277 AC
Daemon Pov
I awoke from my slumber to the delightful sensation of Chataya's warm, moist lips wrapping around my throbbing manhood. Her dark skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, a testament to the passion that had consumed us the night before. With a primal instinct, I grasped her head, urging her to take me deeper, to engulf me entirely in her skilled embrace.
As she eagerly complied, her sultry moans mingled with mine, filling the room with an intoxicating symphony of pleasure. The way her lips caressed me, the way her tongue danced with mine, it was as if she had mastered the art of seduction itself.
With each movement, each stroke, I felt myself surrendering to the primal urge coursing through my veins. The intensity between us grew with each passing moment, building to an inevitable crescendo of ecstasy.
Then, as if guided by some unseen force, she mounted me, her body writhing with unrestrained desire. With each thrust, she drove me closer to the edge, her impassioned cries spurring me on.
In a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, I felt myself succumb to the overwhelming waves of pleasure, releasing myself completely into her waiting embrace. As I spilled my seed inside her, she clung to me, her own release echoing mine in a symphony of ecstasy.
We collapsed onto the bed, spent and sated, our bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and passion. I gazed up at her, my breath still coming in ragged gasps, and brushed a stray lock of hair from her flushed face.
"You were incredible, my dragon," she purred in her sultry Summer Island accent, her eyes smoldering with desire.
I chuckled softly, my heart still racing from the intensity of our shared experience.
After the tumultuous event of the Golden Feast as the smallfolk and nobles called it , where the city's corrupt men met their fate at my hands, I found myself consumed by a primal hunger that I could no longer contain. Chataya, sensing my need, welcomed me into her arms and legs with a hunger of her own.
Despite my intentions of maintaining a professional relationship, the insatiable desire raging within me drove me to indulge in a relentless cycle of pleasure. I was driven by an animalistic lust that clouded my thoughts, leaving me powerless to resist the temptations laid before me.
It was a relentless cycle of fucking, training and fucking some more and I reveled in every moment.
Lost in my thoughts, I was jolted back to reality by the sight of Chataya rising from the bed, her naked form a mesmerizing vision before me as she began to dress.
"It seems I must depart, my prince," she spoke, her voice soft yet tinged with reluctance as she fastened her garments.
I couldn't resist the urge to pull her back into my embrace, my hand caressing her curves.
"Do you truly have to leave?" I inquired, a hint of pleading in my voice, to which she responded with a playful laugh.
"Indeed, I must. After all, look at what you've done to the Street of Silk," she teased, her words carrying a hint of admiration.
As the newly appointed commander of the city watch, I endeavored to assert control over the brothels lining the infamous Street of Silk. However, my attempts were met with staunch resistance from the stubborn owners who refused to yield to my authority.
But fate has a way of twisting fortunes, and the events of the Golden Feast altered the landscape of power in King's Landing and beyond. With the city and all of Westeros bearing witness to the chaos orchestrated by my hand, the landscape shifted rapidly.
The once defiant owners of the brothels, fearing a fate akin to the corrupt men of the city watch, they swiftly acquiesced to my command. With the backing of the Iron Throne and the might of two thousand loyal men of the city watch at my disposal, resistance was futile.
For those who dared to defy my authority, Oberyn Martell awaited them. With his deadly skills in the art of poisons, any remnants of opposition were swiftly dealt with, ensuring the complete submission of the Street of Silk to my will.
Entrusting the management of the brothels to Chataya, a woman whose cunning and charm were unmatched, proved to be a stroke of genius. Under her leadership, the establishments flourished, serving as more than just houses of pleasure but also as hubs of information, where secrets were whispered in the throes of passion and desires laid bare alongside hidden truths.
With access to information spanning from common knights to noble lords, the brothels became a nexus of intrigue and influence. After all, men's thoughts often opened as easily as their trousers in the presence of temptation, and with Chataya at the helm, no secret remained hidden for long and in six fucking months of becoming the commander of the Gold cloaks I had the city in the palm of my hands.
After Chataya departed, I took a moment to dress myself before heading towards my solar. The manse I had purchased now served as the unofficial headquarters of the city watch, a testament to my growing influence within King's Landing. As I entered, I found Stannis and Davos awaiting me.
"Gentlemen, how are you?" I greeted them warmly, though Stannis' stoic demeanor and Davos' subtle smile hinted at the seriousness of our meeting.
"You are late," Stannis remarked with a stern tone, his expression betraying no hint of amusement.
"My apologies, my friend. I was preoccupied with maintaining order in the city," I replied, masking a hint of amusement at my own blatant lie.
Stannis simply shook his head, clearly unimpressed by my excuse.
Turning to the matter at hand, I inquired about the progress of recruiting for the city watch.
I had entrusted Stannis the Mannis with the pivotal role of chief recruiter for the city watch. My aim was ambitious: to bolster the ranks of the city watch to ten thousand strong. It was a daunting task, but one I was determined to see through. With the unwavering support of my father the king, I knew that no obstacle could stand in our way.
Stannis, with his reputation for unwavering determination and strict adherence to duty, was the perfect choice for the task at hand and his commitment to the cause was beyond question.
He spoke of a steady influx of recruits, particularly from the Crownlands, a promising sign for our plans to expand the city watch to ten thousand strong.
Just then Oberyn entered the room, his smirk betraying his amusement at the conversation, he couldn't resist a playful jab.
"You make quite the noise at night," he remarked with a smirk.
I shot back with a grin of my own. "Sleep in another room then, you arse," I retorted, the banter a welcome distraction from the weightier matters at hand.
Turning my attention back to business, I directed my query towards Stannis, seeking an update on the training of our new recruits. Stannis informed me that Ser Willem, the master-at-arms of the Red Keep, had been overseeing their training, a fact for which I was immensely grateful. Ser Willem's expertise at my disposal eased the burden considerably.
Concerned about any potential issues with our training grounds, I turned to Davos for reassurance. He assured me that while there had been initial apprehension among the men when training commenced in the abandoned Dragon Pit, those concerns had since dissipated. It was the only available space within the city suitable for our purposes, and despite its intimidating reputation, the men had adapted well to their new training environment.
With those matters addressed, I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that my plans were progressing smoothly.
As the servants arrived with breakfast, I eagerly dug into the spread before me, hunger gnawing at me after last night's activities and the morning's exertions.
Mid-bite, a servant approached with a scroll in hand, disrupting the mealtime tranquility.
"What's this, Daemon?" Oberyn inquired, his curiosity piqued as he observed the unexpected interruption.
"It appears that my father has summoned me to attend the small council meeting today," I relayed, prompting a collective murmur of surprise from those gathered around the table.
Under typical circumstances, the Commander of the city watch would fall under the jurisdiction of the master of laws, thereby excluding them from small council meetings. Thus, it came as quite a surprise to me to receive the summons, especially considering that even Rhaegar, the heir to the throne, was not permitted attendance.
I reflected on the bygone days when I had the privilege of attending such meetings as Tywin's cupbearer. However, since my knighthood, I had been barred from participating in such affairs.
With a quiet chuckle, I remarked to myself, "Well, I cannot help but be curious about what awaits me."
Oberyn, his voice resonant with a hint of amusement, declared, "Your time of reckoning has arrived, my friend."
I couldn't help but join in his laughter, the anticipation of the unknown filling me with excitement as I awaited what lay ahead at the small council meeting.
----
I rode my horse through the gates of the Red Keep, adorned in golden armor emblazoned with the sigil of a single dragon against a field of white. Every inch of me exuded princely stature, my long silver-golden hair cascading loosely over my shoulders, a deliberate choice not to cut it.
As I dismounted, I was met by Ser Ilyn Payne, his presence a silent directive. I followed him through a series of passageways until we reached a solemn figure awaiting us – Tywin Lannister, his expression unyielding.
"Lord Tywin," I greeted with a hint of mockery in my smile, "Ser Barristan won't be pleased to learn you're acquainted with these passages and have escorted the second prince of the realm through them."
But all I was met with was silence.
"How did you come to know of these passages?" Tywin's voice cut through the air, his emerald eyes piercing into my very soul.
"What do you mean?" I replied, genuine confusion evident in my voice.
"That fool Darklyn sent a raven, stating that he refuses to pay any taxes unless granted a city charter," Tywin explained, his tone edged with irritation.
"So, that's why the king summoned me to the small council meeting," I mused aloud, connecting the dots.
But then, I redirected my focus entirely to Tywin Lannister, seeking his counsel.
"What advice do you intend to give the king once he's made aware of this situation?" I inquired, my tone earnest.
"I will advise him to quell Darklyn's folly swiftly. I'll dispatch 500 men to bring Darklyn to heel," Tywin declared confidently.
"That is pure foolishness on your part, Lord Hand," I interjected, observing a subtle twitch in Tywin's eye at my words.
"Explain," he demanded, his voice now cold and authoritative.
"When you tell a child not to do something, they often do the exact opposite. The king is no different. The moment you reveal your plan to deal with Darklyn, he'll likely defy it and venture there himself," I explained calmly, articulating my reasoning.
Tywin grunted in response, acknowledging the veracity of my insight.
"Very well I will do the opposite then," he conceded.
"Lord Tywin, I must take my leave now to attend to my family matters," I announced respectfully.
"I'll see you at the meeting," I added, before turning and departing from Tywin's presence.
As I made my way towards Maegor's Holdfast, my thoughts turned to my family.
Father had been absolutely ecstatic upon hearing the news of the Golden Feast spreading like wildfire. His laughter echoed through the halls as he relished in the tale of how I had dealt with the corrupt officers, reveling in the chaos I had wrought. But mother's reaction had been quite the opposite. She was aghast, horrified by the violence I had unleashed.
We had argued, and it didn't end well. She was silent and angry with me for putting myself in such danger. As if those poisoned assholes could ever pose a threat to me, I thought with a hint of defiance.
Among my siblings, only Daeron seemed genuinely happy to see me. Viserys was still too young to form any meaningful bonds, and truth be told, holding a year-old baby in your arms gets tiresome pretty quickly. Rhaegar, on the other hand, remained as distant as ever. God knows what plans were brewing in his mind regarding the prophecies.
As I approached my mother's chambers, two knights of the Kingsguard stood vigilant outside, a silent testament to the importance of her presence within. Upon entering, I found Mother seated with Daeron, her ladies-in-waiting engaged in quiet conversation nearby.
The moment Daeron spotted me, he rushed over, his face alight with excitement. "Brother, I missed you," he exclaimed, and I enveloped him in a warm embrace, returning his affection.
My duties as commander of the city watch had led me to relocate from the Red Keep to my own manse, but seeing Mother again brought a sense of familiarity and comfort.
"Mother, it's good to see you," I greeted her, gently embracing her as well, to which she responded in kind.
Turning my attention to Cersei, my mother's lady-in-waiting and also my seceret half-sister, I couldn't help but feel a pang of unease. Our betrothal had been announced abruptly back in Casterly Rock, leaving me utterly speechless and unable to react. It was a shock that still lingered, casting a shadow over our interactions.
It was clear that Cersei harbored little affection for me, her gaze often drifting towards my older brother, the object of her desires. As our eyes met, I sensed the apprehension in her expression, a silent acknowledgment of the future that awaited us. Our impending marriage, though inevitable, was a bridge we would cross in due time. For now, we maintained a polite distance, existing on cordial terms as we awaited the next chapter of our lives.
"Daemon, I was practicing with Rhaegar today," Daeron's excited voice broke through the tension, his boundless energy infectious as he recounted his training session. "He had Jaime and me spar," he added with a gleam in his eye.
Daeron's enthusiasm for combat was evident from the moment we returned from Casterly Rock. He threw himself into his training with a fervor unmatched by his peers, a testament to his natural skill and determination. The master-at-arms spoke highly of his potential, foreseeing a future where he would become a formidable warrior.
"That's wonderful, brother," I replied with a smile, genuinely proud of Daeron's progress.
Before I could continue, Barristan approached and informed me that the small council meeting was about to commence, the council members awaiting my presence.
I bid farewell to my family before joining Barristan, the weight of the day's events lingering in the air.
In the aftermath of the Golden Feast, Barristan had become increasingly concerned, particularly about my mental state. I attempted to assure him that everything was fine, but even I couldn't deny the changes within myself.
The old me would have been repulsed by the bloodshed and carnage of that fateful day, but now, there was no trace of remorse. Instead, a sense of satisfaction lingered, unsettling in its absence of emotion.
As we made our way to the small council meeting, I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted within me, a realization both troubling and strangely liberating.
As I entered the chamber, I found the members of the small council present, along with my brother Rhaegar.
Taking in the atmosphere, I couldn't resist a quip. "Feels like an interrogation of sorts," I remarked, a laugh escaping my lips.
Father joined in the laughter. "No, my son, it's not that," he assured me.
However, his tone quickly turned serious. "There have been some disagreements regarding your methods," he explained, and instantly, a surge of anger coursed through me.
"Is that true, Father? Who has disagreed with my methods?" I demanded, my frustration evident.
But before Father could respond, Rhaegar spoke up. "The people of the city, along with the High Septon, brother," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Please explain, brother, what wrong have I done?" I implored, seeking clarification.
"You killed over a hundred officers of the city watch without trial. Since when did you assume the right to pass judgment?" Rhaegar's words cut through the air with accusation.
"I cleansed the filth present, nothing more," I retorted defiantly.
"The Master of Laws, Lord Symond Staunton, would agree with me that the rate of crimes has decreased considerably since the actions I took," I added, attempting to justify my actions.
"You are distressing the people, Daemon. You are too harsh with your punishments," Rhaegar countered.
"There are reports that you had the hand of a thief cut off once your men captured him," he continued, disappointment evident in his tone.
"Well, I did. And he should be grateful that I took his hand and not his head," I replied boldly, unyielding in my stance.
"Is this why I was called, Father? I have cleansed this city and now I am being questioned for the decisions I took," I asserted, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
"Rhaegar," Father interjected, his voice commanding attention. "Whatever your brother has done, it has improved the city and brought order as well," he stated firmly, addressing my brother's concerns.
Rhaegar's expression remained impassive.
"Does anyone wish to question my son any further?" Father's voice cut through the tension that hung in the air.
"Yes, Your Grace," the Master of Laws spoke up.
"The High Septon has stated that Prince Daemon has been corrupting the honorable men of the city," he declared, his words laced with accusation.
"Is that right? And what have I done to warrant such accusations?" I retorted, meeting his gaze squarely, noting the beads of sweat forming on his brow.
"Yes, Lord Symond, please explain to me how my son has committed such an act," Father demanded, his tone commanding.
"The High Septon claims that the brothels owned by the prince have been trying to influence the hearts and minds of the Seven's faithful," Symond said, his voice trailing off into nervous laughter.
"Well, I agree. It is my fault," I admitted, causing everyone in the room to pause in shock.
"I should have started whoring out young boys as well, since the Faith and the clergy would love that," I added with a wry smile.
"This is not a matter to be taken lightly, my prince," Lord Commander Gerold Hightower of the Kingsguard interjected sternly.
"What the High Septon says, the people listen," he cautioned.
"Then tell the High Septon that brothels have existed since the start of time, and that I am not responsible for men having lusts and seeking to sate them in my establishments," I responded firmly, asserting my stance amidst the scrutiny.
"Is that all?" Father inquired, his gaze sweeping across the room, and everyone nodded in response.
"A raven came from Lord Steffon Baratheon," Grand Maester Pycelle announced.
Upon hearing this, Father's expression lit up with excitement. "Did he find a bride worthy of my heir?" he asked eagerly, turning his attention to Rhaegar, whose face betrayed a hint of conflict.
"No, Your Grace," Pycelle replied, and I could see the relief wash over Rhaegar's features. "He will be reaching at Storm's End in a month's time," Pycelle continued.
The news seemed to infuriate Father, his anger evident as he clenched his fists.
"Your Grace, a raven arrived from House Darklyn," Tywin interjected.
"Did the man agree to pay the taxes?" Father asked dismissively.
"No, Your Grace," Tywin responded.
"Rather, he wishes for you to come to Duskendale and meet him," he added, and Father fell silent for some time.
"What would you suggest, Tywin?" Father finally inquired.
In that moment, Tywin glanced at me briefly before turning towards Father.
"I believe that by Your Grace going to Duskendale to meet Lord Darklyn, the issue will be resolved," he suggested. As soon as he spoke, Father's expression twisted in frustration.
"This is bloody treason! How the hell does Darklyn think he can order the king to come to Duskendale?" I interjected, feeling my own anger rising.
"Father, give me leave and I will take five hundred of my men and bring Darklyn to his knees," I declared playing the ole of an aggrieved son to perfection.
Hearing me, Father looked pleased. "My son is correct," he affirmed. "Tywin, dragons do not bow to others and do not heed the whims of their inferiors," he added, a small smile forming on his lips.
"Father, let me go to Duskendale," Rhaegar spoke up, surprising me.
"Daemon will burn them down the moment he sees them, Father," Rhaegar said, and I couldn't help but feel offended, as that had been my plan B.
"And pray, tell, what will you do, brother? Offer them roses and ask them to pay the taxes?" I sneered.
"All I need are seven men, Father, and I will bring House Darklyn back to the fold," Rhaegar stated with conviction.
Father did not seem pleased with Rhaegar's proposal, and Rhaegar appeared just as uneasy.
"Father, there will come a day when I will ascend the throne, and at that time, it would be imperative to show that I am worthy of it," Rhaegar pleaded. "So please, allow me to go to Duskendale," he added.
For a few moments, there was silence until Father spoke again.
"Very well, Rhaegar, you may go," he finally conceded.
Inwardly, I cursed, unprepared for the possibility of my brother wanting to go to Duskendale.
"Well, it seems that my plans had to change a bit," I muttered to myself, bracing for the shifting circumstances.