The penitence of the wolf - Tense days, pleasure nights. (Patreon)

Jon Arryn, Great Hall, Dragonstone

The music was cheerful, the food plentiful, and the atmosphere thick with celebration. Minor lords and landed knights laughed loudly, drinking deep from silver goblets while musicians played lively tunes along the stone walls of the great hall.

Many of them danced without care, utterly oblivious to the quiet games of the powerful being played around them.

The Targaryen soldiers stationed throughout the hall watched everything with disciplined silence. They stood like statues along the walls and pillars, their posture rigid, their presence unmistakable.

Each of them wore identical helmets that fully concealed their faces, denying the guests even the smallest glimpse of their identities. The armor was immaculate, polished to a dull sheen beneath the torchlight.

It was clever.

No one could see their faces.

No one could hear their voices.

The guards had been given explicit orders not to speak to any guest under any circumstance. Even the servants were ignored.

Furthermore, the rotations were constant. Guards changed posts at irregular intervals, sometimes every half hour, sometimes after only minutes. It was impossible to observe them long enough to memorize posture, height, or the subtle habits that might betray a man beneath the armor.

As usual, the Dragon King had thought of every irritating, minuscule detail.

A constant reminder that this castle—Dragonstone—was not merely a residence.

It was his fortress.

And the visiting lords, though treated with courtesy and lavish hospitality, would never truly feel comfortable within its walls.

A message Jon Arryn had received loud and clear.

He lifted his goblet slowly, pretending to observe the festivities while his sharp eyes continued to study the room.

Despite the laughter, despite the dancing and the wine flowing like a river, the truth was painfully obvious to anyone who understood politics.

War was coming.

Sooner than the Lord of the Vale would have preferred.

Aerys Targaryen would not expect the first move from Balon Greyjoy.

No.

The Dragon King was already preparing the first strike.

At the last council meeting, Lord Tywin had calmly reported that Ser Amory Lorch had been sent to the Iron Islands as an emissary of the Crown.

Officially, the realm would await his return before taking any military action.

Officially.

Jon Arryn almost scoffed at the thought.

It was painfully obvious that the king had no intention of waiting.

The ships were already prepared.

The soldiers trained and assembled.

Supply chains organized.

Command structures finalized.

War was not coming.

War was ready.

And soon the Ironborn would feel the full weight of the Iron Throne descending upon them.

Which meant Jon Arryn needed to act quickly.

Very quickly.

Before Targaryen power expanded even further.

Before those damned pagan beasts grew large enough to become a true problem.

Before the dragons matured.

They were already a nuisance.

In time they would become something far worse.

“Robert,” Jon Arryn said pleasantly as he approached the young heir of Storm’s End, his face displaying a warm smile that hid the deep contempt stirring behind his eyes.

“HAHAHA! Lord Arryn!” Robert Baratheon roared with laughter as he stood from the bench, pushing himself up from the long wooden table.

A young serving girl had been sitting comfortably on his lap only moments before.

The moment Robert’s attention shifted away, she quickly slipped off his knee, clearly eager to escape the drunken lord’s grasp. She disappeared into the crowd of guests with practiced speed.

“I see that your time at Storm’s End has not cured you of your… unfortunate habits,” Jon Arryn said with a sigh of carefully crafted disappointment.

Inside, however, he felt a quiet surge of satisfaction at the brief look of embarrassment crossing Robert’s face.

It lasted only a heartbeat.

Then Robert burst out laughing again.

His eyes were red, his cheeks flushed from drink, and the smell of strong wine clung to him like armor.

“Bah! A little fun never hurt anyone!” Robert said dismissively. “Gods know how long it’ll be before I have a warm body in my bed again. We’ll be spending months smashing Greyjoy skulls.”

Jon Arryn nodded slowly.

“Yes… months,” he said thoughtfully.

“The entire realm will witness the new Targaryen fleet and the crown’s rebuilt armies in action.”

He sighed softly.

“A shame it must begin with the destruction of one of the kingdom’s noble houses.”

In truth, Jon Arryn did not care in the slightest about the Greyjoys.

But appearances mattered.

He had cultivated his reputation carefully over many years.

The honorable mentor.

The guiding hand.

The moral pillar who had raised both the brute in front of him and that dull Stark boy in the North.

That image could not be broken.

However, the true surprise came from Robert.

Instead of agreeing politely, the young Baratheon simply snorted.

“Pah. The Greyjoys are as noble as a whore claiming to be a maiden,” Robert said bluntly.

“The Ironborn have always been a plague. If anything, destroying them is the most sensible decision His Grace has made.”

Jon Arryn blinked.

“Oh?” he said slowly, genuinely curious.

“And why do you believe that?”

Robert took a deep drink from his goblet, draining nearly half the wine in a single pull before slamming the cup against the table.

“When the Greyjoys are destroyed—because at this point it’s not a matter of if, but when—Aerys Targaryen will remove the greatest irritation in the Sunset Sea,” Robert said casually.

Doing so will strengthen his reign and solidify his reputation for at least another generation.”

He shrugged.

“And more importantly, it will free his fleets and armies to focus on something else.”

Jon Arryn frowned slightly.

“Something else?” the old lord asked.

Robert turned toward him, amusement dancing in his drunken eyes.

“The signs are obvious.”

He gestured lazily with his goblet.

“King’s Landing fortified. Trade expanding across the Narrow Sea. Roads improving every year. Harvests increasing. Dragonstone dominating the maritime routes.”

Robert leaned closer.

“And then there are the dragons.”

Jon Arryn felt his stomach tighten.

“With Dragonstone controlling the sea lanes and those winged beasts in the sky, Targaryen supremacy becomes absolute,” Robert continued.

“Don’t you see?”

He looked at Jon as if the older man were the fool.

Lord Arryn bit down hard on his tongue to stop himself from insulting the boy.

Instead, he waited.

Robert leaned back in his chair.

“It’s a supply chain,” he said with unexpected clarity.

“A protected one. Efficient. Organized.”

He lifted the goblet again.

“The king is preparing the realm for war, a true one, not the this Iron born public execution”

Jon Arryn hesitated, those words...were uncomfortable to hear.

There was no way Aerys Targaryen could know.

They had been careful, very careful.

There was no possible way the Dragon King was aware of their plans.

Right?

“Well then,” Robert suddenly said, pushing himself up from the bench with a heavy movement.

His attention had already wandered elsewhere.

“That girl with the huge tits has been looking at me all night… and soon she’ll have something else of mine inside her! HAHAHA!”

The young Baratheon laughed loudly as he staggered away from the table, already following the smiling serving woman who had caught his interest.

Jon Arryn watched him go, his expression calm, dignified… thoughtful.

Very thoughtful.

The conversation lingered in his mind far longer than he liked.

For all his drunkenness and crude behavior, Robert Baratheon had demonstrated something deeply unsettling.

Clarity.

A clarity that few men his age possessed.

Jon Arryn had always believed Robert to be predictable.

Strong, loud and even brave.

But ultimately simple, or even stupid.

Yet the analysis he had just heard had been disturbingly precise.

Too precise.

Jon lifted his goblet again, taking a slow sip of wine while pretending to watch the dancers spinning across the great hall.

The music continued, and the Lords continue to get drunk.

But the Lord of the Vale no longer saw any of it.

His mind was elsewhere now, panicking, measuring risks.

If Robert could see the pattern… could others see it as well?

Could Tywin?

And more importantly…

Could the king?

For a brief moment, an uncomfortable thought crept into Jon Arryn’s mind.

There would be no way for Aerys Targaryen to know.

They had been extremely careful.

Every message delivered through trusted channels, every meeting conducted in secrecy and every conversation guarded.

There was simply no possible way the Dragon King was aware of their plans.

Right?

Jon Arryn slowly lowered his goblet.

And for just a brief moment, an unfamiliar sensation crept into his chest.

Fear.

The coming war against the Greyjoys would be a valuable opportunity.

A perfect chance to observe the true military capabilities of House Targaryen.

And Jon Arryn intended to watch very carefully.

There was no time to waste.

Aerys Targaryen, Royal Apartments – Dragonstone

"Let all the Lords report to the docks at dawn. We will leave as soon as possible for Dorne, while Tywin leads the infantry to Casterly Rock," said the king as they climbed the endless stairs to his private tower.

Ser Gerold next to him nodded softly.

"All orders have been carried out, Your Grace. All Lords have been warned. Prince Rhaegar is preparing to return to King's Landing and assume the government of the city in your absence," said the knight, causing the king to nod.

When he reached the door of his room, he raised an eyebrow when he saw that Barristan was standing guard.

"Everything in order Ser?" he asked, curious as to why the knight was present.

Barristan simply blushed, at the same time that a familiar cry of pleasure echoed in the hallway.

"OH MY QUEEN!! YES!!"

Ashara's voice, which was evidently flooded with raw passion and need, made old Barristan blush as he had never seen him in his life.

Aerys simply sighed as he shook his head.

"I see, my naughty queen started without me," said the king, while looking at Gerold and Brynden.

"Let one of you rest tonight, Sers. The queen will not leave this room until tomorrow. I give you freedom to choose who will be on guard," said the king, making the three knights nod softly.

And without wasting a single second, he entered the room, allowing Ashara's cries of pleasure to be heard clearly for an instant, before closing the door.

The king climbed the stairs to where the huge bed was, at the same time that he slowly untied his robe. He was full of anticipation of what he would find when he arrived.

And his beloved wife did not disappoint.

"OH GODS, YES!" Ashara shouted, totally decomposed.

The Dornishwoman was in a rather complicated position. Her hands were above her head, tied to the wall of the room, while her beautiful and long legs were wide open.

"Oh my little Dornish slut, behave. The king will arrive at any moment and I want to have his gift ready," Rhaella said with a purr in her voice, caressing with gentle touches the trembling body of the Dornish maiden.

"Oh my queen, it feels great, more please!" Ashara said, as she moved her head from side to side. Her blindfolded eyes made the experience much more intense for the king.

But Aerys's attention was not on the beautiful body of the maiden Dayne.

But on the hands of his wife.

The night wind gently entered from the bay and moved the silk curtains, causing her silver hair to slide over her bare shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight, totally loose and beautiful.

She wore only a tiny, sheer white silk nightgown, the fabric hugging her figure with a softness that seemed designed to recall every curve of her body.

And what a body.

At thirty-five, Rhaella was not a young maiden, but she contained the sensuality, body, and desire of one.

Her large tits were marked under the light silk, and the same fabric fell down her narrow waist before opening gently over her generous hips, drawing the silhouette of a woman in full maturity.

By the Gods, just seeing her made Aerys want her with fervor. He needed, in an obsessive way, to impregnate his queen again, to imagine her moaning and sighing while the king poured his seed inside her.

Her arms rested naturally at her sides, but her hands were clasped in front of her, as if she had been patiently waiting for his arrival.

Her violet eyes rose to him, revealing a small smile on her lips.

Slow... sure... almost mischievous.

She didn't say anything at first. She just watched him, being fully aware of the effect she had.

And then, her beautiful hands went to her shoulders, dropping the robe with total confidence and sensuality.

"My love, it's good that you already join us. I've prepared our pet for you," said the queen, as she passed her hand sensually over the waterlogged folds of Ashara, who could only moan and shudder more.

"I see that, my love," said the king, as he ran his hand over Ashara's sensitive thigh, making her shudder like a cat in heat, totally decomposed from feeling more of her king.

However, before Aerys could raise his hand into Ashara's intimacy, the queen stopped him.

"Wait a minute, dear. I wanted to finish preparing her" said Rhaella, taking his arm and moving it away a little from the anxious young woman, who could only moan in frustration and desire.

Aerys raised an eyebrow curiously and let his beloved queen work, but not before giving her a strong and dominant spanking, eliciting a moan of desire from his beloved queen, who only looked at him with obvious desire, approaching him and licking Aerys' neck slowly, a gesture full of promises.

"I have a new trick to show you. Look at this," Rhaella said excitedly as she parted from the king and walked toward a brazier in the room.

And then, to the king's surprise, Rhaella began to murmur in High Valyrian, at the same time running her hand through the flames without any problem.

"Impressive," said the king with sincerity and pride, seeing his sister and wife begin to master the mystic arts of the ancient Valyrians.

Rhaella looked at him with a huge smile on her beaming face, and looking him straight in the eyes, she withdrew her hand from the brazier.

Taking the flame with her, to the king's immense surprise.

The flames in his wife's hand began to condense and transformed into graceful flame snakes, which moved around Rhaella's wrists as if the flames were alive in some form.

"The gifts of our ancestors were great, my love," said the monarch, really proud and impressed.

In his life as Jon, he had mastered the gifts of the First Men, his warging and green-seeing being formidable.

But he had never really been interested in the Targaryen gifts.

"The flames," Rhaella whispered, "they tell me things... I can hear them, the secrets of our blood wanting to get out," Rhaella murmured as she reached for Ashara's skin, who was still panting in a constant state of excitement.

And the moment Rhaella's fingers touched Ashara's skin...

"AHHHHHHHH!" cried the Dornish beauty, lost in pleasure, while the fire snake moved all over her body, scorching all the hairs of Ashara's body, leaving smooth and totally soft skin in place.

"Oh Gods!" moaned the black-haired woman, panting with desire as she felt the fire slide down her beautiful legs, leaving them totally smooth and soft.

However, it was evident that their queen did not want to stop there, even more so when she saw the mischievous flame rise toward Ashara's femininity.

Did Rhaella...?

Aerys got her answer a second later, as the snake slipped between Ashara's legs, moving through her beautiful womanhood.

And the Dornish woman simply broke.

"OHHHHHH YES YOUR GRACES!! MORE! MORE! I AM YOURS TO DO AS YOU PLEASE!"

Her screams tore through the room entirely as her body contorted with pleasure, still trapped in the silk of the sheets.

Agonizing seconds later, Ashara simply tensed up and, with a dry scream, flooded the bed with her love juices, filling the room with that delicious scent of a woman in heat that drove him so crazy.

"She is ready my love! break the bitch with your cock" Rhaella said, beaming, as she took the fire snake and returned it to the brazier.

The king had his cock as hard as Valyrian steel. He was anxious for the night to begin and, to be honest, he didn't want to wait.

He placed the tip of his virility on the delicate flower of Ashara and, without giving the Dornishwoman a moment to catch her breath, he sheathed himself inside her with a thrust.

Ashara gasped for air, the sharp intake of breath followed by a guttural moan. She had another orgasm the moment Aerys entered her, her body contorting completely as she surrendered to the exquisite pleasure she felt.

"OH MY KING!! YES!! CLAIM WHAT IS YOURS!! I... MMMHHMMM—"

Ashara's words were muted by Rhaella, who had returned to the bed and silenced the Dornishwoman in the most exquisite way possible.

With her beautiful cunt, which, like Ashara's, was completely hairless.

Noticing his gaze, the queen smiled coquettishly and said,

"According to Visenya's accounts, it was a Valyrian custom for all women to burn all the hair below their necks. And judging by your reaction, they were right."

The king simply roared with pleasure. Between the tight, fiery Dornish cunt and the antics of his beloved, lustful, mischievous wife, it was only a matter of time before he released the first discharge of his seed.

And Rhaella knew it.

The queen approached him and grabbed him by the neck while Aerys was still fucking Ashara, who was licking the queen's sweet petals with a fervor never seen before.

"I will do the same with all your toys my love. Each of our sluts will know their place. They will mount your cock because I allow it. They will bring Targaryen princesses spawned from your seed, so that the princes I give you will have whores to fuck. We will take the fire of House Targaryen to every corner of the world!" whispered Rhaella before kissing him passionately.

All this while he continued thrusting into Ashara, who was almost catatonic at this point but still continuing with her important work.

Aerys grabbed his queen by the neck and, with a roar of joy, released his seed and with it all the stress of the last few days inside Ashara, shuddering completely as weakness entered his body.

"BY THE GODS!" bellowed the monarch as he separated from Ashara's recently fucked cunt and admired the work of his actions.

Her lips throbbed, red and swollen from the savage pounding she had just endured, as his seed slowly trickled from inside the Dornish maiden.

And then, when Aerys thought the sight could not become any better—

His queen bent down, placing her mouth on Ashara's freshly fucked cunt and giving it a slow, sensual lick, making the Dornishwoman shudder completely while taking some of his seed between her lips.

"Mmmm, the best seed in the Seven Kingdoms, my love," said the queen, completely drowned in lust, something that was becoming more and more common.

Perhaps it had something to do with the sorcery Rhaella was practicing, though Aerys certainly would not complain about such an exquisite blessing.

"Tonight I will place another prince inside your womb, wife," the king bellowed, his body burning with desire.

The queen's response?

She smiled defiantly, lifting herself away from Ashara's mouth and positioning herself above her so that the queen's cunt and the Dornishwoman's cunt were practically touching.

"Come and fulfill your obligations, Aerys. Your queen wishes to be taken as the dragoness that she is. Hard and dirty," Rhaella ordered while slowly moving her hips from side to side.

The night was young.

And this was only the beginning.