Playing the Game Ch. 8 (Game of Thrones) (Patreon)

A/N: New Chapter~

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It doesn’t take Jon long to come to a decision. In the end, what is he to do but say yes? While he could strike out on his own, and with Bellegere by his side he wasn’t quite sure it would BE ‘on his own’, there was no denying that the Iron Bank… they were an institution with such a rich history that their existence permeated even into the frozen north, all the way to the halls of Winterfell, to Lord Stark himself. 

His father had sent him here… or rather, his uncle. Jon finds himself wondering if Eddard Stark would have told him to go to Braavos and make an account with the Iron Bank if he’d known that they knew. If he’d known that the Iron Bank was waiting to offer Jon all of this, Lord Stark likely never would have let Jon go in the first place.

But it didn’t matter now what his uncle thought. Didn’t matter what he wanted either. What mattered was what Jon wanted… and while he might have spent most of his life content with being the bastard, this last little while, ever since his birthday, Jon was… content with nothing. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He… he needed it all.

The Iron Bank would help him with that. As would Bellegere. Still holding the courtesan’s hand beneath the table, he gives it another squeeze, this one of assurance rather than thanks. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s choosing the Iron Bank over her. No, he wants… he NEEDS her by his side. Still, leveling a calm stare over at Tycho, Jon nods his head.

“I’ve made my decision. I accept the Iron Bank’s offer of sponsorship.”

It’s not all that noticeable. Honestly, Jon isn’t sure whether he’s imagining it or what. Tycho doesn’t make some big show of letting his shoulders slump in relief or allow his face to beam with happiness. He’s a banker, and he has some self-respect. But that doesn’t stop Jon from seeing the slight downturn of Tycho’s shoulders as a tenseness that he hadn’t noticed before leaves the other man. It doesn’t stop him from noting the avarice and happiness in the banker’s eyes as Tycho bows his head in acknowledgment of Jon’s words.

“Wonderful. You have made an excellent decision, Jon.”

Jon cocks his head to the side at that, the young man keeping his tone level, even as his eyes flash.

“I would hope now that we’ve come to an agreement, you might tell me exactly what proof you have of my claim to the Iron Throne. What evidence is there of my lineage?”

Tycho does smile at that, a carefully crafted smile as he inclines his head to Jon’s question.

“But of course. Let me gather the evidence, as well as the contract that we will both be signing. I shall be back shortly.”

Tycho rises from his seat and bows low to Jon, all the way to the waist. From what little Jon remembers of his lessons on court etiquette, which he had NOT been allowed to skip out on, Tycho’s bow is more in line with a bow to royalty then anything else. Jon just nods his head in return, watching as the banker leaves the room. And then it’s just him and Bellegere.

Before Jon can even speak, Bellegere is on his lap. Blinking as he suddenly finds himself with handfuls of the gorgeous courtesan, Bellegere bites her lower lip when he gives her a questioning look.

“Long have I wanted to say that I fucked a man in the halls of the Iron Bank. Would you care to make a humble woman’s dream come true, my King?”

Jon’s cock was already beginning to rise given the lapful of Black Pearl he was contending with, along with her rubbing up against him. It practically springs to life however when Bellegere names him her king. A growl erupts from low in Jon’s chest, out of his throat, even as he pulls the beautiful caramel-skinned woman in closer, kissing her deeply and pressing her up against his chest. 

His hands slide down and work quickly at her dress, and Bellegere in turn works at the ties of his trousers. In no time at all, her cunt is exposed, his cock is out, and she’s sinking down onto his member, filling herself with him even as Jon groans into her mouth, luxuriating in the taste of her lips and the tightness of her pussy.

The courtesan rides him slowly, gasping and moaning his name as they kiss and embrace one another. But eventually she does pull back a bit, rising up his cock and then slamming herself back down onto it, even as she offers him her breasts… which Jon greedily feasts upon.

“If you had said no, if you still said no, ah… there are paths open to you even now, your m-majesty.”

Her breath hitches and she moans, even as Jon looks at her, continuing to fuck her but nonetheless listening to her words.

“We, mm, courtesans of Braavos are, ah, not like those of other places i-in the world. Especially we Titled Seven. Oooh, while the others c-cannot boast of, hah, my same blood… I know that if given the c-chance, you would, oooh, conquer all of them~”

Bellegere pauses to let out a squeal and Jon feels it as she climaxes around his cock, her inner walls clenching and squeezing down hard along his member in an obvious orgasm.

“They would follow you, my King, as I, ooh, do. They would p-pledge themselves to you… a-and with them, you could, mm, have all of Braavos.”

Jon lifts a brow at that, even as he grunts at the feel of her cunt attempting to milk his cock for all that it’s worth.

“I’m not certain that’s how things work around here, Bellegere…”

She gives a breathless laugh in return, her hands settling on his shoulders so that she can speed up the pace, bouncing herself up and down on his dick faster and faster, her exposed breasts bouncing and jiggling in a most satisfying fashion along with her, mere inches from his face.

“You, mm, would not be Sealord, no. But ours is no small power, ooh, my King. With the, hah, Titled Seven at your back, you would have a c-considerable amount of, mm, influence~”

Before Jon can respond to that, Tycho does it for him, stepping back into the room with a rolled-up scroll in one hand, and a small book in the other.

“She’s not wrong, Jon. The Titled Courtesans of Braavos exist in a class above any other in their profession, even those in Braavos that are untitled. It would be accurate to say that the power in the city is built around four central pillars. There’s us, of course, we at the Iron Bank who provide wealth to merchants both here and further on. Then, there’s the Sealord and his Arsenal, who keep the peace of the city, as well as taking care of it’s defense. And of course, there’s the Titled Seven, Braavos’ most famous courtesans, who with their charm and beauty, command fast sums of wealth and influence and power, all on their own.”

At first, when Tycho had entered the room, both Jon and Bellegere had frozen up, the courtesan in particular seeming like she was going to jump off of his cock in embarrassment. But by her very nature, Bellegere Otherys was not a woman easily embarrassed. She hadn’t brought him to release yet, and that made her loathe to part with him before their coupling was done.

When Tycho continued speaking in such a casual tone, not even seeming to regard Jon and Bellegere’s intercourse as a problem as he opened the scroll and spread it out on the table before them, Bellegere ultimately decided to continue. As such, Jon found himself talking to the poised banker while an absolutely gorgeous woman continued to ride his cock, gyrating her hips across his lap and barely even keeping her voice down as she bites her lower lip to keep her moans contained to some whimpering.

“You mentioned four pillars?”

Tycho’s lips turn up slightly and he nods, clearly pleased that Jon had noticed, especially when he was distracted with… other things.

“Indeed. The fourth and final pillar of Braavos’ power structure is the House of Black and White, home to the Faceless Men who worship the Many-Faced God. They are… a more silent power here in Braavos. Truthfully, they tend not to cause much of a stir unless someone else decides to prod them. They do not take contracts on anyone who lives in the city, of course, lest they be ousted. Similarly, though, nobody moves against them, leaving them in peace to ply their trade.”

Jon had of course heard about the Faceless Men. Assassins… and now that he was apparently to be a King, the mere mention was enough to send a shiver down his back. Though, not enough to wilt his cock buried inside of Bellegere’s quim. That was probably more of a testament to the Black Pearl’s technique more than anything else though. There was no denying that Jon had a healthy fear for the Faceless Men’s reputation.

“… What’s to stop someone from hiring one of them to come after me?”

Tycho’s smile actually grows at that.

“You’re not a coward for being concerned, Jon. You’re smart. That said… we are what would stop them.”

Jon blinks at that, but Tycho is already continuing on, gesturing down at the contract between the two of them.

“Obviously, once you sign this contract, you will be allied with the Iron Bank. Given our wealth and our residence here in Braavos, we have a long-standing relationship with the House of Black and White. Put simply, if someone were to try to put a contract out on your head, the House would come to us first, so that we might present them with a counter-offer.”

That was surprisingly reassuring. And also, he was getting close. Part of Jon wonders if he should be embarrassed at cumming inside Bellegere right in front of the Iron Bank representative. Another part of him, the part he was beginning to consider distinctly draconic in nature, was pleased to be putting this other male in his place by seeding the female in front of him.

Regardless, Bellegere’s clenching cunt milks Jon of his seed, and once he’s filled her womb, the courtesan quickly climbs off of his member, tucking it back away and fixing her dress as she retakes her seat without a word. Tycho, not commenting on the lurid display at all, merely pushes the contract forward. Jon, of course, reads it.

Sure, part of him wanted to just get it over with and sign the damn thing, but even if he was raised as a bastard, he was still raised as a Lord’s bastard. Eddard Stark had made sure that Jon knew his letters, and Jon wasn’t going to let that go to waste now. Of course, just because he COULD read and write didn’t mean he understood legalese… but luckily, the contract was actually rather straight forward, much to Jon’s surprise and relief.

It confirmed all that Tycho had already offered, as well as what the Iron Bank expected from Jon in return. They would help to put him on the Iron Throne, and in exchange for forgiving most of the debt once Jon was King, he would allow them to install a branch of the Iron Bank in King’s Landing permanently. On top of that, his Master of Coin would be an Iron Bank representative.

Smirking a little at that part, Jon glances over at Tycho Nestoris and cocks an eyebrow.

“And who exactly would the Iron Bank send to be my Master of Coin, hm?”

Tycho inclines his head in acknowledgment of the subtle undertone to Jon’s voice.

“That would of course be the choice of those higher than me. However, all things taken into consideration, I think they would go with an option that you would be most comfortable with… a familiar face, if you will, to better facilitate our extended relationship.”

Right. That made sense, the banker wouldn’t be doing all of this if he wasn’t getting anything out of it. In the end, Jon had already made up his mind, really. Barring any traps in the contract, he was always going to sign. Given he couldn’t find a trace of said traps, it seemed it was time to make the plunge. Taking the quill and ink well that Tycho had provided earlier, Jon signs his name on the dotted line. Not so much with a flourish, but with the painstaking effort of a young man who had been taught how to write many years ago and didn’t get nearly enough practice with it.

Still, he thought his signature had come out pretty well, and from the approving nod that Tycho gave, it seemed he was right. As the banker takes the contract and sets it aside to let the ink dry, he grabs the small book as well, and opens it up to a specific page. Once he’s presented that to Jon, Tycho moves to sign the contract himself, all while speaking on what Jon will find within.

“This is a copy of the diary of High Septon Maynard. The particular entry I’m showing you details her action during the time period that immediately preceded Robert’s Rebellion. Namely, the fact that she secretly annulled the marriage between Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife, Elia Martell at the time, and then just as secretly married Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark in a private ceremony. She also notes in the writing that Lyanna was already several months pregnant at the time. The dates and your age line up perfectly, we’ve found.”

Jon leans forward and reads… but it’s just as the banker has said. If Tycho is to be believed (and at this point, Jon is pretty much required to trust this man that he’s now signed on with for the long haul) then this diary is indeed proof of Jon’s true parentage… his true heritage. In the end, it’s really only confirmation of what he already knew, what he’d known to be true since Bellegere had explained to him what she felt just by being near him, and he in turn had reached out to sense the dragon blood within her.

But Jon doesn’t say that. In the end, composing himself, the young man swallows past the lump in his throat and leans back in his chair, nodding.

“Very well then. Thank you for showing me this. I… I confess, I know not what we do next?”

Tycho inclines his head.

“As I see it, you have two options before you. Initially, it was our plan to send you on to Pentos with a small force of mercenaries at your back. The marriage between your aunt and the Dothraki Khal is at the end of the month. Just enough time to get you there, where you could perhaps interfere in some way. We do not believe Viserys can be reasoned with… but having Daenerys Targaryen at your side would be a boon as well as add to your legitimacy.”

Tycho pauses and then looks to Bellegere.

“However, the Black Pearl has suggested a different route. You now have the Iron Bank’s backing, Jon. One of the four pillars of Braavos. One of the three that actually move about the city in any meaningful way. If you were to manage to… conquer the Titled Seven as Bellegere is suggesting, well… that would give you two of the main three. It is one thing to have the Iron Bank’s backing. It is another entirely to be able to bend the Sealord to your ear through the combined pressure of the Iron Bank and Braavos’ Titled Courtesans.”

Spreading his palms wide, the banker offers something of a shrug.

“These are the two immediate paths I see available to you. Both have their upsides and their downsides. Both will lead towards our ultimate goal of installing you on the Iron Throne. You need only choose.”

So that was it then. He had one of the seven Titled Courtesans of Braavos already, and with Bellegere’s help, he could take the other six and show them what it meant to bed a dragon. Or, he could go to Pentos with the Iron Bank’s backing and save an Aunt he’d never met from marrying a savage, while confronting an Uncle he’d never met who was apparently just as Mad as his father, Jon’s grandfather.

It was a tough call. But it was Jon’s call to make. Which decision would he choose?