Taming a Dragon- Part 11

AN: Blunt truth, things have been pretty awful. Everything has finally settled and I'm fully resetting going into the new year. Can't even express how much the support has been appreciated.

Casting-

Rhaenyra- Marie Wildes

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It was late afternoon as Harry walked through the Red Keep with Barbo. The day was admittedly busy after the attack in the Kingswood. Preparations were made for his leaving feast as word spread through the city. It meant that he’d spent most of the day with only his own company.

“Nothing yet, though from what you and the boy have told me of the man, I’m not surprised. I have Tobar,” the only other man Harry brought with him to the capital, “down by the docks, seeing if he might’ve taken to sea.” Barbo reported as they neared the door to his quarters.

“It would be a stroke of unbelievably good fortune if you found him already.” It’d barely been a day since he informed his leal man of the events that led to their attack in the Kingswood and introduced him to Emmett. Harry expected great things from the people he trusted most, they’d earned it many times over, but the task he set would require no small amount of patience. And luck.

“Where’s Emmett?” Harry asked.

Barbo smirked, “He’s trying to look inconspicuous sitting at one of the inns along Eel Alley… the sort that’s frequented by some of the less savory sort. I figured it’s possible that this man we’re looking for didn’t go to Rennic’s gang first, and with the news spreading around about the attack, tongues might begin wagging. I only hope that he hasn’t been gutted by some of the rougher sort before I return.”

“That would make things slightly more difficult, yes.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, “Do you trust him not to run?”

Barbo barked a laugh, “After what little he saw of you down in the dungeons, that boy is terrified that you could find him in the farthest corners of the world. But no, even without fear, I believe he would stay. It seems to me that he feels indebted to you.”

“Either that, or he sees an opportunity.”

“Could you blame him?” Barbo shrugged, “Two days ago, he was reluctantly a bandit living in a hovel in the woods. Now, he serves a king.”

“No, I suppose I can’t.” He agreed as he entered his rooms “Though, I don’t know which of those will prove to be the more dangerous.”

They were interrupted by a startled noise from the bed. One of Rhaenyra’s ladies smoothed down something she’d just placed there as she stepped away, a flush on her cheeks, “Apologies, your Grace, I didn’t mean to intrude.”  

“It’s alright,” he assured her, “but, I’m curious why you’re here.”

She gestured toward the bed, talking in a rush, “Princess Rhaenyra instructed me to deliver a gift.”

Sitting on the bed was a beautifully embroidered tunic in green and silver. Very Slytherin. Though he couldn’t imagine she would do it in red and gold, as he’d look far too much like a Lannister. Nervously, the handmaid added in a hurry, “She said the color would flatter you as it matched your eyes. And she did the embroidery herself, your Grace. She was hoping you’d wear it to the leaving feast tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing it to me.” He silenced her, trying not to chuckle at her obvious nervousness, “And you can tell the princess that I have every intention of wearing it.”

She managed to smile, taking the opportunity he gave her to quickly leave, “I will, your Grace.”

When the door shut behind her, Barbo spoke up, clearly amused, “What a lovely young woman… a bit timid for my tastes though.”

“The only women forward enough for your tastes around here work on the Street of Silk.” Harry joked as he moved to the bed and looked at his new garment more closely. There were two rows of silver buttons. Intricate knotting embroidery ran along the center as well as the collar and at the cuffs. As he held it up, it appeared as though it would fit snugly along the chest but had enough give to be comfortable.

“You’d be surprised!” Barbo chortled as he placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll leave you now. Better to go check on the boy sooner rather than later.”

“You know you’re welcome at the feast.” Harry reminded him.

“While I might find the willing lady amongst the nobility, you are right that I prefer the company of a far different sort.” He smacked his hand down on his shoulder one more time before heading off, “Besides, I won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Alone in his quarters, he stripped out of his shirt and replaced it with the gift from Rhaenyra. It was smooth silk, Myrish if he wasn’t mistaken, and formfitting, but surprisingly light. Perfect for the warm climate of his new kingdom.

Ready for the approaching festivities, he appreciated her gift more than she probably realized. He’d never had the keenest eye for fashion, and it saved him the trouble of deciding what to wear. But as he sat on the bed, letting the seconds tick by at a painful trudge, he found himself anxious. Moments of true respite and calm had become an uncommon luxury in his life since being forced into his new world. He was entirely out of practice with regards to amusing himself in his downtime.

So, inevitably, his mind turned to the matters of his new kingdom instead, and, with a pop, he appeared in his quarters back at Bloodstone… much to the surprise of Renna who was busy dusting his desk at that very moment.

With a shout, she clutched at her chest, “Your Grace! I… we… we…” She seemed torn between formality and indignation. The latter won out in the end, “What’re you doing frightening me like that!? I’m of half a mind to box you about the ears like one of my children!” She swatted at him with her feather duster in frustration.

Trying to hide his amusement at the usually unflappable woman’s predicament, he said, “My apologies, Renna, I didn’t intend to startle you… but, box me about the ears? Really?”

Sufficiently recovered from her surprise, her eyes widened as she realized exactly what she’d said to her liege, “I’m sorry, your Grace, truly… I forgot myself. You’re usually here in the morning, and I wanted to make sure everything was spotless for your arrival tomorrow, and then you just appeared…”

He raised his hand to stop her. She was flushed from embarrassment, but his smile calmed her, “No harm done. Between you and me, there are probably times when I could use someone to box me about the ears.”

Finding her usual confidence, she replied cheekily, “Well, you know where to find me if you need me.” She made to leave but took stock of what he was wearing before she had the chance, “Is that new, your Grace?”

“It is.” He confirmed as he took his seat and grabbed for a fresh sheet of parchment, “Princess Rhaenyra had it made for me and to my understanding, embroidered it herself.”

Renna hummed her approval, “The princess has wonderful taste. I’ll ensure that’s properly laundered when the time comes.” With that, she left him alone.

Dipping a quill in the ink pot, he began writing.

To the venerable Lysandro Rogare, First Magistrate of Lys,

I received your invitation and your offer and must cordially decline both. While I’m sure the beauty of Lys is something to behold, as is that of your sister, the growth and prosperity of my lands are at the forefront of my mind. And while having the weight of your bank behind me could prove useful in my works here, I would be remiss if I didn’t consider the tenuous hold that any one family maintains on power in your city. Though I wish you and your family the best, there are no guarantees that you’ll retain primacy in the city and tying myself to such uncertainty when my new kingdom is in its infancy is a risk I’m unwilling to take.

Respectfully,

Harry, King of the Stepstones and Narrow Sea

Placing the quill back in its pot, he read over the words once more. He preferred the heat of battle, with dragon fire all about him, to this particular aspect of statecraft. I suppose this is exactly why every lord in the Seven Kingdoms is happy to have a maester in their service.

It was difficult to know whether his words would be taken as an insult or not. The ire of Lys’ wealthiest banker would be an inconvenience but one that he was willing to risk. Still, he set the parchment aside, unwilling to seal it just yet. Rhaenyra offered her experience in these matters, and I’d be a fool not to at least hear her opinion.

Taking up another piece of parchment, he set to work on addressing more of his backlog of seemingly constant invitations and entreaties.

To Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides…

To Matthos Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South…

To Jeyne Arryn, Lady of the Eyrie and Warden of the East…

On and on they went as Harry lost track of time. It was only the chiming of his ward, warning him that someone approached his quarters at the Red Keep, that pulled him from his work. As he placed the quill back in its ink pot, he realized that the sun had dropped below the horizon.

Apparating back to his temporary quarters, he arrived as a firm, metal knock hit the door. Opening it, he found Ser Erryk waiting for him, “Your Grace,” he greeted him, “I’ve been asked to escort you to the leaving feast.” Whether it was Viserys or Rhaenyra, it was obvious that both recognized the animosity Criston Cole felt toward him and thought it best not to force them together again.

Harry chuckled, “I think I could make my way on my own, but I appreciate the company all the same.”

“The princess worried you might arrive late without a reminder.” Ser Erryk explained as they made their way down the corridor toward the hall.

Given his distraction with matters of state, it was a perfectly warranted concern, “I’d say she worried for nothing, but I’d be a liar.”

As they neared the Great Hall, Ser Erryk left him behind to inform the seneschal of his arrival. All the pomp was entirely unnecessary in his opinion, but he also recognized that there was no avoiding it.

He heard the announcement echo within, “Our honored guest, his Grace, Harry, King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.”

As he entered, not for the first time since his arrival in the capital, all eyes were on him. He thought the novelty of his presence would’ve worn off after his time at court, but it seemed the newest stories circulating around King’s Landing, about the attack in the woods, had created fresh intrigue and interest.

The entire court watched for the second time as he made his way to the head of the room and took his seat. While their eyes were on him, his were cast toward the high table Rhaenyra and Viserys sat with an empty seat between them meant for him. The princess looked as captivating as ever. Her dress was deep red embroidered with black with a neckline that hinted at impressive cleavage and left her shoulders bare. A ruby gem on a silver chain hung around her neck with a matching pair of earrings.

As he took his seat, the attention of the crowd was diverted as servants began bringing in the first course of the evening. Rhaenyra leaned in so that only he could hear her, “I see you got my gift.” Her fingers played with the cuff of the shirt.

“I did, though I’m sure your maid already told you.”

She snickered at his cheek, “She did.” Admiring him more than the gift, she complimented, “It suits you.”

“I thought so, too.” He agreed.

“I knew the color would,” There was a twinkle of mischief in her amethyst eyes, “though I must admit, I was tempted to put you in black and red as you don’t have any House colors of your own.” ‘His house’ had no name, no colors, and no sigil, something he considered rectifying given it appeared that he was going to be mired in the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, whether he wanted to or not... Or I could simply adopt those of my future bride...

“That would’ve been terribly presumptuous. Half the court would’ve thought us betrothed already.” He offered a small smile, “I can only imagine how that would’ve sent tongues wagging.”

“Of course, it would’ve, but they’d wag regardless.” Rhaenyra said, “The entire city, from the lowliest wretch in Flea Bottom to my father’s courtiers, have been consumed with the story of the attack in the Kingswood. How you and Ser Erryk bravely defended myself and my ladies from dozens of bandits. The number of them increases with each new telling, of course.”

Their conversation was interrupted as one of the servants placed a dish in front of each of them. It was a light soup to open what he was certain to be far too many courses but smelled fantastic all the same.

As they began eating, his attention was pulled to Viserys, “I hope your stay here has been enjoyable… despite the unexpected issues.”

“I rode a dragon,” Harry said, “There’s very little that could take the sheen off of such an experience, and that’s to say nothing of the quality of the company.”

“I’m quite the magnanimous host, if I do say so myself!” Viserys puffed up only to laugh it off, “though I sincerely doubt it’s my company that made the trip worth your while.” There was no hidden wince of pain from the man, or hint of unexplainable fatigue. So far, his sickness hadn’t afflicted him again.

“Our conversations were certainly enjoyable, Viserys.” But Harry agreed, “Though not quite the highlight of the trip, I must admit.”

Softly, so that only he could hear her sultry words, Rhaenyra whispered, “I’d be rather disappointed if they were.” Beneath the table, she squeezed his thigh. He managed to avoid coughing on his soup as he gave her warning look that only brought a coy smile to her lips.

Half a dozen small dishes followed the soup before a fish course was served, then came the roast pig, then a standing rib served as the main course, only for the meal to finish with a selection of desserts. Unsurprisingly, treacle tart was among them. Harry managed to save enough room for his favorite treat.

“I would like to visit your new city properly,” Daemon, just one seat to the left of Rhaenyra, commented, “My brief visit hardly did the stories I’ve heard true justice.”

“The work is far from complete, but you’re welcome to visit and see its progress.” Harry said as he swallowed the last of the tart,  “Rhaenyra expressed the same interest. Perhaps you might serve as her escort when she does.”

Daemon glanced at his niece, “It has been some time since Caraxes and Syrax had the chance to fly together. It seems as good an opportunity as any.”

“We need no excuse to fly, uncle. You need only ask. And as for the long gap, I believe you were far too busy fighting a war to return home.” She laughed. She made no mention of the deep animosity that existed between Daemon and Viserys after the death of her mother and brother and his subsequent exile.

“Losing a war.” Daemon corrected with an easy smile. His loss of the Stepstones irked him, there was no denying it, but he accepted that he’d been beaten with surprising levity. No doubt because he had little interest in truly holding them. They are little more than sand and stone. Without magic, it’d be difficult to build anything of worth there.

Rhaenyra glossed over the correction as though it’d never been uttered, “I would appreciate your company, uncle.” She spoke a louder, enough that she was able to draw her father’s attention, “It may even do enough to convince my father not to send an entire retinue along with me. Gods know, I’ve no need of a dozen ladies and servants everywhere I travel.”

Viserys chuckled, “What exactly is being planned without my knowledge?”

“A visit, to Bloodstone, brother.” Daemon replied, “One on which I could accompany her.”

Looking between the three of them, Viserys contemplated for a long moment, “Perhaps… so long as Ser Erryk accompanied you as well. But we can discuss the rest of it in detail in future.” Rhaenyra smiled sweetly at her father and let the matter drop for the time being.

At the lull in their conversation, Alicent took the opportunity to interject, “King Harry, I’m curious, with all the discussion around your burgeoning city, I’ve heard no mention of a sept?” The Hightower’s were the defenders of the faith long before Aegon ever set foot in the Seven Kingdoms, and Alicent seemed intent on reminding him of that fact at their every interaction. The queen certainly knows what’s important to her, if nothing else.

“Should anyone request permission to build a sept, I’d agree, of course. Though, given how many people of the world will travel through the Stepstones, something akin to the Isle of Gods in Braavos will be most prudent.” There was a slight edge to his otherwise pleasant tone, “The people who follow me are free to worship as they please. Some follow the Faith of the Seven, but many more adhere to one of the many gods Essos. They all seem in agreement that there are other, far more pressing concerns with regards to infrastructure and safety that demand attention first.”

The queen frowned, “A wall defends the body, yes, but the sept defends the soul. The Conqueror knew this himself. A sept was built right alongside the Aegonfort and the Sept of Remembrance was commissioned before the Red Keep.”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Daemon snorted out a laugh. Treading carefully, so as not to offend the family that was hosting him, he replied, “Aegon conquered a land where nearly everyone south of the Neck, from the oldest crone to the newborn babes, worshipped the Seven.  Under those circumstances, building a sept seems perfectly reasonable. Those aren’t my circumstances.” He made no mention of the fact that the faith took issue with the Targaryen traditions and that much of their early reign was spent trying to appease them.

Alicent made to speak again, but Viserys interrupted with a warning look in his wife’s direction, “You’re quite right, of course, Harry. Your difficulties are different from my forebear’s and must be approached in their own way… as is true of any leader. For what it’s worth, I believe your intention to build in Isle of Gods is brilliant.”  Harry raised his glass in thanks, not just for the compliment but for tempering his wife.

Once they were all thoroughly fed and watered, the hall was rearranged and the music changed. He watched from his seat as the first song played and the gentlemen and ladies of court swished about the floor before standing.

Offering his hand to the princess, he asked, “Rhaenyra, would you care to dance?” While he still lacked any true skill, he was confident, after his first night there, in his ability not to make a fool of himself.

Pushing away from the table, she placed her soft hand in his and let him help her to her feet, “I’d be delighted, your Grace.”

Eyes followed them as they came around the table and joined the rest of the revelers, none more than Viserys’ and Alicent’s. The entire hall waited for them. It was only as he took Rhaenyra’s waist that the music started.

It was funny that in the throng of whirling bodies, it was far easier to have a private conversation. Face to face, so close that they could feel each other’s breath, there was no need for more than a whisper, “I’ll be sorry to see you leave tomorrow.”

“You know better than anyone, I’m just a moment away.” He grinned.

“True, but you’ll have other matters that demand your attention. Not least of which the arrival of the Prince Qoren.” She made no mention of his sister who was sure to accompany him, “When is he meant to arrive, do you know?”

“Two days from now.”

She giggled at that, “If you were anyone else, he may very well arrive before you.” He twirled her around before she could continue, “Just how long do you intend to stay aboard your ship once it leaves dock?”

“I doubt I’ll even be on it that long.”

“You won’t go to the deck to wave at the adoring crowd?” She teased, “They’re ever so fond of you since they learned of your heroics along with Ser Erryk in protecting ‘the Realm’s Delight’.”

“A few extra minutes won’t hurt, I suppose.” He conceded, “I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would I?” He knew better than most just how fickle the crowd could be when it came to their idolizations and vilifications. But always better to keep them on your side while you can.

“No, but so far, you’ve been the exact opposite of disappointing.” They both knew she didn’t just mean to the people.

One dance turned into two and then three before the princess required a rest to her feet. Just as on his first night there, he found himself approached by another, smaller princess. More confidently this time, Helaena found him and requested politely, “I’m… meant to go to bed, but… I wanted to dance with you again... before you leave.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” Away from the crowd he danced with the young princess. She giggled excitedly every time he spun her. It was a simple thing that made her so obviously happy.

When it was done, she pulled him down again, to whisper conspiratorially, “Are you going to marry my sister?”

He wasn’t expecting such a serious question from such a seemingly carefree child. Giving the question all the consideration it deserved, he answered, “I think I might, yes.”

Looking him straight in the eye, she gave a serious nod, “You should.” He wanted to question why exactly she thought that, but her mind drifted elsewhere, “Would you do a bit more magic… before I have to go to bed?”

Leaning down to her level, he glanced around the room, “Just for you this time.” He waved his hand. In his palm appeared an inert replica of his patronus. Her eyes widened as he handed it to her, “When you’re alone, whisper the words Expecto Patronum. I think you’ll enjoy the results.”

Holding it tightly to her chest, she beamed up at him, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he patted her head, “Now run along to bed.” The little girl did as he instructed and hurried toward her mother.

As the night wore on, he found himself accosted by lords and ladies whose names he barely knew. Some were curious about the events in the forest, others about the nature of his magic, and a select few curious about his opinions on tolls and exceptions on shipping through the Stepstones.

The night was nearing its end as he extricated himself from a conversation with a slightly-too-drunk Lady Stokeworth. Fortunately, he returned to more pleasant company, “My sister seems fond of you.” Rhaenyra commented as she took his arm and led him toward the door, “Should I be worried?”

He chuckled at that, “No, certainly not. In fact, she seemed rather enthused at the prospect of our marriage.”

“Is that right?” Rhaenyra quirked an eyebrow in thought, “I know her mother doesn’t feels the same way.”

“I gathered that from what little conversation we overheard between her and your father.” It was odd that her opinion hadn’t bled through to her daughter. She didn’t seem the sort of woman that would keep that opinion entirely to herself.

Shaking her head, Rhaenyra commented, “It’s interesting to say the least, but I would have our minds turned toward more pleasant topics than my goodmother on your last night here.”

They made their way into the quieter corridors of the Red Keep, where only the Royal Family and their most important guests were quartered. He knew the castle well enough to recognize he was escorting the princess to her bed. However, he didn’t know the castle well enough to anticipate her pulling him into an alcove only for her to open the wall to one of the keep’s hidden passages.

It wasn’t overly spacious and it left them pressed together, chest to chest, her impressive bust impossible to ignore as he felt the hardened nubs of her nipples through the silk of her gown.

“So eager to get me alone, Rhaenyra?” His fingers traced up her arm, and he felt her shiver.

“I’ve been anticipating it all night, your Grace.” Her lips pressed against the line of his jaw, “The evidence of it is dripping down my thighs as we speak.”

His cock hardened in his trousers at the thought. He pulled her lips to his as his back pressed against hard stone. Pulling away from her, he commented, “You know, we could be doing this in the comfort of your quarters? Or mine?”

She smirked, “Even with Ser Erryk outside my door, yes, I know. A bit of your magic and I could have you in my bed.” Her hand drifted to the front of his trousers, undoing the tie that kept them tight before slipping her dainty hand lower. His breath hitched as she squeezed his shaft, “But there’s something thrilling about the risk, isn’t there?”

As her father’s heir, one who not all his vassals agreed should stand in succession above her brother, Rhaenyra didn’t have the luxury of risk very often. Foolish as it might be, he couldn’t deny that she was right. Voice low with ever-growing lust, he teased her, “I’ve heard the delicious noises I can pull from you… how you scream, princess. Do you really think you can stifle your pleasure?”

Her eyes darkened as she licked her lips, “Oh no… you don’t think I intend for this to be about me, do you?” Slowly, she slid to her knees, fingers hooking at the waist of his trousers and smallclothes at the same time to free his throbbing length, her amethyst eyes fixed on him the whole way down.

“Rhae…” Her name died in his throat as her lips found his leaking tip, her tongue dragging along the slit to collect the pearlescent bead waiting there like a treat. Hands placed firmly behind her back, she pushed her lips down his length. Where just days earlier, she struggled to take more than half of him, this time she kept going, letting him slip into her throat with only a small hesitation.

When just an inch of his considerable length remained, he finally heard that ball-twitching noise… Glughk… Steely determination evident in her eyes, her hands finally moved from behind her back as she took hold of him behind his thighs. He felt her throat flex wonderfully against him as she pushed one last time until her nose was pressed against his groin.

“Bloody… fucking… hell…” It would be so easy to give in and let himself unload straight into her throat, just hold her there as he came, but he forced himself not to. She coughed around the intrusion in her throat but held herself there until her eyes started to roll back in her head.

Then in a rush she pulled back, gasping for air as one hand moved to stroke his spit-soaked shaft. Chin glistening with her spit, she smiled triumphantly, “Did you enjoy that?” She kissed along the side of his length, “I wanted to ensure that you received the treatment you truly deserved after the pleasures you’ve given me. Though the cucumber I used to practice still didn’t quite measure up.”

The thought of her alone, practicing just for him, made him throb in her hand. He didn’t need her to be able to throat every inch of him to enjoy her efforts. But I’d be lying if said it wasn’t amazing. As was the thought that she’d been so diligent just for his sake, “It was amazing, Rhae… unexpected, but amazing.”

Pleased with his answer, she went back to work. Driving down until he was sheathed in her throat again before pulling back and stroking him with one hand on the way up. With her free hand, she reached into her dress just to the side of her breast and retrieved something soft and silk. Adding her other hand, he realized with cum-inducing clarity that they were her knickers, wet with her own juices. What a perfect little princess?

She slurped and sucked for minute after exquisite minute before he could suppress the need no longer,  “Rhae… I’m…” Her only acknowledgement of his warning was to hollow out her lips, while just the tip remained in her mouth, as she stroked him harder.

His legs shook as she pulled the cum from his balls. His cock throbbed violently as the first stream of liquid heat filled her pretty mouth. She just kept suckling as pulse after pulse followed. A small stream of white slipped from the corner of her lips before he finally finished.

Looking up at him with sultry grin, her tongue darted out to collect the last little bit of his seed that she nearly lost. Taking one last lick of his tip, she complimented, “Delicious as I remember…” Taking her knickers, she tied them around the base of his cock , “A gift, so that you remember me while you’re away.”

With a feral need, he pulled her to her feet and turned her away. Her gasp was breathy and desperate. Lips against her ear, he rasped, “Let me thank you for the gift.” She pushed her ass back against him as she shuddered, eager for his touch.

Hiking up the skirt of her dress, his fingers found the dripping petals of her tightness. True to her word, he found her hot and eager, juices dripping along the inside of her thigh. A lewd slick accompanied her moan as he stretched her on two fingers.

Her fingers scratched against the stone of the wall, “Oh gods… that’s… fuck!” He covered her mouth with his hand as he began thrusting his digits. A whole night of anticipation left her on a knife’s edge. It took only a dozen plunges between her perfect folds before her thighs were shaking and her cream coated his fingers.

One peak turned into a second, and then a third. She screamed around his hand as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, “Savor these climaxes, princess, because they’re the last you’ll have before you see me again.” The command only made her clench around him harder. It was after her fifth climax, as he was nearly holding her up that she finally found some renewed strength. Taking hold of his wrist, she pushed his hand away from her dripping cunt.

He let her push him away, removing his hand from her mouth. Her chest heaved as she glistened with sweat. She took his jaw in her hand, pulling him into a passionate kiss, “You’re welcome to ‘thank me’ like that any time you like.”

“I intend to.” He promised as he offered her his cream covered fingers. She took them between her bowed lips without hesitation, sucking them clean.

With a sigh, she released them before lamenting, “We should go. Ser Erryk will be expecting me…” She hesitated, looking down at the state of her dress and knowing that her hair looked no better, “not looking like this, though.”

“Easy enough to fix.” With a wave of his hand, her dress returned to its previously pristine condition, every misplaced hair fixed itself, and even the smell of their carnal activities disappeared.

She looked at herself wide-eyes before turning to him, “There’s no end to your surprises.”

As he removed her gift from his now soft appendage, he chuckled, “There’s an end to them, of course, but you won’t find it anytime soon.” Pulling up his trousers, he tied them before offering his arm to the princess, “Now, shall we?”

Taking his arm, she needed to lean on him more now than before, her legs still wobbly from her pleasure. As they approached her quarters, the Kingsguard bowed his head and greeted, “Princess. Your Grace.”

Harry nodded his head as Rhaenyra turned to him. Raising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his cheek, “Thank you for accompanying me, Harry. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

Ser Erryk opened the door for her before she slipped inside. As Harry left, he found himself clutching the gift in his pocket with smile on his lips.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed. Second chapter of 'The Mentor' coming up next.