The Heat of Dorne Chapter 10 (Patreon)

“Fuck me,” Daemon hissed to himself as he looked around Vaes Dothrak.  They were completely exposed in this completely indefensible city.

“Th...the Golden Company?” Arianne asked, turning pale.

“They’re the only ones I know of with a solid gold banner,” Daemon replied.

“They’re the largest mercenary company in Essos, but surely they’re just after the treasure of Vaes Dothrak,” Missandei said. “Right?”

“They originated with Westerosi exiles who fought and lost a civil war that they started in part because they opposed the union of our families,” Daemon said. “They’ve invaded several times since, trying to install false claimants on the Iron Throne.  They’ve been sent back across the sea with their tails between their legs each time.”

“Surely our forces could defeat them,” Arianne said, sounding panicked. “They managed to crush the Dothraki Khalasars.”

“We had the advantage of carefully prepared terrain there,” Obara replied. “We’re exposed here, without any real defenses.”

“There are thousands of Westerosi soldiers in the other direction,” Nymeria said. “Surely, if we joined up with them, our two armies would suffice.”

“I’d feel better with Ser Barristan, Ser Lewyn, and their forces with us,” Daemon said, “but we’d still be stuck in this open, flat land against an enemy with war elephants at their disposal.  Our best bet might be to flee west as fast as we can, meet up with the others, and then make our stand in the Forest of Qohor.  Even the trees would be better than nothing, and if we move quickly enough, we might be able to prepare some defenses.”

“Then that’s what we’re doing?” Bellegere asked, sounding as concerned as Arianne.

“We might not have to flee,” Tyene commented, squatting in the dirt and staring intensely at a bush filled with little white and purple flowers.

“You have a better idea?” Daemon asked.

“This is Valryian,” Tyene said.

“Named for the color again?” Daemon asked.

“Probably,” Tyene snorted. “As a girl, my father taught me everything that he knew about poisons, and that education included lessons on virtually every plant grown in Westeros and Essos.  The root of this little bush here can be made into one of the most powerful sleeping potionsever discovered.  It’s even stronger than milk of the poppy.”

“Why have I never heard of it?” Daemon asked.

“Unlike milk of the poppy, it does nothing for pain,” Tyene explained. “It is also even more addictive.  People who have gotten used to using Valyrian root to help them sleep have stopped being able to sleep at all without it after just a few weeks of use.  It’s one of the ingredients in Dreamwine, but because it’s so dangerous, the amount they can use is so low that it doesn’t work nearly as well.”

“What does this have to do with the Golden Company?” Obara asked.

“They’re a few days away, right?” Tyene asked.

“According to the scout,” Daemon said. “I will check, of course.  I should have kept an eye on our surroundings all along.”

“If they are, then I’ll be able to work up a concoction from this so concentrated and strong that if a small vial of it was poured into a pot of stew, it could put everyone who had a bowl of it to sleep,” Tyene said. “It’s slow-acting too, so we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone growing suspicious.  Once they’re asleep, we could sneak in, slit their throats, and be done with it.”

“How, pray tell, would we get this concoction into their food?” Daemon asked.

“As we are, we couldn’t,” Tyene said, a mischievous glint in her eye, and Daemon felt the urge to slap his head as he figured out where she was going with this. “If one of us were much smaller, though, capable of sneaking into the camp and pouring it into their food and drink, then we could pull it off.  We would need to still have human-like hands to be able to pull out the corks from the vials, of course.”

The others started to snicker as they caught on to what Tyene was proposing, and Daemon gave her the flattest look he had ever given anyone.

“I hate that that’s a sound plan,” he groaned. “You’re sure that this root works that well?”

“I’ve seen it,” Tyene said. “A few years ago, when I was visiting Mother at her Motherhouse, she and the other septas were tending to a man who had been badly injured.  He had trouble sleeping at night because of the pain, and he couldn’t drink milk of the poppy.  It made him break out in these itchy red patches all over his body, which made his condition even worse.  A few drops of a concoction made of Valyrian root in his wine put him to sleep in less than an hour, I’d wager.”

“Alright,” Daemon said. “I’ll bond with Maegor while you work with the Valyrian root.  Arianne, inform the men that I need them on alert and that nothing here is to be burned yet.”

“Of course,” Arianne said. “Obara, Nym?”

The two nodded and walked with her, while Bellegere handed him Maegor.  Daemon looked down at the lemur and chuckled, despite himself.

*****

There had been more to Daemon’s objections to warging into Maegor than the fact that he was small and cute.  His coloring still made him less useful for moving around stealthily than he would have been if he were darker, something that he was acutely aware of as he snuck inside the Golden Company’s camp.  The day was incredibly overcast, and it had looked all day as though it was going to rain, though nothing had come just yet.  This worked in his favor, as, though sunset was a little ways off, it was already quite dark.  They had already lit braziers to help them see, and he had to keep his distance from one to avoid being spotted by a nearby patrol as he slipped into a tent.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he removed the leather pouch from his back and looked through it to make sure that none of the vials had spilled their contents.  They had taken a leather belt pouch and, using a couple thin strips of leather, altered it so that it could be strapped to Maegor’s back.  The vials of Tyene’s Valyrian root concoction had been stuffed inside along with what clothing they could scrouge up to keep them from clanging together as he moved, lest the noise give him away.  He also had a small knife attached to his hip by a tiny belt that had been made for him.  It wouldn’t help him against much, but any weapon was better than nothing.

“Do we hit them tomorrow?” he heard a voice say.

“Fuck,”he thought to himself, grabbing the leather pouch and rushing behind a few wooden chests as he heard footsteps.

“No,” another man replied. “It will be the day after.”

“Then I can drink tonight,” the first man said gleefully.

“Mind yourself,” the second man said. “They could try to attack in the night.”

“The scouts say that they’ve barely moved,” the first man said. “They either don’t know we’re coming, or they spent themselves against the Dothraki and are too wounded to even flee.”

“We can hope,” the second man said.

“You’re too serious,Allar,” the first man said. “It’s like the captain-general said earlier: we have an opportunity to kill Martells and a Targaryen.  We should be enjoying ourselves.”

“You have a point,” Allar laughed.

The two men grabbed a couple sacks and left Daemon alone.

“So they do know who we are,” he thought to himself. “That’s disturbing.  I’ll need to instruct the men to spare this captain-general for questioning.”

With the way clear, Daemon made his way out of that tent and scurried around in search of the company cooks.  He was careful to skirt around tents and make use of various sacks and bushes to hide himself when people got too close.  One thing that he couldn’t help but notice as he moved about the camp was the sheer amount of wealth that some of the officers wore.  He had read about the Golden Company as a boy, finding them comical.  A group of misfits, exiles, and losers who had needed to be smacked down nearly half a dozen times before they fucked off to Essos for good.  In his reading, he had come across the practice of keeping their wealth around them, something that was apparently not unique to them, but he hadn’t expected to see quite so much of it.

“If we pull this off, Ari will love it,”he thought to himself, grinning.

Their camp was large and well set up, and Daemon had much searching to do in order to find the kitchen tents where the company cooks were putting together food for the men.  Along the way, he came across one tent that was far more splendorous than the others.  Made of gold cloth, it was also larger than the others and surrounded by pikes topped by gilded skulls.  Even if Daemon hadn’t read about the company’s peculiar practice of gilding the skulls of their captains-general, the unmistakable skull of Maelys the Monstrous would have clued him into what he was looking at.

“What a macabre custom,” Daemon thought to himself as he looked up at the gold-covered skulls. “Still, they’ll make lovely trophies.”

Continuing on, he eventually found a tent nearly as large as the captain-general’s, though not nearly as ornate, and ducked inside, barely avoiding the gaze of one of the cooks.  The smell was a clear giveaway as well, though he was so unused to Maegor’s sense of smell that it had been drowned out by everything else until he entered the tent.  Carefully making his way behind some sacks filled with onions, he placed his pouch down and pulled out one of the vials.  A multitude of pots were boiling,and there were men sparring just outside, so he didn’t have to fear the sound of him pouring liquid into the pots alerting anyone.  He just needed an opening.

As he hid, he peered around the tent carefully, trying to find something that he could use to distract the cooks without being noticed.  There was a brazier that, if he knocked it over carefully, might cause a distraction without setting the tent on fire, but it was too risky to bother with, and he didn’t know if the lemur was heavy enough to pull it off in the first place.  Men rushed about the tent, too focused on what they were doing to take note of a creature as small as him, but they would still be able to see him rush up to the pots.

“Watch it, Edd, you lummox!” one of the older men in the tent barked at a fair-haired boy with a face full of pimples who was carrying a box full of some sort of food. “You cause another mess, and I swear the sergeants will have your hide!”

“I’m being careful!” Edd exclaimed, ambling along gracelessly.

Sensing an opportunity, Daemon looked around for something that he could use and happened on a broken shaft that had been tossed aside.  He made his way over, grabbed the stick, and carefully scurried over to the pot nearest Edd.  Poking it out and keeping it propped up against the feet of the stand that was holding it up over the flame, Daemon waited, trying to ignore the heat.  Edd didn’t see him and tripped over the shaft, sending the box he was holding and the grains it was filled with spilling everywhere.

“Seven hells!” the man who had yelled at Edd exclaimed.

“Clearly one of the exiles,” Daemon thought to himself.

As the older man and a few others berated Daemon’s poor young patsy, the rest of them took in the sight of the dressing down, giving the prince the distraction that he needed.  Crawling up on top of a crate, he pulled the cork out of the vial, reached out, and poured its contents into the nearest pot.  Rushing down to collect another and cursing the fact that he could only do one at a time, he managed to take care of a couple more pots before his distraction ended and he had to rush back into hiding.

“Damn it,” he growled in his mind, trying to think of something else that could distract them.

“Everyone out front!” a new man barked.  Daemon peered out and saw a man whose arms were covered in gold bands.

“What’s going on, Sergeant Dick?” the oldest cook asked.

“The captain-general has ordered a full assembly,” Dick replied.

Without another word, the cooks filed out of the tent, and Daemon thanked the gods for his good fortune.  With the tent empty, it didn’t take him long to fill the rest of the pots.  Noticing, once he was done, that he had a couple vials left, he crawled up on top of a barrel of some kind and tried to pry off the top.

“I’d normally hate to ruin good ale,” he thought to himself as he pulled the top off.  Smelling the contents, he added, “thankfully, I won’t be.”

Poisoning it and another barrel as well, Daemon noticed that he had a couple vials left and looked around the tent, finding a large pile of fruit that had clearly been taken from some small settlement closeby.  Figuring that these might be for the elephants, he got to work coating them carefully with the valyrian root concoction.  Once that was done, he cleaned up after himself, strapped his leather pouch to his back, and took off.  The assembly had already finished by the time he left the tent, and the men were moving about the camp again.  He was annoyed at having missed a bit of potential information, but following Tyene’s plan was more important.  If this worked, he and the Unsullied would be able to take care of this lingering pain in his family’s arse once and for all and avoid a battle he couldn’t guarantee his women’s safety in.

“Grrr,” he heard, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

Turning, he saw a dog, clearly a war beast under the command of the company, armored as it was, staring at him with the unmistakable look of a predator gazing at prey.  It was a huge, brown thing with a black snout, dark eyes, and teeth that, in the body of Maegor, looked like daggers to him.

“This is how men felt looking at dragons,”Daemon thought to himself.

Before he could think anything else, much less respond to the beast, the dog lunged at him, and he was forced to jump to the side.

“Fuck me bloody!” he exclaimed in his mind as he tore off away from the dog, who pursued him eagerly.

The Golden Company had set up their camp along a river just south of Vaes Dothrak, and there was little between them but hills and plains.  He could climb better than the dog could, but without trees nearby, that wasn’t much of an advantage.  When the beast started barking, he cursed again.  He couldn’t let the soldiers find a Little Valyrian wearing a leather pouch on his back and a belt holding a knife to his hip in their camp.  It would be too weird not to warrant some investigation, and while he doubted that they would assume he was their hated enemy and had gone there to poison them all in lemur form, they’d still be suspicious, especially if they found the empty vials in his bag.

“Piss off, you mangy mutt!”  he thought to himself as he dodged the dog again.

“What the hell is that dog barking at?” a man asked, and Daemon froze.

He needed to think of something, and spying a nearby brazier, he ran towards it, luring his pursuer in.  Turning around, he gazed at his would-be killer and let him come close, dodging at the last possible moment and sighing with relief as the dog barreled into the brazier, knocking it over.  It didn’t catch fire as it knocked it over, but it still yelped in pain from the impact and created the distraction that Daemon needed.  With the soldiers forced to put out the fire and furious at the dog for creating it, he tore off north.

Daemon had considered bringing Ghost along, getting him to hold in place a ways north of the camp if he needed assistance, but the area hadn’t had any easy spots to hide a giant, snow-white wolf, so he hadn’t bothered.  The direwolf was too far away now to help, but Brynden could fly over.  Reaching out to his eagle, Daemon called on him to come, knowing that he’d be up to the task of carrying Maegor and his things home.

“Bark bark!” a voice came from behind him, and Daemon scowled.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”he growled mentally as he heard the dog pursuing him again.

They were away from the camp, and Daemon heard no men chasing after him, so he figured that the fire grew larger than he expected.  Noticing a rather steep hill to the northeast of him, he turned and ran towards it.  The dog would be able to follow him, but he had put some distance between them, so he hoped that he’d have a moment to turn around and position himself for a fight.  He knew that the dog would catch him eventually, and he had no choice but to try to deal with it.

For a brief moment, he considered just returning to himself, but knew that he couldn’t.  For one thing, his women would be furious, but beyond that, he remembered well the pain he had felt when he lost that rat he warged into in Meereen, and he didn’t know if it would be worse the second time.  He couldn’t risk being in debilitating pain if his people came under attack.  He also couldn’t risk the men of the Golden Company finding the vials.  If any of them figured out that their food had been poisoned, then this entire adventure would have been for nothing, and he would have wasted precious time they could have spent trying to reach the Westerosi army approaching them.  There was only one way out of this.

Reaching the top of the hill, he drew his knife and turned around.  Time seemed to slow as he took in the sight of the murderously angry dog.  His snout was bloodied from his collision with the brazier, and rage burned in his eyes.  Daemon had the benefit of an elevated position and the ability to jump.  His first plan had been to jump on top of the dog, straddle him, and plunge the blade into his throat, but as the dog came closer, he realized that the beast’s armor might make that impossible, given Maegor’s weakness.  As he was only going to get one shot at this, he came up with a different plan.  Gripping the blade backwards in his furry little hand, he waited until the last possible moment and jumped right at the running dog.

With a single stab, it was over.  The lumbering beast didn’t even have time to yelp or whimper in pain as the knife was lodged in his eye socket, reaching into his brain.  Falling dead at his feet, Daemon let himself fall with his would-be killer, his little heart hammering in his chest.  A lemur was not a warrior, and this body was ill-suited to combat, but he had managed it.

“Like my namesake at the Gods Eye,” Daemon thought to himself, laughing lightly in relief as he waited for the adrenaline to leave him.

Planting his foot against the dead dog’s face, he pulled the knife out, taking the eye with it.  He grimaced at the sight and shook his head, carefully pulling off the eye and cleaning the blade against his fur before returning it to the belt.  It was growing dark, and while he hoped that the men of the camp wouldn’t come looking for the dog soon, he couldn’t risk waiting another moment and continued making his way north.  Reaching out with his mind, he sensed that Brynden was on his way and would reach him soon enough.  Wondering if he might be able to fly on the eagle’s back rather than in his talons, as was more likely, he continued traveling towards Vaes Dothrak, looking forward to returning to the safety of his own body.

*****

“Your fur would be white,” Tyene grumbled as she tried again to wash the blood out of Maegor’s fur.  It was her second attempt, the first, which she had made when the lemur first returned to them several hours ago, having failed

Arianne chuckled at the blonde, who, it had been decided, could bathe their furry hero, given that his mission had been her idea.  The sight of the little lemur reddened with blood had been cause for alarm before Daemon woke up and explained it wasn’t his.  After that, it had been cause for nausea, for her at least.

“I’m going to have to speak to a maester when we return home,” she sighed. “I thought it was the horse meat, but something else is troubling my stomach.”

“It’s been going on for a while now,” Bellegere commented in concern as she brushed her hair.

Arianne leaned back into the woman’s touch, enjoying the gentle pampering.

“I’ll ask Maester Caleotte as soon as I can,” Arianne promised.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t go with them, Obara,” Missandei piped up.

“I might like fighting, but there’s hardly any sport in slitting throats,” Obara replied. “I don’t disagree with the plan, of course.  We’d have been fucked if they’d attacked us here, or worse, on the road trying to reach Uncle Lewyn, but they didn’t need me, so I stayed.  Nym only went with them to get an early look at all the weapons Daemon said they had.  I’ll never find a better weapon than this, though.”

She twirled Sunpiercer in her hands, looking lovingly at the spear.  It was going to break her heart to give it to Uncle Oberyn, though she would without complaint.

“If it’s all the same, I think I might stay here,” Arianne said. “I hardly need the smell of another killing field turning my stomach again.”

“It’s strange that different smells have started bothering you as well,” Bellegere said. “Your tastes have changed as well.  Something else to mention to the maester.”

“Hold on,” Missandei said, her eyes widening as something occurred to her. “You’re frequently nauseous and sick in the morning quite often; the way smells affect you has changed, as have your tastes in food; and your breasts have been tender for weeks.  Arianne, when did you last bleed?”

“I…” Arianne trailed off, the whole world seeming to disappear in that moment.  She hadn’t had her blood in...she had no idea how long.  The days, weeks, and even moons blended together after a while in Hugorton, and Daemon had never minded fucking her or even feasting on her when she bled, so she hadn’t had to change her routine for it in ages.

“Holy fuck,” Obara said, breaking her out of her reverie. “Ari, are you…?”

“Pregnant,” she whispered, her hands going to her belly.  There were no signs of swelling yet, not that she could feel, anyway.

“What’s going on?” Tyene asked as she rejoined them, a cleaner Maegor in her hands.

“We think Daemon put a little princeling in Ari,” Obara said.

Tyene squealed and rushed to her side, hugging her tightly. “Oh, Ari, that’s wonderful.  It’s wonderful, right?”

Arianne just stared blankly at the world.  If she was pregnant, then she needed to tell Daemon.  They had thought she was before, but this seemed far more likely.

“Y...yes,” Arianne stuttered, her face breaking into a beatific smile. “It’s amazing.”

She was immediately mobbed by the others, who wrapped their arms around her and held her tight, exclaiming to all the world that she was going to have the most perfect child.

“Daemon and my child,” she thought to herself. “A little prince or princess who will succeed me in Sunspear.  He or she really will be perfect.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and before she knew it, she was weeping openly.  The first time she thought she was pregnant, her reaction was fear.  It was fear of many things, but most prominently that it would ruin her body and she’d lose Daemon’s affection.  Looking back, she realized how stupid that had been of her, and while there were plenty of reasons to fear pregnancy still, all she felt in that moment was joy.

“Princess,” one of the Unsullied said, interrupting them.

Blinking the tears out of her eyes, she recognized him and, with a hoarse voice, replied, “Yellow Worm, what is it?”

“Word from the camp, Princess,” Yellow Worm replied. “They have done it.”

“Arianne?” Tyene asked.

“I have to see him,” Arianne said.  There was no time to lose.

The journey to the Golden Company’s camp seemed to take forever.  Arianne had left half of the thousand Unsullied that Daemon had left with them in Vaes Dothrak with the freed slaves.  She had given them orders to begin piling up the look by the horse statues, which, against all odds, the former slaves had managed to get down safely and onto massive wooden carts that would be used to pull them across Essos and to burn down the city.  With the Golden Company dealt with and her uncle and Ser Barristan close at hand, it would soon be time to return home.  Her child was going to be born in Westeros; on that, she would not budge an inch.

The long journey gave Arianne plenty of time to think about how she was going to tell Daemon that they were having a child.  She didn’t think that he would be upset, but forgetting her moon tea at a time when they were on a foreign continent and surrounded by potential enemies was stupid, and she felt foolish.

Arianne was just glad that she had found out after they had finished this last adventure.  Had they learned in Hugorton, then they wouldn’t have attacked Vaes Dothrak and wouldn’t have gotten an opportunity to finish off the Golden Company.  The Blackfyres might have been dead and buried, but leaving a powerful army with a vendetta against their families alive had always been a choice made due to how difficult it would have been to hunt them across Essos.  This was an opportunity worth taking, and she realized that.

“Oh, gods,” Arianne groaned as they approached the camp.  Suddenly, the movements of her horse under her were far less pleasant as the smell of death blew across the plains.

“Water?” Bellegere asked, offering her a waterskin.”

“It would probably just make things worse,” Arianne replied. “Thank you, though.”

“Yellow Worm said he’d be in the gold tent, right?” Obara asked.

“Yes,” Arianne said. “Apparently he was looking through some scrolls that the leader of this band kept.”

“I wonder what they’re on?” Missandei said.

“Hopefully they’re interesting enough to lure Sarella back for a while,” Tyene snarked. “We haven’t seen her in ages.”

“That would be nice,” Arianne said.  The gods be good, she’d get to meet her new cousin.

They saw Nymeria walking up to them as they approached.

“Word of warning, he’s in a foul mood,” she said as she helped Arianne down from her horse.

“Why?” Obara asked. “It seems like things went off without a hitch.”

“It did,” Nymeria said. “They were all dead to the world when we arrived, and none woke before we were finished.  Even the elephants weren’t a problem, since it turns out that Valyrian root is toxic to them.”

“They died?” Arianne asked.

“That might be for the best,” Missandei said when Nymeria nodded. “They’re apparently very intelligent animals and probably wouldn’t have taken the slaughter of the company well.”

“So if it all worked out, what’s wrong with Daemon?” Obara asked.

“I have no idea,” Nymeria replied. “All I know is that we spared their captain for questioning and tied him up in his tent.  Daemon started looking through some scrolls, killed the man in a rage, and then roared that he was not to be disturbed.”

“That’s...not like him,” Arianne said, suddenly less certain that he was going to take her news well.

“You might be able to calm him down,” Nymeria said. “I was just going to give him a while to relax on his own before I tried.”

“She’s with child,” Tyene said, audibly unable to hold back her enthusiasm anymore.

“What?!” Nymeria exclaimed. “Oh, congratulations, Ari!  That aught to cheer him up.”

Nymeria hugged her tightly, and Arianne returned the hug.  This was happy news, and Daemon was going to be thrilled.  There was no reason to be concerned.  Letting the beautiful brunette go, Arianne walked up to the golden tent and let herself in.

“Daemon?” she asked.  Receiving no reply, she entered and saw the corpse of the captain lying there with a dagger sticking out of her forehead.  He looked like the creature on the sigil of House Brax, though she couldn’t recall what it was called just then. “Daemon?”

Daemon grunted, not looking up from the scroll he was pouring over by torchlight.

“Daemon, something wonderful has happened,” Arianne began, looking around the tent. “I know we were planning on waiting until we returned to Westeros, and I honestly don’t know if I forgot to take the tea or if we just did more than it could counter.  Both are possible.”

That last statement she laughed out, and when she got no response, she just pressed on, saying, “I...what I’m trying to say is that I’m with child.”

“That’s nice,” Daemon said flatly.

“Nice?!” Arianne asked, whipping around in fury at the complete lack of response, only to finally see how ashen-faced her husband was. “Daemon, what’s wrong?”

“Arianne?” Daemon asked, as though he had just noticed her. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

“My prince,” an Unsullied said before she could reply.  Entering, the eunuch said, “my prince, men approach.”

“Who the fuck now?” Daemon snarled.

“I do not know, my prince,” the eunuch said. “I only know that the two leading the small group wear white cloaks.”

“Good,” Daemon said, sounding both relieved and calculated at the same time. “That’s very good.  How close are they?”

“They are here, my prince,” the Unsullied said. “Lady Obara said to let them in.”

“Time to find out how angry our fathers are, I guess,” Arianne said, still worried by how Daemon was behaving.

“They’ll have greater things to worry about than our actions here soon enough,” Daemon said, rolling up the scroll he had been reading. “Come, I’ll explain it to them.

“Have you two lost your minds?” Ser Barristan growled the moment he saw them.

“Do you have any idea how worried your fathers both were when they learned that you had decided to try and defeat the Golden Company?” Ser Lewyn asked. “Where in the world did you even get such an idea?”

“Is that what they think we did?” Daemon asked.

“You stand in their camp,” Ser Barristan said. “Obara was just telling us that you managed to catch them unawares.”

“Who told our fathers that we had sought them out?” Arianne asked. “We didn’t even know that they were nearby until they were almost upon us.”

“Varys,” Daemon replied, his voice flinty. “So Father sent you here with men to reinforce us and escort us back home?”

“By royal decree, you and your army are to return to King’s Landing at once and explain your actions to the court,” Ser Barristan said.

“I’ll be doing no such thing,” Daemon said.

“What?” Arianne asked.

“In fact,” Daemon continued, ignoring her, “your men are now mine, for I will have great need of them.”

“I have your father’s orders right here,” Ser Barristan said, his voice flinty as he held out a scroll.

“I have a scroll too,” Daemon said, tossing it to Ser Lewyn, who caught it. “You two are needed back in King’s Landing.  My father...my whole family is in grave danger.”

“Danger?” Ser Lewyn asked. “From who?”

“An old enemy who refuses to fucking die,” Daemon said, his voice grave as he walked a couple steps away from them.  Turning around, he said, “the Blackfyre’s have returned.”

“The Blackfyres?!” Ser Barristan exclaimed. “Prince Daemon, the last Blackfyre died nearly forty years ago.  I know.  I killed him.”

“Yes, you killed Maelys the Monstrous,” Daemon said.  Pointing to two gilded skulls bound together on a pike, one monstrously large and the other as small as a child’s, he added, “that’s him there.  Presumably one of these skulls belongs to Daemon Blackfyre, the cousin whose head Maelys twisted off to take command of this band of traitors.”

“I could believe it,” Barristan said. “The man’s strength was unnatural.”

“Unbeknownst to him, though, or almost anyone, Daemon had impregnated a Lyseni pleasure slave before he died,” Daemon said. “The woman birthed twins, though she died in the process.”

“No,” Lewyn breathed, turning pale as he read from the same scroll that had so bothered Daemon. “No, that’s not possible.”

“What?” Barristan asked.

“Before she died, the pleasure slave, knowing of her lover’s history, named them Viserys and Saera,” Daemon continued, holding a hand up to stop Lewyn from explaining further. “I’m going to assume that the names came from Daemon, since I doubt an Essosi pleasure slave would have great knowledge of my family’s history.  Anyway, growing up without either parent, the children became the property of the whoremonger who had owned their mother.”

“My Prince, even if this is true, no one would follow the son of a whore,” Ser Barristan said.

“Wouldn’t they?” Daemon asked. “Robert Baratheon descended from a line begun by a bastard, and he nearly took down our dynasty.  Had he won at the Trident, how likely do you think it would have been that men would have declined to follow him because of that?”

“I’d rather not consider such things,” Barristan said.

“I don’t like to either, and yet it nearly happened,” Daemon said. “The children grew up without any clue of who they descended from and would have grown up to follow in their mother’s footsteps if not for the intervention of a sorcerer.”

“A sorcerer?” Nymeria asked.

All of their lovers had joined them and were listening to Daemon intently.

“Apparently so,” Daemon replied. “The man apparently knew who they were, and aside from magic, I have no idea how he could have.  He bought the boy from the whoremonger and took him away to his home in Myr.  There, unfortunately for us, he told the boy everything that he knew about his history.  You see, the sorcerer believed that there could be great power found in sacrificing royal blood, and, however diluted, the boy had such blood in his veins.  He gelded the boy and burned his cock and balls in a ritual pyre.”

“Gods be good!” Barristan exclaimed.

“The sorcerer threw the boy out after that, likely expecting him to die in the streets,” Daemon continued. “Again, unfortunately for us, he did not.  He survived, selling his body for food, and lived on the streets of Myr for years, eventually becoming quite the thief.  He was eventually forced to flee to Pentos, where he met a young sellsword and quickly befriended the man.  Working together, the two built up a significant fortune, and eventually the sellsword was able to retire from that life and become a merchant.”

“So we’re dealing with a Blackfyre Eunuch with a very rich friend,” Obara said. “I’m still not seeing the threat.  He can’t have children.”

“No, but his sister could,” Daemon said. “The eunuch eventually told his friend everything and convinced him to seek out and buy Saera.  The sellsword married her, something that infuriated the local prince, whose cousin he had been married to until the woman died.  The man’s ire meant nothing to them though, since if the sellsword could have a son with Saera, one who looked the part of a Targaryen king, then he and Viserys could enact their plan to claim the Iron Throne.”

“And they had a child?” Arianne asked.

“They did,” Daemon replied. “A boy they named Aegon.”

“No pretension there,” Tyene snorted.

“Common with grasping cunts,” Daemon said.  Turning to Arianne, he said, “He was born the same year as you, my love.”

“The same year as our Aegon then,” Arianne said.

“Yes,” Daemon replied. “They found Saera just over a year before that, and Viserys enacted the second part of their plan, worming his way into the Red Keep, where he became the Master of Whispers.”

“No,” Barristan breathed, taking a step back as though the possibility had the force to shove him.

“Varys?” Arianne asked, paling at the implications of that.

“Can’t say that he put that much effort into creating his fake name,” Daemon said.

That was a horrifying possibility.  It would mean that there was a bitter enemy inside the royal court, one who had been there for the better part of two decades.

“If Varys is a Blackfyre, why hasn’t he struck before now?” Nymeria asked. “The king trusts him, and he’s had many years to take you all down.”

“He did,” Daemon replied. “Not long after he became the Master of Whispers, he started poisoning my grandfather with something that made him nearly unable to sleep.  The man was already a raving lunatic by then, and making him restless worsened his condition.”

“I always knew that the king grew worse after Varys arrived!” Barristan growled. “The eunuch warned him of new traitors almost weekly.  I just thought he was a lickspittle telling his king what he wanted to hear, though.”

“Instead, he was a deadly enemy that we missed,” Lewyn said grimly. “Was Baelish his doing?”

She couldn’t remember the man’s first name, but Arianne remembered hearing that a man of House Baelish had been the instigator of the Baratheon Uprising.  Lysa Tully had happened upon the letter Lyanna Stark sent her eldest brother about running off with Rhaegar and showed it to Baelish.  Baelish then convinced her to give it to him and to go tell Brandon Stark that the prince had abducted his sister, and things spiraled from there.

After the uprising was put down and the newly crowned Rhaegar had ordered an investigation to find out where things had gone so horrifically wrong, the truth of Baelish’s treachery had come to light.  That so much harm came from one man trying to get back at a man who had bested him in combat was almost baffling.  Baelish’s punishment had apparently been brutal, and Lysa Arryn, who married the late lord of the Eyrie during the uprising, had thrown herself from its famous moon door afterward.

“No,” Daemon replied. “Baelish’s cuntishness was his own doing, and Varys just took advantage of it, convincing the mad king to execute the two Starks and issue a command that my uncle and Robert Baratheon were to be brought to him for execution.”

“For what purpose, though?” Lewyn asked. “Even if your father had fallen at the Trident and Ser Jaime saved the city as he did, how would that have helped the Blackfyre’s take power?”

“I think Varys thought that if Robert managed to kill my father, the rest of my family could be wiped out easily enough,” Daemon replied. “The mad king would have been doomed even without Ser Jaime’s actions, and that would have left mere children and a heavily pregnant queen.  Lord Tywin hated my grandfather and seized control of the city not long after the Battle of the Trident.  If he had learned that Robert prevailed, do you think the man who wiped out the Reyne and Tarbecks completely would have hesitated to kill my siblings?”

“With them gone, Robert Baratheon would have become king, and, drunken bumbler that he was, he would have caused enough damage to let this Aegon Blackfyre sweep back in and conquer us,” Lewyn said. “It would have left a lot to chance.”

“Less so if Varys stayed in court,” Daemon said. “If he remained Master of Whispers and pledged his service to Robert, he could have carefully prepared the Seven Kingdoms for his nephew’s arrival.”

“I never knew who, but someone almost convinced your father to send Ser Arthur with Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell to the Tower of Joy instead of me,” Barristan said. “Ser Arthur managed to talk him out of it, but if he hadn’t managed it, I don’t know if I could have killed Robert Baratheon in his place.”

“It could have been one of Varys’ agents,” Daemon said. “This is why I need you two to return to King’s Landing quickly while I deal with Pentos.”

“What do you mean?” Lewyn asked.

“We need to hit Varys and Aegon Blackfyre at the same time,” Daemon explained. “If we go after Aegon, then we will leave a dangerous enemy with nothing left to lose, not even his cock, in the Red Keep.  If we go after Varys, then Aegon and his father will flee, and we’ll have to deal with these cunts again in another generation.  It’s time to put an end to this wretched line, once and for all.”

“Prince Daemon, even with our combined armies, you would still be hardpressed to take Pentos,” Barristan said. “Are you sure that we couldn’t deal with this magister and his son some other way?”

“Unless we want to try using those Braavosi assassins, who would probably charge every bit of gold I’ve taken in Essos, given Aegon’s royal blood, no,” Daemon replied. “If the scrolls are to be believed, this magister, Illyrio Mopatis, is incredibly influential with his peers.  If we want to deal with him, we need to deal with Pentos.”

“How many of these are there, anyway?” Lewyn asked.

“A lot,” Daemon replied. “It seems that going back to the time of Bittersteel, the captains-general of the Golden Company have kept extensive records of their deeds to be passed on to their successor.  I wouldn’t have expected a man of his reputation to be such a committed record keeper, but it seems that he was.”

“And they just kept these scrolls with them?” Barristan asked. “That seems unwise.”

“They kept a king’s ransom in gold with them too,” Daemon replied with a shrug. “I guess they figured that if they ever found themselves in a position where the scrolls could be taken, they’d be too fucked to really care.”

“You don’t actually have to conquer Pentos,” Lewyn said after a moment. “With our armies and your fleet, you could simply besiege it.  Seal it off on both land and sea while Ser Barristan and I deal with Varys.  Once your father and the other royals are safe, he can call the banners and join the war against Pentos.”

“So long as Aegon and his father don’t escape, that still works,” Daemon said, stroking his beard.

“There’s something else that might be of help to you,” Barristan said. “As we were coming to find you, we stopped in Qohor to resupply and heard tell of a mercenary company in the city’s employ.  Apparently their leader was once a Prince of Pentos and fled before he would have been killed.  He has desired to take the city for himself ever since and could be a valuable ally.”

“He would presumably know the city well,” Daemon mused. “Alright, we have a plan.  I’ll contact Edric with instructions to assemble the fleet and meet with this mercenary in Qohor while you…”

“I’m pregnant,” Arianne said, her hand going to her lips as she herself was unsure why the words had slipped out.

“What?” Daemon asked, looking stunned.

“It’s what I was trying to tell you before,” Arianne said, aware that all eyes were suddenly on her. “I know the timing is terrible, but I’m with child.”

Fear and joy flitted across Daemon’s face back and forth for a few seconds before joy won out.  Walking over to her in a few large strides, he pressed his lips to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her.  His armor made the hug difficult, but she clung to him all the same.

“Fuck the timing,” Daemon said thickly, smiling down at her so warmly that it made her heart ache.

“Congratulations, my prince, princess,” Barristan said.

“Yes, congratulations,” Lewyn echoed. “Doran will be thrilled.”

“This does change things, though,” Daemon said. “You’re all going with Barristan and Lewyn.”

“What?!” Nymeria exclaimed.

“No fucking way!” Obara snarled.

“Enough!” Daemon barked. “I took careful precautions to ensure everyone’s safety in Hugorton and didn’t anticipate combat here, but I am not taking my pregnant wife with me as I go besiege a city.  I also don’t know what failsafes Varys has planned in the case of his plan falling apart.  I trust you two to keep Arianne and the rest of you safe.  You are all returning to Sunspear.”

The more martially inclined sand snakes grumbled but had no argument to make.

“This will be the longest we’ve ever been apart,” Arianne said glumly. “Promise me you’ll return to me, my love.”

“As soon as I can,” Daemon replied.

They both knew that they couldn’t truly promise that, but neither wanted to think about reality in that moment.

“I’ll miss you,” Tyene said.

“We all will,” Bellegere added.

“We’ll take care of each other until you return,” Missandei said, immediately blushing when she realized how she’d worded it. “That’s not what I meant!”

“But that too,” Nymeria giggled, wrapping her arms around the Naathi women from behind.

“Kill the cunts,” Obara said.

“Love you too,” Daemon chuckled.

Their five lovers joined them, wrapping their arms around Daemon.

“You know we’re not parting ways until Qohor, right?” Daemon asked.

“Wait, all of them?” Barristan asked Lewyn.

*****

Vaes Dothrak was burned to the ground, and their forces were divided in two.  A small group of Unsullied were left to oversee the transfer of all of their treasure and the freed slaves to Hugorton and would move more slowly than the others, while the lion’s share went with Daemon and the others more quickly.  Another small group would break off to escort Ser Barristan, Ser Lewyn, Arianne, and the others once they crossed Qohor.

There was no real reason to rush thus far, as they had no cause to think that Varys was onto them.  Once Daemon met with this Tattered Prince, though, and started putting his plan for Pentos into motion, they would need to ensure that the two sides of the Blackfyre problem were dealt with near-simultaneously.

As they set up camp on the western edge of the Forest of Qohor, they all knew that tomorrow would bring them to the easternmost surviving Free City.  They all knew this would be their last day traveling together for quite a while.

“You know, I just realized that I’ve forgotten to ask all this time: whatever became of the boy?” Daemon asked Lewyn.

“Bu Zaiji?” Lewyn asked. “He did turn out to be who he said he was.  It turns out that the ship he was on was caught up in a terrible storm in the far east. and he was the only survivor.  When men found him adrift, he thought he was saved.”

“Instead, he was slaved,” Daemon sighed.  “Poor little bugger.  How ecstatic was his father?”

“About as much as you’d expect,” Lewyn replied. “I was offered a palace of my own and a hundred concubines in compensation.”

“A hund…” Daemon trailed off in shock. “You’re a stronger man than I.”

“I’m an older man than you, my prince,” Lewyn chuckled, “and even you would find a hundred women to be an impossible challenge, I suspect.”

“You’re probably right,” Daemon sighed, chuckling.

Lewyn just shook his head. “As it happens, when I explained that I was just a representative of the Iron Throne, his imperial majesty sent me with quite the reward for your father.  Gold, jewels, wine, a type of grain called rice, and a powder that catches fire quite explosively, which we’ve taken to calling dragon powder.  He also sent men to teach us how to make dragon powder ourselves and find lands within Westeros where we could grow this rice.  Your father was so thrilled by the rich bounty that he almost forgot that you neglected to tell him that you sent me to Yi Ti.”

“I’m going to have to answer for that,” Daemon sighed. “When I decided to go after the Dothraki to see if it would weaken the slave trade, I expected to just take a couple moons, crush a few Khalasars, and return, having set up a shrine to the Seven and acquired some treasure.  My father’s disapproval could be countered by what I had accomplished.  They just kept taking the bait, though.”

“Things went further than you intended,” Lewyn said. “Edric Dayne said much the same.  As he was in the process of transferring people to Westeros, we left him and the others in Hugorton alone once we had questioned them.”

“When all is said and done here, should I succeed, I’ll have spent over a year on this continent, having warred with countless people,” Daemon said.

“When the king learns of Varys’ treachery, we’ll have a difficult time getting him to think about anything else for a while,” Lewyn said. “He is generally an even-tempered sort, but his rage when he learned of what Petyr Baelish had done was explosive.  I suspect he will be much the same with the eunuch, so, as long as you bring him the head of the last Blackfyre, he’ll likely be too focused on Varys to be that angry with you.”

“The same will hopefully go for you two,” Daemon said.

“Our first duty is protecting the king and his family,” Lewyn said. “This comes above all else, even his own orders in the case of emergencies.  King Rhaegar made it very clear at the beginning of his reign that we knights of the Kingsguard were to treat our duty to the royal family as a sacred covenant, beyond anything else.  He remembered the mad orders that his father gave and what it nearly cost his family.”

“So, out of curiosity, what would my father say that you all should have done when Aerys gave his mad orders?” Daemon asked.

“Your father pardoned Ser Jaime for a reason, my prince,” Ser Lewyn said, his tone making it clear that he’d say no more on the matter.

“Daemon?” Arianne asked as she walked over to him. “Could you join us in our tent?”

“All see you at dawn, my prince,” Lewyn said, “Arianne.”

“Uncle,” Arianne said.

“How are you feeling?” Daemon asked.

“The sickness has been coming less frequently,” Arianne said. “It already had been by the time Missandei figured out what was happening to me.”

“I’m glad,” Daemon said. “I’m sorry that I won’t be a comfort to you in the coming moons.”

“Don’t,” Arianne said, her eyes shimmering as she looked up at him. “If you get me started, I won’t stop, and I don’t want tonight to be about the fact that I’ll not see for moons at least.  Tonight’s going to be a happier sort of farewell.”

“Oh?” Daemon asked, swallowing his own sadness.  The fact that he was almost certainly going to miss the birth of his first child had been weighing on him, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“Come,” Arianne said, taking his hand in hers.

Daemon followed her into the golden tent he had taken as his own.  It was large and sturdy, and it would have been well suited to his needs even if it wasn’t made of gold.  That it was just made it even more befitting him and Arianne.  It was closed over when he arrived, and upon opening it, he immediately saw why.  Tyene, Nymeria, Obara, Bellegere, and Missandei were all kneeling on the ground, their arses in the air pointed towards him, with not a stitch of clothing between them.  There was a very conspicuous empty space between Nymeria and Obara as well.

“We wanted to remind you what you’re fighting for,” Arianne purred in his ear. “When you’re dealing with the Pentoshi, I want you to remember this sight and let it spur you to return to us faster.”

“I think if I remember this while I’m fighting the Pentoshi, it will make my codpiece very uncomfortable,” Daemon quipped.

“You know what I mean,” Arianne laughed, slipping off her dress and padding over to join the others.

“I had hoped you’d want to do more than just look,” Tyene said teasingly.

“If you were in my position, you’d be tempted to stare too,” Daemon replied, removing his clothes.  His cock sprung free the second it could, standing proud in the air as he decided where he would start in the cornucopia of cunt before him.  Deciding to just go left to right, he walked over to Tyene and pushed two fingers inside her, finding her hot and very wet.

“Oh,” she whimpered. “We...ahh...started without you.”

“I can tell,” Daemon said, bringing his slick fingers to his lips and sucking them clean.

Lining himself up with her dripping wet cunt, he pushed inside her in one long thrust.

“Fuck!” Tyene cried. “Give it to me hard, Daemon.  I want to remember this cock the whole time you’re gone...AHH”

Daemon smirked at how she screamed when he slapped her arse. “Like you could ever forget it.”

“Never!” Tyene whimpered, throwing her arse back at him faster and faster. “Gonna fucking miss this.”

“You’ll have to keep each other company for me,” Daemon said, bringing his hand down again on her round cheek and watching it ripple and jiggle under the impact.

“We will,” Arianne said.

“You know it,” Nymeria purred, wiggling her arse next to him.  He spanked her for good measure, earning a squeal from the gorgeous brunette.

“Just like that,” Tyene whimpered as he pushed against a spot deep inside her. “I’m close.”

“So responsive,” Daemon said, his voice low and rumbling. “Such a good girl.”

“I’m your good girl,” Tyene cried. “Fuck me, Daemon. More, more, more, more, AHH!

Tyene collapsed forward, pressing her face against the bedroll and screaming as she came undone.  The feeling of her tight tunnel fluttering and convulsing around him was as wonderful as ever, and Daemon fucked her through her pleasure, both to prolong it and to enjoy her.  Once it was over, he pulled out of the panting blonde and moved behind Nymeria, lining himself up with her and pushing inside her snug cunt.

“Oh gods,” she grunted as he spread her wide.  His cock was thicker now than it was when they first fucked, and Nymeria, who enjoyed fitting a woman’s entire hand inside herself, found that she loved it even more.

Daemon dug his fingers into her hips, narrower than the others', and started fucking her with long, slow strokes.  They hadn’t been kidding about getting each other ready for him, given how plainly wet they all were, though they all enjoyed watching him fuck the others as well, so that would have been part of it.

“Harder!” she cried, trying to push back against him more forcefully.

“What was that?” Daemon asked, his voice teasing.

“Harder, please!” Nymeria cried.

“Beg me,” Daemon said, grinning at how she shuddered.

“Please, Daemon,” Nymeria begged. “Pound me so hard, I’ll still feel you on the ship!”

Daemon chuckled and picked up the pace, earning himself a triumphant scream from her.

“Yes!” Nymeria cried. “Fuck me, that feels amazing.”

He was gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks by then, and his hips were smacking against hers hard enough that they clapped against her arse each time he bottomed out.  Changing his angle slightly, he managed to reach even deeper inside her.  Nymeria mewled in pleasure, pushing her face down onto the bedroll to make it even easier to hit that spot she loved.  Daemon reached over and started teasing Obara’s dripping slit with his fingers.

“Ugh, gods, I wish I was staying with you,” she panted.

“At least you’ll have each other,” Daemon remarked, still pounding Nymeria hard. “I’ll be all alone.”

“You know we won’t mind if you find someone else to relieve you,” Arianne purred. “It will only be fair while we spend all our nights tangled together in our bed back home.”

“No,” Daemon said, rubbing tight little circles around Obara’s stiff clit and making the warrior women whimper. “I’ll stay alone while I war with the Blackfyres.  That way, when I return, I’ll have moons worth of lust to work off.”

“None of us will walk straight for days,” Bellegere purred.

“I’ll probably still be unable to fuck by then, so you five will have to handle him alone,” Arianne laughed.

“I can’t wait,” Tyene said tiredly.

“GODS!” Nymeria shrieked to the heavens as she came undone, her back going taut as a bowstring as her orgasm tore through her.

Daemon pulled out of her quivering cunt, feeling himself start to get close.  He wanted to make them all cum on his cock once before he did, and that would mean taking at least a couple breaks.  To give himself something to do while he calmed down, he grabbed Obara’s strong thighs and buried his face in her cunt.

“Fucking hells, yes,” she whimpered. “I swear no man in the world eats cunt like you.”

“I’ve never known any others to even try,” Missandei commented.

“That’s because every man you met before Daemon was a cunt,” Bellegere said.

“I am very well practiced,” Daemon commented, swirling his tongue around Obara’s throbbing clit.

“Just a little more,” Obara panted, her thighs starting to shake.  She leaned more of her weight on her arms to hold herself steady.

Daemon pulled back, licking his lips, and lined himself up with her already fluttering opening.

“YES!” Obara screamed as he plunged inside her to the hilt.

She had always had difficulty cumming with men before she met him, and even he had to work harder than he did with any other woman he had ever been with the first several times.  Eventually, though, perhaps because she grew more able to relax with him while they had sex, it became easier.  With how close she already was, Daemon knew that it wouldn’t take long.

“I hope you’re not too upset, Obara,” Daemon said.

“I...engh...I get it,” Obara panted. “If anyone...fuck!...anyone tries to hurt any of them, I’ll fucking...fucking...kill them.  FUCK!”

Perhaps in part because of the talk of bloodshed, Obara came hard, her perfect cunt milking his cock as she wailed her pleasure for the entire camp to hear.  Daemon fucked her through it and normally would have kept going as she crashed from orgasm to orgasm, something he had still only managed to get her and Bellegere to do, but there would be time for that later.  Pulling out of her shaking body, he moved to Arianne.

“Save me for last, Daemon,” she said.

“As you wish,” Daemon replied, palming her arse.

Moving over to Bellegere, he spread her massive cheeks wide, unveiling her tight, wonderful holes.  He could spend hours just enjoying her incredible arse, as he had done so many times before.

“If you’re going to make sure that I remember you through all the lonely nights to come, you’d better not hold back,” Bellegere said teasingly.

“The gods forbid I ever hold back with you,” Daemon chuckled, bringing his hand down hard on her fat brown arse.

“Yes!” Bellegere cried. “Harder!”

“Count them,” Daemon commanded, spanking her other cheek just as hard.

“One!” Bellegere moaned.

Out of all his women, none liked it quite as rough as her.  Obara was the roughest with him, but Bellegere loved nothing more than to be spanked raw and then made to cum on his cock while he pulled her hair and split her wide open on his cock.

“Ni...nineteen,” Bellegere whimpered a couple minutes later, her whole body shaking under the strain of trying to stay on her hands and knees.

“One more, pet,” Daemon purred in her ear. “Do you think you can take one more?  I’ll fuck you so hard for being my good girl if you do.”

“I can, I can!” Bellegere cried, turning around to look at him.  There were tears running down her cheeks, but he knew she was loving this.  With the last strike on her arse, she screamed, “twenty!”

Daemon sank inside her gushing cunt in one hard thrust, wasting no time working up to it and instead fucking her as hard as he could from the start.

“Gods, yes!” Bellegere shrieked, falling forward. “Harder!  Fucking ruin me!”

Daemon gathered her hair in his large, strong hand and tugged, pulling her head back as he fucked her hard enough that the sound of her hips clapping against her arse echoed through the tent.

“I already ruined you,” Daemon growled in her ear. “Every time you cum while we’re apart, you’re going to think of me.”

“YES!” Bellegere screamed, her whole body shaking and shivering as she came undone.  Daemon let go of her hair, letting her slump forward, and dug his fingers into her fleshy hips, fucking her convulsing cunt through her orgasm.  As it finally ended, he pulled out and moved to Missandei, who was quivering with need.

“You...you can fuck me like that if you want,” she stuttered. “I’m so wet, I’d probably like it.”

“Oh, you probably would, but that isn’t what you want, is it?” Daemon asked, spreading her soft, glistening nether lips with his fingers.

“N...no,” Missandei admitted.

“Then we’ll go slow,” Daemon said, lining himself and pushing the first couple inches of his cock inside her.  She gasped, and he continued spreading her wide as he pushed inside.

Though they got along very well, Missandei and Bellegere were polar opposites in terms of what they enjoyed with him.  Where nothing got Belle off faster or harder than being taken like a whore and pounded until her brain stopped working, Missandei had yet to warm up to the rougher things he was capable of and probably wouldn’t.  Daemon didn’t care in the slightest, and in that moment, as he needed to relax again lest he cum before he wanted to, he genuinely appreciated the slower pace.  Once he was buried inside her to the hilt, he leaned forward and started kissing along her neck tenderly as he slowly moved within her.

“Gods, just like that,” Missandei whimpered, her slick tunnel clinging to him as he spread her apart again and again. “Just like that.  I’m so close.”

“I know you are,” Daemon whispered in her ear. “I can feel your perfect cunt starting to flutter around me.  You feel so good.”

He sucked on her earlobe, drawing a sharp cry from her.  Reaching under her, he started stroking her hard, throbbing clit and moved his lips down to her pulse point, kissing the sensitive spot.

Missandei let out a wordless cry as she came undone, collapsing on her belly and trapping his hand under her.  He continued his slow, gentle thrusting throughout, prolonging her pleasure as he whispered about what a good girl she was in her ear.  He pulled out of her the moment he was free and crawled over to Arianne, who was so turned on from watching him take their other lovers that her arousal was running down her thighs.

“You’re so generous,” Daemon said as he started lapping up her arousal from her slick and shiny thighs, “letting them all go first.”

“Or she just wanted to enjoy watching you fuck the rest of us while she could still think straight,” Nymeria joked.

“She might have just wanted to be the one you’d remember most,” Tyene snickered.

“Hey, I am very generous,” Arianne snapped, though without a hint of venom in her voice.

“We know,” Tyene said, reaching over Nymeria to stroke Arianne’s back. “We all owe you so much for allowing us into your bed as you have.”

“I’ll say,” Obara snorted.

“I really can’t imagine any other wife being so willing to share her husband,” Bellegere said.

“You know I was jesting,” Nymeria said, kissing Arianne’s cheek.

“I do,” Arianne laughed. “Now, Daemon, fuck me.”

No more words were said as Daemon lined himself up with his wife’s cunt and buried himself to the hilt inside her.

“I’m the luckiest one of all,” he said. “By yourself, you could give me all any normal man could ask for...”

“I’d end up crippled,” Arianne laughed.

“...and you still find ways to make my life even better,” Daemon continued. “You’ve brought so much joy to my life, and now you’re carrying my child.  I love you, Ari.”

“Oh gods, Daemon!” Arianne cried, throwing her arse back against him even harder as she soared towards her peak. “I love you too.”

Daemon picked up his pace, matching her frantic rhythm perfectly as the two of them chased their pleasure.  He honestly couldn’t say which one came first as the two started writhing together, their orgasms crashing over them like thunder.  Arianne shrieked her joy as he groaned into her neck, the two of them enjoying a single perfect moment together.  He collapsed forward and managed to turn her over, holding her tightly against him, her back to his chest.  As he panted for breath, his hand lowered to her still rather flat belly, and he sighed.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” he whispered in her ear, holding her as she started crying.

The others just watched as he comforted her, holding her tightly as joy and sorrow both made her weep.  After a few moments, they joined in, hugging Arianne and him together.  It was a lovely moment, and the last one of its kind that he was likely to enjoy for a while.  He basked in the adoration of his lovers and asked the gods to let him make it home in time for his child’s birth.

*****

Daemon watched Arianne and the others leave with Ser Barristan and Ser Lewyn, accompanied by five hundred Unsullied until they passed over a hill and he could see them no more.  With a heavy sigh, he turned towards Qohor and urged his horse onward.  He could not take his entire army into the city, obviously, but he would be taking ten of the men from his honor guard with him.  As he reached the gate, an Unsullied called out.

“State your business,” the eunuch said.

“I am Prince Daemon Targaryen,” Daemon replied. “I come seeking an audience with the Tattered Prince, captain of the Windblown.”

“You and your guards may enter to find the prince,” the Unsullied said, “but be warned, you enter the great city of Qohor, and you will keep to its laws.”

“Do you know where I might find the Tattered Prince, my good eunuch?” Daemon asked.

“This one does not,” the Unsullied replied.

“Worth a try,” Daemon thought to himself.

Barristan and Lewyn had gotten the impression that the Windblown had been nearing the end of their contract with Qohor, and while that would be convenient if they were still in the city, it would be far less so if he had to track them down.  Checking in the first tavern he came across, no one there had any idea where he might find the man he sought, and neither did the proprietors or patrons of the next few establishments he tried.  Eventually, however, he was able to learn of a high-end pleasure house where the prince and his officers frequently went to drink.  As he entered the place, he was immediately hit with the smells of expensive perfume, expensive wine, and sex.

“Welcome to the Temple of Silk,” an aged woman said as soon as they entered. “Are you just looking for a drink, or would you like a girl?”

“I’m looking for a man…” Daemon went to say.

“We have a few perfumed boys, if you like,” the woman said.

“He goes by the Tattered Prince,” Daemon continued. “I was told that he frequented this place.”

“It is not our policy to just give out the identities of our patrons,” the woman said.

“It’s fine, Varga,” a deep voice came from his right.  Turning, Daemon beheld a man who had to be more than sixty. “You’re looking for me?”

The man was white-haired and clearly Valyrian, given his violet eyes.  Curiously, he spoke perfect High Valyrian rather than one of the bastardized variants that the woman Varga and nearly everyone else in Essos spoke.

“I am,” Daemon said. “I’ve come with an offer that I think you’ll be interested in.  Tell me, are you under contract at the moment?”

“No,” the man replied. “Our contract with Qohor just ended, and we haven’t found a new one yet.  I would know the name of a man looking to hire me, though.”

“I am Prince Daemon Targaryen,” Daemon replied.

“The demon!?” a deep, enraged voice asked.  Daemon turned to see a Dothraki man glaring at him, his hand on the hilt of his arakh.

“To some,” Daemon replied, his own hand going to the hilt of Nightsister.

“Caggo,” The Tattered Prince said warningly, but the man, who had clearly been drinking, didn’t seem to hear him.

“Gah!” the man bellowed, drawing his blade and slashing out at Daemon’s head.

Daemon dodged under the blow and caught the next one on Nightsister, realizing to his alarm that Caggo’s arakh was made of Valyrian steel.  Not having time to wonder how such a monstrosity came to be, Daemon sidestepped a downward swing, smirking for a moment as it hit the wooden table behind him, only to scowl as it went through, and Caggo managed to block his attack.

“Do not interfere!” Daemon ordered his guards, wanting to keep this fight as honorable as possible.  He wanted to bring the Windblown on board for his assault on Pentos, and outright butchering one of their sergeants was going to make that more difficult than it had to be.

“Caggo, stop this now!” The Tattered Prince commanded.

“Stop this!” Varga wailed.

“For fuck’s sake, you dumb shit, lower your sword,” a heavily scarred blonde woman snarled.

The huge Dothraki man was beyond reason, though, and continued his furious assault.  Daemon stayed on the defensive, wanting to see how the man fought and seek an opening.  He was rage incarnate, a berserker who relied on his size, strength, and speed to overwhelm his opponents.

Daemon parried a blow and riposted with a thrust towards the man’s head that he mostly dodged, though Daemon caught his ear, drawing blood.  The giant barely flinched, stepping back and swinging low to try and catch Daemon’s leg.  Daemon jumped over the blow and brought his blade down towards Caggo’s head, grunting as the large man caught it on his sword.

“Fucking hells!” The Tattered Prince snarled. “Meris, Lucifer, grab the dumb cunt.”

The blonde woman moved behind them, while a shorter man with long, dark hair got out of his seat.  As the man walked towards them, though, he tripped over a stool and fell on his face.  The scene distracted Caggo for just a moment, and Daemon took advantage, kicking him in the chest.  As Caggo stumbled back a step, Daemon brought Nightsister up towards his head, slicing through half his skull diagonally.

“Seven hells!” The Tattered Prince exclaimed, and Daemon cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Likely Westerosi, speaks perfect High Valyrian; who the fuck are you?”he thought to himself.

Daemon picked the man’s arakh out of his hand and looked at the blade.  The black metal was clearly Valyrian steel.

“I’ll be taking this as payment for the attempt on my life,” he said flatly.

“No, you’re fucking not,” Meris snarled.

“I’d say it’s only fair,” Lucifer said as he got back up.

“You would,” Meris scoffed. “You hated him.  You probably fell intentionally.”

“The throbbing in my nose isn’t something I’d choose,” Lucifer said flatly.

“Take it and go,” The Tattered Prince said, scowling.

“Fuck,”Daemon thought to himself. “You don’t even want to hear my offer?”

“You just killed one of my captains,” The Prince said, looking down at Caggo’s corpse.

“He tried to kill me, a man who had come to you with a lucrative offer, against your orders,” Daemon countered.

“You heard the commander,” Meris growled. “He doesn’t want to hear what you’re offering.”

“Even if it’s the thing he desires most?” Daemon asked, suppressing a grin at the look of interest on the old man’s face as he turned back to him.  The room had emptied of everyone else during the fight, so Daemon was willing to hint at what he had in mind. “The Dothraki certainly did, so I assume you know who I am too.  If so, then you know what has become of my enemies in Essos, and just now, you and I have a fair few of them in common.”

The Tattered Prince’s eyes widened, and Daemon didn’t bother suppressing his grin that time.

“I’m listening,” the old man said.