Taming a Dragon- Part 9

AN: Casting-

Rhaenyra- Marie Wildes

The fire licked at the air as they gazed up at the countless lights dotting the night sky. Soft harp music filled the air, played by one of Rhaenyra’s courtiers.  

Sitting together on the ground, close enough that their shoulders touched, Rhaenyra’s finger traced the lines between the stars, “That is the King’s Crown.” Harry followed as she pointed further to the north, “And just there is a blue star, it’s the eye of the Ice Dragon. Should you ever find yourself lost, the blue eye points north while the very tip of his tail points south.”

There were men that followed him that knew the stars better than they knew their own families. Different people from different places had their own constellations and their own names for them, but every great sailor could use the stars to navigate.

Harry found himself looking at her face rather than the great expanse above them, “And are there any ice dragons, hidden away beneath the castle at Dragonstone?”

Rhaenyra chuckled at that, “No, at least none that I’ve ever found.” Her gaze drifted down to meet his, “If any of them ever existed, or even still do, I’d wager they’re somewhere in the frozen north.”

“Have you ever been tempted to get on Syrax and fly there yourself to find out?”

“The thought crossed my mind… once or twice.” She snickered to herself, “Then I remember the chill of winter even here in the south, and I think better of it. Though even if I did finally decide to make the attempt, I doubt I’d make it past the Wall.”

“Why?” He’d heard of the Wall, a towering construct of ice that stretched across the breadth of the North, separating the people from the free folk that lived beyond it.

“When my great-grandsire, Jaehaerys, took his tour of the Seven Kingdoms with his wife, Alysanne, they visited the Starks in Winterfell. The queen flew Silverwing to the Wall, but the she-dragon refused to cross it… I can’t imagine that Syrax would fare any better.”

“Curious.” He hummed to himself, “I’d like to see it for myself.” It sounded like a truly magnificent construct, and an impressive achievement of magic. Dragons aren’t so easily deterred by ice alone.

“Perhaps, one day, you and I will take a tour of our own.” Rhaenyra hid her smile behind a goblet as she took a drink of wine.

“I’ve seen very little of them, and I’d be pleased to change that.” He admitted, “Especially with such lovely company.”

They were distracted from their conversation by Rosie’s laughter. The young maid enjoyed the attention of one of the household guards that accompanied them. From the way they both swayed slightly on the spot, it was clear that they had their fair share of the wine. They weren’t the only ones as the rest of the retinue that accompanied them enjoyed their evening.  

Ser Erryk stood as the lone exception. The dutiful Kingsguard stood as a silent sentinel watching over the princess, though he had enough practice that he managed it without being intrusive.

A wind blew through their camp, the trees around them shaking softly. An owl hooted in a nearby tree at the small disturbance. Harry couldn’t help but notice that Ser Erryk looked toward the tree line uneasily.

“Perhaps we could start with your one-time home in the Riverlands.” Rhaenyra offered, “Where exactly is it that you hail from? Did your village even have a name?”

“It’s just a small hollow outside of Maidenpool.” Harry barely knew where Maidenpool was and certainly knew nothing of the smaller villages that surrounded it, “It’s been some time since I was last there, I doubt I could even find it. Hells, there’s every chance that it’s no longer there. Few lived there to begin with, after all.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him until she shook her head, “Someday, I might call you my husband, the father of my children… I hope if that day ever comes, you’ll be truly honest with me. You’re lucky that I think your lies aren’t meant as slights.” She wasn’t the sort to forget them, “Most people would believe you, I’m sure. My father might have his suspicions but your beginnings interest him far less than your present and your future. The nobles who court you from every corner of the realm and beyond see you as an opportunity, your origins are irrelevant to them.”

He couldn’t help but smile, “And yet, you’re different.” He didn’t try to deny her assertions. From the first time that she heard his story, she suspected it was a falsehood. With each astute question posed, more doubts were cast on the veracity of his story.

“You might sound like you’re from the Riverlands, but there are subtle differences. You claim to be orphaned at a young age, and yet you can read and write, and know your numbers as though you learned them from a maester.”

“Could I not have been a servant of one of the Riverlords and begged for lessons from the castle’s maester?” He offered with a wry smile.

Rhaenyra shook her head, “I think not. Though, I could be convinced if you told me the name of the lord you served. Even if it would remain incredibly unlikely.”

He knew Tully and Strong, but beyond that he couldn’t say, “What if I said it was Lord  Tully?”

“Grover Tully is almost perpetually ill in one fashion or another. The maester at Riverrun wouldn’t have the time to teach an orphan in between preparing his many tinctures and tonics when the man already has grandsons and great-grandsons that need their lessons.”

“I’m afraid I must concede then,” He bowed his head, “If only because I know too few of the Riverlords and you clearly have me at a disadvantage.”

“It takes a wise man to know when he’s bested.” Rhaenyra beamed, triumphant, “So, will you tell me the truth of it then?”

“No, princess,” she frowned and looked ready to protest, “some things should remain a mystery.”

“Will you ever tell me?” Her lips were tight, her irritation palpable.

“Yes, I think I will.” He hadn’t given it a great deal of thought, but in that moment, he could see himself telling her the truth of things. Whether or not she believes me is an entirely separate matter entirely. That seemed to satisfy her, for the time being, at least, “Why are you so curious though?”

To his mind, his story didn’t truly matter. Regardless of whether he was from the Riverlands, the Westerlands, or even Ulthos or Sothoryos, he was the King in the Stepstones.

“As far as I can tell, you’re one of one.” It was said with no small amount of admiration, “Your magic is unique that much is certain.  But every time you speak about it, I can’t help but think that you learned magic and not just through trial and error. Even when you first explained apparition and disapparition to me, it seemed like the sort of thing taught to you.”

“Very observant,” He complimented her.

“I’m my father’s heir. Being unobservant could very easily lead to my death.” It was a harsh reality, but reality all the same. She gave him a coy smile, “And as I’ve told you once before, you’re a mystery, one that I intend on solving.”

He breathed out a laugh, “I can’t help but wonder if you’ll find me nearly as interesting once the mystery is solved, princess.”

Her fingers brushed along the inside of his thigh, as she said low and tantalizing, “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that in the slightest, your Grace.”

As the night wore one, the music ended and the quiet lull of conversation between the rest of their retinue dwindled until only Ser Erryk and the guards that he assigned remained awake.

They had their fill of wine, but neither of them was inebriated, just pleasantly airy. Rhaenyra’s warm breath sent a shiver down his spine as she spoke low and husky against his ear, “Will you come to me tonight?” Leaning in just that little bit closer, the swell of her breasts pressed against his arm.

“It would be risky.” He cautioned, “Ser Erryk will be just outside your tent.”

“And yet, you have magic.” She pressed her lips to his jaw just below his ear, “I’ve thought of nothing but you since that night in your quarters… I promise to make it worth the risk, your Grace.”

It was difficult to deny such an utterly gorgeous woman trying to seduce him. With a roguish grin, he stood and offered her his hands, “Come, let me help you to your tent, princess.” Placing her smaller hand in his, she let him pull her up and ended up pressed against his chest. Whether from the wine or their closeness, there was a light blush on her cheeks that only deepened as he promised her, “And I’ll join you soon.”

Unable to fully contain her excitement, she beamed at him. Taking his arm, they walked across the small encampment with Ser Erryk as their shadow. Black and trimmed with blood red, Rhaenyra’s tent unsurprisingly stood taller and grander than all the rest in the very middle of the camp, even his own.

At the entrance, they turned to one another. Their parting was quick and simple, but sweet. Placing a kiss on her rosy cheek, he offered her an honest, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Her neck bobbed, and there was darkness in her eyes that was enthralling as she managed to rasp out, “Sweet dreams, your Grace.” He watched her walk away, every sway of her hips a delight, before closing the entrance behind her.

As she entered the tent, Ser Erryk joined him standing guard at the right-hand side of the entrance, “No trouble tonight, ser?”

“None but the sort of trouble that comes with a bit of revelry, your Grace.” Erryk confided in him, “A few of the guards will have sore heads in the morning, as will some of the ladies.”

“Aye, I wager you’re right. Goodnight, ser.”

Before Harry could leave for his own tent, Ser Erryk spoke up, “There was one thing, your Grace.” Turning back, he furrowed his brow in question, “It’s probably nothing, but I thought I saw something in the trees earlier in the night. If anything, it was likely just an animal of some kind.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He assured the Kingsguard before heading for his own tent. While not quite as extravagant as a wizard’s tent, the accommodation he stepped into was still nothing short of lavish, not entirely dissimilar to his quarters in the Red Keep.

Loosening his belt, Harry made himself more comfortable as he waited patiently. He intended to make good on his promise to Rhaenyra, but too soon it would be needlessly reckless.

Laying down on the bed, he listened to the muted noises of nature outside as time passed almost painfully slowly. A minute felt like sixty and no amount of occlumency could change that fact. Finally, after nearly half an hour ticked by, he could wait no longer.

A soft pop marked his disappearance before he reappeared just a short distance away. All but one light in Rhaenyra’s tent was snuffed out. The only one that remained sat on a small table beside her bed. It was good fortune that he had the sense to ensure they wouldn’t be heard before he saw her there on the bed, otherwise the thought would’ve been stricken from his mind by the sight of her.

Laying back on the pillows, Rhaenyra wore something far more enticing than a simple white shift this time. Her buxom chest was encased in a red bustier and he could just see the impression of her pointed nipples through the thin lace of the cups. Her knickers were equally scandalous. The same deep red, they just covered the plump lips of her sex and hid her tight treasure from his hungry eyes.

Schlick. Her hand slipped beneath satin, and he heard her wetness as she filled herself with one slender digit. Biting on one perfectly manicured nail on her other hand, Rhaenyra smiled at him, “Apologies, your Grace, I found myself too eager to wait for your arrival.” Even as the words left her lips, she prodded at her sex.

Walking to the bed, her captivating amethyst eyes followed him the entire way until he stood beside her head, “How greedy.” He reached for her wrist and pulled her hand from beneath her knickers. Two fingers glistened with her juices as he brought them to his mouth.

Taking them between his lips, he savored the sweet, heady taste of her. Rhaenyra whimpered low in her throat as she watched him, enthralled. Her eyes were dark with a primal lust, “Harry… I want to return the favor you gave me the other night.”

Chuckling to himself, he didn’t consider that a favor, not in the slightest. That was my pleasure, just as the sweet denial I put her through before I finally gave her release. But it wasn’t the time for such meaningless technicalities. Guiding her hand lower, he placed it over the prominent bulge on the front of his trousers, “Take me out, princess.”

Her fingers moved to the laces of his trousers, so eager that they trembled slightly in her haste. She hooked her thumbs at his waist and pulled down his trousers and small clothes all in one. Little by little, she revealed his length, her eyes widening slightly at each new inch revealed. As she finally pulled down them past his crown, his cock sprang up.

Rhaenyra stared, mesmerized by his manhood. Her tongue peaked out and licked her lip as she gripped him in one soft, delicate hand. Her fingers just barely touched around his girth as she gave him a tentative stroke. Her exploratory movements coaxed a bead of precum from his shaft that she gathered on her thumb.

With a sinful smile, she brought that thumb to her pouty lips and sucked it clean. Moaning as it touched her tongue, she said, “Now we’ve both tasted each other… your Grace.”

Placing one knee on the bed, his shaft loomed over her face, covering her eyes. His balls pressed against her cheek as she giggled. Taking hold of him, she craned her neck the short distance and started kissing along the underside of his shaft. Her dexterous little tongue traced the lines of every throbbing blue vein along the way until she reached the crown.

It didn’t seem intentional on her part as just the tip of her tongue grazed that toe-curling spot where his crown met his shaft. But as she heard the throaty moan that escaped his lips, it certainly became intentional. She sucked on that one spot as her tongue danced against it. Precum leaked from his slit to land on her cheek, and it only spurred her on.

Deciding it would only be fair to give as well as he received, Harry dragged one finger from her navel down to the top of her knickers. She shivered as he slipped down that little bit further and found her wetness. Her pussy squelched as he slipped one long finger into her tightness.

Moaning against his shaft, Rhaenyra rotated her hips trying to push him deeper, at her pace, but he didn’t allow that to happen. He kept slowly pressing his finger in until her lips hugged him at his first knuckle.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched and her attention wavered. Flexing his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion, she whimpered and then protested as he started to pull back, “Do you want more?” He asked. She nodded her head frantically, “Then don’t abandon the task at hand, princess.” Pushing his shaft against her lips again, she immediately returned to dutifully working his length.

Shifting to her right, just enough so she was at the end of his cock rather than underneath it, she kissed his swollen dome, pressing her tongue into his slit to get every last bit of precum he had to offer. Responding in kind, he pushed back into her dripping hole. This time, she didn’t let it distract her, though her eyes did flutter shut.

Tentatively, she pushed her lips down his length. Little by little, the first few inches disappeared. Gluck… Nearly halfway, she gagged, eyes opening in panic before she pulled back until only the tip remained in her mouth.

Placing his hand on her head, he gently massaged her temple with his thumb as he reassured her, “Don’t hurt yourself. I swear to you, I’m enjoying it all the same.” At that same time, his other thumb found her supersensitive nub, and her thighs quaked. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as electric pleasure shot through her body. He appreciated her awareness in that moment. It’s a strange man that enjoys being bitten somewhere that sensitive.

The waves of her orgasm ebbed until she managed to open her eyes again. In those purple depths he saw white, hot fire… a determination and lust that made his balls tingle in anticipation.

All her wariness, whether from inexperience or his size disappeared. Her methodical exploration gave way to a fervent desire to take as much of him as she could manage and be damned the consequences.

Gluck… Gluck… Glukcgh… He could feel her throat flex every time she forced him to the back of her eager little mouth. Thick spittle covered his shaft as she gagged. With a gasp, she pulled off with a strand connecting his crown to her lips , only to latch right back on as though his cock were the wellspring of joy.

She gripped his length just below the seal of her lips as she started bobbing on him again. Every inch of his cock was treated to her wonderful affections. One finger was joined by another in her grippy quim as he tried to drive her to another climax to match his own.

Despite being the Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-Who-Lied, the Chosen One in his old world, and his kingship in his new one, Harry lacked experience. A few blissful weeks with Ginny in his sixth year where they did little more than touch and tease each other was the sum of his experience in this domain despite the confidence he exuded.

His muscles tightened as his bollocks pulled tight to his body. He tried to warn her, if only at the last moment, “Rhaenyra, I’m…”

But she didn’t need a warning, or at least she didn’t think she did. Backing away until just his crown remained in her mouth, she took his first spurt of seed with a widening of her eyes. The next came just as quickly and then the next. It seeped at the corner of her mouth, and then another sent it overflowing. She gagged before she had the chance to swallow. Thick and white, it spilled onto her chin as another rope cover painted a line from her nose to her forehead. Her legs quivered around his hand as she came again.

Even as she quaked with her own peak, like the dutiful princess that she truly was, she scraped a finger along her chin and pushed his seed back into her mouth where it belonged. With a cheeky smile, she giggle out, “I stand corrected, your Grace… now, we’ve tasted each other.” Her eyes drifted down to his still hard cock, “And I believe that I would like another.”

This woman is beyond compare… As her full, pouty lips parted and started the long journey down his length once more Ther was a grunt that caught his attention, as it came from neither of them.

Then came a shout that sent his blood racing in an entirely different way, “Men! Men to me!”

He saw the panic in Rhaenyra’s eyes as lust was replaced with fear, “Harry…”

But he simply comforted her, “Stay here, Rhae. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Takin the few scant seconds necessary to tuck himself back into his trousers, he apparated back to his tent before leaving with his wand drawn.

The sight he emerged to was the beginning of chaos. A score of men pressed in from the tree line surrounding their camp. Ser Erryk slashed his sword through the air and blood stained his steel as he opened the throat of one would-be bandit. Two more assailants attacked, not even slightly deterred by the death of their fellow.

Screams echoed through the clearing as men killed guards and tried to drag the women from their tent.

Harry felt a white rage flare within his chest. There wasn’t even a pop of apparition as he blinked across the short distance between him and Ser Erryk. The two men, failing quite miserably in their defense against the Kingsguard, died screaming in agony as their skin atrophied on the spot. With every ounce of authority he garnered since he arrived in this new land, Harry commanded the man, “Protect the princess, I’ll deal with the others.”

Ser Erryk’s eyes flitted down to the men, still and lifeless, that he fought just seconds before and nodded his head. With that simple agreement reached, Harry went to work.

One vagabond died as his chest cracked open in an explosion of gore. What felt like a lifetime ago, he would’ve been appalled by his own violence, but years of war and the bleak reality of what it really meant had changed his perspective. He was long removed from the idealistic boy who thought that simply disarming his enemy solved the problem. The truth was far more brutal. If they could stand back up, with weapon in hand and vengeance in their hearts, they could kill him and every man that loyally sought to serve him.

The next fell to a Bone Breaker. It didn’t just destroy his sternum but every one of his ribs. Like shrapnel they pierced his lungs. He died choking on his own blood.

Flashes lit up the darkness of the forest as the vagabonds fell like dominoes, some screaming in agony while others died quietly.

“Seven Hells! He’s a demon!” One man screamed in utter terror as he watched the slaughter around him.

“Stand your ground! Stand your fucking ground!” The man that chastised him had dark hair, and dark eyes. An ugly scar ran across his face from his left eye down to his jaw. His right arm was burned from the shoulder down to his elbow.

The craven assailant looked scared for his life, as though either advancing or retreating would mean death. He feared the scarred man nearly as much as the idea of fighting a Kingsguard and wizard. It gave Harry a target.

In the blink of an eye he was behind him and a red spell hit the scarred man square in the back of the head. He dropped to the ground unconscious. Need at least one alive to sing a song, best if it’s the one who brought them here.  

One bandit tried to drag Rhaenyra’s maid, Rosie, toward the tree line. Her screams pierced the night, as she scratched and clawed for her freedom. Though her scream was nothing in comparison to her assailant’s own as a purple spell collided with his stomach. Crumpling to the ground, he writhed as his entrails liquified.

With their leader incapacitated and their comrades dead, the three remaining attackers tried to run. They found no reprieve though. An arrow pierced one through the spine while another saw only a white flash before great slices opened on his body.

The last fell to his knees, dropping the bloodless dagger he held to the ground, “Please… mercy… I beg, mercy! I wanted no part in this, I swear!”

“You’ve just aided in the attack of Princess Rhaenyra, you fool, do you think it matters whether you wanted to or not?” Ser Erryk didn’t wait for an answer as he smacked the hilt of his sword against the man’s temple. He thudded heavily to the ground.

As the clangor of battle ended, he could hear the quiet sobs of some of the women as they comforted each other. Rhaenyra stood among them, no tears to be found on her face but simmering fury in her eyes.

“Gather the dead,” Harry instructed, “Keep ours separate from theirs.” The Kingsguard didn’t hesitate to fall to his orders and set the other men to the task.

Ropes appeared from his wand and bound the two that still lived, “These two will return with us to King’s Landing on the morrow.”

Two of the household guards lay dead, a small casualty given they were taken unaware. They were laid on a cart and wrapped by the women. They’d be returned to their families when they reached the city.

The men who killed them were tossed in a pile at the edge of the camp. They weren’t given the honor of a burial. Scalding fire turned them to ash as quickly as dragon fire. The only thing to mark their deaths was the ashes on the ground where Harry burned them.

There were some that found sleep as the adrenaline left them exhausted. For Harry, there would be none.

Along with Ser Erryk, he watched and waited until the sun peaked over the horizon. All the while, Rhaenyra was beside him.