"Gods, I prefer flying," Jon thought to himself as the ship he was on was rocked by the choppy waters.
He hadn't flown much in his own body, but, having taken Morghul up into the air via warging a few times now, he was sure that it was more pleasant than this. Rhaenyra and Laenor had gone ahead on Syrax and Seasmoke, but as they were going to Driftmark, she couldn't exactly take him with her. If not for the fact that they'd be going on to Pentos after the wedding, following Prince Daemon and his bride-to-be, he'd not even be with them. Such a trip demanded a sizable retinue, however, both for protection and to project wealth and importance, so his presence wouldn't be entirely out of the question.
"First time on a ship?" Ser Harwin asked. When Jon looked at him curiously, the large man added, "You look as green as my homeland."
"First time being in waters like this," Jon replied, remembering that he was supposed to be from White Harbor. "Thank the gods, we're close."
"Blackwater Bay and its surrounding area can be pretty rough at times," Ser Harwin grimaced. "Not as bad as Shipbreaker Bay, of course, or so I've heard anyway."
"That's not the sort of name you'd give a pleasant body of water," Jon commented. "I suppose the Godseye is quite tranquil."
"It's…" Harwin went to say, only to be cut off by a deafening shriek that echoed across the water.
The two of them looked in the direction it came from, as did all the other men on the ship, and Jon's eyes went wide as saucers as he saw what the terrible sound came from. High in the sky, a massive bronze and green dragon soared through the clouds, following a pair of red dragons. One of the two red ones was tiny by comparison and very quick, while the other was larger and slower. Neither one held a candle to the great beast behind them, and Jon knew at once that there was only one creature in the world who it could be.
"By the fucking gods," he thought to himself, a shiver going down his spine at the sight of the oldest and most terrible dragon left alive. "She looks even bigger than Morghul."
That wasn't a shock, of course, as he knew that Vhagar had been the size of a small horse when his bonded dragon hatched, but it still scared him to see proof that the largest, most terrifying creature he'd ever met still wasn't truly a match for Visenya's mount. The fact that Vhagar was a veteran of many battles across multiple wars while his dragon had just lived his life hiding in caves and cannibalizing other drakes when he could also didn't fill him with confidence. As he continued watching the main reason that the Greens felt strong enough to rebel fly through the air, a single thought echoed through his head.
"Aemond cannot bond with her," he thought to himself with absolute finality. "No matter the cost, that cannot be allowed to happen."
"I pity whoever Lord Corlys has had guarding her ladyship all these years," Ser Harwin murmured. "Syrax is frightening enough to be around, and she's tiny and cute by comparison."
Ser Qarl snorted at that, saying, "You might be the only man in history to name a dragon cute, Strong."
"You don't think there's at least one cute dragon out there, Corbray?" a knight Jon had seen before but failed to learn the name of piped up, earning a round of laughter from the other men.
Ser Qarl glared at the man, who quickly averted his gaze.
Jon looked back at Vhagar and spotted a flash of yellow peaking through the clouds that made him smile despite himself. The finer points of Syrax's looks aside, no one could claim that her rider wasn't utterly beautiful, and just thinking about his princess made his nausea subside a little, at least until the boat rocked again.
"Father, Mother, Smith, Warrior, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers, and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days," Daemon said, peering deeply into Laena's eyes.
"Father, Mother, Smith, Warrior, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his, and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days," Laena said, smiling up at her new husband.
As Rhaenyra watched the ceremony, she felt a tugging sensation within her chest. When she had thought of wedding as a child, she had invariably imagined her uncle as the one she'd wed. Prince Daemon Targaryen was the most dashing, handsome, and powerful man she'd ever met back then, the one who never treated her like a child and never failed to return from a trip without gifts for her. After his exile from court, she'd let those childish fantasies slip away and nearly succeeded when he stormed back into her life and reawoke them all, only greater as they were now tinged with womanly desires.
Their misadventure in King's Landing and her father's subsequent fury at them had quashed that idea altogether. Instead of looking up into the violet eyes of her handsome warrior prince on her wedding day, she'd found herself looking at a man who wanted her even less than she wanted him. Part of her was still livid at her father for that, and she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't at least a little pleased by the thought of how angry he was going to be when she learned of this wedding. Instead of wedding his daughter and heir to the most experienced dragon rider and warrior in the Seven Kingdoms, he'd instead driven said warrior straight into the camp of the ever-ambitious Corlys Velaryon.
The small council would not be pleased.
"I can't recall ever seeing him actually look happy before," she thought to herself as she watched Daemon drape his cloak over Laena's shoulders.
Daemon had always had warm smiles for her as a girl, but she realized in retrospect that they rarely ever reached his eyes. Those had always shone with restlessness and either desire or rage, depending upon his mood. As he looked down at his bride, however, she had to admit that he actually looked happy.
"How different might things have been for him had he not been wed and helplessly bound to a woman he couldn't stand?" she wondered to herself. "Had Princess Gael not been simple, or if Princess Viserra had been younger, or if I had been my grandparents' daughter instead...no, don't go there."
She shook her head to banish the impossible fantasy and, closing her eyes for a moment, focused on the man she wished was sitting next to her in Laenor's place.
Jon. Just the thought of him brought a smile to her face, and as she opened her eyes in time to see the septon step forward, she realized that, while nothing would ever come of her and Daemon, since she had to believe that the two of them would keep Laena alive, she had found someone who made her as happy as the newlywed couple looked.
"And so these two, Prince Daemon of House Targaryen and Lady Laena of House Velaryon, have been made one heart, one flesh, and one soul," the septon declared. "That which the gods make whole, no man can tear asunder, and any who tries will find themselves in the seven hells. Now the groom and his bride will pledge their love."
The septon stepped back, and, with a smirk, Daemon said, "With this kiss, I pledge my love and devotion and give you a mere taste of all to come."
Rhaenyra heard Corlys grumble at that and saw Rhaenys roll her eyes as Daemon cupped Laena's face and pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss. He kept it going just a moment longer than he should have, enough to irritate Corlys and Rhaenys without getting excessive, and Rhaenyra found herself as amused by him as she always was. A brief thought about how he absolutely would have done the same, if not worse, in front of her father had she been given him crossed her mind, but she quickly banished it.
With the ceremony done, Corlys stood and said, "I will do so again at the feast, but I simply must congratulate the happy couple and wish them a long and fruitful marriage."
"And babes," one of his younger nephews piped up, earning a venomous glare from the Lord of the Tides.
"Now, let us retire back to the main hall of High Tide and begin our feast," Corlys called out to much cheer.
Rhaenyra rose, as did Laenor and followed Daemon and Laena directly behind Corlys and Rhaenys. As she did, Ser Harwin, ever present as her sworn shield, stood by her side.
After a moment, he leaned in and said quietly, "I don't think that friend of yours much likes the Blackwater, my lord."
"Who, Qarl?" Laenor asked.
"No, Jon," Harwin replied.
"Not a pleasant journey?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Far from the worst I've seen a man suffer, and he did manage to keep himself from spewing, but yes," Ser Harwin replied.
"It could be something we ate," Rhaenyra murmured. "I was dreadfully ill as I woke today, though thankfully it passed quickly enough. I still say that there was something off about the chicken last night."
"As I explained, it was that odd spice Father gifted us," Laenor said as quietly as he could. "Grains of...something or other, it's called. If you don't think it sits well with you, avoid the crab stew at the feast. Father loves both it and crab, and the stew will likely contain it."
Corlys looked back at them and glared at Laenor for a moment, who looked sheepish and went quiet. The feast proceeded, and Rhaenyra took her husband's advice, skipping the crab stew and didn't miss it at all, for their meal was as opulent as one would expect from a man as wealthy as her goodfather. Whatever had troubled her so earlier truly did seem to pass, and so she ate heartily, tasting all manner of fish dishes. There was even a lamprey pie, one of her favorite things, which she enjoyed immensely. Eventually, though, when everyone had dined to their hearts content and drank enough of Corlys' wine to beggar a lesser lord, it drew to a close, and he announced, with obvious reluctance, that the bedding ceremony was about to begin.
"Lady Laena's lucky woman," Carellen Strong, Harwin's sister and one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting, said as they removed Daemon's breeches.
"You don't know the half of it," Daemon chuckled, making the brunette blush.
There had been no bedding ceremony for her wedding, at her father's insistence, and she'd never been allowed to take part in one before, so there was some degree of novelty in this for her. As she stared at the many scars littering Daemon's tanned skin, she couldn't help but think of Jon, for though his skin was unmarked, having been healed by whatever power cast him into the past, his frame was larger and stronger, and she found she liked it better.
"Even knowing that you planned to, I was still surprised you came, little dragon," Daemon murmured as his eye caught hers. "You know how Viserys will react."
"Let me worry about my father, Uncle," Rhaenyra smiled. "I...I wish you and Laena every happiness."
To her surprise, she found that she actually meant that without reservation, and if the look in Daemon's eyes was any indication, he was surprised too.
"And you, Rhaenyra?" the rogue prince murmured, completely ignoring the other women in the room. "Are you happy?"
Rhaenyra thought of Jon and smiled, saying, "Yes, I would say that I am."
The two of them shared a look then that lasted only a moment but spoke of a lifetime. Their past, their present, and the future that would have been flashed through Rhaenyra's mind, and, swallowing thickly, she let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding and felt herself relax in a way that she hadn't all day. Whatever happened to her, her uncle seemed to feel it too, and she saw a hint of peacefulness flash through his eyes before his usual arrogant glint returned. The women didn't so much carry him as jokingly force him forward towards the bedchambers, where they found that the men had already carried a similarly undressed Laena.
"My dragon," Laena purred as she caught sight of him.
"Not big dragon?" Rhaenyra thought to herself, recalling what she'd called Daemon when she was a girl. "I suppose next to Vhagar, he doesn't seem as big as he always did to me."
It also helped that, unlike her, Laena Velaryon was rather tall, taking after her mother in that regard. Once the two of them were under the sheets, the raucous, drunk crowd left the room, though most of them stayed outside, making lewd jokes.
"Shall we?" Laenor asked, offering her his hand.
"Gods, yes," Rhaenyra sighed, happily going with him. His parents had arranged for them to stay in a room together, and neither dared visit their respective lovers while within Corlys' halls, so it would be a very quiet night for them both.
"YES, YES, GODS!" Laena's screams echoed down loud enough to be heard in Rhaenyra's and Laenor's chambers a while later.
"Apparently it runs in the family," Laenor grumbled, earning a slap to his shoulder from Rhaenyra. "You know, for a tiny thing, you hit surprisingly hard."
"I am the blood of the dragon," Rhaenyra said haughtily, "and I've always been exceedingly fond of Queen Visenya after all."
"I imagine she was at least taller than you," Laenor murmured. "Somehow, I can't imagine you wielding Dark Sister."
Rhaenyra scowled, but Laenor's tone was so earnest and curious that she doubted he intended to insult her. In truth, she recognized that wearing her hair in a single braid was as close as she was likely to ever get to emulating her favorite queen. Syrax, large as she was for her age, was not as large as Vhagar was during the conquest, and the Princess of Dragonstone had never received any martial training at all.
"Yes, well, Dark Sister's not the sword my uncle's using right now to irritate us," Rhaenyra grumbled, earning a laugh from her husband.
"Gods, I wish I could see Qarl tonight," Laenor muttered.
"As I wish I could see Jon, but alas…" Rhaenyra replied. "Luckily, we're heading to Pentos tomorrow. On that subject, I have a favor to ask."
"Oh?" Laenor asked.
"As Jon's journey here from Dragonstone was apparently less than pleasant, I would like you to take him on Seasmoke tomorrow," Rhaenyra replied. "I can't take him on Syrax, obviously."
"I'm...um...not entirely sure how that would look, Nyra," Laenor winced.
"You're unlikely to see Corlys again for weeks," Rhaenyra said. "He'll have forgotten by then, I'm sure."
"It's not my father," Laenor corrected her. "Qarl would…"
"Qarl's lowborn and far too fond of your affections to complain that loudly," Rhaenyra cut him off. The fact that said affections included a generosity that was said to help fuel the man's rumored gambling habit was best left unsaid. "I half expected you to fly him here, thinking that your father would be too focused on the wedding to notice."
"Gods, no," Laenor snorted. When Rhaenyra said nothing, he added, "Qarl's not fond of heights. The one time I offered to fly him atop Seasmoke, you'd have thought I suggested gelding him."
Rhaenyra laughed at that and said, "An unfortunate trait in a dragonrider's lover. Look, Laenor, we're going to Pentos, a city where only the wealthiest merchant lords know of us and none yet know our faces. So long as we aren't excessively careless, we'll be able to get away with things that we wouldn't normally, and I'm sure that you'll be able to make it up to him."
"I suppose," Laenor murmured.
A particularly loud shriek of pleasure echoed from Laena's and Daemon's chambers just then, followed by silence.
"Thank the gods," Rhaenyra muttered. "I'm going to try to fall asleep before they start up again. Promise me that you'll do it."
"Fine," Laenor sighed.
"Thank you," Rhaenyra smiled, kissing his cheek. "Good night."
"Night, Rhaenyra," Laenor replied, thinking that her idea of getting to sleep while they still could was a good one.
"Thank you for this," Jon called out as he held onto Laenor and soared through the skies atop Seasmoke.
"Before she decided to claim that you grew up in a port city, my darling wife should have made sure that you could handle yourself on a ship," Laenor replied, making him wince.
"I just need more experience," Jon said. "The North doesn't have a fleet, aside from the merchant fleet of the Manderlys, and, growing up in Winterfell, I didn't have very many opportunities to board one. I imagine you practically grew up on one."
"If Father could live on the Sea Snake, he would," Laenor chuckled. "Mother's never been that fond of seafaring, though, and both Laena and I prefer the skies as she does."
"I can see why," Jon marveled, looking down and seeing the high walls of Pentos come into view.
"Is Winterfell really as big as they say?" Laenor asked.
"It's huge," Jon replied. "Only Harrenhal is bigger, and Winterfell is in much better shape."
"Torrhen Stark was a smarter man than Harren the Black," Laenor chuckled.
"I'd say being smarter than an Ironborn isn't much of an accomplishment, but it isn't like the other southern kings were much better," Jon chuckled. "The only ruined part of Winterfell is the broken tower, and it...shit, I just realized, it's probably still intact."
"Perhaps you'll get to see it someday," Laenor murmured.
Jon went quiet at that, unsure if he truly wanted to see it. Winterfell had been his home for most of his life, and he had missed it terribly after going to the Wall. He had dreamed of it often in that desolate, frozen wasteland. A part of him had always wanted to return, but to do so in this era, long before any of his loved ones would be born, might be more painful than anything else. It would be some time before he'd get the chance, if he ever did, so he had time to consider it.
Daemon had gone ahead, being the only one who would know which manse they were to stay in and well aware that Syrax and Seasmoke, at least, were potentially faster than Caraxes. As Seasmoke descended to join the blood wyrm, they found Syrax already there. Strangely, the yellow dragon was facing away from her rider, who looked positively mortified.
"I am so, so sorry," Rhaenyra spluttered, twisting one of the many rings on her fingers as she watched servants scrub her dragon's scales.
Syrax just huffed and refused to look at her rider, who looked almost tearful at her.
"What in the hells happened?" Laenor asked, confused by the scene he came across.
"I vomited all over her side," Rhaenyra replied, still looking mortified. "I have no idea what's wrong with me lately."
"It's only been a couple days now," Jon said soothingly, "and you look well otherwise. You should rest today and stick to simpler food..."
"Who the fuck are you to tell a princess what she should do?" Daemon snarled, joining them just then.
"Uncle, it's fine," Rhaenyra said.
"This is Jon Snow, a friend of mine," Laenor added.
"A friend?" Daemon asked, looking over at them, then Seasmoke, and then back to them. "I thought you were 'friends' with that Corbray man."
"Correy, and one can never have too many friends," Laenor amended.
Daemon looked back and forth between them again and muttered something under his breath that sounded like, '...fucking farce.'
Just then, the skies darkened as Vhagar's mighty shadow enveloped them, and the servants, who had just finished cleaning Syrax, screamed and jumped back at the sight of the much larger, much more ornery dragon, who glared at them until they went silent.
"Pentos is just as beautiful as you described, my love," Laena purred as she lowered herself down from Vhagar and into Daemon's waiting arms.
She seemed to sense the tension between them and cupped Daemon's clean-shaven face soothingly.
"Not as beautiful as you," Daemon murmured, eliciting a wide smile from his new wife.
"Prince Daemon!" a well-dressed man called out as he approached. He was relatively short and lean, with hair so golden that Jon suspected it was dyed, and a matching mustache. He smiled widely as he reached them, adding, "This radiant creature is your wife, I presu…"
Vhagar turned to the man and roared, making him go still.
"Vhagar, none of that, now," Laena chastised her dragon in Valyrian. "This man is our host."
Vhagar just glared at the prince and followed Syrax to join Caraxes and Seasmoke further into the man's vast territory. The prince's manse was a large square structure of white marble, complete with a square tower jutting up at each corner. The land it was on was expansive and surrounded by very tall black walls that Jon thought looked sturdy. It would still be a tight fit for the four dragons, but he imagined that they'd be comfortable enough. He just hoped that the prince's servants were up to the task of handling them.
"I guess that one eats about twice as much as your Caraxes does?" the prince asked Daemon.
"Not quite twice, but close," Daemon replied. "You recall what he ate when we were last here?"
"Everything in sight," the prince laughed. He quickly added, "Yes, Prince Daemon, I do. My slaves have all been instructed explicitly about how to take care of the dragons, and many of them recall your last visit."
"Good," Daemon smiled. "Anyway, Prince Nevio, this is my lovely wife, Lady Laena, her brother Laenor, and my niece, his wife, Princess Rhaenyra."
"Prince Nevio Haratis," Nevio replied, kissing Laena's hand and then Rhaenyra's. "I must say, Princess, the tales of your beauty did not exaggerate."
"You are most kind," Rhaenyra smiled, not particularly appreciating the way the short man's gaze lingered on her breasts. "I've heard so much of Pentos before, and I am glad to be able to see it at last."
"We are happy to have you," Nevio replied. "As we are happy to have the son and daughter of the the famous Sea Snake. You know, Lady Laena, When wI got the news that Prince Daemon was set to wed again, I could hardly believe it. Needless to say, he is much more fortunate this time."
"Of course," Laena grinned as Daemon tensed.
"I suppose you were the only servant willing to brave the skies," Nevio chuckled as his gaze fell on Jon.
"Yes, Prince Nevio," Jon replied before Rhaenyra could say a word. "The princess and her lord husband brought me along to help them get settled before the rest of the retinue arrived."
"Hmm, I should have thought of that," Laena murmured, gazing at her brother in amusement.
Nevio snapped his fingers and barked something in a harsher form of Valyrian than what Rhaenyra spoke at a couple slaves before saying, "The slaves will lead you to the chambers we set up for the Princess and Lord Laenor. You've been given the same rooms as last time, Prince Daemon."
"I'd like to bathe," Rhaenyra said.
Nevio barked something else at the slaves before replying, "It shall be done, Princess."
Jon followed the slaves towards the rooms set up for Rhaenyra and Laenor, fighting down the inherent sense of wrongness that he had felt since the prince drew attention to what these people were. He knew that slavery was the norm in much of Essos, with Braavos being the only place he remembered on the continent where it wasn't practiced. The men of the Night's Watch could be called slaves of the order, as they could not leave unless formally let go. Most of them either joined willingly or were forced into it by some grave crime, but he knew that there were others who neither chose the life nor did anything to warrant it. He thought of Sam as he followed the two women and scowled at the injustice of it.
He had learned enough Valyrian from Rhaenyra to be able to tell them that the princess liked her baths quite warm, but when they tried to reply, he was forced to signal that he didn't truly understand them until they understood the message.
"Wow," Jon couldn't help but murmur as he laid eyes on the chambers.
They were even more opulent than Rhaenyra's chambers in Dragonstone, with rich furnishings filling the space. The bed was large, with a dark, sturdy-looking wooden frame and a mattress draped in purple silk. Thick Myrish carpets covered much of the floor, just as rich tapestries depicting all manner of events, presumably parts of the city's history, hung from the walls. As he looked out the largest of the windows, he saw that the room had a perfect view of the gardens, where the dragons were lounging just then. There appeared to be at least a dozen large marble statues within it, each depicting an intricately carved and painted nude woman.
"You were supposed to come retrieve us once you'd been led here," Rhaenyra giggled as she and Laenor entered the room.
"Sorry about that, Princess," Jon said, and she smirked.
"Relax," Rhaenyra sighed. "Daemon and Laena are off having their ears talked off by the prince and some of the magisters."
"Ah," Jon said. "I don't think he likes me much."
"He's slow to trust," Rhaenyra murmured.
"I'd have expected him to be a touch more pleasant after last night," Laenor muttered. "Anyway, Prince Nevio lent me a couple of his guards to go into the city. I want to look around the market, so I'll probably see you next at the feast later."
"Be careful," Rhaenyra said before dipping her fingers into the water of the heavy bronze tub they'd set up for her. "Oh, that's lovely."
"I knew just enough of the language to let them know how hot you like your baths," Jon smiled.
Rhaenyra turned to the slaves and thanked them. Whatever they said in response, Jon couldn't make out, but Rhaenyra quickly blushed and exclaimed, "No! I mean, that' won't be necessary."
She then shook her head and repeated that in Valyrian before sending them on their way. When she turned around, Jon cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Apparently the rich around here don't even bathe themselves," Rhaenyra shuddered. "Getting in and out of my gowns can require assistance, but I am perfectly capable of cleaning myself."
"Oh, I don't know," Jon grinned. "I think you might enjoy having a pair of hands to help you."
"It would depend on the hands," Rhaenyra smirked, walking over to him.
"Would these do?" Jon asked, giving her his hands.
"Mmm, I think they just might," Rhaenyra whispered. "Large and strong, just how I like them."
"I know quite well how much you like my large hands," Jon rumbled, and she shuddered.
"Gods, I missed you last night!" Rhaenyra exclaimed before kissing him deeply.
Jon returned the kiss with equal passion, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in until her curvaceous body was flush against his. She moaned as she felt his hands cup her plump, round arse cheeks and raked her nails across his scalp.
"I missed you too," Jon whispered against her ear as he began nibbling on the lobe. "Even a night apart from you is too much."
"Undress me, Jon," Rhaenyra moaned. "The bath can wait. It'll probably still be warm by the time we're done."
"It'll be as cold as the North by the time I've had my fill of you," Jon rumbled, and she shuddered at the raw desire in his voice. "I want to bathe you as well."
"Jon," Rhaenyra whined.
"Trust me, Nyra," Jon smirked. "You'll like what I have in mind."
Rhaenyra whimpered with need but said nothing as he slowly helped her out of her riding leathers. They were simpler to work with than her gowns, but he was nearly as good as her ladies at getting her in and out of them as well by now, and she giggled at the thought of having him replace them.
"What's so funny?" Jon asked, and he freed her breasts and immediately cupped one of the heavy mounds.
"I was just thinking that you'd do as fine a job as one of my ladies," Rhaenyra grinned. When he furrowed his brow in confusion, she added, "You've become quite skilled at getting me out of my clothes."
"I'm not nearly as adept at getting you into them," Jon chuckled, "and I somehow doubt your father would approve."
"I'd just tell him that you fulfill a vital...oh fuck...duty," Rhaenyra moaned as he brushed his fingers over her smallclothes.
"Soaked already?" Jon grinned wickedly. "Whatever did I do to make you this desperate for me?"
"I swear your slightest touch is enough to...ahh...ruin my smallclothes these days," Rhaenyra cried.
"Maybe you should go without," Jon whispered as he slipped his fingers inside and brushed them against her slick folds directly.
"Maybe I should!" Rhaenyra gasped, sticking her knuckles in her mouth to suppress a moan. "Then I could just have you kneel before me and bury your face under my dress whenever I felt like it."
"As my princess commands," Jon smirked, bringing his wet fingers to his lips and licking off her fluids.
Her purple eyes turned nearly black at the sight, and when he groaned in delight at her touch, she felt her cunt flutter around nothing.
"Now get into the water, and let's wash the dust from our flight off of you," Jon grinned.
"You're seriously going to make me watch you lick your fingers clean of my cunt and then wait to feel your tongue on me?" Rhaenyra asked incredulously.
"The next time you feel my tongue on you, you're going to cum harder than you ever have," Jon promised, and Rhaenyra shivered at his words.
Stepping into the tub, she groaned in pleasure at the heat of the water and quickly submerged her whole body in it.
"Ahh, this smells wonderful," she sighed, reaching out to grab the bottle of oil that the slaves had left behind. Uncorking it, she smelled and said, "Roses of some sort."
"You'll smell like Highgarden all day," Jon chuckled, making her smile.
The slaves had left a sponge and soap that smelled of tallow, and with those, Jon set about bathing Rhaenyra. The princess was curious about why he wanted to, but was content to find out as he went. He was just as diligent and gentle as she expected, and she didn't have to warn him not to mar her flawless pale skin once. The feeling of his hands on her only further inflamed her passions, and when he set the sponge down after scrubbing her feet and started massaging them, she couldn't help but comment.
"Not that that doesn't feel divine, but what brought this on?" she asked, her eyes closed as she focused on just how bloody good it felt as he carefully dug his thumbs into her sole, working out tension she didn't' realize she had.
"For one thing, I figured it would feel good for you," Jon replied. "Beyond that, though, I think we can finally move onto the bed."
Rhaenyra stood up with glee, and squealed as he picked her up. Carrying her in his thick, strong arms, Jon walked to the bed, setting her down on the towel he'd laid out. He dried her carefully, and when he flipped her over, she moved up along the bed, crawling in such a way that she exaggerated the sway of her hips, and then stopped, sticking her ass high in the air as she rested her head down on the soft sheets.
"As subtle as ever, Rhaenyra," Jon chuckled, earning a mock-glare from her.
"I'm a princess, Jon," Rhaenyra reminded him. "We're not subtle, we're demanding, and I think you've teased me long enough."
"Oh, I think I could tease you plenty more," Jon grinned as he spread her wonderfully round arse cheeks wide.
"Well, I don't," Rhaenyra whined petulantly, "now I want you to undress and fuck mEE! Jon?"
"What?" Jon asked, grinning as swirling his tongue around her puckered arsehole.
"I...oh gods, why does that feel so good?" Rhaenyra whimpered, grabbing the sheets in front of her.
"No idea," Jon replied. "I overheard one of the servants talking about paying a whore to do it to him, and he seemed to like it so much that I figured I'd see if women could enjoy it too. I take it you are?"
"I...oh fuck…" Rhaenyra groaned. "That's why you wanted to bathe me?"
"Well, as I said, there were multiple reasons for that," Jon replied, flicking his tongue over her tightest hole as she shook and shivered under him.
He grabbed onto her thighs to steady her and continued trying out different things with his tongue. There wasn't as much to this act as there was to licking her cunt, as her arsehole was much simpler, but that didn't mean that there weren't a few different ways that he could. Eventually, he determined that his first idea, just swirling the tip of his tongue around made her moan the loudest, so he stuck to that. When, after a couple of minutes of this, though, it started to seem like she wasn't going to cum just from it, he pushed two of his thick, meaty fingers inside her quivering cunt and started rubbing her clit with his thumb.
"Don't stop, don't stop!" Rhaenyra cried, clawing at the bedding in front of her.
Her cunt was overflowing with wetness, and she had soaked his chin with her fluids. Curling his fingers downward, he found a little rough patch of skin inside her that he knew could make her scream, and he dug his fingertips in against them while still stroking her throbbing pearl and licking her arsehole.
"Oh gods, oh gods, oh, YES!" Rhaenyra shrieked at the top of her lungs, her whole body going taut.
A moment later, a geyser of fluid erupted from her spasming cunt, hitting Jon right in the face as she writhed and convulsed in ecstasy. He stepped back, wiping his eyes and licking his lips as she continued to cum. Wave after wave of soul-searing pleasure thundered through her, and her vision went momentarily black as it overwhelmed her. When it ended, she rolled onto her back, panting for breath, and opened her eyes slowly to see Jon using her bath water to wash his face and neck.
"Now we'll...both smell...like Highgarden," she panted, giggling almost deliriously.
"I prefer to think I'll smell like you," Jon laughed as he went to pour himself a cup of wine. "The gods know that I do most of the time otherwise. So how did you like that?"
"It felt so good," Rhaenyra sighed. Sitting up, she said, "I hope you don't expect me to do that too."
"No," Jon assured her. "I just wanted to see how you'd react and given that you soaked my face…"
"As I said, a princess isn't subtle," Rhaenyra grinned, making him laugh. "Take off your clothes."
"As my princess commands," Jon grinned, removing his gray doublet.
He would have taken his time and given her a show, but he was as hard as steel just then, and if the look of raw lust in her beautiful eyes was any indication, her need was just as great. Soon enough, he was as naked as she was, and Rhaenyra looked him up and down appreciatively before spreading her legs and crooking a finger to beckon him over.
"I had a very embarrassing morning that I'd like to forget," she cooed.
"By the time I'm done with you, you'll have forgotten your own name," Jon said as he joined her on the bed. "You're feeling better now, right?"
"Afraid that I'll vomit on you too?" Rhaenyra asked archly, though he knew she was annoyed with herself rather than him.
"Just making sure you're alright," Jon replied, taking her hand and kissing the back of her knuckles.
"I seem fine," Rhaenyra whispered. "It's probably just something that I ate. I...um...I didn't taste...bad, right?"
"I was very thorough," Jon replied soothingly, not used to hearing her sound so uncertain.
She didn't say another word, choosing instead to pull him in for another kiss. He wondered, as her tongue slid along his, if that was partially to prove to herself that he was telling the truth, but he didn't question it, choosing instead to drape his body over hers and grind his hard length between her fleshy, sopping wet nether lips. She moaned into his mouth as he rubbed her clit with his cock and bucked her hips upward.
"Inside!" Rhaenyra cried, needing him more than air in that moment.
Lining himself up with practiced ease, he pushed inside her, his eyes locked onto hers. Every time he penetrated her for the first time in a night, or even just several hours after they last slept together, her eyes widened without fail, and he loved the look of shock she still got as she felt him spread her inner walls wide.
"Gods, you feel incredible," Jon groaned as her tight depths clung to him like a slick silk glove.
"So do...ahh...you!" Rhaenyra cried.
"Will our gracious host be expecting you soon?" Jon asked.
"He said that he was throwing a minor feast at midday," Rhaenyra replied. "The true celebration being thrown in our honor will be tonight."
"Then I can't actually fuck you all day," Jon sighed exaggeratedly, making her giggle.
"Alas not," Rhaenyra whispered. "Prince Nevio said that he's planned a tour for us tomorrow, to show us around Pentos, so I should be free this afternoon. I've been so fucking wet the past couple days, Jon."
"I have much to make up for," Jon grinned, pulling most of his length from her cunt before thrusting back inside hard.
Rhaenyra gasped and threw her head back in pleasure, giving him easy access to her neck, which he immediately attacked with kisses. Reaching up, he cupped her heavy breasts, kneading the soft yet firm mounds and making her moan. They really were perfect tits, and he shuddered at the thought of what they'd look like when they were full of milk and she was with child.
His child.
The thought made his cock throb, and he picked up his pace, spearing her again and again. He brought one of her hard nipples to his lips and sucked on the pink peak. Rhaenyra grabbed his head and held him to her chest, sighing with pleasure as he switched from that nipple to the other one and back again.
"Harder!" she exclaimed. "Fuck me, Jon."
"You have such a dirty mouth, my lovely princess," Jon said teasingly, and he laughed when her eyes narrowed at him.
"If it's dirty, maybe I shouldn't put it anywhere near your cock again," Rhaenyra fumed with feigned anger.
"We both know that you love sucking my cock almost as much as I love when you do," Jon grinned, and before she could reply, he changed the angle of his thrusts in a way that let him hit one of those deep spots that she adored.
"Fuck!" Rhaenyra cried, her nails raking down his back as lights went off behind her eyes. "You've grown far too cockY!"
"You love it," Jon growled, grabbing her arms and pinning them above her head as he fucked her harder.
She screamed in pleasure, he struck that spot again and again with such force that her pendulous breasts jiggled and rolled across her chest with each thrust. She stared up into his eyes, and for a moment, they just paused, lost in each other's gaze and all the unsaid feelings within. The moment passed, and, desperate to have him keep fucking her, she leaned up and captured his lips with hers, nipping them just enough to sting.
"Fuck," Jon grunted, picking up his pace again.
"Just like that, just like that!" Rhaenyra cried. "Don't stop, gods, don't stop. AHH!"
With a shriek that doubtlessly echoed through the manse, she came hard, writhing in his arms as pleasure thundered through her entire body. Jon didn't ease up for a moment, knowing that if he could pound her through her climax, it would last longer. His stamina was much improved over what it had been weeks earlier when they first did this, and he regularly held out until he'd managed to coax two or three orgasms from her on his cock these days.
"Gods, I lo...agh!" Rhaenyra cried out as he struck that spot again, making her whole body shake.
"Roll over," Jon grunted, pulling out of her completely.
Rhaenyra complied, still panting for breath, and, on a whim, Jon went and grabbed the bottle of rose oil, leaving it on a table nearer the bed. His lover wasn't recovered enough from the sheer force of her climax to notice him leave, but she noticed his return, and she quickly rose up onto her hands and knees, wiggling her arse at him.
"A princess isn't subtle," he thought to himself, laughing lightly.
Fisting his cock, he lined himself up with her dripping, wet, gaping cunt and sank inside to the hilt in one long thrust. She clawed at the sheets in front of her and screamed at the pleasure of being filled so much so quickly.
"More!" Rhaenyra cried, grunting as he pushed her down until she was lying flat on her belly.
"I could spend my every waking moment buried inside you," Jon groaned in her ear. "Gods, you feel so good."
"It would make listening to petitioners awkward," Rhaenyra laughed, and he soon joined in.
"Might be a bit dangerous when you're queen, too," Jon added, and she laughed even harder at the thought of trying to fuck on the iron throne.
He barely had to take any time to work his way up to fucking her hard and fast after making her cum as hard as he did with his fingers and tongue before, and he certainly didn't need to this time. Burying his face in her silver-gold hair, he inhaled her intoxicating scent and did his best to fuck her into the bed. Rhaenyra moaned and screamed as he did, grabbing the bedding so hard that her knuckles turned white as his every thrust made her see stars.
"So good, so good, so fucking good!" she cried, burying her face in a pillow as she shrieked Jon's name. Lowering her voice until he could barely hear her, she said, "Gods, I wish I could scream to the heavens who's fucking me."
"I know, and that's enough for me," Jon replied, nuzzling her neck and nibbling on her earlobe.
"I'm close," Rhaenyra gasped. "Gods, you're going to make me cum again already!"
Jon reached out for the bottle of rose oil and thoroughly coated one of his fingers, his hips never slowing as he did. Nonetheless, Rhaenyra realized that he was doing something and looked around, only for her eyes to go wide when she saw what he was doing.
"Jon?" she asked.
"Since you enjoyed my tongue so much, I thought I might try a finger," Jon replied. "Just the tip for now, as we see how you like it."
"Okahh!" Rhaenyra cried as he brushed his oiled finger over her puckered hole. "Why do I like that so much?"
"You keep asking that," Jon chuckled. "I doubt you're the only woman who does, and your secret's safe with me anyway."
"I know," Rhaenyra said, loving how much she really did trust him. "Push it in a little...oh gods!"
"Fuck," Jon groaned as he pushed his first finger inside her and immediately felt her cunt squeeze around his cock.
With his right hand, he grabbed onto her hips and slowed his thrusts a little bit to regain control.
"How does that feel?" he asked.
"Good," Rhaenyra gasped. "Weird, but good. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would."
"It's just a finger," Jon said without thinking.
"It's one of your fingers," Rhaenyra replied flatly. "Every part of you is large, Jon. I think I can take more of it, though, and fuck me again."
"Alright," Jon replied, picking up his pace and pushing more of his finger inside her incredibly hot, tight arsehole.
"Fuck!" Rhaenyra cried, slapping the bed as he brushed against something inside that felt incredible. "Gods, don't stop!"
Even just a finger inside her arsehole made her cunt tighten around him, and he knew that they'd be doing this again. Once the entire digit was inside her, he started fucking her with it too, and soon enough, he was pistoning in and out of both of her holes. Her cries turned into screams and shrieks of pleasure as she soared towards another peak. He had oiled his middle finger as well, and since she seemed to be taking the one so well, he decided to try and see how well she took the two of them, pulling it out completely and then slowly pushing the two in together to the second knuckle.
"Yes!" Rhaenyra screamed, clawing at the bedding. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
She came hard, her whole body going taut, before writhing in pleasure as a geyser of fluid splashed against his balls and flooded the bed.
"Nyra!" Jon grunted as her cunt started spasming around his cock, milking him hard. He joined her in her pleasure, filling her tight cunt with rope after rope of his seed.
He pulled his fingers out of her arse and braced himself on the bed as his orgasm ended, not wanting to crush her as he panted for breath. After about a minute, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he continued to try and catch his breath.
"By the...gods," Rhaenyra panted, pulling herself over and resting her head on his chest.
"I take it...we're doing that again?" Jon asked, chuckling when she gave him an incredulous look.
"Jon...if you can fit...three of those fat fingers of yours...in my arse...you can take it," Rhaenyra panted.
"Really?" Jon asked, his cock twitching at the idea.
"Not until we're back in Dragonstone, but yes," Rhaenyra grinned. "I might not have been able to give you my maidenhead, but I can give you one hole that no one else will ever have."
Jon pulled her up and kissed her deeply, wondering not for the first time who exactly sent him to the past. It was hard to give praise to a god whose name you didn't know, and that god definitely deserved his praise.
"The other magisters are so looking forward to seeing you again, Prince Daemon," Nevio said just as Rhaenyra and Laenor entered the room, leaving Jon to guard the door. "Slaying that dreadful creature, Craghas Drahar, was so good for business."
"By the time I took the cunt's head, business was the last thing on my mind," Daemon muttered, "but I know well how much of a problem he and his pirates were to you as well."
"If only the Triarchy could accept defeat," Nevio sighed. On spotting Rhaenyra, he perked up and said, "Ah, Princess, please come join us."
Rhaenyra walked inside the small dining hall, clearly meant for smaller, more intimate meals than the formal feast that was planned for later, and smiled at her host. Dressed in a red gown that was cut to emphasize her impressive bust, she drew his eyes to her instantly and noticed a tension in them that hadn't been there before. She sat down next to Laena, noting that she had also changed into a rich blue dress with a more conservative bodice than her own.
"You're practically glowing, Princess," the Valyrian beauty smiled as she sat down.
"Indeed, you are," Nevio added.
"I'm just so pleased to be here," Rhaenyra said happily. "I've wanted to see at least one of the Free Cities for so long."
"And you've come to the best, if I may say," Nevio smiled. "We might not have the power of Braavos or the storied history of Volantis, but Pentos is a paradise. I would strongly suggest that you fly around our lands while you're here. Our territory is a verdant wonder."
"I'll have to do just that," Rhaenyra smiled, noting again that though the prince's words were pleasant, his smiles didn't reach his eyes, which were hard and anxious."
Swallowing, she looked over to her uncle to see if he'd noticed anything amiss, and when she saw that he looked fully at ease, she relaxed. Daemon had spent most of his life surrounded by violent men and had spent years at war. If he didn't think that anything was off, then she would trust his instincts.
"Ah, here comes our luncheon dish now," Nevio said, signaling for the slaves that had entered carrying a large serving platter to hurry up.
The two men brought what looked to be a rather heavy meal in and set it on the table before them. The second it was down, they lifted the lid, revealing one of the strangest spectacles she'd ever seen. It was a bird of some sort, covered in a golden-brown pastry that it had clearly been baked whole in. What was unique, however, was the multitude of incredibly colorful feathers that had been stuck inside it near its tail. They were immensely long and looked almost like branches of some tree, with oval-shaped decorations of blue, green, and yellow scattered throughout.
"Have any of you ever eaten peacock before?" Nevio asked.
"I begged your pardon?" Laenor asked, tensing slightly.
"Peacocks are a sort of bird found on Essos," Daemon explained. "Noisy cunts, from what I recall."
"I can't say that I have," Rhaenyra replied.
"Neither have we," Laena said, "though I seem to recall there being a house in the Westerlands that has one on their coat of arms."
"House Serrett, right!" Laenor exclaimed, snapping his fingers.
The slaves sliced into the bird, serving large portions of the meat and pastry, on which they poured some dark sauce.
"Pentoshi amber wine," Nevio piped up as they began pouring cups of a pale wine for them. "It's slightly drier than your Arbor wines."
"I recall," Daemon murmured, looking pleased as he sipped the wine. "How are your servants managing with the dragons?"
"Pentos isn't on fire yet, so I'm cautiously optimistic," Nevio chuckled, clearly hiding his nervousness and earning a laugh from the prince. "Have you heard anything of the Triarchy of late?"
"The Kingdom of the Three Whores seems to have run off with their tails between their legs," Daemon smirked. "They've been very quiet."
"Perhaps too quiet," Nevio muttered as he dug into his peacock.
Rhaenyra followed suit, finding that the meat was rich and gamey in a way that she quite enjoyed. The sauce itself was nice too, being slightly acidic in a way that helped cut through the richness of the meat, and even the pastry was surprisingly nice. If this was what he was willing to have served at a small function like this, then she was greatly looking forward to the feast later and hoped that her stomach would cooperate.
Nevio and Daemon spoke at length about the situation in the Stepstones, and Rhaenyra realized for the first time just how closely Pentos had monitored the conflict. She knew that they didn't send men to fight in it, but they were clearly fonder of her uncle's side than that of his enemies, having suffered the consequences of having pirates rule the vital trade route for years with the support of the Triarchy.
"My prince," a bald man armed like all of the guards she'd seen around his manse said, entering the room. "There is news."
"A thousand pardons, my dear guests, but I must see to this," Nevio smiled. "I will return shortly."
The second he left the room, Rhaenyra turned to Daemon and asked, "Does he seem off to you? He was much calmer earlier, and that was in the presence of four dragons."
"The princes of this city never rest peacefully," Daemon replied. "Nevio's managed to keep his head for longer than most, but they're all one catastrophe away from being murdered."
"What?!" Rhaenyra exclaimed.
"Being the Prince of Pentos is not like being the King of Seven Kingdoms," Daemon replied. "His role is mostly ceremonial, for one thing, as the city is largely ruled by the magisters who select him, and when things go poorly around here, the prince is sacrificed and a new one is chosen."
"That's...madness," Laenor stuttered.
"So's talking to trees and thinking that seven gods placed a crown of actual stars on some cunt's head," Daemon shrugged. "There's a reason our ancestors held themselves above this sort of shit."
Rhaenyra was about to defend the faith when Nevio walked in, looking somewhat paler than he had before.
"Are you quite well, my prince?" she asked.
"Oh yes," Nevio laughed nervously. "I was just checking in on the men watching over the dragons, and it seems that all is going well."
"Excellent," Daemon said in a tone that suggested he neither believed Nevio nor cared either way.
"In the meantime, I was thinking that after we've finished here, I could have you shown around the manse," Nevio suggested. "This place has been the residence of the ruling Prince of Pentos for more than four centuries, ever since the last one burned down."
"Was it made of wood?" Laenor asked.
"For some reason, yes," Nevio replied.
"Actually, I was thinking of taking my lovely new wife into the city again," Daemon said, smiling at Laena, who returned it happily. "I didn't get to see nearly enough just yet."
"And I was going to do as you suggested and see these lovely verdant lands of yours from the sky," Laenor added.
"Well, I for one would love to see more of this beautiful marble palace," Rhaenyra smiled, sensing an opportunity. She had come here, after all, to see if she could secure funding for her sept, and while Daemon's warning about the Pentoshi being miserly cunts was fresh in her ears, if this prince thought that his throat was in danger of being cut, that might make him singularly useful to her, provided she could help him in some way. "My acting sworn shield and I would love it if you could show us around."
"I…" Nevio went to say.
"Acting sworn shield?" Daemon asked, furrowing his brow.
"Well, Ser Harwin isn't here yet, and Jon is," Rhaenyra replied. "Unless you needed him for something, Laenor?"
"Not at all, darling," Laenor replied, giving her an amused look.
"Excellent," Rhaenyra smiled. Turning to Nevio, she added, "Pentos has long been close to the Seven Kingdoms physically, and I know that my royal father would greatly appreciate it if further ties between us could be developed."
"We could stand to trade more, I'm sure," Nevio said hesitantly, looking tentatively interested. "I would be honored to show such an esteemed guest around my home, though I will have to clear my schedule. Excuse me."
"Little dragon, what in the seven hells are you doing?" Daemon whispered in her ear in the common tongue of Westeros.
"You said yourself that he fears his head might be at risk," Rhaenyra replied, "and I want Pentos' assistance in funding my sept. As promised, I won't agree to any deal without your guidance, but I do want to learn more about what's bothering him, and I figure he'll be more likely to speak openly to me than you."
"Sign nothing," Daemon said flatly.
"I won't," Rhaenyra promised again.
"This friend of yours is capable?" Daemon asked, looking at Laenor.
"Quite," Laenor replied. "I'm more than comfortable trusting him with Rhaenyra's safety."
"Not that I am likely in much danger just now anyway," Rhaenyra smiled.
"Nevio is currently hosting four dragons," Laena piped up. "Allowing anything to happen to the Princess of Dragonstone would be a great way to see the city burned, and he seems smart enough to realize that."
"I suppose," Daemon murmured.
"I am so looking forward to seeing the show that you mentioned," Laena whispered seductively in Daemon's ear, running a hand down along his bicep through his red doublet.
"If anything happens to you, I'll be introducing this Jon to Dark Sister," Daemon said warningly.
"As I say, the threat of Syrax and Jon's presence will be enough to keep me safe," Rhaenyra whispered. "Now, please, go and enjoy yourselves."
"Jon!" she called out, and he entered immediately.
"Princess," he said dutifully.
"The prince is going to show us around," Rhaenyra grinned, rising from her seat and walking to him.
"Just us?" Jon asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yes," Daemon replied for her. "My niece's safety is in your hands, bastard. If you'd like to keep them, I'd suggest you take that seriously."
"I'll guard her with my life," Jon promised as Rhaenyra went to speak up.
"You will," Daemon said ominously. Turning to Laena, he said, "Come, my love, the city awaits."
The two of them left, and Rhaenyra scowled after them, angry at her uncle's treatment of Jon.
"I'm sorry about him," she muttered as soon as they'd left.
"Do you think he's the first man to name me bastard?" Jon asked, laughing humorlessly. "The word doesn't sting as much as it once did."
"Still…" Rhaenyra grumbled.
"I'm going to go find Seasmoke," Laenor said. "I'll see you at the feast later, if not sooner."
"See you then," Rhaenyra replied, barely looking at him.
"What's going on?" Jon asked once they were alone.
"Something's wrong in the city and its prince on edge," Rhaenyra replied.
"Are we in danger?" Jon asked, suddenly concerned.
"Probably not," Rhaenyra replied, "but I would learn just what it is that's bothering the man so much. Come."
The two of them left the room and were immediately stopped by two of the strange bald guards.
"The prince said that he would return in a moment," one of them said.
"Did he order you to keep us here until he returned?" Jon asked.
"No," the guard replied. "He ordered us to guard you."
"Then follow us," Rhaenyra commanded, leaving in the direction she'd last seen Nevio go in.
The layout of the second floor of the manse was simple, and the two of them had barely turned the first corner they came across when they heard the prince's voice.
"...already paid the horsefuckers!" he exclaimed, sounding frantic. "What more could they possibly...oh, Princess. I was just about to return to you."
"My uncle, goodsister, and husband and all left, so I decided to find you," Rhaenyra smiled. "I hope all is well."
"As I said, everything is fine," Nevio replied, smiling to try and hide his obvious irritation. "I'm just dealing with a couple of unruly merchants."
The man he was speaking with looked at the prince incredulously for just a moment before recalling who he was with and schooling his features.
"Shall I go see if there is any other news on these...merchants?" he asked.
"Yes, Oryllo," Nevio replied, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand.
As soon as Oryllo left, Nevio perked up a little and said, "We should likely start in the painted room, a round room built on the orders of Prince Mellio in order to house the bronze statue of his brother that he had commissioned after the man was behea…"
He trailed off then, pausing in his steps and breathing rapidly.
"Good prince, you're trembling," Rhaenyra said soothingly, placing her soft hand on his. "We've come at a terrible time, haven't we?"
"It wasn't…wasn't when the arrangements were first made," Nevio stuttered. Taking a long, slow breath, he steadied himself and said, "I assure you, there's nothing that you or your party need to fear."
"You're having troubles with the Dothraki, aren't you?" Rhaenyra asked. When his eyes widened with fear, she added, "There aren't very many people who 'horsefuckers' could describe."
"This isn't the sort of thing that one troubles honored guests with," Nevio fretted.
"Our peoples have long been friends," Rhaenyra smiled. "While we've had difficulties with many of the other Free Cities, we've never directly quarreled with fair Pentos, and our relations have always been at least cordial. If we cannot lean on our friends in times of need, who can we lean on?"
Nevio looked at her appraisingly for a moment before sighing and saying, "Please come."
He led her to a small room that she supposed was his solar and looked to Jon, saying, "What we must discuss is exceedingly private."
"Jon is a most trusted servant of mine and my guard for the moment," Rhaenyra replied. "I assure you that, whatever your problem, if we come up with a solution, it will involve him regardless, and my uncle would be displeased to learn that we were alone in a room."
"I suppose," Nevio sighed, walking inside and sitting heavily behind his desk. "We suffered a terrible plague earlier this year. It's passed now, and there hasn't been a case in over two moons, but we lost a great number of slaves to it."
"That's horrible," Rhaenyra said, fighting down her impulse to scowl at the casual reference to slavery. "How does that relate to the Dothraki, though? Did they also suffer from it?"
"Alas, no," Nevio scowled. "A particularly large khalasar under the command of a khal named Pemmo came here seeking tribute. We pay the khalasars when they come because it's cheaper than it would be to fight them. This time, though, we didn't have the tribute of slaves that we'd generally give them, and I was forced to scrounge together a fortune in gold and silver from the other magisters. They weren't pleased, but I overestimated what the khal would demand to soften the blow, and they ended up about as pleased as they could realistically be when I managed to send him off."
"But now they're returning," Rhaenyra said.
"Yes!" Nevio practically shouted before looking slightly embarrassed about yelling at the heir to the iron throne. "Sorry, Princess, but I just don't understand it. They were happy as they left, and they were last seen traveling south. I figured that they'd go bother Myr, but then I got word that they'd turned around and were heading this way. If the magisters find out, I'm as good as dead."
Rhaenyra quickly translated for Jon, who asked, "Could Myr have paid them to sack Pentos? They might not have participated in the War of the Stepstones, but they're quite friendly with your uncle."
Rhaenyra asked Nevio the question, leaving out the bit about Daemon.
"No," Nevio replied. "Even if they rushed to Myr with all haste, which the dothraki never do, they still couldn't have made it there and all the way back to their last reported position in so little time. For some reason, they just turned around and decided to return our way, and I am at a loss about what to do."
"Why have you not asked my uncle for help?" Rhaenyra asked.
"There is nothing I could offer the prince right now to make it worth his time," Nevio replied. "Fond as I am of the man, I know that he would not help me just for the sake of it."
"No, I suppose he wouldn't," Rhaenyra said, tapping her long nails on the armrest of her chest, "and neither would the Velaryons, but I, on the other hand..."
"You?" Nevio asked incredulously. "No offense, Princess, but this doesn't seem like the sort of thing that you'd...the dothraki aren't men who can be reasoned with."
"I find that most men become more reasonable when faced with a dragon," Rhaenyra smiled. "You've met Syrax, after all."
"Why help me?" Nevio asked. "As I've said, there is little that I can give you just now."
"I want to build a grand sept in King's Landing, and for that, I'm going to need coin," Rhaenyra replied. "Now, obviously, you aren't in a position to help me with it at the moment, but it never hurts to make wealthy friends."
"If you managed to turn them away, you would be the hero of the city!" Nevio exclaimed. "Heroine? Heroine. I'm sure that the magisters would, in time, be most generous in such a scenario."
"I'm sure," Rhaenyra smiled. "Where was this horde last seen?"
"After they left Pentos, they went south-east," Nevio replied. "There is a river that feeds into the Sea of Myrth many miles from here, and we assumed that they planned to cross it and continue on their way to Myr. They seem to have gotten about three quarters of the way to the river before turning back."
"Hmm," Rhaenyra hummed to herself. "Alright, I'm not going to promise anything just yet, but I will go take a look at this khalasar and figure out what I can do from there. I should be back in time for the feast tonight."
"So quickly?" Nevio asked.
"Dragons are fast creatures," Rhaenyra grinned, "and my Syrax is one of the faster ones. Don't tell my uncle what we discussed just yet."
"Princess, if you were hurt because of me, I'd be better off taking my chances with the magisters than facing him," Nevio said flatly.
"I won't be fighting them," Rhaenyra chuckled. "I'll just be observing them. Once I have a better idea of what I'm dealing with, then I'll speak to Daemon."
"Alright," Nevio sighed. "Lord of Light, protect you, Princess. Actually, there is one thing that might help you."
"Oh?" Rhaenyra asked as the man reached into his desk and pulled out a small bronze tube.
"This is a Myrish eye," Nevio said, handing it to her. "It will let you see the khalasar without needing to get close.
Rhaenyra took it and brought it to her eye, noting just how much closer it made everything look.
"That will be helpful," she said, smiling. "I'll return it to you once I'm done."
"Keep it," Nevio sighed. "Even if you don't ultimately help me, you've given me the first bit of hope I've felt in days, and that more than warrants the gift."
"Thank you," Rhaenyra smiled. "Farewell, Prince Nevio."
"Farewell, Princess," Nevio said wearily.
Rhaenyra smiled and stood up before leaving, followed closely by Jon, whom she filled in on what they'd discussed.
"Have you lost your mind?" he asked the second she was finished.
"Hardly," Rhaenyra replied dryly. "I'm not planning to rush into battle or anything. I just want to get a look at these people."
"Is this about Daenerys' fate?" Jon asked, still sounding concerned.
"No," Rhaenyra replied petulantly. "I will admit that I find the idea of a descendant of mine being sold like you described infuriating, but this truly is about the sept. I'll explain more once we're on Syrax."
"We?" Jon asked.
"You did promise to guard me, did you not?" Rhaenyra asked, grinning up at him.
The yellow dragon had looked genuinely angry with her rider earlier that day, but she clearly got over it because the moment Rhaenyra stepped out onto the grounds of the vast garden, she flew over and landed right in front of them.
"Am I forgiven then?" Rhaenyra cooed, scratching Syrax' scales under her chin. "We're flying a fair distance from here, so there's no time to wait."
She murmured a command in Valyrian and Syrax turned to let her climb into the saddle. Once she was securely in it, Rhaenyra beckoned Jon to join her, which he quickly did. Getting a saddle on Morghul wasn't something that he was looking forward to, but it wasn't like he could even have one made unless Rhaenyra figured out a way to get her father to be alright with him being a dragonrider, so that was a moot point. He did long to ride the great dragon, though.
"Here," Rhaenyra smiled once he was securely in the saddle behind her. "This will be a much better flight than our last two."
"Unless the entire horde decides to loose their arrows on us," Jon grumbled.
"Syrax's scales are hard enough to stop arrows, and the dothraki won't have scorpions, I'm sure," Rhaenyra replied. "At any rate, I don't intend to get that close to them anyway
"Still, if we're going to be going into battle in the future, you're going to need armor," Jon insisted. "Syrax might not need to fear arrows, but you do."
"A fair point," Rhaenyra shrugged. "Sōvēs."
Syrax heard the command and flew up. Caraxes poked his head up as he watched the smaller dragon rise into the air, but ultimately decided against joining her and curled back up to sleep. Vhagar didn't even look at them.
"Alright, so Nevio said that they were to the south-east of here, which would be this way," Rhaenyra murmured mostly to herself as she tugged Syrax's reigns until she was flying in the direction that she wanted. "The prince wasn't lying. These lands really are lovely."
"So flat and green," Jon remarked. "I'm surprised it's so underdeveloped, though the presence of the dothraki might explain that."
"It's so sad what became of this continent," Rhaenyra said. "Once home to the greatest civilization in the history of the world, now it's been reduced to a smattering of city states run by cowards and terrorized by horse-worshiping lunatics."
"Cowards?" Jon asked.
"You know why Nevio said that they didn't fight the dothraki?" Rhaenyra asked. "Because it would have cost more. I cannot imagine a Westerosi lord speaking so openly about his lack of valor. Had the conqueror and his sisters turned their eyes eastward, he would have conquered all nine of these cities and roasted the horselords in a year if this is the sort of men that they're ruled by."
"Cowards they might be, but they are wealthy cowards," Jon chuckled. "The whole reason we came here was to secure funding for the sept. How do you plan to turn this adventure into coin for it anyway? They seem to be rather lacking just now."
"I don't," Rhaenyra replied. "Nevio said that he paid this khalasar a fortune in gold and silver. I plan to scout out the horde, see what kind of numbers I'm dealing with, and then, with Daemon, Laenor, and Laena, burn them all and take the Pentoshi fortune. That should be enough to begin construction, at least."
"Hmm, a sound plan," Jon smiled, wrapping his arms more tightly around her from behind. "A plan worthy of the conqueror."
"I will show these lords who plot to elevate Aegon solely because he has a cock that I can be as capable as any man," Rhaenyra grinned as she leaned her head back on his shoulder. "Let them say that not only did I build the greatest sept in Westeros, but that I secured the coin to pay for it with fire and blood."
"Prince Daemon will be impressed, I'm sure," Jon chuckled.
"It's not Daemon I'm looking to impress just now," Rhaenyra said, looking him in the eye.
"You know that you've long since impressed me," Jon murmured tenderly.
"I wish that I could have you by my side at events like the luncheon today," Rhaenyra sighed. "I thought it would be easier than this to keep you a secret and pretend to be Laenor's wife in public, but…"
"It's what we're stuck with, alas," Jon said. "I'm sure Laenor would like to be more open with affection too."
"I know," Rhaenyra muttered. "I can't resent him at all because I know that he's in the exact same position, but I just...I want you by my side."
"For the rest of my days, I will be in every way that I can," Jon pledged, his voice solemn.
"Jon," Rhaenyra crocked, her eyes growing misty.
"From this day, until my last day, I am yours," Jon said, cupping her cheek as she started to cry.
"Say the whole thing," Rhaenyra wept, and it took him a moment to realize what she meant.
"I am yours, and you are mine," Jon finished.
"I am," Rhaenyra whispered, not trusting her voice as she cupped his rugged face. "I am yours, and you are mine, from this day, until my last day."
She kissed him then, tenderly and softly, pouring every bit of passion and affection she had into it as he did the same. Syrax roared then, and they broke apart in shock, looking around to see what she was reacting to. When they saw nothing, they relaxed, and Jon chuckled.
"I think she was agreeing," he said when Rhaenyra looked at him. "I'd rather her than a septon, honestly."
"I love you," Rhaenyra whispered, her heart feeling like it might burst with joy.
"I love you too," Jon whispered back.
She leaned back into his embrace, and the two of them continued on with the rest of their flight in silence. Holding Rhaenyra in his arms as they soared through the clouds, Jon felt a sense of peace he'd never known in his life. That peace rapidly evaporated as they started to smell the telltale smoke of a vast number of fires. Peering down with the Myrish eye, Rhaenyra beheld a large camp full of what looked to be many thousands of people. The sun was behind them, and they didn't seem to have been spotted yet, but she knew it would happen eventually if they stuck around.
"Direct Syrax towards that cliff," Jon said, pointing to a tall, rocky expanse not far from the camp they'd stumbled across.
The land had long since ceased to be as flat as it was just southeast of Pentos, and with the dothraki seemingly well distracted, he hoped that they could land without disturbing them. Rhaenyra did as he suggested, and, with them flying as high as they were and their unsuspecting prey focused on whatever they were doing, they managed to land undetected, though the camp did quiet down for a moment when Syrax landed with a thud. They must have assumed that it was a rock breaking off and falling, because the noise of the camp resumed a moment later.
"Gods, there are thousands of them," Rhaenyra whispered as she looked through her Myrish eye.
"We can just speak normally," Jon chuckled. "We can barely hear them from this distance, and I imagine they are quite loud."
"Well, I take back some of my insult towards Prince Nevio," Rhaenyra muttered. "They do look like a formidable...eep!"
"Nyra?" Jon asked, confused by her squeaking.
"There is a couple...fucking in the open!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, sounding scandalized and setting her Myrish eye down like it burned her.
"Let me see," Jon said. When Rhaenyra glared at him, he added, "The camp at large, not the...performers."
"Here," Rhaenyra muttered, handing him the bronze tube.
As luck had it, the couple were the first thing that he saw as he looked at the camp, and he snorted, saying, "Wow, they really have nothing we'd recognize as decorum at all."
"This is really what the last of my line will be sold into?" Rhaenyra asked rhetorically, fretting with her rings.
"Hey, for one thing, she managed to overcome them, and beyond that, we won't let it happen," Jon promised her before returning to looking at the camp.
"Stay down, Syrax," Rhaenyra commanded softly, beckoning her dragon back down to her. "We don't want to be spotted just yet."
"None of them are wearing armor," Jon said in disbelief. "Not even the sentries."
"No, according to Maester Gerardys, they wear leather only," Rhaenyra replied.
"Then how in the hells have they not been crushed?" Jon asked.
"They are very fast on horseback and rely on speed, brutality, and numbers," Rhaenyra replied, recalling her maester's words.
"I'm starting to think you might be right about the cowardice part," Jon muttered, looking over the camp.
There were a few other people having sex out in the open, something that was apparently normal among their people. The work was all done by people who didn't share the dothraki look and were presumably slaves. His eye fell on a white-haired, older slave being whipped while a one-armed, younger slave tried to interfere, only to end up being beaten himself, and he sighed.
"They seem to be pretty wretched," he said, "or at least this particular group does."
"No one seems to have written anything particularly pleasant about them, according to Maester Gerardys," Rhaenyra clarified. "Have you seen anything that might look like crates or chests of gold and silver?"
"There are definitely crates and chests among their things," Jon replied.
"How many dothraki would you say there are?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Less than ten thousand, I'd reckon," Jon replied. The khalasar was definitely much smaller than Mance Rayder's army had been.
"Still no match for multiple dragons," Rhaenyra murmured. "The army that the conqueror and his sisters faced at the Field of Fire was more than five times the size."
"Is there anything else that you wanted to learn, aside from their numbers and what they looked like?" Jon asked.
"Not that I can think of," Rhaenyra replied. "We should probably return to Pentos."
"Agreed," Jon said, pocketing the Myrish eye, "though I'd like us to fly a little lower this time, once we're outside of the range of their arrows, anyway. I want to see what the terrain looks like between here and there and see if there might be a particularly good spot to attack them, somewhere where we might have more of an advantage than we already do."
"Alright," Rhaenyra smiled as she climbed into Syrax's saddle.
She felt good about this idea, convinced that it would help her start to improve her standing against Alicent and her allies. She needed to make her position so unassailable that no one would dare try. Only by doing that would she ensure that the terrible future Jon came from would not come to pass. House Targaryen could not be allowed to fall so low that they were stuck selling off princesses to creatures like those encamped before her, and she would make sure that they didn't.
Rising into the air, she laughed at the terrified screams of the dothraki under her and directed Syrax to fly towards the east.
"West is that way!" Jon called out, pointing behind them.
"I know," Rhaenyra replied, "but I don't want them thinking that we're going to Pentos, lest they decide to change their course."
Jon just laughed and looked behind him in time to see dothraki screamers charging around the camp on horseback, a few of them aiming their bows up towards Syrax. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Rhaenyra, but the few arrows they managed to get off in their panic went wide, and the second volley fell far short of them. Leaving them behind, they flew to the east, waiting until they were well out of sight of the camp to turn northwest. Whatever came next, he dearly hoped that it worked out.
