less than an hour to assemble their entire army, the three quarters of it that had come to White Harbor, and then they were off. The populous of the city greeted them jubilantly once they noticed them, a sense of relief written across all of their faces at the knowledge that reinforcements had arrived after all, and Daemon waved to the crowds as he passed, earning a mocking laugh from Asha.
As he'd figured, they managed to cross the White Knife with plenty of daylight to spare and came close to reaching the main road before dusk arrived. He ordered the men to set up camp in a more open area than he would have normally, but as he was in the North instead of a foreign land and his party was enormous, he doubted that he'd run into any trouble. After eating with the men, he retired for the night and sat down on the ground within his tent, relaxing his mind and reaching out to Maegor.
"I know you miss your father, sweetling," Arianne sighed to a crying Maekar as she bounced him gently on her lap. "I do too."
Maekar continued to cry, and Daemon climbed up onto the bed, jumping around to try and get his son's attention.
"Maegor, that's...Daemon?" Arianne asked, smiling widely as she peered into the lemur's unusually sharp purple eyes.
Maekar looked at the dancing lemur, his cries quieting down as his attention was drawn to something far more interesting than his visibly tired mother. Daemon tugged on his ears and contorted his face into the funniest expressions he could manage, and soon Maekar was laughing uproariously, stretching his arms out to try and grab the funny animal in front of him.
"Thank you," Arianne sighed. "The servants are busy dealing with the feast Father's insisted on throwing for us, and I was having a nightmare of a time calming him down on my own. I take it you're in White Harbor?"
Daemon blinked once for yes, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Arianne knew well that warging required concentration and calm, and while it could be done on a ship while it was rocked by the sea's waves, it wasn't ideal.
"We arrived a few days ago," Arianne smiled, reaching out to rake her nails through his fur. "Sailing through the stepstones is never fun, but we managed it."
Daemon grabbed her hand and kissed one of her knuckles, earning a giggle from her that made Maekar laugh again.
"I love you too," Arianne whispered. "Come back to me."
Daemon nodded and jumped down off of the bed before returning to his mind.
"I'm sure the prince won't mind seeing us," Helga purred.
"Prince Daemon gave me express orders to ensure that he remained undisturbed," Ser Barristan replied, and Daemon swore he could hear the man's scowl.
"It's alright, Ser Barristan," he called out. "Let them in."
"Your weapons," Ser Barristan said flatly.
Daemon heard the distinct shuffling of weapons being unhooked from belts, and a moment later, his two pirate companions walked inside. They were both bundled up, neither one being anywhere near as accustomed to the cold of the North as he and his sworn shield were. The Unsullied had it worse, having spent most of their lives in Slaver's Bay, and making sure that he had enough heavy, warm clothing for the entire army had been something that Connington took surprisingly good care with. Even with their heavy furs, though, their beauty shone through, and he let his eyes roam over their forms eagerly.
"You wanted to speak to me?" he asked, grinning.
"You know damn well what we want," Asha replied, grinning as she threw off the black fur cloak she was wearing.
"When Asha first shared the rumors of you and your wife with me, I thought it was horse shit," Helga grinned, throwing off her own cloak. "After all, what noblewoman would willingly share her husband with one other woman, much less half a dozen of them? When I learned that it was true, though, I started to wonder what sort of man could be so exhaustingly virile that his wife would feel the need."
Daemon grinned at the two of them and let his eyes roam over their bodies. He doubted that either of them owned particularly feminine clothing, and they were both dressed in leather tunics, breeches, and boots. Asha's were black and gray, and Helga's tunic was green and complemented her eyes well. Her long red hair was unbound and fell past her shoulders, drawing his eye. He'd not had a redhead in quite some time and he was looking forward to finding out if she was just as fun as the ones he'd had in his time in the North.
"That's not why she shares me," Daemon chuckled. "It's not the only reason, anyway. How long have you two been lovers?"
"Years now," Asha replied. "As I said earlier, Hagen talked me into adding Helga to my crew, and though I was skeptical at first, I quickly changed my tune."
"Our first voyage was a trial by fire," Helga muttered. "I mean that truly. We raided this pirate ship in the Stepstones that had just hit a merchant vessel. It was filled with treasure ripe for plunder, and its men were exhausted from the battle."
"Did you often attack other pirates?" Daemon asked.
"We attacked what we felt like," Asha shrugged. "Each captain is a king or queen of their ship, and the ironborn way has always been to take what you like. If you succeed, the Drowned God was with you, and if you fail, you go to him."
"Some mad cunt, realizing that they were fucked, lit the ship aflame and took his chances in the sea," Helga continued. "I tossed a knife into his back, because there was no way I was letting him go after that, and we scrambled to detach the Black Wind from it and get out."
"The ship started to fall apart, and the mast knocked me down," Asha muttered. "I'd have burned alive if not for this one. She pulled me out and helped me back to the Black Wind just in time."
"I take it you were very grateful," Daemon chuckled.
"I think she spent a whole hour with her head between my thighs that night," Helga grinned, wrapping an arm around her.
"The two of us have enjoyed each other ever since," Asha smirked, "along with whoever we fancied. Women for the most part, and the occasional man."
"Never a prince, though," Helga purred, stepping forward.
"Aye, this will be a first," Asha added, joining her. "No one will disturb us tonight, right?"
"Not if they want to live," Daemon replied, making them both laugh.
"Good," Asha grinned before kissing him hard.
Daemon wrapped an arm around her waist and deepened the kiss quickly, pushing his tongue between her lips. She sucked gently on it and pressed her own against him. As the two of them continued to kiss, their tongues dueling for dominance in their mouths, Helga busied herself with kissing and nibbling on his neck and earlobe. Daemon groaned into Asha's mouth and broke the kiss to capture her lover's lips instead. She pulled back after a moment, grinning wickedly at him, and gently pushed him back.
"I think the prince would enjoy a show," Helga purred, looking at Asha.
"He certainly likes using them," Asha snorted. "Linking the High Cunt to the cult from that play was inspired, by the way."
"The whole city was buzzing with rumors about him and what had happened when we left," Helga added. "Between that and somehow managing to use the conflict to kill the Mountain, you proved that you're not nearly as much of a brute as you look."
"I look brutish, do I?" Daemon chuckled.
"Just how I like them," Helga purred. "Now sit back and enjoy."
She pulled Asha down into a heated embrace, and Daemon watched eagerly as the two of them made out frenziedly, undressing as they went. He stepped out of his boots and made quick work of his tunic and shirt as he watched them. It was plain as day that these two had been together for as long as they said, and they moved together seamlessly. Soon enough, they were in their small clothes alone, and Daemon's eyes feasted on their bodies.
Asha was lithe and strong, thin with small, perky breasts, capped by small pink nipples, and more prominent hips. Her body was littered with scars, which he didn't find unappealing in the slightest. Helga was shorter and curvier, though not nearly on the level of Arianne or Bellegere. Her breasts sat like two teardrops on her chest, round, firm, and tantalizing, and her nipples, a darker pink than Asha's, were some of the largest he had ever seen. The two of them barely paid any attention to him until they heard him remove his belt. As his breeches fell to the ground, his cock sprang free into the air and immediately drew their eyes.
"Fucking hells!" Asha exclaimed.
"Now, I understand the princess," Helga chuckled. "I doubt she'd be able to walk at all if she had to handle that all alone."
Daemon just grinned at that. She wasn't the first woman to make that joke, and he doubted she'd be the last. He walked towards them, his heavy cock bobbing with each step, and smirked as they remained utterly focused on him.
"It doesn't bite, you know," he chuckled, breaking them out of their reverie.
"Neither do we," Asha grinned, reaching out and wrapping her hand around his length. "Fucking hells, my fingers don't even touch."
"You're going to stretch me out so much," Helga moaned as she added her hand.
The two of them stroked him slowly together, getting a feel for his girth. Daemon hummed softly at the feeling, happy to let them explore him slowly for the time being, though he doubted either woman much cared for such a pace.
He was proven right a moment later as Asha smirked and said, "Sit down and let us get to know your greatsword properly."
Daemon laughed at that and went to his bedroll, sitting down and waiting for them to join him. His tent, the large gold-colored one he'd taken from the Golden Company, was vast enough that multiple animal skins could be strewn about and they didn't need to worry about the cool ground as they padded over to him. Sinking down to their knees, they lifted his cock between their faces and started peppering it with wet kisses.
"Fuck," Daemon groaned, sinking the fingers of one hand into Helga's ginger locks.
He grasped Asha's head with the other hand and realized that she was probably the first woman he'd ever been with hair as short as hers. The two of them worked in unison, teasing his shaft with little kisses and licks as they moved up along it. As they reached the bulbous head, their eyes met, and they grinned. Daemon had only a moment to wonder what they were thinking before they started kissing each other around him.
"Gods," he groaned, making them both giggle as their sinful tongues played his sensitive flesh perfectly.
They continued to kiss, doing their level best to drive him mad, and by the time they moved away, his glans were nearly purple; he was so hard.
"I haven't actually sucked a cock in ages, and if I try with this monstrosity, I'll doubt it will go well," Asha grunted.
"I have far better ideas for what you could do with it instead," Daemon grinned.
"I imagine you do, and I'm not leaving this tent tonight until you've seeded me at least twice," Asha grinned, "but I think I'd like to watch you fuck Helga first."
"You want proof he can fit?" Helga asked, sounding amused.
"I think his son is proof enough of that," Asha replied, "but I want to see how wide he stretches your tight little cunt before he fucks me senseless."
"Lie on your back," Daemon rumbled. "I want to taste you first."
"You're a rare man, dragon prince," Helga murmured, doing as he said. She removed her small clothes then, revealing her wild forest of red curls.
"There's nothing like a ginger muff, is there?" Asha sighed, running her fingers through it. "I don't know if it's just the color or how rare they are, but I've always liked the look."
"I don't disagree," Daemon murmured, placing his hands on her strong, solid thighs and spreading them further apart.
He pressed his lips against the soft skin, making her breath hitch, and continued upward, inching his way towards her mound. Helga watched him with obvious fascination and moaned when Asha started joining in. The two of them kissed their way up her thighs, moving deliberately slowly, and he grinned when he heard her start to grow frustrated.
"Careful now," Asha sang. "The last time you got impatient with me, I kept you bound to my bed for a day."
"You were such a cunt that day," Helga swore. "I was shaking like a leaf by the end of it."
"I kept licking her right until she was about to crest to buggering off elsewhere," Asha chuckled. "Came so hard she cried when I finally let her."
"I thought I was going to di...ahh!" Helga hissed as Daemon parted her curls and brushed one of his thumbs through her fleshy pink folds.
Daemon buried his face between her legs and started kissing her dewy nether lips, drawing delightful little whimpers and gasps from her. He avoided her clit, not wanting to rush things, and began lapping at her folds. As his tongue danced expertly over her heated flesh, her gasps turned to moans, and she buried her fingers in his hair.
"A man who can actually eat cunt," Asha remarked, sounding like she'd just found a dog who could fly. "Between that and your cock, I'm starting to understand how many women warm your bed."
"Fuck, he's good at this," Helga whimpered as he moved up and started circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, carefully keeping from touching it directly.
"So wet," he grinned, pushing two fingers inside her tight heat. "You're going to stretch so well for me."
"Gods, don't stop!" Helga cried, feeling the pressure inside her build rapidly.
"Even if she's dripping wet, your cock is still dry," Asha murmured. "I'll fix that."
Pushing three fingers inside her cunt, she got them nice and slick before grabbing his cock. Daemon gasped as she started painting him with her juices, going back and forth multiple times to ensure that he was well coated. As she worked, he continued to do his level best to make Helga go mad. As he sensed she was growing close, he wrapped his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked gently, making her scream.
"Yes!" she cried. "Just like that! I'm so close, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna...Fuck!"
She growled in frustration as he pulled back, trying to drag his head back down to her cunt. Asha rolled the redhead over just enough to let her slap her arse hard, and she shrieked.
"Behave if you want to cum," the pirate captain grinned. "I'd say you're slick enough, and she sounds like she's a moment away from bliss, so if you're going to fit at all, it will be now."
"Yes, fuck me!" Helga begged. "Fuck me, lick me, anything, just make me cum!"
"So desperate," Daemon grinned wickedly. "Don't worry, my little pirate, you're both going to cum on my cock tonight until your throats are hoarse from screaming."
Helga shuddered at his words and spread her legs even wider, practically shaking with need. Daemon moved into position and nestled his cock between her slick folds, enjoying the sheer heat coming from her. He brushed her lightly, coating the head of his cock in her fluids, before pushing against her already-fluttering hole. It popped inside, and she immediately clawed at the furs under her, gasping and staring at him with wide eyes.
"Shit!" the redhead gasped. "Fucking hells, you're huge!"
"Gods, you should see how stretched your cunt already looks," Asha murmured, resting her hands on Daemon's shoulders as she watched eagerly. "You're going to gape for days."
"So are yo...ahh!" Helga cried as he pushed more of his cock inside her. "Fuck, yes!"
Daemon smiled as he luxuriated in her tight, wet heat. Every woman he'd ever been with differed from the others in multiple ways, but one thing they all had in common was how tightly their silky inner walls clung to his girth. Unless giants were real and even mildly fuckable, he doubted that he'd ever take a woman who wasn't just as wonderfully tight to him.
"More!" Helga screamed, still on edge from his earlier teasing. "Fuck me!"
"He doesn't hurt?" Asha asked.
"It burns a little, but I don't care," Helga whimpered. "I'm so fucking close."
Daemon started fucking her with long, slow strokes, burying a little more of his cock inside her sweltering depths each time he drove deep. She grabbed the furs so tightly that her knuckles turned white and wrapped her legs around him, trying to draw him even deeper. He felt her inner walls start to clench around him. By the time he finally buried the last inch inside her, her legs were shaking badly, and he knew it wasn't going to take much more. He picked up his pace, fucking her hard, and watched as her breasts began to roll across her chest.
Asha crawled around him and captured one of her hard nipples with her lips, making the redhead squeal. Reaching down, she snaked her fingers through Helga's forest of red curls and started rubbing her clit in tight little circles. Between the two of them, she had no hope of holding back, and soon, her moans became staccato screams as she soared towards her peak.
"FUCK!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs as her orgasm crashed over her.
Her back arched off the ground, and her heels dug into him as her toes curled hard. She reached above her head, clawing at the fur and grounds, completely overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure rocking through her body. Daemon kept fucking her throughout it, wanting to draw out her pleasure as much as he could, and as it ended, he didn't let up at all.
"You were generous, letting her go first," he grinned at Asha. "I think she should repay that generosity."
Helga laughed at that as she panted for breath, saying, "Sounds like...a plan."
"Sit on her face while I fuck her," Daemon rumbled, and Asha bit her lip, her already dark eyes growing even darker with lust.
She crawled over to Helga and kissed the woman deeply before moving into position. Straddling her face, she lowered her dripping cunt down onto her eager mouth. She gasped, her eyes growing lidded immediately, and Daemon didn't have to see to know that Helga was already happily eating her out. He picked up his pace, fucking her harder and faster as Asha started grinding her dripping slit on her face.
"Fuck, right there!" Asha moaned. "I swear your tongue is a gift from the Drowned God himself."
Daemon chuckled at that but stayed silent. Given their history, there was little good that could come of him referring to their god at all. Asha moaned loudly, and he pulled her in, kissing her deeply. The two of them kissed hungrily, neither being particularly willing to submit to the other, all while continuing to fuck Helga. The redhead's muffled moans grew louder and louder as Daemon's cock pistoned in and out of her squelching cunt, and he got the sense that she really enjoyed being used like this.
"I think we're going to enjoy this little ad...ahhh...journey," Asha moaned. "Mmm, suck on my clit. Just...ugh...just like that!"
Daemon grinned and moved Helga's legs up onto his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrusts to let him hit her more sensitive spots more easily.
"I think you'd love my girls," he murmured. "Even if I do put a babe in your belly before we leave the north, you could visit Sunspear."
"I think I...gah!" Asha cried out, her whole body going taut. "I will...YES!"
She fell forward as her orgasm hit and Daemon caught her, wrapping his arms around her as he fucked her lover harder and faster. As she shifted away from Helga, the redhead's mouth was no longer covered, and her screams of pleasure joined Asha's.
"Don't stop, don't fucking stop!" Helga screeched. "I love your fucking cock!"
"Cum for me," Daemon smirked. "I'm not fucking Asha until you cum again, and we know how much she wants me to fill her womb with my seed."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" Helga cried. "I...AHHH!"
She trailed off as her orgasm hit hard, and he immediately pulled out of her, leaving her to writhe and convulse atop the soft furs. Asha looked down, still breathing heavily, and shuddered at the sight of his thick shaft glistening with Helga's juices. She reached down and trailed a finger up along it, gathering her fluids up before bringing it to her lips. She licked it clean and smirked as she saw the lusty look he gave her.
"I think it's time you made good on your promise," she said challengingly.
"My 'promise' is right here," Daemon replied in kind, and he laid back on his bedroll and fisted his cock. "If you want it, come take it."
"That is my people's way," Asha chuckled, crawling over to him.
She lifted his heavy cock as she moved into position, straddling him. Daemon felt her hand tremor slightly as she lined herself up with his shaft and wasn't sure if that was apprehension because of his size or because she was hoping that he would give her an heir. Either way, it seemed to pass quickly, and she pressed his bulbous head against her dripping slit. With a little downward pressure, he slipped inside, and she moaned loudly as she felt him spread her inner walls wide.
"Like a fucking...horse, isn't he?" Helga panted, sitting up and watching them through glassy eyes.
"Shit, you make me feel small," Asha laughed, bracing herself on his shoulders as she moved smoothly down along his cock.
She yielded for him more easily than Helga, and soon she was resting on his thighs, her eyes clenched shut as the feeling of being spread wide made her shake. Daemon grasped her hips, digging his fingers into her, and gave her a moment to adjust to the feeling of him. He had fucked Helga through multiple orgasms and knew that, while he could hold himself back easily enough, he could also cum soon. He refused to let himself go without feeling her spasm around him first, though, and reached up to cup one of her firm, perky breasts.
"Gods, with your looks, royal blood, and this fucking cock, you must have ruined half the women here," Asha groaned as she started riding him slowly.
"I wasn't that bad," Daemon laughed, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he reached down to brush the dark curls that crowned her cunt.
"So the North isn't full to bursting of little purple-eyed babes?" Helga asked, laughing lightly.
"No," Daemon replied. "I do have some restraint."
Asha snorted at that, picking up her pace a little and riding him faster. She had taken him well, but Daemon was used to women needing time to adjust to him and stayed still, letting her move at her pace. She gradually sped up, looking more comfortable and feeling more relaxed around him, and once she started bouncing on him properly, he grabbed her hips and began thrusting up in time with her movements.
"Fuck, yes!"Asha cried, gripping his shoulders more tightly to support herself as they moved together.
Her breasts weren't large enough to truly bounce as she rode him hard, but they did jiggle a little, and Daemon watched them with rapt attention. He wasn't the only one, he noticed, as Helga sat to the side, openly touching herself to the sight of their frenetic coupling. He already knew that he was really going to enjoy having these two warm his bed during his time in the North. He still wished that Arianne and the others were with him instead, but they couldn't be for various reasons, and he was fortunate enough to have a wife who was happy to let him bed others in her stead.
"Fucking hells, I'm already close!" Asha moaned a while later, surprised by how quickly her orgasm had built within her.
"Need some help?" Helga asked with a grin.
She crawled towards them and embraced Asha from behind, pressing her lips against the brunette's back. She cupped one of her breasts and reached down to press her fingers against her clit. Daemon had been intending to do so as she reached her peak and had been keeping his fingers teasingly close, but was more than willing to back off. He grabbed her hips again and thrust up into her harder.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Asha cried, her eyes rolling back as the pleasure grew too intense.
Helga kneaded her pale, supple mound and kissed a trail along her neck towards her ear. She captured the lobe with her teeth and rubbed her clit just the way she liked.
"Finish with me," Asha begged. "Finish in m...FUCK!"
Daemon grunted as he felt her cum, her inner walls spasming around his length, and let go. She fell forward, and Daemon caught her, holding her tight as he filled her with spurt after thick spurt of his seed. He doubted that he'd put a babe in her that night, but the gods alone knew how long he'd be stuck dealing with the wildlings and whatever else awaited him, so he'd have plenty of opportunities.
"I hope you have more in you than that," Helga grinned as the two of them stilled.
"That makes...two of us," Asha panted, pushing herself up to look down at him.
"How long does it usually take you to harden again?" Helga asked.
"What makes you think I'll soften?" Daemon asked with a grin, rolling over.
He pulled out of Asha and stood up, revealing that he was still hard as a rock.
"Mmm, like I say, I understand your wife," Helga grinned, making him laugh. "Neither one of us is going to walk straight on the morrow, are we?"
"I'm alright with that," Asha replied.
Daemon looked back and forth between them and grinned.
Winterfell might not have been the largest castle in Westeros, but there was a splendor to it that Harrenhal would have lacked even if not for Balerion's renovations. It was massive and imposing, but there was also a rugged beauty to it. The granite walls that enclosed the multi-acre complex, complete with a vast godswood, were as unyielding and steadfast as the North itself. Wintertown had a similar feel to it normally, though as Daemon looked upon it a couple days after landing in White Harbor, he hardly recognized the place.
There were vast camps sent up all around the castle, making it look like the town's borders had expanded exponentially since he was last there, and as he knew Winterfell to be capable of hosting vast visiting parties, he knew that the number of men his uncle had called on had to be significant.
Looking upon Winterfell again brought back memories he treasured dearly, memories of the simple years he had spent in the North. He adored the life he had built for himself and was eager to return to Dorne and his family, but a part of him would always miss that. Though he wished that it was under better circumstances, he was definitely looking forward to seeing his Stark kin again.
"Prince Daemon!" one of the guards on the wall bellowed as he realized who was coming. "Open the gates for the prince!"
Loud cheers erupted as the gates were lowered and Daemon rode confidently through them atop his inky black charger. The horse whinnied as blue rose petals began to fall around them, thrown by the happy small folk that he passed. The welcome in White Harbor had been nice but somewhat subdued, owing likely to how many people there knew that their husbands, fathers, or sons had marched to the capital to fight the coming threat. The people of Wintertown hadn't yet been parted from their loved ones, and while the tension in them was still palpable, not helped by the extra men there, it wasn't yet as bad.
As he approached the main keep, he saw that, to his surprise, not all of his kin were waiting for him, but as he spotted Robb, he smiled.
"You actually can grow a beard," Daemon chuckled as he dismounted his horse.
"I always could," Robb replied with a grin. "I just didn't feel the need to hide my ugly mug on principle."
Daemon laughed and pulled him into a hug that he returned happily.
"I missed you," he muttered. "I'd hoped to see you at the capital."
"Would have if I could," Robb sighed as he let him go. "None of us were happy about it, but we couldn't leave at a time like this."
"Just how bad are things?" Daemon asked. "My father filled me in on what he knew, but…"
"We should speak inside," Robb sighed.
"I'll see to it that your men are shown to the space still available," Maester Luwin said. "It's good seeing you again, my prince."
"And you," Daemon replied, nodding to his old teacher. "I just wish the circumstances were different."
"As do we all," Robb scowled. "Come. Father and the other lords are gathered together in the main hall."
"How many are yet to arrive?" Daemon asked.
"Lord Howland arrived two days ago," Robb replied. "He was the last."
"Gods," Daemon muttered.
The last time that all the lords of the North were gathered together like that was when the mad king killed Lord Rickard. He had spotted enough men gathered inside the massive castle to know that much of the might of the North must have been there, but knowing that every lord was assembled was still shocking.
"We should be marching up there and securing the Wall now!" Jon Umber roared, his booming voice billowing through the castle. "I won't have those raping cunts ravaging my lands because the Night's Watch has become as useless as tits on a fucking bull, and we decided to wait for the gods themselves to come save us."
"Mind yourself, Umber," Wyman Manderly hissed. "Your enemies lie to the north of us, not here."
"My enemies are the fifty thousand wildlings that are poised to batter through the Wall," Jon growled. "I didn't know there even were that many of them."
"Fifty thousand?" Daemon asked quietly, turning to Robb.
"That's what the Lord Commander estimates," Robb replied. Under his breath, he added, "Just about shit myself when I heard the number."
Daemon could understand why. That number would include women and children as well and could easily be inflated by a man who knew he was about to be overwhelmed and wanted to really drive home the threat he was facing, but it was still shocking.
"The sheer number of them is why we're advising caution," Maege Mormont reasoned. "I'd happily start cracking skulls this very moment, but if they manage to overwhelm the Night's Watch and we rush forward, we could run the risk of charging into an ambush."
"All the more reason to…" Jon went to argue.
"Daemon," Ned called out, and the entire hall went silent at his words, turning to look at him.
"Fucking finally," Jon laughed, sounding relieved. "You're a sight for sore eyes, my prince."
"I arrived as quickly as I could," Daemon murmured, joining them. He looked down at the large map on the table; they were all gathered around and scratched his beard as he asked, "What's the situation?"
"Wildlings, numbering in the tens of thousands, are marching towards the Wall," Ned replied. "They've been gathering for some time now, as far as we can tell, and seem to be headed straight for Castle Black."
"How many men are on the Wall just now?" Daemon asked.
"Not nearly enough," Rickard Karstark grumbled. "The Watch has been in decline for generations, and now I'd be surprised if they had much more than fifteen hundred men."
"A force of fifteen hundred men man a wall stretching for three hundred miles?!" Daemon exclaimed. "How is that possible? My father has been actively working to bolster their ranks throughout his entire reign."
"His contributions have helped," Ned replied. "Truth be told, the Night's Watch was in much worse shape during the mad king's reign."
"Gods be good," Daemon muttered. "I know Uncle Benjen said it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad. What has he said of…"
He trailed off as he watched Ned's face fall.
"Benjen disappeared over a year ago," he said, and Daemon felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
"Sorry, lad," Maege murmured sympathetically.
"Many more will 'disappear' if we don't move quickly," Roose Bolton said silkily. "The Wall must be reinforced."
"We need to know how far off the wildlings are," Maege reiterated. "Without scout reports from Estermont, we'd be walking in blind. If their victory at the Wall is all but assured now, it would be better to set up our defenses south of the gift and lure them in. Order the black brothers to pull back and burn everything between the Wall and Last Hearth. Let the cunts march to us starved and weak."
"And risk them escaping further into the North?" Jon asked, glaring at the Lady of Bear Island.
"Lady Mormont's plan has merit," Howland Reed piped up. "Part of what makes the Neck such a natural defensive point is that it is long and exceedingly inhospitable to those who don't know it well. Forcing them to march through a barren gift could let us significantly reduce the effectiveness of their numbers, and right now, that's their only true advantage."
"We don't know what sort of numbers we're dealing with right now," Rickard pointed out. Turning to Daemon, he asked, "How many men has his grace sent us?"
"Nine thousand," Daemon replied. A chorus of outraged shouting erupted at that, and Ned slammed his fist down on the table loudly enough to draw their attention to him. Giving his uncle a grateful nod, Daemon continued, saying, "My royal father seemed to believe until very recently that the problem wasn't nearly as severe as it seems."
"Estermont's a dumb cunt," Maege spat. "If Jeor were still there…"
"Their sheer numbers weren't made clear to us until recently," Ned sighed.
"I see," Daemon muttered. "My father has called the banners, and if it becomes necessary to join us, he will, but my men are no ordinary peasant conscripts. The Unsullied are the most highly trained warriors in the world, subjected to a training regimen from the time they're children so grueling and terrible, most of us would balk at it. A man of the north is worth at least two of these savages, and with my army and yours, we will beat them back."
That earned him a round of cheers, and his uncle gave him a grateful look.
"My father has given me his full authority in this crisis," Daemon explained, "and I agree with Lord Jon that we shouldn't waste any further time here."
"Quite right," Jon grumbled.
"But we shouldn't rush into this fight either without knowing for sure what we're dealing with," Daemon continued. "The hour is late, and it would be pointless to try and leave now, but we should on the morrow begin marching towards Last Hearth."
"I agree," Ned sighed. "If this is all the men we can expect for the time being, then there's no further reason to delay. My lords, we leave at dawn."
There were murmurs of support and grumbles both, but no one tried to argue against him. With the meeting done, they started to file out, and Daemon took the opportunity to speak to his uncle privately.
"I'm so sorry about Uncle Benjen," he said.
"I'm sorry I didn't write to you," Ned replied. "By the time you returned to Westeros, I was already mired in this mess."
"How many men have you managed to raise?" Daemon asked.
"Twenty thousand," Ned replied. "The mountain clans haven't arrived yet, and I might be able to get word to them to go straight to Last Hearth instead."
"So twenty-nine thousand against fifty," Daemon mused.
"Considering that, even if that number isn't seriously inflated as it easily could be, less than half of their number would be men, that could more than even things out in our favor," Robb added. "I'm sure their women are fierce fighters too, but…"
"They are, trust me," Daemon grumbled. "While I was staying in Bear Island, a small group of wildlings attacked us one night. I had carved through a few of them with ease when this one mad cunt, threw herself at me and managed to knock me down. Nearly clawed my eyes out, that one."
"What happened?" Robb asked.
"I managed to kick her off, and Dacey caved her skull in," Daemon replied. "I assume she's here."
"Do recall that you are we...sorry, I just remembered who your wife is," Ned chuckled, and he and Robb both joined in.
"Where are the others?" Daemon asked. "I half expected Arya to jump me the second I entered the castle."
"They're with Catelyn," Ned asked. "The girls will be going to White Harbor and Bear Island, respectively."
"I assume Sansa's going to White Harbor," Daemon chuckled. "Why send them away? Even if the Wildlings made it all the way to Winterfell, they couldn't take it."
"I don't think it's that big of a threat, but Catelyn is concerned, and I think it would be good for them," Ned replied. "Arya's been doing her best to make me go gray before my time, begging insistently to be allowed to join the fight, and as Sansa will likely be wedding a Northerner, I think watching a northern lady conduct herself would be helpful."
"My south-obsessed cousin wed a northerner?" Daemon asked. "Does she know this?"
"She's rather taken with Domeric Bolton," Ned replied. "Before you say anything, he's…"
"I met him once or twice and yes, he's different than one might have expected," Daemon interjected. Neither one of them wanted to say aloud that he was nothing like his father, but they were both glad for it. "Sansa as Lady of the Dreadfort."
"As for Arya, Alysane Mormont is with child, something she learned on the road here, and Maege is sending her back to rule the island in her stead. I think those two will get on well," Ned added. "With the ironborn crushed and the wildlings gathered together near the wall, Bear Island's never been safer."
"White Harbor's rather quiet at the moment, but I think Sansa will like it," Daemon murmured. "As I recall, she quite likes Wynafryd and Wylla."
"She does," Robb confirmed, "and as much as she isn't pleased with the decision not to let her kill wildlings with us, Arya has wanted to visit Bear Island ever since she learned about your misadventure with the ironborn."
"Gods, finding that girl a husband is going to be difficult," Ned grumbled, rubbing his temples.
"Edric might be an option," Daemon murmured. "He's unwed, the heir to Starfall, and I recall the two of them being rather adorable with each other when I was last here."
"Something to ponder in better times," Ned replied. "Excuse me, I need to check on our supplies for the army."
"Of course," Daemon nodded as he left. Turning to Robb, he asked, "How go things with your lovely wife?"
"She's with child," Robb replied, smiling. "She's resting just now and has been a lot lately. but Maester Luwin thinks she's progressing well and should give birth within another three moons."
"Congratulations!" Daemon exclaimed. "Gods, I have been away too long."
"Conquering entire civilizations if rumor is to believed," Robb commented.
"There was nothing civilized about what I conquered," Daemon chuckled. "Come, I'll tell you all about it."
As he filled Robb in on his adventures in Essos and King's Landing, the two of them walked through the halls of Winterfell. The castle was full to capacity, and busier than he could recall, with the sheer number of men walking about standing as proof of just what a force had been assembled. It was still paltry compared to the sort of numbers that the Westerlands or the Reach could field, but it was likely the greatest force seen in the North in decades and spoke to just how serious a threat they were facing.
"You can sit around and giggle about knights or try on dresses all you like," Arya scoffed. "At least I'm going to be able to spar some, even if I'll never bloody use the skills."
"You shouldn't want to," Catelyn sighed, sounding exhausted. "Women have our share of battles to fight in life, but they don't happen on killing fields."
Arya huffed and looked away just as Daemon and Robb entered the room.
"Daemon!" Arya cried, leaping into his arms. "Mmm, I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."
"We made better time than I thought," Daemon replied, hugging her tightly. He smiled at Sansa, who quickly joined them.
"I'm glad you're here," she whispered.
"It's been too long," Daemon murmured, wrapping an arm around her too. "I hear you're going to White Harbor."
"Yes, tomorrow," Sansa replied, sounding excited. "It sounds ever so gorgeous."
"It is," Catelyn smiled. "The keep there isn't as majestic as Winterfell, but I think it's far more beautiful."
"Like I say, you can have it," Arya scoffed.
"Are you looking forward to Bear Island?" Daemon asked.
"Aye," Arya replied. "I know Alysane Mormont can fight, and her youngest sister is still there too."
"I do so wish that you'd find more feminine pursuits," Catelyn chided, and Arya didn't react at all. "At least you'll be safe there, though."
Daemon saw Arya look like she wanted to reply, but she stayed silent. In truth, he was surprised that she wasn't arguing more. Years ago, she'd have continued on badgering everyone until she was firmly told off for it. He supposed that she had grown up some in the time he'd been gone, though he noted, to his amusement, that it didn't extend to her height.
"I'm glad you arrived so soon," Arya murmured. "I'm leaving today."
"How large a force of guards are you sparing?" Daemon asked.
"A handful of Lady Maege's men are returning to the island with her daughter," Catelyn replied. "Arya will be going with them."
"You'll like Bear Island, little wolf," Daemon smiled down at his favorite cousin.
"It does sound nice," Arya admitted. "May I go? I need to feed Nymeria."
"Very well," Catelyn replied.
"I hope Lady likes White Harbor," Sansa fretted.
"I'm sure she will," Daemon chuckled. "It's a little warmer, and the salty air takes some getting used to, but it isn't all that different from Winterfell."
"Daemon, I saw the army that you arrived with," Catelyn murmured. "Is that the first wave of reinforcements coming?"
"It's most of my army," Daemon replied. "About a quarter of them are sailing to Eastwatch. We will be enough."
"The Wildlings are dangerous, but they lack discipline," Robb added. "We've never failed to push them back before, not in eight thousand years."
"I just wish there were more," Catelyn muttered. "No mother likes the notion of her son going off to war."
Robb hugged her, not wanting to promise something that he couldn't.
"Pardon me, but I have yet to visit the godswood," Daemon said softly. "I'll speak with you later."
"Of course," Catelyn nodded.
He left, signaling for Ser Barristan to follow him, and made his way towards the godswood of Winterfell. It had been years since he'd taken the path to what was once his favorite part of the castle, but he still recalled it well and felt that same sense of peace that he always had when he passed through the iron gate of the walled-off woodland. It was more crowded than normal, but not excessively so, and as he came upon the heart tree, massive, gnarled, and white as ever, there was no one there. He sat down on one of its large roots, looking up at the crimson leaves above and smiling softly. No one would bother him here unless it was an emergency, and being unbothered was something that he needed just then.
"People will assume that I'm praying to the old gods and should leave me in peace, but make sure that I'm not disturbed," Daemon commanded.
"Yes, my prince," Ser Barristan replied.
Closing his eyes, Daemon quieted his mind and reached out to Brynden. A moment later, he opened the eagle's eyes and looked around the familiar sights of one of his ships.
"I'm glad you stayed as I ordered," he thought to himself.
Taking Brynden to Winterfell only to fly off from there would have been a waste of time when the place he needed to observe was far to the east. Flapping his wings, he took flight and soared into the air to get his bearings. The feeling of flight was as incredible as ever, but one thing he was able to appreciate more in this flight than any he had seen before was just how extraordinary his eagle's vision was. High in the sky, he could make out details of the land in the distance that he never would have noticed otherwise, and he was taken aback by the beauty of the land he'd called home for so long.
"It's a pity that there aren't more warg cartographers," he thought to himself. "Maps would be so much more accurate if they could fly above the land like this."
The ships were still sailing towards their destination, but there appeared to be land in the distance in multiple directions, and it took Daemon a moment to realize that he must have been in the Bay of Seals. He spotted the icy wall in the distance, its easternmost part just visible to him, and knew that the land to his east must have been the Island of Skagos. He had always wanted to see it and figured that he could rejoin the ships later as they reached Eastwatch.
It was a jagged, mountainous thing, harsh and unforgiving in appearance, and he understood at once how such a land could have developed such notoriously stubborn, independent men as the Skagosi were said to be. Flying over the small island, he saw sheep, goats, and goat-like creatures with singular horns sticking out of their heads. He had heard enough of unicorns to know what one looked like, but had never seen one and laughed at how much less majestic they were than most imagined. He passed over a square wooden motte-and-bailey castle, and the large structure reminded him of descriptions he'd read of the Dreadfort, though it was nowhere near as imposing as the other castle was said to be.
Thinking of the ancient seat of House Bolton made him wonder if Sansa had any idea yet just what she would end up with if she wed Domeric Bolton. He seemed like a good man, rare for that bloodline from what he knew, and very little like his father. Roose had clearly been focused on the matter of the wildlings during the earlier meeting, for he didn't even glare at Daemon once.
When he was younger but old enough to fight, the prince had enjoyed going out with Ser Barristan and a host of other men and slaying bandits who drew too close to Wintertown, and while this normally earned him praise from the Northern lords, there had been one incident that caused minor strife.
"How was I to know that band of highwaymen were led by the man's bastard?" he thought to himself, unable to feel anything but pride at how swiftly and efficiently he had ended that particular group.
Roose hadn't had a leg to stand on, something Daemon's uncle had made that clear as delicately as he could, and he seemed to accept it, but his icy eyes never failed to harden as he looked at the prince after that.
Pushing all thought of the bizarrely cold man out of his mind, Daemon continued to fly around the island, taking in the sights. He was probably the first man of the Stark line to even look upon it in centuries and certainly the only Targaryen, unless Alysanne flew over it by mistake. He had to admit that once one got past how rocky most of it was, it did have its charms. He was about to land on a soft green meadow when something drew his attention closer to the coast. There were a pair of ships that had washed up on shore, and he was about to write them off as random wrecks that had strayed too close to the island, which was notoriously hazardous to sail to, when he spotted the crews.
"Fuck," he thought to himself as he recognized the unsullied on the beach.
Flying closer, he landed on a nearby cliff and peered closely at the ships in question. They didn't appear to have bombs stored on them, which he should have assumed from the start since he doubted the ships would still exist if they had crashed on shore with them. The ships themselves looked a little worse-for-wear, but not disastrously so, and he figured that his men might be able to fix them, provided they weren't beset by the locals first.
"These must be the missing ships," he thought to himself, grumbling mentally.
There was nothing he could do for them just then, though, and certainly not through Brynden, so he flew back towards the fleet, planning to instruct his other men to try and aid them once they had safely unloaded their precious and dangerous cargo. By the time he reached the ships, they were just starting to dock at Eastwatch, and he couldn't help but notice that no one came out to inspect them.
"Surely they didn't empty out the castle completely," he thought to himself, growing shocked as he realized that his Unsullied were truly alone in the ancient keep.
"What in the hells is Estermont thinking?" he thought to himself.
If the wildlings were planning to move one particular castle, concentrating his forces there might be the Watch's only hope if their numbers were as great as they thought, but it could backfire badly if they moved to another spot on the wall. Shaking his head, Daemon landed on one of the abandoned castle's towers and bade Brynden rest. The sun was setting, and exploring beyond the wall today would be foolish. He would look in the morning and see for himself just how vast a force they were facing.
"Did anyone come by?" Daemon asked as he opened his eyes.
"A couple, but they were respectful and quiet," Ser Barristan replied. "Did you see much?"
"Our men have reached Eastwatch," Daemon replied quietly. "It's completely empty."
"Gods," Ser Barristan muttered.
"The watch is in a panic, it would seem," Daemon said as he stood up. "I'll find out just what we're dealing with on the morrow."
"It won't change our current plans, though," Ser Barristan mused.
"No," Daemon replied. "We're marching to Last Hearth. The scope of the problem and how close the wildlings are to the wall just now will determine where we meet them, though."
"How will you explain the reasoning for whatever plan you come up with?" Ser Barristan asked. "I assume you won't be telling the lords of what you can do."
"The fewer people that know about that, the better," Daemon replied. "I have men at the Wall now, though, and it wouldn't be impossible for them to scout things out for me."
"It's worked in the past," Ser Barristan murmured. "Your uncle is throwing a last feast before we all leave. They'll be in the great hall by now."
"Then let us join them," Daemon smiled.
The two of them left the godswood and reentered the main keep. As they passed through the halls, Daemon saw someone rather short running along and realized immediately who it was.
"Arya?" he asked, and she went still.
"Uh...Daemon?" Arya asked, turning around and looking up at him nervously.
"I know I haven't been here in a while, but I'm fairly sure the great hall is that way," Daemon said in amusement, pointing in the other direction.
"I know," Arya scowled, her hands clasped behind her back. "I just forgot to pack something and was going back to my chambers."
"Well, I'll leave you to it," Daemon murmured. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"I know," Arya nodded. "I wish I wasn't leaving tonight."
"We'll see each other again," Daemon promised, giving her a hug.
He took the opportunity to see if she had anything in her hands, almost certain that she was up to something, but saw nothing. Arya returned the hug but quickly let him go.
"I'll see you at the feast," she whispered before rushing off again.
"I spent enough time in these halls to know she's hiding something," Ser Barristan commented once she was out of earshot.
"She's doing something she shouldn't be, I'm sure," Daemon chuckled. "Whatever it is, she'll be on her way to Bear Island; come by this time tomorrow, and whatever trouble she makes there, she'll be safe at least."
"Yes, when has a child of House Stark ever caused dangerous trouble on Bear Island?" Ser Barristan asked dryly, making him snort.
Arya's heart hammered in her chest as she shut the door behind her. Fishing the sealed letter out of her tunic, she looked at the official seal of her house and grinned giddily. Being sent off to Bear Island when the North was being invaded infuriated her greatly. Robb would be going to fight the wildlings, as would Daemon, and if Bran was her age, he would be too. It wasn't fair to expect her to just sit on her arse and do nothing or be sent away where she couldn't bother anyone while they all went off to defend their home.
"It looks like his handwriting, and it has his seal," she thought to herself, grinning. "I just need to give it to Alysane at the last second and say that Father's changed his mind and is really busy, so he asked me to give her the letter explaining that I'm staying here."
Normally she wouldn't have expected the woman to believe that so easily, but with her being with child and everyone being on edge because of the wildling problem, there was a chance. If she bought it and left without her, her parents would think that she was on Bear Island, and the Mormonts would think she was in Winterfell. She could don the old suit of armor she came across in the armory and go with the army. She'd get to see a real battle and fight to defend her homeland like the others. Daemon trained her, after all, and she'd kept up her training in the years since. It would be a waste to let it all be for naught so she could just sew, gossip, and be annoying.
Just because she was a girl didn't mean she had to be a lady; she refused to believe that.
"It'll work," she tried to reassure herself. "Please let it work."