Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Malcolm Tent, Beans
The Unbound
Chapter 28: Night of the Crone
– King Orys Baratheon –
With Margaery by my side, we release the lantern into the night sky together. It's alone, at first. A single bright light in the pitch black of the night but before long it is joined by a second and then more and more as the guests release their lanterns.
They're interesting, apparently the design from all the way from Yi Ti, but they've been repurposed for this celebration of the Crone and her guiding light.
Despite how packed the other days have been, this night is far more relaxed from my perspective, having little to do now that I have officially begun the celebration of the Crone, allowing me to take my seat beside Margaery with a satisfied smile. After all the work that I've had to do lately, having a night to just relax and make merry is by no means a bad thing.
The shows for tonight are all based around lights of all kinds, leaving most of the gathering in darkness to better enhance the lights of the show. The Tyrells really spared no expense on the performance of the Qartheen 'Illusionists', and I watch with an interested smile. It's not really magic, but instead closer to alchemy, as they use substances to create beautiful lights.
Even amongst the Highborn of Westeros, I suspect many are seeing such things for the first time as I watch something be shot into the air, only to explode into a dazzling display of colour. Another creation of Yi Ti, and the King in me can only wonder about the military applications of this technology. Fireworks, huh?
Apparently, House Tyrell approached the Alchemists' Guild of King's Landing to ensure that this was indeed safe. The Pyromancers confirmed that it would do what the performers claimed it would, and played a part in ensuring that the show remains dazzling rather than dangerous.
From our raised box, we have the best view, but it also has another benefit. For once, very few people actually approach the Royal Box, and we can actually enjoy the night without playing host for every Highborn lord who wants his name in the King's ear. Between the darkness, the more… exclusive guest list for this section and our location, it's made for a peaceful night with very few interruptions.
I suppose that's why…
"Minx," I mutter under my breath in a hiss as Margaery's hand continues to slowly stroke my shaft. With the way the box is set up, nobody can see our lower bodies without being inside the box itself, and the only entrance is guarded by two Kingsguards. Margaery giggles at my word, squeezing slightly as she gives me a handjob in a rather public place. Sure, the celebration has fewer guests this night, but some of the most important highborn lords and ladies of the realm are here, unaware that their King is being jerked off nearby.
"I don't see you trying to stop me," Margaery replies with a soft laugh, speeding up her movements. I don't refute her point, going still as someone approaches the front of the box between performances. Margaery gives the Riverlands lord a smile as I greet them, never stopping her movements. From their position, they can't see anything due to the elevation differences and the divider, but holding a conversation with the man isn't easy with a soft hand wrapped around my cock.
As he praises my swift and decisive actions against the Ironborn, finally ending the plague that they have been on the western seas of our realm, Margaery giggles to herself.
"It truly is good to see a King take such a firm hand with the realm," Margaery agrees sweetly, placing a kiss on my cheek. Meanwhile, her firm hand squeezes my cock as she speeds up.
I'm going to show her just how firm my hand can be later.
Even as I try not to react to her games, well aware that she's had some wine tonight, I don't miss what this Lord is actually probing for. Lysa Arryn's actions have had far-reaching consequences, and it wouldn't be overly surprising if this resulted in war between the Vale and the Riverlands or if House Tully was punished for her actions against the Vale. It's equally unsurprising, then, that a Lord of the Riverlands whose territory is on the border with the Vale is eager to find out how worried he needs to be.
Sure, I've spoken to the Vale highborn, but word spreads slowly, and I doubt they've even had the chance to spread word to the other Vale highborn in King's Landing yet. It's no surprise that the Riverlands lords are still in the dark.
As annoying as the interruption is, it can at least be used to start spreading information to the Riverlands lords about both my plans and Lysa's crimes. Regardless of anything else, she's executed Vale highborn for 'treason' after her escape from confinement, and making sure that people know that will mean her sentencing is better accepted by the Riverlands, regardless of how Hoster Tully himself reacts.
Watching him leave, I give Margaery a look that is half-amused, half-scolding as she giggles to herself. She's clearly proud of her handiwork, no pun intended, and looks unrepentant.
"If my actions displease you, my King, you need only say so," Margaery points out with a breathy tone, and I won't deny… my silence is louder than anything I could have said. Seeing my lack of reproach, Margaery just smirks hungrily before glancing around cautiously. With nobody else approaching at this very moment, she lifts her dress up to her waist, reaching under it to shimmy her panties down her legs to her ankles, grabbing the green, silky article and moving it into my lap as she engulfs my cock in the warm, damp silk.
Leaving her dress lifted, she continues to stroke my cock with one hand as she strokes her wet slit with the other. The next performance begins, helping to distract the crowds from their King, and that only encourages her to speed up more as her hand dances along my shaft.
Dibella's blessing makes us both good at her favourite domain, and her hand feels downright divine as I try to keep my composure. I have no doubt that our shared patron is egging her on, but I suppose I asked for that when I shared Dibella's blessing with Margaery. She was always more… wild than she seemed, but Dibella is only encouraging her lewd side.
As the highborn of Westeros watch the climax of tonight's show, there's another climax happening not far from them as I bit down on my lip to prevent my groan from slipping out. I doubt anyone would actually hear me, but I'm not taking chances as my cock twitches and my seed spurts into the waiting underwear. Margaery acts fast, knowing that my… loads are sizeable, grasping my shaft and adjusting her aim as she pulls the now-soiled undergarments away and instead aims my cock into… her half-filled wine glass.
As the last spurt lands in her glass, she places it on the arm of her chair and, without hesitation, subtly slides her panties back on, despite them being covered in my seed. Fixing her dress, she gives me a triumphant, sultry smirk as she lifts her glass and sips from it.
As entrancing as the performance is, it can't end fast enough. Gods help anyone that delays me getting my hands on this teasing minx.
– Catelyn Stark –
In truth, she had to ask herself how she'd missed Lysa's descent into insanity. There was simply no way that she could have gotten this bad in such a short time. Admittedly, it had been years since she had seen her sister, but their letters had remained sisterly and had shown no sign of Lysa's growing madness.
To have a bastard was bad enough; to try to pass it off as the heir to the Eyrie was another entirely. It was everything she'd feared about Jon come true, only worse, as at least Jon had Stark blood. Robin was almost certainly just the spawn of Baelish that Lysa had tried to pass off as a trueborn Arryn. It was the worst type of line theft, trying to steal an entire province from the Arryns.
Uncle Brynden had told her and Edmure of the meeting with the King, and she had to wonder if her… actions had been for naught. Orys himself said that Lysa's fate would be decided when it was made clear how bad her actions truly were and now there was word of her… purging the Eyrie of those who had acted against her. If she'd executed members of powerful Vale families, there would be no saving her and her actions would forever stain the Tullies and Starks by extension.
After Aerys, the Kingdom would have little pity for such madness. She supposed she should be grateful that Lysa was allegedly throwing people from the Moon Door rather than burning them alive. Even still, her sister had become a weight around the necks of three houses, dragging them all to the depths. If it was simply a matter of cutting her loose, Catelyn was entirely willing to do so at this point.
Family. Duty. Honour.
Her family always came first, but it wasn't so simple when it was a member of that same family who was endangering the rest. With Winterfell taken, the Starks couldn't afford to be tarred by Lysa's madness. She wouldn't let Lysa's ill-timed mental breakdown ruin her children's future.
As she approached the royal suite, she felt the heavy stares of the Kingsguard. She was properly dressed this time, and had sent a servant to request a meeting instead of simply showing up in her nightgown, but even still… the Hand's wife making two late-night calls to the King in a single week? She only hoped the Kingsguard were not prone to gossiping. By their vows, they were honourbound to keep their King's secrets, but whether that carried over into reality was another matter entirely.
Ser Oakheart announced her arrival as he stepped aside, allowing her entry. He was a professional man, likely a decade younger than her, but she didn't miss the glance he shared with Ser Swann as she entered and the door was closed behind her.
Orys had gained a… lustful reputation, people claiming he followed in his father's example after the rumours of his night with Margaery and the Essosi courtesan spread. The Faith and highborn excused his actions, of course, but it certainly added a new weight to her meeting.
As she spotted the young King, she felt her heart skip a beat at the less-than-amused look on his face. He was already dressed for bed, though his clothes looked haphazard, as if he'd quickly thrown them on after she requested this meeting. He also had a goblet of wine in one hand, swirling it as he stared her down.
"Lady Stark," Orys greeted, his tone as smooth as silk. "I take it you have a reason for requesting this meeting?"
"I do. And thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Your Grace," Catelyn started with a deep curtsy. Orys hummed in response.
"I deemed it better than you just showing up uninvited again," Orys admitted bluntly, a frown on his face. Her face flushed at his blunt words. "I take it you've heard of the chaos that Lysa has unleashed in the Vale?"
She went to respond, but her mouth went dry at the hint of anger in his tone. The scowl that crossed his usually boyish face. Orys saw her reaction, sighing and gesturing for her to sit as he called for his servant. The large-breasted girl brought Catelyn her own glass of wine, and a part of her said to refuse it as she did not need to be inebriated, but she also knew that such an act would be… insulting to her host. A host who frankly didn't seem to want her here to begin with and may be looking for any excuse to kick her out.
Instead, she thanked the King and sipped from the glass of very expensive Arbor wine. It was hard to get the truly good wine up in the North, even at Winterfell. White Harbour could get some and Manderly was always happy to get them whatever they wanted but Eddard wasn't the type to import the truly good wine for anything but an extremely important occasion.
She had grown to love the North as her home, but it had its flaws. The food was often scarce and bland as little could grow in the North, especially with the encroaching winter, and luxuries that were common in the South were seen as southern weakness by the Northerners. She had often wondered if their reason for looking at such things with distaste was simply because most of them had no chance of getting Dornish spices or wine from the Reach. Instead of admitting that they were envious, the Northern highborn claimed that such things were unnecessary, just a part of the comforts that made their southern equivalents weak and soft.
She'd never say it out loud, but many of the Lords and Ladies who were sworn to Eddard shared more in common with the Wildlings beyond the wall than they did the highborn of the rest of Westeros.
Placing the goblet down, she gathered her thoughts for a moment before she began to speak.
"You're correct, Your Grace. I apologise for taking up more of your time when you are so busy but I heard from my uncle of the depths Lysa had descended to and I had to speak with you again, despite our recent… conversation," Catelyn admitted, her face flushed slightly at the reminder of her baring her breasts to the King.
"You understand that her crimes are beyond serious, I take it?" Orys asked, sipping from his own glass with a small frown.
"I do, your Grace, but my point has not changed. If this is not handled… diplomatically, three of your Great Houses will pay the price for one woman's madness. Houses Tully and House Stark should not have to suffer for Lysa's madness. Sansa, your future Goodsister, shouldn't be painted with Lysa's tainted brush," Catelyn replied immediately.
With one girl of Tully blood marrying the Lord of a Great House only to cause such a scene, it would not surprise her if people were already trying to convince Robert to break off the betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey. The Queen Mother especially. That Lysa tried to pass off a bastard as the trueborn heir of a Great House was a crime of unimaginable proportions. Eddard didn't understand just how bad it would be seen by the rest of the highborn, used to the… simpler Northern diplomacy and politics.
And if the betrothal was broken, as Cersei was likely the only one Robert would listen to, Sansa would be seen as damaged even if the betrothal went unconsummated. Lysa could easily become a shadow that hung over House Stark and Tully for the rest of her days. People would forget, in time, but not soon enough to spare her daughters.
"While the situation in Vale is still clouded in mystery, it has been confirmed by reliable sources that, at the very least, Lysa has killed many of her serving staff and her maester. There seems to be an almost infectious madness going around the Vale as many of the highborn, once loyal to Jon Arryn, have believed her tales of the Lannisters being behind Jon Arryn's death," Orys explained with a deep frown. "As I told your uncle, I intend to go North when the banners are gathered, and we will be stopping at Vale to put a stop to her insanity. I can only pray that things are not as bad as they sound from the messages we have received."
"There is nobody, not even my father, who would disagree with Lysa being stripped of her position and punished for her crimes, but surely there is a way to handle her punishment without ruining House Tully in the process, or starting a war between the Vale and Riverlands," Catelyn pleaded, watching as Orys paused. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but it did not seem to be a particularly favourable one. "We would be eternally in your debt, Your Grace, for such a mercy. A debt I would work to repay for the rest of my days, however I could."
Her words were meant to sound sultry, but instead she simply sounded nervous as she leaned forward to give him a better view of her cleavage, taking another drink of her wine. Liquid courage, she'd heard some people jokingly call it. Good for settling a soldier's nerves before battle. She supposed this was a kind of battle, with her body on the line.
As she had hoped, his expression shifted from the mysterious and foreboding one to a more recognisable look of lust as his eyes flickered down. He was not the type to outwardly ogle someone, his gaze snapping up to her eyes once more in short order, but she knew that behind his Kingly act and divine reputation, there was a teenage boy who liked the idea of having her so indebted.
"It is not… impossible to lessen the punishments," Orys finally admitted, pursing his lips in thought. "There is the possibility that Littlefinger had been poisoning her with something to weaken her mind, and the highborn lords would be more willing to accept a woman's madness as simple hysteria."
She was sure that Littlefinger was not drugging Lysa, but she didn't say that. She didn't need to, they both knew that it was just an excuse.
"With such things taken into mind, it is possible that rather than face the headsman's axe, Lysa could find herself either under permanent house arrest in Riverrun or sent to the Silent Sisters," Orys continued, leaning back in his seat. "Your father is on his way to King's Landing and is due to arrive before we will be ready to march. If the Riverlands provide support in bringing an end to Lysa's madness, I would be more willing to entrust her to him, especially if the healing waters aid him as he wishes, extending his life."
As he spoke, Catelyn let out a sigh of desperate relief. It wasn't a guarantee that things wouldn't end poorly, but simply an alternative, better path being laid out before him.
"I'll speak to Edmure, he has the influence and power to ensure that Riverlands supports your mission to both the Vale and the North," Catelyn promised. Her father had been bedridden for so long that Edmure handled much of the duties, and she was sure she could get him to agree if it saved Lysa from facing the axe. "It is more mercy than my sister deserves, Your Grace, and Houses Tully and Stark will be forever grateful, and loyal, for this benevolence."
She knew she was overstepping, making promises on the behalf of two Great Houses, but she was also sure she could get Eddard and her father to agree. Eddard was already fond of Orys for all that Orys had done for the North, and was continuing to do for them with the food from the Reach and the banners called to retake Winterfell. But she also knew that she had her own part to play in this deal, and Orys' stare told her that she had better pay up.
The maid he had called was nowhere to be seen, but likely was waiting somewhere she could hear them, so as to be able to answer the King's call. It was not as private as she would have liked, but things were never going to be so when it came to the King. At the very least, the Kingsguard would always be lurking in the shadows.
"If it pleases, your Grace, I would be happy to attempt to repay this great debt as best I can," Catelyn finally said, reminding herself that family and duty came before honour. King's Landing was not a place of honour, but a den of vipers. One had to be willing to put aside their honour to survive in this place. "Words are cheap, after all, and my actions will show my gratitude far better."
Orys smiled slightly, but it wasn't his voice that spoke up and made her freeze.
"And how would you repay your King?" a soft voice asked as her head snapped to the door to the bedchambers, where Lady Margaery was leaning against it in nothing but a revealing nightgown. Catelyn's heart stopped at the knowing look in her eyes as Margaery strutted forward and sat directly in Orys' lap. His arm went around his betrothed, giving her a deep kiss as she rested against him.
That was why his clothes seemed so haphazard. She'd interrupted their night together. Margaery's stare made Catelyn's words die in her mouth; the worst person to catch her was now lounging in Orys' lap with such a dangerous look in her eyes.
"Perhaps the same way you approached him in the forge? Baring your married tits for your King?" Margaery continued, and Catelyn felt her blood turn to ice at the knowing words.
"You- you know?" Catelyn squeaked, and Orys just chuckled.
"I adore Margaery, Lady Catelyn. I do not keep secrets from my bride," Orys replied simply. "She was in the forge with us, hiding away and observing our meeting, and even predicted that you'd use your body to try and secure my aid before the meeting even began."
Her attempt to respond fell flat, her words caught in her throat as she tried to work out how in the seven hells to continue this. She had come here with the knowledge that she was going to likely have to bed the King to ensure things went the way she needed them to, but none of her plans included the future Queen being here. Quite foolishly, in hindsight, as it was obvious that Orys and Margaery were already spending their nights together.
"Well, Lady Stark? You were just offering to show Orys how grateful you are, were you not?" Margaery continued challengingly.
"I- my lady- no, your majesty, I didn't mean-" Catelyn stuttered, seeing Margaery's amusement only grow.
"You misunderstand, Lady Stark. Do I look angry?" Margaery asked, her finger dancing along Orys' chest. "Orys is adding to his work to save your sister from her own stupidity, to prevent your Houses from being punished for failing to notice how mad Lysa had become. Hoster Tully is said to be incredibly smart, and yet he never bothered checking in on his daughters and seeing her spiralling into insanity? All of this could have been avoided if you had just paid more attention, and now it's Orys' problem. With that in mind, you do owe him, don't you?"
"I do, your majesty," Catelyn agreed, both confused and intimidated as Margaery shared a smile with Orys and gave him a deep kiss before rising to her feet and strutting over to Catelyn, gesturing for her to rise. Catelyn rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as Margaery smirked and to Cat's surprise, kissed her.
The younger girl tasted like wine and berries, and Cat froze, unwilling to return the kiss but not daring to risk pushing her away either. Margaery's hands moved, and before Cat could even consider what was happening, her dress was pooled at her feet and she was guided in front of the still seated Orys. The future queen was stripping her nude, removing her undergarments until she was standing before the King utterly bare.
While Margaery was distracting her, Orys had pulled out his manhood, large and already erect, stroking it to the sight of her nude form. From the way Margaery felt against her back, she realised that the younger girl had also removed her own nightgown, her petite breasts pressed against Catelyn's spine.
Orys had gained a lustful reputation for his first night, but it struck Catelyn all too harshly. Margaery had been a willing participant in that night. It was all too easy for people to assume she was just a victim of Orys' lust, but it was all too clear now that Margaery was a willing participant in both her deflowering and the invitation of the Essosi courtesan to their bed.
The younger girl's hands wrapped around Catelyn, groping her tits before one slid between Cat's legs and stroked her womanhood. She'd never been touched by a woman before, and a part of her called it sinful before she remembered that she was in the presence of two people blessed by the Seven. The Maiden herself had chosen Margaery, and both their eyes glowed with golden light as Orys watched his betrothed toy with Catelyn's nude form.
"We don't have much time, it's already late," Orys reminded them both, getting a giggle from Margaery as she nodded and pushed Catelyn closer to the King, standing right before him. "Kneel."
His word left no room to argue, and with Margaery's hands on her shoulders, she was guided to her knees between the King's legs, that menacingly large cock slapping against her face.
"You know, if you'd brought your concerns to me legitimately rather than ambushing me at my forge and trying to seduce me, I would not have been opposed to minimising the damage Lysa's actions had upon three separate great houses. Stability is my truest ambition, after all," Orys explained, before snorting. "But instead you decided that as Robert's son and a teenage boy, I'd only listen if I thought I'd get to fuck you. So, we'll do things your way instead. Suck it."
Catelyn opened her mouth to respond, but Margaery guided her head and ensured that her lips were put to better use as she stood behind Catelyn with her hand on the back of her head. Silently accepting her new position, she took his cock into her mouth and began to pleasure him to the best of her ability.
Maybe it was a cliche, but her sex life with Eddard was a rather plain one, and while they were certainly active- one only had to look at how many kids she had for that- Eddard preferred traditional sex rather than this type of thing. The salty taste of his pre-cum tingled on her tongue as she wrapped her lips around his length and took as much into her mouth as she could, stroking the rest with one hand.
The Queen's hand set a fast, punishing pace as she ensured that Catelyn put her all into servicing the King. Her tongue wrapped around his sizable length as best it could, her eyes meeting his as those blue eyes, tinted with gold, stared down at her with a smile on his face.
She didn't know if he meant his words, if she could have done this the… proper way and avoided such a payment, but the idea that he was being truthful stung deep. She'd assumed he'd need an incentive to listen to her concerns, and so that was how he had acted.
Margaery leaned over, kissing Orys as she continued to guide Catelyn's head further down. The sound of their tender kiss was barely audible over the noisy blowjob she was giving, slurping and gagging on the far too large cock. She didn't know how long she spent on her knees, her head bobbing as she worked to pleasure the Blessed King.
"She looks so good with your cock in her mouth, Orys," Margaery purred between kisses, Cat's face flushing at the lewd words. "She'll look even better with your seed dripping down her face. Cum for us, Orys. Paint this slutty highborn with your royal cum."
As Margaery spoke, she pulled Catelyn's head back and off of Orys's shaft, kneeling herself as she took it into her hands and rapidly began to stroke it until Orys groaned and his seed spurted forth, splattering onto Catelyn's face and dripping down onto her breasts. Each release made Catelyn flinch back, until he finished with a sigh and she could only kneel there, nude and wearing his seed.
"You're… still hard," Cat realised, her gaze on his cock as she wiped some of the semen away from her eyes. Was he going to fuck her? To claim her body fully?
"I am, but we are done for tonight. Falia!" Orys called, the maid returning as she bit her lip and looked over the scene before her. "Help Lady Stark get clean. Catelyn, when I return south from saving Winterfell, I'm going to celebrate by pounding your married cunt. I want you shaved bare and ready for me when that day comes."
Her face flushed, well aware that her pubic situation was not the tidiest. She had been on the run from Winterfell to King's Landing and hadn't had a chance to properly clean herself up. Besides, some hair helped keep her warm in the North.
"Yes, your grace," Catelyn agreed simply, accepting the maid's aid in cleaning the semen from her face and breasts as Orys watched, Margaery once more in his lap. She leaned back against him as she rode his shaft, kissing his neck and whispering sweet nothings into his ears as he stared at Catelyn's nude form.
Once more dressed, Catelyn slipped away into the night after being dismissed, the duo returning to bed as Catelyn wandered the Red Keep. His taste was still on her tongue, and despite the late hour, the place was still alive. As she was questioned, she made sure to explain that she'd had a meeting with both the King and Lady Margaery, to make it sound less lewd than the reality.
Perhaps it was the shame in her chest that drew her steps toward the Royal Sept, desiring some form of absolution for the betrayal she had just committed.
"You seem disturbed, my lady," one of the septas said softly, making Catelyn jump as she hadn't noticed the young woman's presence.
"I- just wished to pray for Winterfell," Catelyn lied, that shame striking deep at her daring to lie in this place, of all places.
"I- if I may, your Ladyship," the septa said quietly, glancing around before she reached forward and wiped at something on Catelyn's neck. Her blood ran cold at the sight of what was undoubtedly semen. "I do not believe it is for Winterfell that you pray. Fear not, I would not share your secrets but you have come here seeking comfort, haven't you? Speak, your words will not reach the ears of any others."
The blonde woman spoke with such a reassuring, soft voice that Catelyn, already unbalanced from what she had done, couldn't resist. Her worries spilled from her, her confession lifting her spirits as the septa listened patiently. As she finished, she expected judgement as a woman who had broken her very vows.
"Calm yourself, Lady Catelyn. I understand the weight you carry, but you are seeing things the wrong way. King Orys is no mere man, but an avatar of the Gods themselves. Performing such an act is almost a worship in and of itself," the woman purred, looking at the semen still on her finger for a moment before she licked it up. "Do not hold yourself to blame, for a King with such blessings is irresistible to even us septas. Do not see him as a mere man, or this as a mere affair. He is more than that. Only today, I watched him cure greyscale with his healing hands. This is not the act of a man, but a living embodiment of the Gods."
Going quiet, she considered the soft-spoken words. It… helped, somehow removing the sting of the act by recontextualising it.
"Thank you for your words, Septa… I'm sorry, I never got your name," Catelyn asked, getting a soft smile from the beautiful blonde.
"I am Tyene, Lady Catelyn," Tyene explained with a smile, taking a seat beside her as the pair continued their conversation.
— Bonus Scene — Mirri Maz Duur —
The arrival of the Dothraki, in numbers they had never seen before, meant the end of their village. Being close to Vaes Dothrak, the home of the Horselords, was always a danger. Every passing khalasar had a chance to burn their village to the ground if they simply felt like it and didn't want to accept whatever tribute that the village could produce to ward them off.
This time, they didn't even bother asking for tribute as the Dothraki barbarians descended upon them, killing them men and taking the women and children. For all her skill at healing, her magic was… unfitting for combat and proved to be of no use in protecting her friends, family or herself.
She was not an attractive woman, not anymore. Once, she had been known for her looks rather than her skills with the spells and songs her mother had taught her. Now, she was older, overweight, and her youthful beauty had long since faded. It did not matter to the first Dothraki who found her, nor the second, nor the third.
By the time her 'saviour' had found her, she'd been used what felt like a dozen times by a dozen brutal men, but Daenerys offered no sympathy or words of regret as Mirri and the other Lhazareen women were taken to the girls' tent.
Despite her own powers, there was something… off about the young girl. When she'd heard that the Khal's wife was a Targaryen, she had almost accepted that it was the dragonsblood that made the beautiful young woman so unnerving, but somehow she knew it was more.
Called to Daenerys' tent, she shuddered at the presence of the bloodriders, so similar to the ones who had burnt down her god's house and raped her on the steps of her temple, and the young girl dismissed them with a gesture. One went to argue, but his fellow dothraki silenced him and dragged the younger man away with what almost looked like a look of terror in his eyes.
"You called for me, Khaleesi" Mirri asked, head bowed. She wanted to claim she was acting, but something in those violet eyes terrified her and she didn't want to meet that knowing gaze.
"You are a maegi, aren't you? A user of blood magic," Daenerys asked, and for a moment Mirri went to lie. The Dothraki had no love for practitioners of her art. "Don't. I see with more than eyes, and the other women of your village have already pointed you out."
"I am, Khaleesi," Mirri agreed, hearing a displeased sound. Daring to look up, she saw the displeasure on the girl's face but to her surprise, it was not aimed at her profession.
"Do not call me that," Daenerys growled softly, her hand resting on a golden blade as she took a breath and steadied herself. "I am Lady Daenerys Targaryen, last of my house. I am not a Khaleesi."
Mirri did not know how to react to that, seeing what looked like true hatred cross the young girl's face, but then she realised. Just as Mirri had been taken from her home by force, Daenerys was not here of her own volition either.
"You hate them, don't you?" Daenerys continued, her words softly spoken. "Speak freely, they will not hear what goes on in this tent."
"I do," Mirri agreed with a snarl, remembering the hands on her body, the smell of her home burning down, the screams of the people she'd dedicated her life to healing. She'd healed countless in her temple, and she'd seen just as many of those same men and women dead or wishing they were as she was dragged away to this torturous life. "They deserve worse than death for what they've done to my home, and so many more."
It felt good to admit it, head held high, even when her words could see her killed in the most brutal of ways. Daenerys simply smiled.
"They do. They think me an… avatar of their god, and my… husband destined to be the greatest Khal. They call him the Stallion who mounts the world for his great deed of mounting me, after my brother sold me to him," Daenerys explained, a cruel look crossing her face. "But I am no mare, sent by their 'Great Stallion' to be mounted. I'm a Dragon, and they will all burn for daring to presume me tameable."
Mirri didn't respond, seeing Daenerys's body glow with golden flames for just a moment.
"You are to be one of my handmaidens, Mirri Maz Duur. At least until my business in Vaes Dothrak is complete," Daenerys ordered. "They have sent riders to each major khalasar, calling them all to their… holy place, as much as anything can be holy to rapist horse barbarians. Drogo believes this will be his chance to bring them all under his control. I have a… different plan for them."
"As you command, my lady," Mirri agreed. She did not fear death, not after what she had seen and been through. If this failed, then she could go to her ancestors with the knowledge she tried to avenge her village.
But something in her new ladyship's eyes told her that Daenerys was not going to be satisfied with failure, as the young girl smiled and moved over to three stone eggs, fussing over them quietly.