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Taming a Dragon- Part 8
🕑 Added 2025-02-17 17:00:03 +0000 UTCAN: Hey everyone, happy Monday! As always hope you enjoy!
Casting-
Rhaenyra- Marie Wildes
“All the preparations have been made?” Harry asked as he sat behind his desk. The woman standing in front of him was called, Renna. No more than thirty years old, she was a rather short woman with a presence that far exceeded her stature. She held her weight well despite having two children of her own. Her dark brown hair was braided in a simple knot that hung down to the small of her back. Flour stained the front of her red frock, a testament to her early hours spent in the kitchens.
Before coming to Bloodstone, she served in the halls of Highgarden. The unwanted attention of one of the younger sons of Lord Lyonel Tyrell drove her from her one-time home to a growing city in the Stepstones.
Harry couldn’t help but think that their loss was undoubtedly his gain. The woman maintained his household more efficiently than he could’ve hoped. Small as it is at the moment. Most of the men were frightened to the bone of angering her, and with good reason. The one time he’d ever heard her tear into anyone, it distinctly reminded him of being scolded by Professor McGonagall for the first time.
Bowing her head, she replied, “Yes, your Grace.” Of all his subjects, loathe as he was to call them that, she had the most difficulty ignoring formality. A byproduct of her years spent in the Reach, “The rooms have been cleaned and furnished, and the kitchens are stocked to feast your guests when they arrive.”
“Excellent, I expect Bloodstone will prove less extravagant than they’re used to, but we’ll treat them well all the same.” Their burgeoning city was expecting their first noble visitor since Daemon Targaryen some weeks earlier. Qoren Martell’s insistence finally wore him down, and he offered a chance at negotiations on Bloodstone at his earliest convenience. Wasn’t expecting him to take to ship the very next day though.
“They’ll like it well enough, your Grace.” Renna assured him, “It’s hard to complain about the comforts of a place when there’s magic about.”
“I only hope that Prince Qoren is of a similar mind.” Though if he took offense, Harry knew there was very little he could do to change it. He’s more likely to take offense to my recent visit to King’s Landing than the comfort of my home.
Despite coming from the Reach, where the relationship with the Dornish was the most confrontational, Renna didn’t seem bothered by their impending guest. If anything, she seemed almost complimentary, “The people of Dorne are more accustomed to hard living than any of the other kingdoms in Westeros except the North. Now if it were those Rogares from Lys, you might have something to worry about.”
Harry smiled, “I’ll keep that in mind, Renna, thank you. Other than Qoren, Lysandro Rogare has insisted on a meeting to discuss his offer more than anyone. I’ll have to keep him at bay lest I offend him with the poor comforts we have to offer.”
Her laugh was warm and full-bodied, “That would probably be for the best. Can never be too careful with bankers.” It never failed to impress him just how much Renna seemed to know about the wider world.
Considering there were plenty of goblins at Gringotts that happily went along with Voldemort’s new regime, as long as it didn’t affect their coin, that wasn’t something he needed to be told. Still, he appreciated the advice, “I’ll keep that in mind. I think that’s all. Thank you, Renna.”
“There was one more thing,” She pulled out a letter, “This arrived for you yesterday.” In all honesty, he was surprised there was only one.
“Of course it did. Give it here then. Let’s see who’s trying to entice me today.” Renna followed his instruction before leaving him. As he looked at the letter, the sigil pressed into the wax was one that he was distinctly familiar with. The wax was sea green and had a seahorse in it. He was used to seeing it in striking silver on the masts of Corlys Velaryon’s ships amidst battle and dragon fire.
Opening the letter, he read through it and snorted to himself. Rather late to the party at this point, isn’t he? Harry couldn’t say that he ever met the man, but he knew Corlys’ reputation from the men that fought for him. A man of ambition that sailed to every port in the known world and had the treasures to show for it, it was a widely known thing that he sought to elevate his family name in every way possible.
When Viserys’ first wife, Aemma, died, he put forth his daughter, Laena, as his next queen when she was still a child. Harry expected a man of such unrelenting ambition to be among the first to see the opportunities that his magic presented. But a man like that has more pride in his little pinky than most do in their entire body.
But here he was, months later, swallowing his pride with an open offer to visit Driftmark and discuss the prospects of a union with Laena. Setting it aside, he knew that he’d have to give an answer. And just like all the other houses in Westeros, save two so far, it would be a polite, yet resounding, refusal. There was no sense in binding himself to people who weren’t even their own masters. Though he has far more to offer than most. His family, through Rhaenys, were dragonriders. But still, Corlys, just like the Tyrells, Manderlys, Arryns, and all the rest in the Seven Kingdoms, were sworn to House Targaryen.
Setting it in the fire pile, he could see the sun just peaking up over the horizon outside his window. Knowing that Rhaenyra would come seeking him out sooner rather than later, he turned on the spot and popped back into his quarters in the Red Keep.
Opening his trunk, he pulled out a fresh set of clothes, something that would be comfortable for riding, and a pair of leather boots. Once dressed, he left his room and made his way down the corridor. While he was far from an expert on the intricacies of the Red Keep, he knew the layout well enough now to navigate in and out.
As it happened, he didn’t need to do it alone. As he turned the next corner, he bumped, quite literally, into Rhaenyra. She was wearing a riding outfit not entirely dissimilar to the one she’d worn the day she took him on Syrax. Her hands rested on his chest to brace herself, as he held her arms to keep her from falling.
It took her just a moment to realize it was him before she laughed, “Apologies, your Grace, I was just coming to retrieve you. I didn’t expect to run into you along the way.”
“No harm done, princess.” he assured before teasing, “You’re that eager to get going? The sun has only just risen.”
“Yes,” She confirmed, unabashed, as she looked him over, “Though from what you’re wearing, I don’t think I’m the only one.”
“I simply wanted to be prepared.” The look she gave him made it obvious that she wasn’t convinced, “You were rather insistent yesterday.”
“True… but not the whole truth.” Rhaenyra pouted and it was incredibly tempting to lean in and capture those full lips.
He managed to restrain himself, for now at least, and assuaged her, “Rhaenyra, you don’t have to doubt whether I’m looking forward to spending time with you. At this point, it goes without saying.”
She beamed at him, “There, that’s the whole truth of it.” She took his hand in her own smaller one and started guiding him down the corridor, “Now come, everything is prepared.”
Harry didn’t know what ‘everything’ entailed but trusted her to have things well in hand. They made their way through the Red Keep, but had one unexpected interruption. As they turned to make their way to the entrance, they ended up face to face with Queen Alicent. Clad in green, just as she’d been every time since his arrival, only Ser Steffon Darklyn accompanied her.
Stopping at their approach, Rhaenyra seemed willing to ignore her, but the queen didn’t hold her tongue, “Good morning, Rhaenyra… Harry.”
“Your Grace,” The honorific sounded almost like an insult compared to when he heard it directed at him by Rhaenyra, “good morning. I didn’t’ expect to see you up so early.”
“I took an early morning visit to the Great Sept,” Alicent explained, her eyes drifting to him instead of her good daughter, “Tell me, your Grace, do you worship the Seven?”
Harry commanded men who followed the Seven and killed more than one man as he prayed to the Mother for comfort or the Warrior for strength in the heat of battle. They were welcome to their beliefs, and for all Harry knew of this world they might very well be the gods that watched over it, but he didn’t pray to them, “I don’t, Alicent.”
The queen scowled at his blithe dismissal of something she held so dearly. House Hightower served as the staunchest defender of the faith since the Andals came across the Narrow Sea and made war with the First Men. The Starry Sept in Oldtown served as the seat of the High Septon for more than a thousand years and was the unquestioned center of the faith. It went a long way to explaining Alicent’s religious fervency, “The Light of the Seven can shine in even the most wayward heart given enough time and patience. I hope it finds you in time, your Grace.”
“Anything is possible.” Harry replied diplomatically. I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon, but odder things have happened I suppose… like my arrival here for instance.
Unwilling to stomach her good mother’s company any longer than perfectly necessary, Rhaenyra explained, “Lovely as it was to see you this morning, we’re otherwise engaged and really must be going.”
“Yes, your father told me of your trip to the Kingswood.” Alicent gave a faint smile, “I hope you’ll have a safe and enjoyable journey. It really is lovely in summer.” With that she left them behind.
Frowning at the back of Alicent’s head as she departed, Rhaenyra shook herself and started on her way again with Harry just behind. They made their way out into the courtyard where far more people were waiting for them than he was anticipating. It wasn’t as grand as a royal hunt’s retinue, but there were some twenty people waiting for them: ten guards, including Ser Erryk, a half dozen servants, and two of Rhaenyra’s ladies in waiting.
Noticing his surprise, Rhaenyra revealed, “Had it been entirely up to me, it would’ve just been the two of us today. But my father was rather insistent that, at the very least, a small guard accompanied us. There are villages in the Kingswood, and they’ve been known to harbor bandits in the past.”
“Perhaps if you told him you were bringing Syrax, he would’ve relented.” Harry joked. Though there was a part of him that doubted this retinue was meant only to protect Rhaenyra’s person.
“If we were going anywhere but the Kingswood, I would’ve made that very suggestion.” She offered him a smile, “As you can imagine, dragons and the forest are far from an ideal match.”
“It’s a great deal of kindling.”
“Exactly,” They walked down the steps toward the waiting retinue. Two stable hands approached, one guiding her pure white mare, the other the same chestnut brown horse he’d ridden to the Dragon Pit. There was a gilded carriage that her ladies in waiting hurried themselves into, but Rhaenyra had no intention of joining them.
Ser Erryk mounted up on the princess’s other side and nodded politely at Harry, “Your Grace.”
“Good morning, Ser Erryk,” the man always seemed rather surprised at just how easily he could tell the twins apart, “I’m surprised to see you… I would’ve expected Ser Criston.” He said it to the Kingsguard, but it was a comment meant for Rhaenyra. The knight’s eyes flitted nervously over to her, unsure if it was his place to explain.
She made the decision for him, “I requested the change from the Lord Commander. Ser Criston’s behavior since your arrival has been… unbecoming. I refuse to tolerate it any longer.”
Harry imagined that infuriated the knight. He doesn’t seem to lack pride, and this will certainly be a hit on it. Though, I don’t think he could like me any less than he already does.
It was the last thing to be said on the matter for the moment as the gates opened and the retinue started their journey through the city. Even in the early morning, King’s Landing was alive with people. Smoke from the blacksmith’s forges could be seen billowing up from the Street of Steel and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted up from the Street of Flour.
The smallfolk they passed hastily moved out of the way, some bowing their heads while others couldn’t take their eyes off them. When he first entered the wizarding world, he grew begrudgingly accustomed to the awestruck stares of strangers. The deference offered to him now, often tempered by skepticism and disbelief as the stories about him spread, was entirely different.
They made their way along the Hook, a narrow, steep, curved street that led from Aegon’s Hill to the Muddy Road. They entered Fishmonger’s Square from the northwest. Fishermen were hauling large baskets, filled to the brim with their wares up from the harbor as they passed.
From there they left the city through the River Gate, crossing over the Blackwater Rush. In the distance, the first wall of trees that hid the vastness of the Kingswood beyond could be seen.
“How goes your work on Bloodstone?” Rhaenyra asked him as they made their way along the Kingsroad to the wood.
“Improvements are being made every day. The harbor can now comfortably dock every ship at my command as well as merchant vessels. Fortifications take longer, but the stonemasons assure me that progress has been good.” It would be faster were he there to aid them, but the responsibilities of a king took precedence, “There’s still much that needs to be done, but the people there are thriving.”
“I hope to see it for myself someday soon,” Rhaenyra confessed, “Perhaps I’ll visit with Syrax once you’ve returned.”
Mirroring his earlier thoughts with regards to Qoren, he told her, “You’ll find it lacking in the extravagance of the Red Keep, but we’d be happy to host you.”
She caught his eye, and held it, “Only once the Martells have departed, I assume.” There was a hint of irritation in her voice, but she did a good job of hiding it.
“Stories spread quickly in the kingdoms that much is certain,” he didn’t know how she came by the information, and didn’t particularly care. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t a secret, “But yes, it would probably be for the best if you delay your visit until after Qoren has returned to Dorne.”
Arching one of her silver eyebrows, she advised him, “So long as you aren’t promised to a new bride, I will.”
Harry gave her a half smile, “If his only interest in coming to Bloodstone is the discussion of marriages, he’ll find himself sorely disappointed. We’ve just finished fighting a war. Now we must build a new kingdom amongst craggy islands. My only interest is in ensuring no enmity between the Stepstones and our nearest neighbors.” Given he’d yet to formalize his relationship with the Seven Kingdoms, he was divulging more than he probably should.
But Rhaenyra had a keen mind, and far more experience in the realm of politics than he did, so he valued her input, even if she had a bias, “And his condition for such an assurance could very well be uniting your families through his sister. The only question is what an amicable relationship with Dorne is worth to you.
“Maybe you’re right about Qoren,” The shade of the tall trees of the Kingswood covered the sun as they reached the forest, “I’ve yet to meet the man though. Should he be dead set on marriage being the only way to an amicable relationship between us he’ll leave Bloodstone disappointed.” She didn’t hide her satisfaction at that answer well at all, “That leaves the Free Cities to deal with.”
“Deflecting those offers is simple enough. None of their rulers, whether Sea Lords, Magistrates, or Triarchs, hold their positions for life, nor do they pass them down. There’s no guarantee that their successors would honor any agreements you come to and may even have a vested interest in opposing you. So, why bind yourself to a woman with so little return?”
“I have letters from half a dozen of the Free Cities gathering dust back in my study at Bloodstone. Perhaps, I should have you write the replies. You’ve given my refusal as much thought as I have, and I’d wager you’ll put it far more eloquently than I could manage. I’m also certain your handwriting is far better than mine.”
“Given your humble beginnings,” He knew she was still skeptical about the veracity of his story, and she was quick to needle at him when the opportunity presented itself, “it’s rather impressive that you can write at all. But I’ll take your word regarding the quality of your penmanship, and should you wish, happily help you. Though I’m surprised that the Citadel hasn’t attempted to send you a maester to aid with such matters.”
Harry shrugged, “Taking the Stepstones is one thing, holding them is another. In time, once they see I won’t be displaced, they might.” Though, he doubted that he’d allow one of them to stay even if one was sent. He had no need for someone whose first loyalty was to their order and then to the castle they served.
They traveled through the forest, speaking about little things as they made their way toward the Royal Hunting Grounds. They passed one small village just off the road along the way. Harry counted only five homes in total.
He couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the Kingswood. Each tree stood like an ancient sentinel in the primeval forest. Light occasionally peaked through the deep green of the canopy and bathed the forest floor in dazzling light. The Forbidden Forest was likely just as old, but the Kingswood lacked the darkness. And the acromantulas.
As they neared the grounds, Harry asked a question that had been on his mind for some time, “It’s clear that you and your good mother dislike one another. Is there a reason for it?”
Rhaenyra didn’t immediately respond, instead taking a deep breath before telling him, “There was a time when Alicent and I got along perfectly fine. She’s been in the capital since her father served King Jaehaerys as Hand. We were friendly if not the closest of friends. I was surprised when a woman only eight years my elder became my father’s new wife, but I know that is the way of things. And even then, we got along well enough.”
“So, what changed?”
“Alicent gave birth to Aegon.” She replied as though it were obvious, “Within months there were whispers of a change in the line of succession, that my father would name Aegon as his heir. Ser Otto whispered in his ear at every opportunity to try and sway him, slandering me with falsehoods. It was the very thing that led to his dismissal as Hand. But Alicent still hopes to see her blood on the throne. She even suggested that I wed Aegon.” Her distaste toward the idea was palpable, “My father put an end to that discussion as well thankfully.”
Harry heard some tales of the dragonlords and how they wed brother to sister in order to keep their bloodlines pure. It rang of the same sort of fanaticism that plagued the pureblood magicals of his own world. Should he marry Rhaenyra, it wasn’t a practice he intended to maintain. But that’s a bridge to be crossed years from now.
“And then came the tourney for their fifth anniversary?” He’d heard just enough to understand the distinction between the ‘blacks’ and the ‘greens’ and the event where it occurred.
“I wore black, she wore green. It’s the color lit atop the Hightower when their house goes to war. Then Ser Criston bested every challenger including Alicent’s brother, Ser Gwayne, in the tourney while wearing my favor. And ever since there’s been talk of our rivalry at court.” She didn’t sound pleased by any of it. In fact, she sounded tired of it.
“Have you considered retiring to Dragonstone? If only to avoid the animosity between you?”
“Regularly, but current circumstances,” she gave him a pointed look, “have required me in the Red Keep for the time being.”
“My apologies, princess. I’ll only require your attention for a little longer.” He gave her a cheeky grin.
“I think not, your Grace.” She replied with a soft smile.
They arrived at the grounds before midday. The place where they made camp was a rather sizable clearing that looked as though it’d been used for that very purpose many times in the past.
Hopping down from his horse, it took him a moment to walk properly but he recovered quickly. Between horse riding and dragon riding, Rhaenyra had a great deal more experience than he did, and she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest as she hopped down.
The servants, with the assistance of some of the guards, began setting up camp. Rhaenyra’s ladies in waiting emerged from their carriage and made their way toward the princess but she waved them away.
“Ser Erryk,” The Kingsguard hovered nearby, “I’m taking the king for a stroll through the forest. We’ll be back for lunch. I expect it to be waiting for us on our return.”
“My lady…” He started to protest.
“You’ll do exactly as I say, Ser Erryk.” She spoke quietly so that no one else heard the rebuke, “I know why my father thought it necessary that I have you and this retinue, but I wished to show the king the beauty of the Kingswood in private. I trust him to keep me safe and I think you do as well.”
Ser Erryk looked between them, unsure how to proceed. When he finally relented, he bowed his head, “Yes, princess.”
“Thank you, ser.” Rhaenyra turned toward Harry, “Would you accompany me, your Grace?”
Sharing a look with the beleaguered knight, he agreed, “Of course, princess.”
They walked side by side toward the edge of the clearing, leaving the rest of the retinue behind. They weaved their way through strong oaks, and massive mahoganies. Birds sung and chirped from within their boughs as they passed. A bushy tailed squirl darted out in front of them and scurried up a tree, squeaking all the way. No words passed between them as they enjoyed the peaceful moment in each other’s company.
But Rhaenyra seemed to have a destination in mind, as they moved further south one step at a time. They emerged from the line of trees out onto a high hill. At the bottom of it, a small arm of the Wendwater cut through the trees. You could just hear the babbling of running water echoing from below. As Rhaenyra sat down, she patted the ground beside her.
They stared out over the sea of green, enthralled by the sight of it. Harry almost didn’t hear Rhaenyra as she spoke softly, “The last time my father organized a royal hunt was some years ago now, before you arrived in the Stepstones I believe, when my uncle still fought the Crabfeeder for control of the islands.”
Leaning closer to him, she placed her head on his shoulder. His hand found her hip as she continued, “We quarreled, over my marriage prospects. I was inundated with the attentions of Lord Jason Lannister, and I had no interest in returning them.” She breathed out a laugh at her own expense, “I took a horse and left the camp alone.”
“Sounds like you had a bit of a tantrum.” Harry chuckled as she gently smacked him on the chest, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only person to do it. I had my fair share of… impetuous moments in my life.” His fifth year sprung to mind instantly.
“Ser Criston followed me, and a good thing too because otherwise I likely would’ve died with the tusk of a wild boar dug into my belly.” Harry couldn’t help but wonder if that was the moment that the knight first fell in love with the princess. From first meeting the man, his affections were obvious. It was the only sensible explanation for Criston’s open hostility toward him.
“We ended up here,” she pointed to the west where the hill crested and then fell off on the other side, “and just there is where I saw it, the white hart. A legendary beast… the rumors of its sighting were the very reason for the hunt. It’s a symbol of wisdom and glory, and some even say prophecy, but none of that spoke of its beauty, its magnificence”
Harry suffered enough thanks to prophecy, but this seemed innocuous compared to the one that led Tom to his parents, “A good omen, then?”
“I like to think so, yes.” Rhaenyra smiled fondly at the memory, “The stag you conjured at your welcoming feast reminded me of it, like its twin. I’d like to think that is a good omen as well.”
They sat there, reveling in the quiet, intimate moment together for some time. Though, it seemed that Rhaenyra wasn’t satisfied with just their Her hand found his thigh, her pinky awfully close to grazing against his covered manhood.
Pressing his lips to her ear, he rumbled out, “What are you doing, princess?”
Her hand drifted just that little bit higher as she pressed against him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Grace.” His grasp on her hip grew tighter as she danced her dainty fingers along his growing length.
“Liar,” he chuckled out as she paid extra attention to the ridge of his tip. The taut material of his trousers left nothing to the imagination as his now hard length ran down his thigh.
The unbridled desire he saw reflected in her eyes sent a jolt right to his bollocks, “Perhaps, I wish to return the favor for all that you did to me the other night.” Her warm breath against his neck sent a shiver through his body, “Just the memory of it has kept my fingers busy when I’m alone in my bed at night…but they’re a poor substitute for yours. Even still, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve peaked thinking of you… your face between my legs… your fingers deep within me… my juices on your lips.”
With every sordid word she stroked his cock. A small wet spot formed on his trousers as she coaxed a bead of precum from him. Harry moaned, unable to hold back in the face of her insistent little hand, “I should like to do it again…”
Rhaenyra giggled as she gathered the small bit of precum on her thumb, “You will… but not yet.” And then, as quickly as it started, she pulled away. Bringing her thumb to her mouth, she sucked it into her mouth lewdly, all the while looking him in the eye, “I’ve grown famished after our trek. I think it’s time that we make our way back to camp.”
“Rhaenyra…” her name came out in a growl.
She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, “Content yourself, your Grace. I have no intention of tormenting you the way you did me.” He wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face, but she stood before he had the chance, “But I think you can suffer a small taste of it.” As she straightened fully, she gestured toward the way they came, “Shall we?”
Trying to control his own heartbeat, he stood without concern for his current state. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but let her eyes drift down to his length as it strained for release. As she bit her bottom lip, he took a step closer. Her deep, purple eyes found his and he could see that her resolve was hanging on a knife’s edge, “Just be ready to reap the rewards of your teasing when the time comes, princess.”
She swallowed thickly, but nodded her head, “Yes, your Grace.”
With that final promise hanging between them, Harry rested his hand on the small of her back and they started back to the camp.
AN: Little bit of teaser there at the end that's going to see the big payoff in the next chapter.
Looking ahead to the rest of the week. Next up is another chapter of 'TBOSV', then the next part of 'Colliding Destinies', and if all goes according to plan a new part of 'Unintended Consequences' for the first time in a long time.
Comments
Erinnyes
Lovely chapter, and looking forward to the other stories as well!
