'The Westerosi are a queer folk.' Alaenera thought as she lounged on the bed while staring into the flickering lamp on the desk.
When she was summoned by her mistress and asked to serve a guest of the Archon, she was worried. She had never laid with a man in her life, and although she was adequately 'trained' by her mistress, she knew her 'first time' would be 'difficult'.
What she didn't expect was for the Archon's guest to be younger than her. He was a strange Westerosi who talked her ear out instead of bedding her. His name was the first thing he gave away freely, and then he offered her freedom.
She had internally scoffed at the offer and saw it as a cruel joke. She had often heard tales from her mistress and lady companions about the queer ways the men sought their services. Sometimes, men liked to play valiant knights and pretend to come to their rescue before using them in bed. The stories varied from valiant knight, scorned lover, a denied banker, aggrieved merchant, petulant king and many more.
There was no end to men's twisted fantasies and cruelty. After all, she had seen how low men could fall with her own eyes. Her father had sold her to one of the pillow houses when she was nine years of age.
But Harrion Stark was something else entirely.
She had been ready even if it was her first time sharing a bed with someone. She had been prepared for that eventuality for the last three years. But she didn't expect to spend the night alone in bed while her 'client' sat on a plush chair and exposed her deepest secrets one after the other. No matter what she did, she could not entice Harrion Stark into sharing her bed that night.
So, when the sun rose the next day, she expected her client to report her failure to the Archon. She was absolutely certain there was some hidden politics behind all of this. She suspected the Westerosi lord wanted to extract some sort of concession from the Archon for 'disappointing' him or insulting him by sending a useless girl like her to his chambers.
What she didn't expect was to gain freedom from the pillow house of Tyrosh and gain a spot in the flying ship of Harrion Stark.
At first, she thought it was a cruel joke being played on her and the play would soon reveal itself, but it didn't happen. When the morning came, she was led outside Harrion Stark's chamber to the massive flying ship with her honour intact. As she climbed abroad the ship, she counted every step she made, and still, nothing happened. She watched with disbelief as the ship climbed to the heavens as if gently carried away in the Red God's hands.
She had seen the massive flying ship arrive from the window of her room in the pillow house. It was a piece of wonder, and she had thought then what it'd be like to see the world from the sky. She had wondered then whether it'd look beautiful from such heights because it was filthy when she looked from the ground.
Now, she knew what the world looked like in daylight. The sight of the pillow house becoming a small dot and even Tyrosh becoming as small as a one-storey house was something she'd never forget. It showed her just how insignificant Tyrosh was when all she had known till then was within the walls of Tyrosh.
But there was one thing that haunted her even now.
Why? Why was she granted a spot on the flying ship?
Try as she might, Alaenera couldn't understand why the Westerosi bought her freedom and allowed her on the ship.
At first, she thought the Westerosi lord was buying her as a pleasure slave. But neither Harrion Stark nor his men aboard the ship took advantage of her. If anything, they were always respectful of her, as if she was worth something.
Alaenera couldn't understand why this was happening.
Getting restless in bed, she kicked the sheets away and silently walked out of her cabin. She was careful not to make any sound and tiptoed over the wooden floor towards the chamber of Harrion Stark. She looked to either side of the narrow corridor before she knocked on the door.
The wooden door swung open on its own, making Alaenera stare unblinkingly at the open door.
"Come in."
Alaenera carefully stepped into the room. She saw Harrion Stark standing by a glass window. The moonlight bathed the room with its silver glow when she stepped inside. The door behind her swung shut on its own, making her startled.
"What brings you here at this late hour?" Harrion asked with his eyes firmly trained on the scenery outside.
"I… I couldn't sleep." Alaenera said tentatively, but her flimsy excuse didn't move her owner.
The silence made her uncomfortable. She didn't know whether Lord Harrion was annoyed with her; if he was, then she knew her chances of survival were slim. She had heard Westerosi followed brutish ways and was hesitant to find out whether the rumours were true.
"What am I to you, master Harrion? Why free me?" Alaenera asked hesitantly.
"Hmm. And you wanted to know this tonight?"
Alaenera blushed, realising how incredibly rude and dangerous her actions were. If it were any masters of Tyrosh, she'd be appropriately disciplined for daring to question them in such a manner. The man standing before her was the one who burned Myr to the ground. Somewhere along the way, she forgot that piece of information from her mind.
"I… I apologise, my lord. I overstepped. I shall disturb you no longer." Alaenera slowly backtracked with her head bowed.
"Stop."
She froze and looked up at her master in fear.
"You can relax, Alaenera. You'll not be harmed for speaking your mind." said the master.
"And you can stop thinking I'm your master. In the North, our nobles are called lords."
"My lord." Alaenera bowed.
"That's enough bowing for one night. You may sit." said Lord Harrion, his grey eyes gleaming under the full moon's silver light.
Alaenera sat on the bedside reluctantly.
"You want to know why I set you free from that pillow house."
"If it is not much of a bother for you, my lord." Alaenera said softly, keeping her eyes on the floor in a respectful manner.
"Touch this."
Suddenly, there was a bronze cylinder floating before her face.
"Touch it."
Alaenera stared at the bronze object, easily defying all the natural laws. She belatedly realised she was in the presence of a renowned sorcerer who'd put even the Red Priests to shame. The priests of the Red Temple had power over fire and even prophecy. But their power paled in comparison before her lord, who could make ships fly.
She eyed the bronze cylinder warily for a moment before she touched the bronze cylinder. The moment her fingers grazed the surface of the metal, fine, squiggly lines lit up with a golden hue.
Startled, she pulled back her fingers.
"Only someone with magical power could activate the cylinder."
"I have magic?" Alaenera gasped, looking at her lord in surprise.
"Indeed. There is a spark of magical power within you. The moment I met you, I knew magic was sleeping within your soul. Those blessed by magic should not be chained to those of lesser constitution."
Alaenera could only stare into her hands in denial.
"How can I have magic? I'm no one." Alaenera said.
"No, Alaenera. You were chosen to host a sliver of the world's magic. You are worthy, and under my tutelage, you'll become far more."
Alaenera was overwhelmed by emotions that bubbled within her mind. It was the first time she felt any kind of self-worth. Before she knew what she was doing, she pounced on her lord, threw her slender arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.
(Lemon scene)
Alaenera didn't know why she started kissing her lord. Maybe the training she received from the pillow house prodded her to do so. It took her a moment to realise that she shouldn't have done what she did. After all, the last time she tried to seduce Lord Harrion, he had politely declined her advances and made it clear he had no intention of bedding her.
Coming to her senses that she might've overstepped, her lord suddenly started kissing back. The intensity of the kiss took her by surprise as her lips were now dancing against her lord's. Soon, his hands were wandering all over her body.
The flimsy sleepwear on her body didn't stand much of a chance for long. She could hear the cotton top tear away from her shoulders, encouraging her to do the same to her lord. Her hands wandered over her lord's body, pushing away his shirt down his shoulders.
Alaenera gasped when her back hit the bed and her lord's lips on her neck. She had had training from her matron in the pillow house, but nothing could prepare her for the sensation she was feeling right now. It felt like her skin was set ablaze, but instead of fire, it was pleasure invading her body.
She could only moan and mewl as her lord left a trail of kisses down her neck and into the valley of her breasts. Somehow, her entire dress vanished, and she laid bare before her lord in all her naked glory. She only came to know of her state of dress or lack thereof when she felt a hand squeeze her right breast while a pair of lips pressed against the other.
Try as she might, Alaenera couldn't contain the noises that came from her mouth. She absently noted she never made such noises while trained by her matron. She had imitated the sounds after listening to the other whores in the pillow house, but she never felt any pleasure or interest while she was being trained.
But this was not the case in her lord's bed. She was on her back, moaning for all to hear as her lord cupped and squeezed her breasts. Slowly, his lips sank lower and left hot kisses on her navel and belly button that set her skin aflame.
She lost herself in pleasure, and somehow, she found herself with her legs spread and her lord ready to claim her. She found her eyes locked in with the glowing grey eyes of her lord. It looked like he was waiting for her permission, and she realised she had a choice. Closing her eyes for a moment, she felt the weight of freedom settle on her shoulders, and when she opened her eyes, she only had light shining in them. A jerk of her head was the consent she gave, and that was all her lord needed to claim her.
There was pain, but then there was pleasure as well because her lord was kissing her. She had never been kissed like that in her life. There was genuine emotion behind their coupling, and Alaenera found the lack of pressure to set a performance made it all the more enjoyable.
Alaenera started smiling and kissing her lord's neck as he gently made love to her. She could feel that he was holding back as he slowly stirred her insides. She also liked it that way as she got to wrap her arms around her lord's back and enjoy his warmth. She nuzzled into his neck and had her legs wrapped around his back as she squealed and moaned, showing off the ecstasy she was in.
Her eyes trailed to the moon through the window. It was beautiful, just like the moment that came just about as she screamed her lord's name with her fingers threading through his soft black hair. She let out a shuddering breath as she wreathed in bliss of sweet release.
But she was neither tired nor ready to end things here. So, she rolled them around until Alaenera was on top. She could see that her lord was surprised, which made her grin heartily. She took him inside her again and bounced once, making him ground.
"Make love to me, my lord." she whispered sensually, guiding his palms to her breasts as she began riding him in earnest for the rest of the night.
(Lemon scene ends)
****
Harry never planned on bedding the girl he rescued from Tyrosh. The magic coursing through her body was the only reason he bought her freedom from the pillow house. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered and considered her another unfortunate soul among the hundreds of thousands of slaves in the city.
But when he sensed magic in her, he couldn't leave her to a lesser fate. There were so few of them with the gift of magic in the world. So, in his eyes, every soul gifted with magic was a rare and precious life. Just having a girl with the potential for magic hand-delivered was not something he was willing to waste. So, he arranged to buy her freedom and take the girl with him on his journey to Volantis.
What he didn't expect was to get into bed with said girl for that one night and then all the following nights as well. Even when they reached Volantis, Alaenera continued to share his bed, and he didn't dissuade her. He found it difficult to say no whenever she came to his chamber uninvited in the flimsiest silk dresses she could find.
She came under the guise of learning magic, and he'd help her with the art. But then, they'd be in bed before they knew what was happening, tearing away at each other's clothes. If Harry wasn't absolutely certain, Alaenera had no prior experience with magic; he'd have suspected a love potion or some Veela magic. It came to a point where his brothers started teasing him about his penchant for spending too much time in his chambers in Volantis.
In his defence, there was nothing serious to be done in Volantis. Since their journey ahead led to Valyria, they had decided beforehand to visit Volantis discreetly. As such, they posed as merchants from Westeros while visiting the city. The airship remained invisible, far away from the city, while they spent some time seeing much of the city. There were no trade interests for the North this far east. Even Tyrosh was a stretch. Most Northerners had never seen Volantis in their lifetime. Maybe their wares would come into Volantis' markets but only through indirect means. No Northern ship would venture this far into the east for trade. Volantis had nothing to offer that the Northern ships would come this far.
Even with Myr burnt to the ground, he doubted any Northern ship would sail this far into the east. It'd be far easier and safer to have the other free cities send any goods to Volantis through the Valyrian roads. So, treating Volantis as a stopgap to their journey towards Valyria was a sound decision. Harry also wished to maintain their visit to Valyria in the dark from the rest of the world for the time being. He didn't know what to expect from the place, and if the word were to spread of their exploits in the place, the reputation might be less than ideal.
"What're you thinking?" a husky voice whispered against his ear, making Harry shiver.
'Bloody hormones.' Harry thought.
He found half-lidded lilac eyes trained on him from his bedside.
"I'm thinking about the journey ahead." Harry said, finding it difficult to take his eyes off his lover.
"The Lord of Avalon journeying bravely into the abode of the demons of Valyria. No doubt, songs will be written about your deeds." Alaenera teased while her hands wandered along his chest.
"Perhaps it's better for no songs. After all, we're flying into the Doom."
"Is that why you've been receptive to my advances all these days?" Alaenera asked with a smirk. "Afraid you'll die without the warmth of a woman?"
"I accept you into my bed because you're interesting and an insatiable minx." Harry whispered back while Alaenera hid her grinning visage in the crook of his neck while nipping playfully at his skin.
They stayed like that in bed, just enjoying each other's warmth. Harry was rubbing circles on her bare back when a knock on the door garnered his attention.
"Who is it?"
"It's Anya, my lord. I would not disturb you, but Maester Marwyn wished to speak with you through the two-way mirror."
"I'll be right about." Harry shouted as he carefully slipped out from underneath Alaenera and began getting dressed.
"This Maester Marwyn holds such sway over you that you'd leave a beautiful woman in your bed unattended?" Alaenera asked suavely, purposefully throwing away the sheet and exposing her nubile body to Harry's eyes.
Harry was tempted to return to bed, but he knew Marwyn would only ask for him if his attention was required.
"Marwyn is the maester of Avalon. Your studies in the arcane arts will be taken up by him when we reach Avalon."
"You won't be teaching me magic anymore?" Alaenera asked with a pout.
"I don't think I've been doing much of any teaching." Harry muttered.
He said a swift goodbye before exiting his chamber. He made himself presentable with some simple charms before entering the mirror room. Harry pressed his ring against the mirror and called for Avalon. A few seconds later, Maester Marwyn's face appeared on the mirror.
"Maester Marwyn. What seems to be the problem?"
"There are a couple of issues, my lord. But I'll lead with one good news. The survey at the Neck has finished. The men have reported back, and they've successfully placed all pegs along the boundaries."
"Good. They've used stone pegs, I hope?"
"Yes, my lord. The constant rain and water logging at the neck makes wooden pegs impractical." said Marwyn.
"Good. So what next?"
"Asha Greyjoy arrived at Winterfell and met with her brother."
"That Iroborn daughter of Balon raiding in the Stepstones? How did that happen?" Harry asked incredulously.
He distinctly remembered asking his captains to turn away Ironborn ships to their islands or turn them to ash if they refused to take a hint.
"She came under the white banner, my lord. She landed her ship at Torrhen's Square. As you know, much of Saltspear and Blazewater Bay is under House Ryswell's possession. Our ships have limits to intervene there, and our fleet is currently focused on fortifying the three former pirate islands as per your orders." Marwyn reminded him, making Harry scowl.
"I want to meet the captains of our fleet the moment I return to Avalon. I specifically ordered them to spare no Ironborn ships. Their code of honour can be used elsewhere, not in my fleet." Harry thundered.
"I'll make the arrangements swiftly, my lord."
"What has that bitch swindled out of my father? I hope it is not Theon's release or the blockade's lifting." Harry said in annoyance.
"Neither, my lord. Lady Greyjoy was simply unlucky and failed to secure an audience with Lord Stark."
"Really?" Harry perked up at that.
"Yes, my lord. Lord Stark had rode out from Winterfell the night before she arrived at the castle."
"That's good. That's very good." Harry muttered, looking thoughtful.
He could have the pirate girl discreetly killed off. Even if he was this far, he still had some assets in Avalon and Winterfell that could see to his will. He gave it some consideration to have Balon's pirate daughter quietly dealt with. He may have shown some consideration to Theon, but that doesn't mean he would tolerate the survival of the Ironborn. A hardheaded idiot like Victarian Greyjoy ruling from Pyke was something Harry preferred as it made wiping out the Ironborn far simpler.
An old war hawk like Victarian was predictable and could be easily countered. The man would undoubtedly look for a military solution or corner Victarian into making such a desperate play. That'd spell doom for the rest of the islands.
But someone like Asha Greyjoy, who had connections to the mainland through Theon, was a dangerous foe. She might even be swayed by Lord Harlaw's advice. He suspected seeking Theon at Winterfell was Lord Harlaw's idea.
To what end, Harry didn't know. He had spared Balon on account of being Theon's father. Otherwise, he'd have taken the man's head instead of forcing the former lord of Pyke to join the Night's Watch. Should he give the same consideration to Theon's sister? That was a question that bothered Harry.
"There is one other thing, my lord."
Harry shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind and raised a brow curiously at what else Marwyn had to say.
"Lord Stark has arrived at Avalon and asked for your audience. Shall I inform him?" Marwyn asked.
"If he is available, please inform him. I'll wait." said Harry.
Harry knew why his father had rushed from Winterfell to Avalon. No doubt what happened in Myr must've jolted the sensibilities of the Lord of Winterfell. He always considered his father to be someone so disenchanted with the true history and policies of House Stark. His father was the unfortunate victim of the undue influence of Southern chivalry and other silly knightly traditions. The romanticisation of knights and their vows was used to keep large swathes of landed knights weak so that they would remain knights and never rise to challenge the domain of their lords.
He saw some advantages in chivalry and honour, but it'd only work if everyone followed the same playbook. But like everything in the world, nothing remained absolute, even the silly notions of what constitutes an ideal knight.
He supposed Lord Arryn and King Stannis might've also reached out to Winterfell from King's Landing. Their concerns were understandable, but understanding was insufficient to keep Harry from neutralising his enemies. He had learned that lesson the hard way, and it was a lesson he'd never forget.
Harry readied himself, knowing all this and expecting stiff resistance and admonishment for his actions. While Ned Stark might be his father in this life, the man didn't own him, nor was he required to follow in the man's footsteps.
AN:
For artwork related to the fic:
https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf