"Nyra, wait," Jon muttered. "Land here, just in front of the forest belt."
"Okay," Rhaenya replied. Placing a hand on Syrax's gleaming yellow scales, she called out, "Ninkiot!"
Syrax screeched in reply and circled through the air before landing with remarkable grace for her size.
"I somehow doubt Vhagar lands that quietly," Jon thought to himself as he looked around. "I didn't notice this when we came by the first time."
"It took several trips atop Syrax before I was able to note much of anything beyond my exhilaration," Rhaenyra laughed. "It is a rather stark change, though."
"Aye," Jon murmured, still looking around.
The lands between Pentos and Myr were greatly varied. Just south of the nearest free city to Westeros, there were flat plains and gentle green hills, perfect land for cultivation. A ways south of there, things became more rocky and jagged, with wide pathways snaking throughout that allowed easy travel nonetheless. Jon assumed that as one got closer to Myr, the landscape changed again to green land well suited to farming, but they hadn't made it that far.
Several miles south of Pentos, the gentle hills became sharper, and in the area where Jon and Rhaenyra had landed, there was nothing gentle about the elevation. A straight, carefully maintained pathway ran between a thick forest, which sprung up almost in defense of the sharp, high cliffs. The pathway led to a wide canyon, which he assumed was entirely natural, and which one had no choice but to pass through on their way north.
"Have her fly off and land on the cliffs themselves, well away from the edge," Jon said, and Rhaenyra did so without question, ordering Syrax to fly them up.
Jon kept his eyes trained on the ground through the short trip and lowered himself down from the yellow dragon the moment she landed. The forest grew thin towards the cliffs, not growing well in the shadow that enveloped them through much of the day, but where they did grow, they were exceedingly thick. Taking the Myrish lens, he peered down, surveying all that he could, and quickly determined that the spot they'd found was perfect.
"Horses could not hope to pass through that woodland," he said, scratching his chin. "The gnarled roots would be certain death for any cavalry that tried."
"Let me see," Rhaenyra commanded. After looking through the lens herself, she murmured, "You're correct, and the forest seems to stretch out in both directions as far as the eye can see. You're thinking we could ambush them here?"
"Absolutely," Jon replied, taking back the lens, and looking out behind them. "The hills leading up here from the north are steep, but not impassible. If one could position a few hundred archers on either side of this canyon, you could kill anything that passed through, particularly if the people you were hunting wore no armor."
"There's no guarantee that the Dothraki would move through here, though," Rhaenyra countered.
"I highly doubt that they anticipate being attacked, and this is the main road to Pentos," Jon argued. "Once they enter into the path between the trees, their horses will only be able to travel along the road in either direction, and if the southernmost part of it is guarded by large, fire-breathing dragons…"
"We could herd them," Rhaenyra breathed, feeling her heart race, as she realized just what her lover was proposing. "I don't have hundreds of archers among my coming retinue, though."
"Let Prince Nevio supply them," Jon shrugged. "We're doing this ostensibly to keep his head connected to the rest of him. I imagine it would be too much to ask him to bleed in his own defense, as these wealthy Essosi don't seem to be warriors at all, but he can supply us with men."
"Brilliant!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. "Should he be able to send us enough archers, we could pull this off without the others."
"What?" Jon asked, whipping around in shock. "Why in the hells would we want to do that?"
"Seasmoke is smaller than Syrax and could potentially be hurt in the struggle, and Laena has no combat experience at all," Rhaenyra replied.
"Neither do you, and Vhagar has enough experience for both of you, to say nothing of Caraxes and your uncle," Jon countered.
"I have no choice but to fight; you've made it clear what the future holds for me," Rhaenyra replied. "I haven't told Laena or Daemon about any of that, and I am reluctant to do so at all. My uncle won't believe you, that I guarantee, and I don't know how Laena would react. Moreover, though, if we bring the others into this, they'll deserve a share of the coming loot, and I need this treasure for the sept. If we can't do this without them, then I will bring them in, but let's finish looking around this area and figure out what we'll need to do to prepare the area, should we have time.
"You think that you'd need to tell your uncle the truth to get him to help?" Jon asked.
"I can't think of a lie that he'd believe, which would explain why his niece, whose greatest concern a few moons ago was finding the perfect jewels to match her gowns, now wants to hunt horse lords," Rhaenyra sighed.
"You make yourself sound far more vapid than you were," Jon chuckled, wrapping his arms around her.
"I was a sheltered princess," Rhaenyra muttered. "Even my misadventures with Daemon and subsequent forced marriage didn't compare to learning about the future. He'd disbelieve me if I tried to tell him and distrust you more than he already does. I don't need to worry about him on top of everything else, Jon, and he can be...unpredictable."
"I know that well," Jon thought to himself, recalling the parts of history he'd decided never to tell her about.
They spent nearly half an hour looking over the area Jon had spotted and quickly discovered that the Pentoshi had clearly made use of it in the past. The barren land between the thick forest and the cliffs was littered with rocks too perfectly placed to be natural. Jon hadn't read much of Pentos' history as a boy, but he had to imagine that they had realized as readily as he did just what a perfect defensive chokepoint the canyons had been. Once the pair of them were satisfied that they'd sufficiently looked over what they hoped to turn into a killing field, they climbed back onto Syrax's back and flew back to Pentos.
"The winds were clearly in their favor," Jon murmured as he spotted the familiar coats of arms of House Targaryen and House Velaryon on the sails of some of the ships in the harbor.
"Yes, they made better time than I expected," Rhaenyra smiled.
She directed Syrax to land inside Nevio's property, and she quickly went off to join the other dragons. As Jon and Rhaenyra went inside, they quickly came across Laenor speaking in hushed tones with a clearly irritated Qarl Correy.
"Just friends," Qarl scoffed. Scowling, he added, "I know perfectly well what this is, Laenor, and I don't seek to lay claim to more than I can, but I would appreciate honesty."
"I am being honest," Laenor hissed. "Nyra wanted to bring along a servant to help us get settled, and Jon's the only one not frightened by fli...Rhaneyra!"
"Laenor," Rhaenyra smiled gently, recognizing his desire to focus on something else for what it was.
Qarl shot Jon a venomous glare the moment he spotted him, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew that they needed cover for his presence in Dragonstone, and having people think that he was bedding Laenor was less bad than having them correctly assume that he was bedding the man's wife, but he hadn't anticipated jealousy from his actual lover.
"You were gone a while," Laenor commented.
"We were just out looking at the grounds of Pentos and lost track of time," Rhaenyra replied. "The prince wasn't exaggerating about their beauty. Have you considered riding through the hills on horseback? I cannot imagine how lovely everything looks on the ground."
"That sounds like a splendid idea," Laenor smiled, looking relieved. Turning to Qarl, he added, "If I had the right company, anyway."
"You have enough guards now to make such a trip safe," Ser Qarl mused, relaxing a little.
"Then tomorrow we shall go on a little adventure," Laenor grinned. "Rhaenyra, the feast is about to start."
"I'll be a little late, but not too much," Rhaenyra said. "Jon, escort me to my room so that I might change out of these leathers."
"Yes, princess," Jon nodded, leading her away. Once they were out of earshot, he grumbled, "I didn't anticipate Qarl of all people coming to...that conclusion."
"He'll get over it," Rhaenyra said flatly. Lowering her voice, she murmured, "I would expect him to see from how you and Laenor behave around each other that there's nothing to fear."
"Hopefully," Jon muttered, shaking his head. He was about to lean in and ask her if she would need help changing when a booming voice interrupted them.
"Princess!" Ser Harwin called out.
"Harwin," Rhaenyra smiled. "I wasn't expecting you all so soon."
"The winds blew us right here," Harwin chuckled. "It was if the gods themselves wanted us to come to Pentos."
"Well, I am pleased to see you," Rhaenyra murmured. "Jon, seeing as Harwin's here and able to act as my shield again, I won't need two men to escort me to my rooms. Go and inform the prince that I've returned and will want a word with him at his earliest convenience."
"I'm pretty sure I can speak enough Valyrian to get that across," Jon said.
"Seeing as this is a formal feast with Westerosi guests, I'd expect him to have a translator," Rhaenyra assured him.
Jon left and, remembering where the main hall was, went in search of the prince. Even if he hadn't recalled where his destination was, it wouldn't have been hard to find it, as the hall was packed full and the attendees were all rather in their cups already. With so many servants moving about filling cups and attending to the guests other needs, he was able to slip inside without being stopped and would have gone straight to Nevio if a surprising sight hadn't stopped him in his tracks.
In the center of the room, there were a number of singers and men playing instruments, which was largely normal for a formal feast, and something he'd seen in Winterfell what felt like a lifetime ago. What he'd certainly never seen in Winterfell was naked women dancing to the tune of the music. They weren't entirely nude, as they wore cloths tied around their waists that obscured their cunts, but as they swayed and leapt about to the rhythm, those cloths moved freely, showing off glimpses of the curls between their legs.
There were a dozen of them in total, and no two looked the same. Most were from Essos, he imagined, but some clearly weren't. One of the girls had skin as dark as his hair, while another had skin like milk, and yet another had hair like fire. The dark-skinned one had breasts as large as Rhaenyra's, though they weren't as firm, capped with nipples as black as pitch. Jon felt his breeches grow tight at the sight, which he imagined one would need to go to a brothel to see the like of back home, and it took him a moment to force himself to look away. By chance, his gaze landed on Daemon and Laena, who sat in her husband's lap, watching the display with wide eyes.
"She looks as appreciative of the slave girls as he does," he thought to himself, wondering if the pair weren't more well suited to each other than he'd first realized.
Shaking himself out of her reverie, he found Nevio seated to the right of Daemon and Laena, with two seats left conspicuously empty to his right, and moved quickly towards him. When he was a few feet away, a guard intercepted him and barked something in Valyrian that he was sure was questioning his business with the prince. Nevio looked over at him, and his dark eyes widened at the sight. He hissed something at the guard, who let him go immediately.
"Princess Rhaenyra, bade me tell you that she's returned and will be along shortly," Jon said in Westerosi Common, testing the princess' theory about him keeping a translator.
Sure enough, a nearby servant leaned in and whispered in his ear. Looking over at Daemon, who was whispering in Laena's ear and hadn't realized that Nevio was speaking with anyone yet, the prince looked at him, his eyes full of pleading and questions.
Leaning in, Jon whispered in broken Valyrian, "She speak to you later."
He nodded and smiled reassuringly, and Nevio looked again like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Before he could ask anything else, the herald called out in Valyrian, and everyone turned to see Rhaenyra and Laenor walk in.
She was wearing a deep maroon gown with a tight black bodice that pushed her gorgeous breasts high. Between that and the low cut of it, much of her creamy flesh was displayed, and the gold necklace she wore around her slender neck, holding a ruby so large it could have served as the pommel of his sword, only drew further attention to them. The skirt flowed nearly to floor, but the tight fit of the dress helped extenuate her wide hips. Her face wasn't painted as some of the other noblewomen had elected to do, but her natural beauty outshone them all anyway, something that her long silver-gold braid, which she draped over her left shoulder, only added to. Her entrance drew everyone's eyes and would have been flawless if she hadn't frozen on the spot upon seeing the entertainment.
"Gods be good," Rhaenyra thought to herself as she went still.
"Father did warn us that the Essosi were rather...different than our people back home," Laenor chuckled. "Nyra?"
"That...they…" Rhaenyra sputtered, blushing lightly at the sight of the dancers. She'd not seen such sights since Daemon brought her to the brothel all those moons ago, and the idea of women being paraded around as such in a formal feast was so strange to her that she was instantly unnerved.
"Come, darling," Laenor said, sounding amused as he took her hand. "The prince awaits."
"I did ask him to tone things down," Daemon said the moment she passed him.
"This is tame compared to our usual entertainment," Nevio piped up, looking nervous. "I sometimes forget just how...different your Westerosi values are. I apologize for any offense caused."
"There's no need," Rhaenyra smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "We are in your lands, and your customs are your own."
"Indeed," Daemon murmured, looking at her oddly.
"I for one find it exciting," Laena grinned. "Scandalous to be sure, and I'm glad Mother isn't here, but these people are so much less stuffy than we are back home."
"Less stuffy is certainly one way of putting it," Laenor chuckled.
"Did my...messenger come?" Rhaenyra asked Nevio quietly.
"He did," Nevio replied in kind. "Once the feast starts winding down, we can...discuss matters in private if you would like."
"I would," Rhaenyra replied. "There's no reason to involve anyone else just yet."
"Now what are you conspiring about?" Daemon asked, his violet eyes boring into her.
"I so liked the tour of this place earlier that the good prince offered to show me more of this lovely city on the morrow," Rhaenyra replied before Nevio could.
"Yes," Nevio replied. "It's a rare woman who truly appreciates history and architecture. Your niece is full of surprises."
"Ceaselessly so," Daemon murmured, sipping his wine.
"Now that our guest of honor is here, we can begin the feast," Nevio called out. "Bring in the first courses, especially the suckling pig."
Rhaenyra smiled at that, her hunger outweighing her continued irritation with the entertainment. The food was as great as it had been earlier, and she did have to admit that Nevio's cooks were brilliant. Once the first courses were brought in, Laena returned to her seat, and Daemon started introducing them all to some of the magisters he'd met in his previous visits to the city. The princess relaxed, happy knowing that she'd be able to discuss her plan with Nevio later.
"You simply must come visit my manse on the isle of Brytarys," Reggio Brytarys said a while later. "My apple orchards are unmatched in Essos."
"Tis true," Daemon murmured as a servant filled his cup with more wine. "I visited them briefly at the invitation of your late father the last time I was here."
"We were so sorry to hear of his passing," Laena added. "My father spoke well of him."
"The Sea Snake and my father were friends of a sort," Reggio smiled. "He lived a long and fulfilling life and expanded our family's wealth and holdings dramatically. He died with few if any regrets. I could host all four of you tomorrow if you like."
"I had planned to see the Velvet Hills," Laenor replied.
"And I will be staying with your prince and seeing more of this city of yours," Rhaenyra added, "but I imagine that a vast manse on an island surrounded by apple orchards would make a fine place for our newlyweds to enjoy."
"Then its settled," Reggio grinned. "You'll have to try our apple wine while you're there. I attempted to ship some of it here, but some damn fool managed to light the boat aflame."
"That's horrid," Laenor balked. "Did anyone survive?"
"Hmm? Oh, no, the slaves all died, taking some of my finest barrels with them," Reggio grumbled.
"No question which of the two he actually mourns," Rhaenyra thought icily. As the magister's attention was taken by the man to his left, she leaned in and, in common, asked, "Why does the island he lives on bear the name of a house of apple farmers?"
"The orchards were planted on a whim by his great-great-great grandfather during the reign of the Conqueror," Daemon replied in kind. "The family's true wealth lies in shipmaking. Half the Pentoshi fleet is owned by his family, and the other half was built and sold by them. Their shipyard takes up have western coast of the island you would have spotted as you flew over here, the one almost cradled by the stretch of land these people call the claw."
"A useful ally," Rhaenyra mused. "Do you think you might be in need of ships soon?"
"The kingdom of the three whores has been quiet of late, and I've heard nothing to suggest that that's likely to change, but one can never have too many rich friends," Daemon replied. "Incidentally, if you're still insistent on your sept idea, Brytarys would be a better man to turn to than the prince."
"I'll stick with Prince Nevio for the time being," Rhaenyra replied. "I want to learn all that I can of this place."
"As you will," Daemon shrugged. With a puerile grin, he asked, "Don't tell me you've developed a taste for dwarfs."
"First off, don't insult me, and second, he's hardly a dwarf," Rhaenyra replied dryly, defending the diminutive prince.
Daemon snorted and returned to speaking with Reggio.
Rhaenyra shook her head and returned to the stuffed quail she'd taken from the last round of courses that had come her way.
"If Nevio agrees with my plan, this could work out perfectly," she thought to herself. "With Daemon and Laena on the island and Laenor occupied with easing Qarl's concerns, Jon and I could have free reign to deal with the Khalasar."
The rest of the feast passed without issue, and Rhaenyra had to admit that, as much as she found the people strange and their customs unsettling, she did enjoy speaking with them. She made a point to limit how much wine she drank, being pleased as she saw Daemon and Laenor both imbibe far more. When, as the feast was beginning to wind down, her uncle picked a giggling Laena up and carried her off, to the jeering cheers of some of the drunker magisters, she realized that her chance had come.
"We should speak," she whispered to Nevio.
"Of course," the prince replied. "They're all so drunk by now they probably won't notice us leaving."
"Princess?" Ser Harwin asked as she rose.
"Follow but remain outside the door when we arrive at his solar," Rhaenyra commanded, and off they went.
"Your lover seemed to indicate that you had good news for me," Nevio said as soon as the door was closed.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't refer to him as such," Rhaenyra scowled.
"I'm neither one to judge nor gossip, dear girl," Nevio smiled.
"We surveyed the khalasar," Rhaenyra muttered as she sat down. "It is large."
"Too large for dragons?" Nevio asked, furrowing his brow.
"Hardly," Rhaenyra scoffed. "It might not be too large for my Syrax, depending on what aid you can give me. Do your people have a particular name for the canyon south of here?"
"The gates of the gods," Nevio replied. "Many a Myrish army has been broken there. It is not the only path to Pentos, however, and the Khalasar could go around the long way."
"They could, but if they truly intend to return here so soon and don't suspect an attack, I have no reason to think that they would," Rhaenyra said. "If they entered the canyon, I could seal them in with fire, and if we had a sufficient number of archers stationed on the cliffs…"
"You...you want to kill them all?" Nevio balked.
"That is generally the aim of battle, or so I've heard," Rhaenyra replied dryly.
"There is a vein of iron in you, princess," Nevio laughed. "Would it not be better to involve your uncle?"
"You didn't go to my uncle because you knew he'd demand more from you than you could pay," Rhaenyra replied. "I don't want to owe him anything either, and I will demand far less from you than he would."
"What are your terms?" Nevio asked, tensing.
"You supply me with sufficient archers to deal with the Dothraki, and in turn, they haul the khalasar's entire treasure horde onto my ships," Rhaenyra replied, smirking as the man's eyes widened.
"You...you would take everything that they have," Nevio breathed.
"There's no reason for you or Pentos at large to pay more than you already have to deal with this threat," Rhaenyra grinned. "I can take my payment from them and still enjoy the credit in the city for resolving the crisis."
"Oh, Princess!" Nevio exclaimed, rushing to his feet and looking like he was about to embrace her. When she made him go still with a glare, he recalled himself and chuckled, saying, "As I said, a vein of iron."
"Fire," Rhaenyra corrected him. "I trust you can gather the archers I need?"
"I can marshal a thousand of them quickly enough," Nevio replied. "It will leave our walls rather bare, but the scouts have spotted no other threats nearby."
"Excellent," Rhaenyra smiled. "They will be placed under the command of my man outside. Are there any among them who speak the tongue of Westeros?"
"Some," Nevio replied.
"Then they will be vitally important," Rhaenyra mused.
"I'm surprised that you're not placing that other man in charge," Nevio commented.
"Oh, he'll have a different role to play," Rhaenyra smiled.
Exiting his solar a little while later, after they'd finished going over the details of her plan, Rhaenyra was pleased to see that Jon had joined Ser Harwin.
"Princess," her dutiful sworn shield said as he saw her.
"Come, both of you," Rhaenyra commanded. "There is much that we must discuss."
"Alright," Ser Harwin replied, furrowing his brow as Jon remained silent.
She returned to the chambers that had been given her and, finding that Laenor was nowhere to be seen, smiled and sat down on the bed.
"Ser Harwin, I have a task for you," Rhaenyra said.
"Name it, princess," Ser Harwin replied.
"Prince Nevio is going to give me a small army of a thousand archers," Rhaenyra explained, watching her guard's eyes widen. "There is a Dothraki khalasar coming our way, and I've offered to help him crush them."
"What?!" Ser Harwin exclaimed. "Princess, that…"
"It won't be as dangerous as it sounds," Rhaenyra replied. "I've already scouted out a spot that they are almost certain to pass through that we'll be able to ambush them in. The flat lands south of here give way to steep hills ending in sharp cliffs. There is a great canyon one must pass through on the way north, and it will be in here that we will trap the Dothraki with dragonfire and fill them to bursting with arrows."
"That doesn't sound particularly honorable," Ser Harwin frowned.
"The Dothraki are murderous rapers without exception," Jon replied. "What the princess has in mind for them is no less brutal than what you would have done to such men in the City Watch."
"Speaking of the watch, is your uncle going to be joining us?" Ser Harwin asked.
"No," Rhaenyra replied. When he looked alarmed, she added, "I know what so many of the other lords say of me, Ser. They bent the knee to me at my father's order and pledged to support me as the heir to the throne and future queen, but my father will not live forever, and not all men take their vows seriously. If I am to ensure that they don't turn on me the moment my father dies, I need to show them that, like Queen Visenya before me, I am, despite my sex, every inch the dragon."
"You needn't prove that to me," Ser Harwin chuckled, looking wistful. "I knew from the moment I saw you all those moons ago, returning to camp covered in boar's blood. I'd never seen a fiercer sight."
Rhaenyra smiled at his earnest expression of loyalty and appreciation, though her smile faltered when she saw the look on Jon's face.
"Can the princess depend on your aid and discretion, then?" her lover asked.
"Where will you be in all of this?" Ser Harwin asked.
"Jon will be atop Syrax with me, shielding me from any possible arrows that might come my way," Rhaenyra replied.
"Gods, I wish you had armor," Ser Harwin scowled.
"You and me both," Jon added.
"Well, I didn't know that I'd be getting into anything like this and don't have the time to take care of that now," Rhaenyra huffed.
"I am your sworn shield," Ser Harwin pointed out.
"And so you shall remain," Rhaenyra smiled, "but Jon has some experience on dragonback and no one's first test of how they handle such heights should be in battle."
"I...can't argue with that," Ser Harwin admitted.
"I need both of you to help me with this," Rhaenyra said, "one in the air and one on the ground. Can I rely on you both?"
"You can," Ser Harwin promised. "You do realize that if anything happens to you, your father and uncle will kill us both, right?"
"Then I need to make sure that I get through this unscathed," Rhaenyra grinned. "The prince's translator should be in his solar by now. Return there and inform him that you'll be leading his archers. I had told him that you would be, but I don't think he recalled you."
"Alright," Ser Harwin replied. "I take it Jon will be guarding you tonight?"
"Yes," Rhaenyra replied. "You're to head out with the archers as soon as possible tonight."
"So soon?" Ser Harwin asked.
"The prince believes that he'll be able to put together and supply his forces quickly," Rhaenyra replied. "He'll also show the spot you're going to be leading them to on his map."
"Serving you Targaryens is never boring," Ser Harwin laughed. "Good night."
"Good night," Rhaenyra replied, smiling as she watched him leave and close the door behind him. "What was that look earlier?"
"I didn't like how he looked at you," Jon admitted.
"Jon," Rhaenyra sighed softly, placing a hand on his muscular chest through his doublet. "I know that, as things happened originally, he and I were...close, and he is a good man who will make a lucky woman very happy someday, but he isn't you."
"I know," Jon muttered. "I envied my siblings growing up for having the loving mother that I so desired, but I don't think I've ever truly felt jealousy before."
"Well, you don't need to," Rhaenyra cooed, rising onto her toes and kissing him softly. "I am yours as much as you are mine. I love you, Jon."
"I love you too," Jon replied, lifting her up by her waist and kissing her passionately.
Rhaenyra squealed in delight and wrapped her legs around him as she snaked her fingers into his dark locks. His tongue plunged between her lips, and she met it with her own, moaning into his mouth. He walked her to the bed and tossed her down onto it, making her gasp and stare up at him in lust.
"Take off your clothes," she ordered.
"As my princess commands," Jon chuckled, reaching down to remove his boots.
With his eyes trained on her, he slowly undid the buttons, grinning at the look of lust on her face. Her breathing quickened as he moved, causing her large breasts to heave as her chest moved.
"Play with those tits you love showing off so much," Jon rumbled, making her shiver.
"Like this?" Rhaenyra asked, grinning impishly as she squeezed her fingers under her tight bodice.
"Fuck yes," Jon groaned, tossing his doublet aside. "I can tell from the look on your face that your nipples must be hard."
"Terribly so," Rhaenyra breathed. "I need you, Jon."
His shirt and belt quickly joined the doublet, and as he went to push his breeches down and free his aching cock, Rhaenyra sat up and grabbed his hands.
"No, let me," she purred, freeing his cock and immediately wrapping her hand around it. "Gods, I love your cock, Jon."
"Not as much as it loves you," Jon groaned, making her giggle.
The wonderfully thick shaft pulsed in her hand, drooling a pearly drop of pre-cum that she swiped up with her tongue, making him gasp.
"Mmm," Rhaenyra moaned. "Sit down."
"Take off your dress," Jon said. "You'll be annoyed if we stain it."
"So considerate," Rhaenyra chuckled. "Help me out of it."
He did, helping her undress with practiced ease, and soon enough they were both fully nude, and he was seated back on the bed. He doubted that he'd ever get over his shock that Rhaenyra was happy to get on her knees for him, but he was so glad that she was. She looked lovingly at his cock and pulled it towards her, peppering it with wet little kisses.
"Fuck, Nyra," Jon groaned, making her giggle.
"You know what I love most about when we fuck?" Rhaenyra asked.
"The size of my cock?" Jon guessed, making her laugh.
"Your size is up there, but no," Rhaenyra replied. "I love how relaxed I can be. I don't have to worry about you finding my desires wanton or wrong or that you'll demand more of me than I can give. You let me enjoy myself without reservation or fear, and for that, I truly cannot repay you."
"Oh, we'll have to disagree there," Jon chuckled, making her smile.
"Well, I didn't say that I couldn't try," Rhaenyra smirked, leaning down to press her full lips against his balls.
"Oh fuck!" Jon moaned when she wrapped her lips around one of his orbs.
Grinning, and not breaking his gaze for a moment, she licked her hand and returned it to his cock as she went back to sucking on his balls. Going back and forth between them, she teased them with her wicked tongue and sucked on them in a way that felt bloody incredible.
"Gods, that feels so fucking good," Jon groaned. "Shit!"
"I love hearing you like that," Rhaenyra smiled. "I love knowing that I can give you even close to the pleasure you give me."
"You were sucking on my bloody stones a moment ago," Jon pointed out.
"You licked my asshole," Rhaenyra countered. "I still can't believe how good that felt."
Before he could say a word, she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and swirled her tongue around it. With her eyes locked on his, she started bobbing her head up and down, taking more and more of his cock with each pass. She' become so good at that in the short time they'd been together, and it was a testament to how much more experienced he'd become that he didn't finish the second she swallowed his entire length.
"Gods, you're such a good girl," Jon groaned, making Rhaenyra shudder, and let his cock slip from her lips with an audible pop.
"Mmm, I can think of several people who would disagree with you there," she laughed. "They would call me positively wicked."
"I would disagree violently if needed," Jon sighed.
"Mmm, my valiant protector," Rhaenyra smiled, and her smile turned into a devilish grin as a thought occurred to her. "You know, Jon, my breasts are warm and rather soft."
"I...yes, they are," Jon replied, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"I wonder how they'd feel around this perfect cock of yours," Rhaenyra cooed, and his eyes widened.
Without another word, she lifted her breasts and wrapped them around his throbbing length, stroking him with the soft flesh. He moaned at the sight as much as the feeling of it, and his moans grew louder when she started giving the bulbous head of his cock teasing little licks with the tip of her tongue.
"Fuck, Rhaenyra," Jon sighed.
"I'm ready for you to," Rhaenyra purred. "I'm so wet that I'm dripping down my thighs."
"Already?" Jon asked. "I haven't even touched you."
"Just sucking your cock made me wet," Rhaenyra admitted. "Gods, you have no idea how much I long for you, how much my body burns with need for your touch."
"Trust me, I know," Jon rumbled, sitting up and cupping her cheek. "I need to bury every inch of my cock inside you."
"Do it!" Rhaenyra gasped, letting him go and joining him on the bed.
She got onto her heads and knees and wiggled her round arse at him. Pressing her face into the bedding, she reached behind her and pulled the cheeks apart, revealing her arsehole and dripping cunt to his feasting eyes.
"Fuck me, Jon," she whimpered, feeling like she might burst without release.
"Fuck, you have a beautiful cunt," Jon murmured, lowering his face until he was eye level with her winking arsehole.
Rhaenyra was visibly slick already, but he could resist getting a taste and, grabbing onto her thighs, gave her folds a long lick.
"Ah, fuck," Rhaenyra moaned. "That's not...necess...fuck, don't stop!"
Jon laughed and moved lower to swirl his tongue around her clit while he pushed a couple fingers inside her. She was hot, wet, and as perfect as always, and he quickly curled his fingers downward to let him brush against one of her more sensitive spots.
"Ah, yes!" Rhaenyra cried. "Right there! Oh gods, Jon!"
"Say that again," Jon ordered, more pleased than he could say to hear her moan his name, something she did her best to avoid back in Dragonstone.
"Fuck me, Jon," Rhaenyra moaned, and any chance there was that he was going to draw this out further disappeared with her sinful words.
Moving into position behind her, he lined himself up with her sopping wet cunt and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt with one long thrust. Rhaenyra screamed something he thought was his name into the pillow and sank her fingers into the bedding on either side of her.
"So fucking wet," Jon sighed as he started fucking her with long, slow thrusts.
"Harder, faster, please, Jon, I'm so close," Rhaenyra moaned.
"Close, are you?" Jon asked teasingly, grinning wickedly at her frustration. He knew perfectly well that she'd been on the edge of bliss when she moaned for him to fuck her.
"Don't tease me, not tonight," Rhaenyra sighed. "Tomorrow we go seeking battle, and when I climb into Syrax's saddle with you behind me, I want to still be able to feel your cock."
"Gods," Jon groaned, picking up his pace.
He'd have taken her slowly on her back, kissing her sweet lips and looking deeply into her eyes considering what they'd be doing in the coming days, and there'd probably be time for that later, but if his princess wanted him to fuck her hard, he'd pound her raw.
"Yes, yes!" Rhaenyra screamed, clawing at the bedding and throwing her plump arse back against him in time with his every rough thrust. "Just like that."
"You want to be fucked, do you?" Jon whispered in her ear, wrapping his hand around her braid.
"Yes ahh!" Rhaenyra screamed as he pulled her hair and fucked her even harder.
The sound of his hips slapping against her arse echoed through the room as did her screams. Reaching around, he cupped one of her large, perky breasts and pinched her nipple, making her scream even louder.
"Don't stop, don't stop, don't...fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Rhaenyra shrieked at the top of her lungs, cumming hard.
She writhed and thrashed about in his arms, and he let go of her hair immediately, holding her to him tightly. The feeling of her cunt spasming around him was as incredible as ever, but Jon wasn't close to his peak yet and was able to fuck her through hers with ease. When it finally ended and she went limp in his grasp, he carefully lowered her panting form to the bed and pulled out of her.
"Jo...wha…" Rhaenyra went to ask blearily, sounding dazed.
"You're so beautiful," Jon whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek before rolling her onto her back, "especially when you come undone."
"You're beautiful too," Rhaenyra giggled, still feeling loopy, "all dragons are."
"I can think of a few dragons who wouldn't appreciate being called beautiful," Jon chuckled, making her smile.
"Promise me you'll stay by my side," Rhaenyra whispered, "no matter what comes."
"Always," Jon replied, kissing her hand.
He spread her legs and sank inside her fully in one long thrust, making her gasp. She kissed him, and he returned the kiss hungrily as he started moving within her. It was a slower, gentler coupling than what they'd just enjoyed, but it was no less incredible. They had a great challenge ahead of them, and they wouldn't be able to do this again until it was done. That would start tomorrow, though, which gave them all night to have their fill. As he brushed against a spot inside her that made her moan into his mouth, he grinned and knew that they'd make the most of it.
"I wish you were in armor," Jon fretted as he climbed into Syrax's saddle behind Rhaenyra.
"So both you and Harwin have said, but there isn't time for it if we want to intercept the khalasar at the gates of the gods," Rhaenyra sighed. Grinning back at him, she added, "You'll just have to be my armor."
She'd paid to have a suit of black platemail made for him back in Dragonstone, and he was wearing it, looking every inch the Targaryen prince that he was. That wasn't the armor she meant, though, and he had to admit that he had mixed feelings about her idea. Wielding two shields, he was going to sit right behind her and try to shield her from any errant arrows that came their way. It wasn't a good idea, but it was better than nothing, and she wouldn't be talked out of this. Harwin had also already tried to no effect before being sent out riding with the small army of archers that Nevio had cobbled together for them.
They had left under the cover of darkness so as not to alert the other magisters about what was going on. The Prince of Pentos was banking everything on this gambit like a man who knew that failure meant death. Jon couldn't really blame him for that, since it wasn't as though it wouldn't.
"Sōvēs" Rhaenyra commanded, and Syrax lifted off into the air.
"The Khalasar was two days ride from the gates," Jon called out. "Less if they speed up. Will our archers even make it in time?"
"If they don't, they'll all die," Rhaenyra replied. "Harwin's very aware of the situation, and he assured me that he'll push the men to ride hard."
"I'm still surprised that you involved him," Jon commented.
"I'm not about to rely upon a foreign army without a man of my own at the head of it," Rhaenyra replied. "He is good and loyal, and I trust him to carry out my commands in this matter."
With that said, they continued on peacefully, soaring through the air with great speed.
"They made good time," Jon commented as they spotted the long formation of cavalry racing south from Pentos a while later.
"They did," Rhaenyra agreed. "If they reach the cliffs by dusk, they can camp out, rest, and be well prepared."
"I wonder which one is Harwin," Jon chuckled as he spotted the giant man atop his heavy charger, making Rhaenyra laugh.
He was a head taller than anyone else down there, and even from the air, it was easy to separate him from the crowd. He expected there to be some screams from the men as Syrax flew overhead, but other than a few exclamations of surprise, the army was quiet. They were well disciplined, at least, and Jon could only hope that they turned out to be skilled archers as well. Syrax reached the cliffs well before their army, and Jon took a moment to peer out as far as he could with the Myrish lens, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw nothing in the distance.
"We'll want to do a reconnaissance flight later to find out where they are," Rhaenyra murmured.
"After dark," Jon replied. "I'll keep an eye on the southern path for now. In truth, we were lucky not to be spotted last time. This only works if they don't get scared off."
"I guess we would be able to see their campfires," Rhaenyra allowed, digging into the satchel she'd attached to Syrax's saddle.
She pulled out a couple chunks of dried goat and handed one to Jon.
"I was wondering what you packed when you mentioned that you had it covered earlier," Jon smiled, gnawing on the spiced, dry meat.
"Meat, apples, and a sort of peasant loaf that I was assured travels well," Rhaenyra said. "It's dark and probably dreadful, but so long as it keeps us fed."
"I never would have expected a princess to handle herself like this," Jon marveled.
"Eh, if this was a couple years ago, I'd have been hopeless, but there was one particular hunt I went on that taught me more about being a proper dragon than I ever expected," Rhaenyra murmured.
"The stag hunt where you and...Cole slew a boar," Jon summarized. "You mentioned it one night while you were particularly drunk."
"Right, right," Rhaenyra muttered, scowling as she gnawed on her goat meat. "I thought he was my greatest supporter then…"
"He's a cunt," Jon scowled.
"He's my mistake, and one that I will rectify when I'm queen," Rhaenyra vowed, her heart aching as she recalled the betrayal of the man whose white cloak he owed her.
"How's he your mistake?" Jon asked. "I recall he gained his cloak after besting your uncle in a tourney…"
"No, that came later," Rhaenyra replied. "There was a great tourney held at Maidenpool not long after my father ascended to the throne to celebrate him, and during the dance held the night before it, I wanted Daemon to dance with me. He was chatting with some woman he clearly wanted to bed, but I didn't know about any of that. I just knew that he was ignoring me and grew cross. When Cole knocked Dark Sister from his hand in the melee the next day, I laughed uproariously and demanded that he wear my colors in the joust."
"Ah," Jon sighed.
"Yes, ah," Rhaenyra hissed, swallowing thickly as her eyes grew misty. "He bested Daemon again, and I badgered my father until he was named my sworn shield. He was my perfect knight, my protector, and the one man in all the world I could truly rely on for years with Daemon banished from court and my father often busy. When Ser Ryam died, he succeeded him in large part because he'd become a fixture at the Red Keep. If not for my stupidity, who knows where he would have ended up?"
"You were a child," Jon reasoned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
"I know," Rhaenyra muttered, wiping her eyes. "I've often wondered when did things change? Was it when I was four and ten, three and ten, two? When did he start to desire me, and was that the moment that his loyalty became conditional, or was he never true?
She started crying, and Jon pulled her in for a hug. She thought she'd gotten over that dog's betrayal, but it remained a wound that could open at times, and the news that he was ultimately the one to crown her brother in complete betrayal of her father's will had only worsened things.
"I shouldn't have mentioned him," Jon whispered.
"Not while you wear armor, anyway," Rhaenyra muttered, making him smile sadly. "Hugging you is less fun like this."
"Well, I'll be sure to get out of the armor as soon as I can," Jon rumbled, and Rhaenyra smiled.
Syrax chose that moment to whine, and Rhaenyra turned to see her mount looking restless.
"We should probably take her hunting to make sure that she stays north of this point," Jon mused, assuming she was hungry.
"I suppose," Rhaenyra shrugged. "Come along, Syrax, we'll find you a nice deer."
The two of them climbed onto the dragon's back and flew to the northwest, seeking something that the she-dragon would enjoy. Deer turned out to be elusive, but they stumbled across a small bear after an hour of flying about, and Syrax seemed to quite enjoy frying and feasting on the beast. Jon kept an eye on Rhaenyra, curious about her reaction to her dragon's hunt, and was pleased to see that she wasn't squeamish.
"I've slain with my own hand, albeit with help, ordered executions, and this isn't my first time witnessing Syrax eat," she chuckled, correctly interpreting why he was looking at her. "I'm sure battle will be different, but you don't need to worry how I'll handle it, Jon."
"No, just the fact that you're wearing bloody leather," he thought to himself, still annoyed by the fact that she didn't have armor. He hadn't exactly anticipated her participating in battles when she spoke of going to Essos.
"I'm here for you, whatever you need," he murmured in her ear.
"I know," Rhaenyra smiled, leaning back against him. "I truly cannot tell you just how much I appreciate your support."
Jon smiled and tugged off one of his gauntlets so he could cup her cheek. The two of them enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment, ruined only slightly by Syrax eating messily under them. The dragon soon finished her meal, and they returned to the cliffs, finding, to their surprise, that their army was closer than they expected.
"They must have pushed the horses harder than advisable," Jon muttered.
"Well, they'll be able to rest once they get here," Rhaenyra sighed, taking the Myrish lens and looking out to the south. "There's still no sign of the Dothraki, so hopefully we'll all have plenty of time to prepare."
"We can only hope," Jon thought to himself.
As it turned out, there wasn't much to worry about that night as the Dothraki remained a day away from their position and their men arrived with daylight to spare, giving them time to set up camps. Rhaenyra and Jon's flight south confirmed all that they needed to know about their target's intention. The Dothraki were going to Pentos, and unless they wanted to involve the other dragons, dealing with them in the canyon was their best bet. The next morning, not long after dawn, Harwin met with them by the main campfire.
"I'm shocked that the prince was able to put all of this together so quickly," the heir of Harrenhal commented.
"The archers were apparently guards he pulled from the walls," Jon pointed out.
"I don't mean the men; I mean the supplies," Harwin clarified. "Granted, we didn't have to travel far, and we have only a thousand or so men, but feeding an army takes significant resources, and he had everything prepared seemingly already."
"Perhaps he intended to try to flee," Rhaenyra mused. "If the Dothraki arrived, demanding further tribute, it would have resulted in chaos. Maybe he was hoping to slip out during the worst of it and overprepared supplies."
"Maybe," Harwin shrugged. "At any rate, I did as you asked. The men are divided evenly between the two camps. When these horse people arrive, they're going to be skewered."
"That's the hope," Jon muttered. "If we fail to slaughter them in here, Syrax is going to have to deal with the survivors, since your position up here is not exactly secure and they are purportedly very dangerous."
"And you're going to be up on the dragon, shielding the princess," Harwin said pensively. "I can't say I like this aspect of the plan."
"You're still my sworn shield, Ser Harwin," Rhaenyra sighed. "Jon's just more experienced in the air."
"Oh, I understand that," Harwin replied. "I just don't like the idea of you being vulnerable."
"I'll be having armor made when we return just in case I ever end up in battle again," Rhaenyra promised. "In the meantime, I'm just going to have to rely on Syrax and Jon."
"Riders approaching!" one of the archers called out in heavily accented common.
"Fuck," Ser Harwin muttered. "Get the men in position and signal to the other camp!"
"Okay," Rhaenyra said mostly to herself as her heart hammered in her chest.
She'd been thinking this through for days, but imagining it and being in it were different things. Once Harwin looked away, Jon placed his gauntleted hand on her shoulder and smiled comfortingly. Taking a deep breath, she let it go as he put on his helmet, and climbed on top of Syrax. Jon swiftly joined her, and she ordered her oldest companion to take flight, beginning the battle to come.
Khal Pemmo was rarely confused for long since things that confused him, he killed. He had been confused for some time, though, and he found that he didn't like it. It all started when his khalasar came across the camp digging a big hole in the ground. He'd hoped to find women, or gold, or women covered in gold, but instead he found chests full of animal skins with odd little drawings on them.
He'd come across such things before and knew that some of his slaves could divine meanings from them, but he'd never paid much attention before. When one of his new slaves, an older man, in a fit of panic, tried to stab him for trying to burn the skins in frustration, he'd punched him in the face. When one of the slaves friends begged him to spare the man's life, he explained that the skins were very valuable, or so his translator slave told him.
How skins not meant to be worn could be so valuable, he did not know, and when one of his bloodriders suggested asking the weak men in the city that had just given them more gold and silver than he'd ever seen, he figured it was a better idea than just destroying them. That could be done later, if the weak men had no answers for him, and so either way, he'd stop being confused.
"I hate these rock walls," Jhako, one of his bloodriders, muttered. "I don't trust being in a place where I cannot see all around me. I don't know how the weak men can bear living in those cramped cities of theirs."
"They build walls around their women because they know without them, they'd run at the sight of their tiny cocks to find real men," Zeggo, the bloodrider who'd suggested this journey, joked, making them all laugh.
They continued into the canyon, with Pemmo at the lead, and as he traveled through, he became convinced that something was strange, through it took him a moment to realize what it was.
"Stop!" he commanded, tugging on his horse's reins until he halted.
"What's wrong?" Zeggo asked.
"Where are the birds?" Pemmo asked. "When we went through here before, both ways, you could hear birds chirping on the cliffs.
"BIG BIRD!" one of the men in the back screamed.
"What?!" Pemmo roared, turning around to see who had screamed something so stupid when he caught sight of what the man had spotted. It was huge, whatever it was, and it was flying right towards them.
"It's not a bird, it's a lizard!" one of the others cried.
"Lizards don't fly!" Zeggo exclaimed.
Lizards didn't breathe fire either, and yet, to Pemmo's horror, that's exactly what the strange flying lizard started to do. Unable to turn back, he dug his heels into his mount's sides and urged the large stallion onward. He'd barely made it into a gallop when he heard a man above him shout an order in one of the weak men's tongues and barely had time to look up and see the countless archers waiting for him and his men before they started loosing their arrows.
A waving torch, that's the signal they're waiting for. The signal Ser Harwin will send to let them know that the Dothraki have made it half way into the long canyon. Given the size of the khalasar, they determined that they would need them to fill in that much to be able to trap them between the trees. Syrax circled them high in the air, obscured by the heavy cloud cover of the day, and the moment Jon spoted the waving torch in the distance through the Myrish lens, they moved in.
"Dracarys!" Rhaenyra hissed the moment they were in range, and blooms of bright yellow flame spilled forth onto the ground below, incinerating a few Dothraki in the rear of their horde.
As the khalasar moved, the slaves, women, and their baggage train were kept in the back, guarded by a handful of riders. With surgical precision, Syrax breathed a line of fire just above the obvious divide between the warriors and the others. Panicked screams echoed across the land as the realization of just how dangerous Syrax was set in for the Dothraki. Horses were of vital importance to their people, and they trained their horses well, but fire could make any beast react with terror, and as Rhaenyra had her dragon turn around to sweep through them again, she saw some of the horses at the very back throw off their riders and try to run into the forest.
"Dracarys!," she commanded again, having Syrax breath fire in another straight line across the land, just below the tree belt.
Many of the Dothraki decided to flee northward, trampling some of the less fortunate ones as they went, but others drew their bows and notched arrows.
"Pull up!" Jon shouted, readying the shield on his left arm as the first volley reached them.
The arrows that hit Syrax's chest bounced off of her hard scales, but others ripped through the thin membranes of her wings, making her shriek in rage and pain. Jon peered down at the pandemonium below and was relieved to see that their plan was working so far. Most of the warriors had already rushed northward into the canyon, too scared by Syrax to notice the growing pile of bodies that surely lay within it.
The dothraki were hardened warriors and fierce, but even the most fearless foes could break before the might of dragons, and for men who had likely never even heard of them, finding themselves facing a giant, fire-breathing monster was certainly horrifying. He recalled well the mortal terror he'd felt when Morghul first landed in front of him.
"Circle around and focus on the archers before they manage to get their horses to jump over the flames," Jon instructed, and Rhaenyra did so.
He saw that most of the women and slaves had fled east, leaving their goods behind, though a few were still trying to move things along. They'd need to be dealt with soon, but not before they eliminated the men trying to fight them. Syrax was audibly enraged by then, and her flames seemed hotter as she dove down straight along the path between the trees. Most of the dothraki archers fled upon seeing the dragon focus on them, but one of them held still, notched an arrow and aimed right at Syrax.
"Shit!" Jon exclaimed as he realized that the eagle-eyed archer was aiming, not at the large dragon, but at the two of them.
Raising his shield in front of Rhaenyra's face, he felt the impact on it just as she complained, saying, "I can't see!"
The last of the Dothraki who hadn't already been chased into the canyon were burned to a crisp just as Jon managed to pull back his shield to show Rhaenyra, who paled considerably when she realized just where the shaft would have ended up.
"Armor, right," she shivered.
"Land us next to the baggage train," Jon instructed.
Rhaenyra tugged on Syrax's reins until she turned around and commanded her to land, which she did heavily right next to the last remaining stragglers. The horses of the four remaining riders, who were actively barking what he could only assume were orders at their bravest slaves in that guttural tongue of theirs, threw off their riders as Syrax landed heavily enough to shake the ground. Pulling the shield on his right arm off, Jon threw it down at one of the felled men, hitting him in the head as he slid down Syrax's wing and drew his blade.
It wasn't Longclaw, but the bastard sword in his hand was exceedingly well made, and while he'd needed some time to get used to fighting with a heavier sword again, he'd trained hard. He beheaded the first man before he managed to rise and met the challenge of the quickest man head-on. The enraged warrior screamed at the top of his lungs and ran at him at full speed, the bells in his long braid adding to the racket.
He swung his curved sword at Jon's head, and he ducked under the blow, bashing him in the shoulder with his shield. The man stepped back as the blow came, managing to avoid most of the impact, but Jon didn't give him an opportunity to strike back, thrusting his blade toward his chest. He tried to dodge the blade but wasn't quick enough, and Jon managed to drive it between two of his ribs.
"Jon, behind you!" Rhaenyra screamed, though she didn't need to, as, like the first man, the second insisted on screaming at the top of his lungs as he charged.
Jon turned in time to see his new foe swing downward as the first one fell to the ground, bleeding out, and raised his shield to catch it. It was feint though, and the dothraki screamer arced his blade around him and sliced across his chest. Jon jumped back, avoiding most of the blow, though the blade scraped across his breastplate. Had he been unarmored, that wound would have likely cut deep, but the man's blade barely scratched the steel plate.
"That's one of the benefits of wearing steel rather than whatever that is," Jon chuckled, well aware of the fact that the man couldn't understand him.
His mocking tone got enough of the message across, however, and the already angry Dothraki man grew further enraged, charging towards him again. Jon feinted with a slash towards his head, and as the man ducked, he stepped aside and slashed low, slicing cleanly through his left leg just below the knee. His foe roared in pain as he fell forward, and, grabbing his braid in his gauntleted hand, Jon held him up and ran him through, driving his blade through his heart. He let his dying foe slide of his sword and turned to the last of the four, the one that he had knocked unconscious with his spare shield when he first moved to engage them.
"That was incredible," Rhaenyra breathed as he stabbed the last of them to ensure that he died.
"Not really," Jon chuckled as he cleaned his blade. "As disoriented and frazzled as they were, they weren't much of a challenge."
Rhaenyra was about to say something in response when they heard someone blow into a horn. It was a singular exhalation, long and drawn out, and it brought a smile to both of their faces. Rhaenyra had ordered Ser Harwin to blow into the horn multiple times in short succession if any of the Dothraki had gotten through the canyon and only a single time if they managed to kill them all.
"That worked perfectly!" she exclaimed as she lowered herself down from Syrax's saddle.
"Definitely," Jon murmured as he looked around at the half dozen or so slaves who hadn't fled at the sight of them.
One of them, an older man with obvious bruises on his face, was glaring at them while the others just looked scared.
"Do any of you speak Valyrian?" Rhaenyra asked.
Understanding enough of that to get her meaning, Jon muttered, "If they don't, just get Syrax to growl at them until they bugger off."
He walked over to the nearest chest and opened it, expecting to find gold and jewels. Instead there were scrolls, which made him furrow his brow in confusion.
"I didn't think they could read," he said, picking up one of the scrolls and unfurling it.
"According to Maester Gerardys, they have no written language," Rhaenyra replied. "This is Valyrian!"
"AHH!" the man who Jon had noticed glaring at them earlier cried, running towards them with a rock in his hand.
Before Rhaenyra could even scream, Jon drew his blade and beheaded the fool, earning sharp cries from the other slaves, most of whom fled.
"No!" a one armed man among them cried, falling to his knees in front of the one who had attacked them.
"You do speak Valyrian then," Rhaenyra hissed, moving behind Jon in case this one attacked them as well. "Who was that man, and why did he try to kill us?"
"He was Methero Vhassar," the man wept. "One of the greatest generals Volantis has ever had. He was my master and my friend, and you killed him!"
"Stay where you are if you value your remaining limbs," Jon growled, keeping his blade trained on the brown-haired man in front of him.
"How was a Volantene general enslaved by the Dothraki?" Rhaenyra asked.
"We were ambushed by the khalasar during our expedition," the man replied.
"Exped...these scrolls were his?" Rhaenyra asked.
"I'll not betray my master's trust, though you will learn everything you need to anyway," the man replied listlessly.
"Your master is dead, as are the dothraki," Rhaenyra said softly. "You are free and may leave with your life."
"No man is free," the man replied, "and a one-armed slave with no patron has no future."
He rushed over to one of the fallen Dothraki and grabbed his blade. Just as Jon was about to rush at him, though, he brought it to his throat.
"No, don't!" Rhaenyra cried, but it was too late. The slave slit his throat and fell to the ground immediately.
"What the fuck was that?" Jon asked.
"I don't think I much like this continent," Rhaenyra replied, shaking her head at the madness of it all.
With their enemies dead and their men set to come to them, Rhaenyra figured that there wasn't much left to do and returned to the scrolls, picking one out at random and unfurling it so she could get a better look. Having pretty much the same idea, Jon started looking inside other chests and crates, though he stopped after a moment and groaned.
"What is it?" Rhaenyra asked.
"I just an unlpeasant thought," Jon replied. "We're going to need to clear away all those corpses to get the khalasar's cargo to Pentos."
"I...damn it!" Rhaenyra exclaimed. "How in the seven hells did we think through every aspect of this plan but how we were going to get the treasure we did this for in the first place to our ships?"
"You're new at this but I should have known better," Jon grumbled, shaking his head. "I don't suppose Syrax could eat them all?"
"Jon," Rhaenyra said warningly, narrowing her eyes.
"Just thought I'd ask," Jon winced. "At least some of these are full of gold."
"Quite a bit, I imagine," Rhaenyra murmured. "Nevio made it sound like Pentos had nearly beggared itself paying them off, and they hadn't made it anywhere else since then, so it's not as though they could have gifted much of it to anyo...oh, by the gods!"
"What is it?" Jon asked.
"This...this is a scroll on Valyrian blood magic," Rhaenyra breathed. "I...oh gods!"
She started picking up other scrolls and looking through them, not reading them thoroughly but just trying to see what they contained. With each one, her purple eyes grew wider.
"The one-armed man said that the Dothraki came upon his master and him during an expedition," Rhaenyra gasped. "I think they found a lost library."
"A...Valyrian library?" Jon stammered. "Is there a scroll on Valyrian steel in there?"
"Typical man," Rhaenyra giggled, sounding almost manic. "Possibly. This...this might be the greatest collection of Valyrian works in existence. Our family managed to bring but a fraction of the collection they had to Dragonstone, and to my knowledge, there isn't much that was preserved within the free cities."
"This library couldn't have ended up in the hands of the Targaryens as things originally happened," Jon said. "I'm sure that it would have been recorded if it had."
"Where did it go then?" Rhaenyra asked.
"I have no idea," Jon replied. "Everyone thought that the knowledge of Old Valyria was virtually all lost in the doom. There were some figures among the Targaryens, like Queen Visenya and Sheira Seastar, who were said to practice magic, but nothing like what the Valyrians were apparently able to do."
"Seastar?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Right, I haven't gotten to Aegon IV yet," Jon chuckled. "Let's just say it's a long story for another time. Maybe this is why the Dothraki were headed back to Pentos."
"What, to find out what they'd found?" Rhaenyra asked.
"It's not like they would know, and the old man probably wasn't that forthcoming," Jon mused, signaling down at the one he'd slain. "Given that Prince Nevio thought the city was going to be attacked, perhaps originally, they responded with force, and the Dothraki, annoyed by that, just burned them all instead of trying again to get answers."
"Gods," Rhaenyra shuddered, horrified by the thought of losing the treasure he'd found. "If this is as vast a collection of Valyrian knowledge as I suspect…"
"It could definitely help ensure that your...our family isn't brought so low again," Jon interrupted her.
"It could give me every advantage I could possibly need against the Hightowers," Rhaenyra grinned. "I still like our idea of investing in large projects meant to weaken them and strengthen my perception, but with this…"
She trailed off, looking covetously down at the chest full of scrolls. She'd attacked the khalasar hoping to find enough gold to get started on her sept project, but as she felt the rolled-up parchment under her fingers and imagined the wonders that might be contained within, she wondered if perhaps she'd come across a greater treasure than she could have ever imagined.