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Harrys Potter, Potter Tent – Ashford

“Is everything in order, my Lord?” Bella asked cautiously, flinching slightly with every blow Harry struck against the metal on the anvil.

As usual, Harrys was shirtless, something a normal blacksmith could not do, but being a sorcerer had its advantages.

And at this moment, he needed to release the damned stress that Daella had brought into the tournament where he had been having such a good time.

And nothing was better than striking steel over and over again until giving it the desired shape; metal did not speak, did not complain.

It did not give him damned headaches, the dark-haired man thought.

“My Lord?” Bella asked timidly, making Harrys look at her with surprise and a hint of embarrassment.

“Everything is in order, Bella, everything is in order,” Harrys said with a sigh, as he lifted the final piece of the gauntlet he had built for Duncan.

With so little time before the fight, Harrys had to… improvise. The “trial” was stupidity, many Lords thought it would be nothing more than a public execution.

A notion Harrys intended to correct.

Even with magic, Harrys did not have enough time to craft a fully enchanted armor for Duncan, so he focused all his energy on a small and discreet advantage.

“Your chambers are ready, as well as the bath you requested. As always, dinner and a jug of cider are prepared just the way you like them, and if you require something more… personal, you need only ask,” Bella said with her exotic voice, her intentions more than clear.

The implicit invitation was undeniable.

“My mother?” he asked with a frown, dipping the gauntlet into the oil at the same time, which briefly ignited in a blue hue before returning to normal.

Bella, as always when she saw him work, watched in fascination, before shaking her head.

“Lady Lily informed us she is indisposed and will dine in her chambers,” Bella said, knowing that answer would not please him.

“And I assume she also ordered a suspiciously abundant amount of food, enough for two,” Harrys muttered, cursing as he saw confirmation in Bella’s expression.

The young Potter removed the gauntlet from the oil, now completely pristine, the engraved runes glowing for a brief instant before turning inert again, the enchantment complete.

“It is beautiful, my Lord…” Bella whispered, stepping closer and admiring the object.

“It is rushed work, it does not have the quality I would like, and I could have done more to help Duncan,” Harrys sighed as he left the piece to cool.

Bella looked at the object with a conflicted expression, something Harrys noticed immediately.

“Something on your mind, Bella?” he asked.

“It is just that… I find it difficult to understand your generosity, my Lord. Duncan has been in your service for less than a week. Any other Lord would not concern himself with a commoner in such a way,” Bella said cautiously.

Harrys nodded.

“Duncan is a good man. Those are rare in Westeros. Striking that idiot Aerion to protect a puppeteer is a noble and just act,” Harrys said, drying his sweat with a lazy motion of his wand before putting on his shirt and leaving the workshop, Bella following him like a faithful shadow.

She had followed him like that since the day he pulled her from the edge of degradation, when she had nothing but fear and chains awaiting her—loyalty was not commanded, it had been chosen.

The large tent he had set up for the tournament was heavily guarded. Duncan was training with the boys for tomorrow’s trial, though it was more than evident that he was scared out of his mind.

Harrys could not blame him. The boy from Flea Bottom was used to a simple, dull life, and suddenly being thrown into the Game of Lords, where his life was little more than entertainment, could be overwhelming.

And speaking of entertainment…

“HEY POTTER!!” shouted a familiar, annoying, and welcome voice.

Bella immediately stepped behind Harrys as was proper, lowering her head in submission as Lyonel approached, holding a horn filled with a liquid that looked suspiciously like mead, and in the other…

“Did you take that bottle from my reserves?” Harrys asked in disbelief, staring at the bottle of vodka in Lyonel’s hand, who simply grinned shamelessly and nodded.

“Of course! It is my payment… for helping your boy!” Lyonel said, clearly pleased.

Harrys raised an eyebrow, but Lyonel did not give him time to respond.

“Do not worry, do not worry! We are friends! The little squire came to me asking for help for a just cause. PAH! The chance to stain those pretty white cloaks and drive a lance into Maekar Targaryen’s face is reward enough!” Lyonel said, clearly drunk, before looking at Bella.

“Ahhh, but I see I am interrupting your fun. A good idea, relieving stress before a fight always helps. That island girl is beautiful, reminds me of a wench I met years ago in Pentos—ebony skin, generous breasts, gods, what memories,” he said, lost in his fantasy, making Bella blush deeply.

Harrys rolled his eyes and discreetly passed his hand over Lyonel’s face, instantly putting him to sleep, catching him in his arms before ordering the guards to carry him to one of the available beds.

“I will never understand how no one notices that the tent is vastly bigger inside than outside,” Bella whispered as they continued walking.

Harrys shrugged.

“It is magic,” he said simply, laughing at her annoyed expression as they passed by his mother’s chambers.

Which were completely silent.

Too silent.

Harrys knew exactly what that meant.

“It seems Lady Lily is resting,” Bella said, without conviction.

“Of course,” Harrys muttered, shaking his head and continuing toward his own quarters.

Upon entering, Bella immediately got to work. She took the enchanted silver tray, which would keep the food warm no matter how much time passed, and placed it on the table, preparing everything for Harrys, who observed her with keen interest.

The long legs and wide hips of the islander moved with efficiency and an innate sensuality.

“Everything is ready, my Lord,” she said calmly, stepping back and waiting for Harrys to take his seat.

However, Harrys stood up, but not to sit—he served a second plate, more than enough food for two. Bella watched in silence, though not surprised.

She had learned his habits, his silences, even the way he carried his burdens—long before he ever noticed she had begun to understand him.

Once finished, Harrys stood behind the chair, indicating where Bella will sit, the command clear.

The islander obeyed in silence, at this point understanding that there was no way Lord Harrys would change his mind.

“It is not common for Lords to serve their maids, my Lord,” Bella said softly.

“You have been with us long enough to know the Potters are not normal,” he replied with a small smile, finally taking his seat and beginning to eat with her.

“I know, I still thank the Gods that you found me. Any other man would not have hesitated to take advantage of a defenseless foreign island girl,” she said, beginning to eat with elegance and class, using the famous utensils so well known among the Potters.

And yet, she had chosen to stay, not out of fear, but because, for the first time, her future belonged to her… and she had decided to place it in his hands, she was his, period.

Harrys simply smiled, and they began to eat in silence, the weight of tomorrow’s event more than evident.

Harrys knew perfectly well that he would be the primary target of the opposing team, and although he was capable of subduing seven men with extreme ease using his magic, all the attention of the tournament would be on him, so doing so discreetly would be extremely difficult.

He could handle three, perhaps four warriors at most before being overwhelmed, so he had to plan tomorrow’s actions with precision.

No pressure, the Lord thought, fully focused on the fight and not on the dinner.

He was so concentrated that he did not notice when Bella stood up, moved behind him, and placed her soft, skilled hands on his shoulders, pressing gently.

“OHHHH...” Lord Potter let out a heavy pleasured sigh, closing his eyes at the amazing sensation as those gentle feminine hands found the points of tension in his body.

“You are far too tense, my Lord,” Bella said softly, pressing again and drawing another sigh from him.

“I know, I have… I have a bad feeling, you know?” Harrys confessed, setting down his utensils and closing his eyes, lost in the sensation.

Bella gently caressed his shoulders and slowly moved down to his chest—a boundary she had never dared to cross before.

But at this moment… the sensation was too much for the young Lord’s agitated mind.

“This is… not right,” he whispered, though his conviction was nearly nonexistent.

And both of them knew it.

Bella’s hands moved from his chest to his abdomen, the touches so soft and delicate that they only fueled the fire growing inside him, threatening to break his restraint.

“Let yourself be cared for, my Lord, I am yours to do as you pleased, I swear myself to you, remember” she whispered, her hands like silk slipping beneath his tunic, undoing it and exposing his torso.

“As a servant...I...this is not right…but...” Harrys repeated, though he felt far too good to stop.

Bella did not respond, she simply continued, placing playful kisses along his now bare shoulders.

“The bath is ready… I wish to please my Lord, let your maid pampers you as you deserve” Bella said, taking his hand gently and guiding him to the prepared tub.

Not as a servant fulfilling a duty… but as a woman offering something that, once, had nearly been stolen from her forever.

With complete calm, Bella slowly undressed Harrys, taking her time to caress every part of his body with extreme care, memorizing in her mind the most sensitive and pleasurable places of her Lord.

Until, with slow precision, she left him completely naked, revealing his virility.

Bella simply knelt, touching him with extreme softness, looking at him with something close to love.

Not fear. Not obligation. Devotion, something chosen, unwavering, absolute.

“Tomorrow you will dominate House Targaryen, you will humiliate the dragon… but tonight… tonight you are mine, Harrys,” Bella said in a tone full of promise and desire.

And without another word, she placed her lips around him, while Harrys simply closed his eyes and exclaimed:

“Oh Gods…”

As he trembled, gripping Bella’s head firmly, desire having overcome his will.

At least for this night.

Lily Potter, at the same time, Potter Tent

“OH GODS!!” the redhead moaned, shuddering as Baelor’s manhood invaded her intimacy.

Gods, how she had missed this sensation, the Lady thought—the primal need, the weight of the prince’s body over hers, the vigorous thrusts that invaded and conquered her insides again and again, the possessive way in which he held her and dominated her while he fucked her were exquisite.

“Ooooh” the prince moaned, panting with effort as he increased the speed of his thrusts, at the same time that Lily wrapped her legs around the prince’s torso, able to identify what was coming, and thus began to apply pressure with the inner muscles of her wet femininity.

Just the way she knew drove the prince mad.

“Oh Lily, AHHHHG” Baelor cried out, as his body began to tremble and he lost control of his hips.

Lily dug her nails into the prince’s back, moaning in triumph as she felt the warm, thick seed flooding her interior, only to sigh in exhaustion a moment later.

“That… was… magnificent,” Baelor panted, as he withdrew his now flaccid member and lay down beside the redhead.

Lily simply sighed, enjoying the pleasurable sensation, her womanhood still throbbing from the intense session of lovemaking, and she laughed softly as she felt Baelor’s firm arms taking her by the waist possessively, spooning her from behind.

Such an intimate gesture that remained just as pleasant as that first time, years ago.

“You are worried,” the redhead stated cautiously, as she closed her eyes calmly, enjoying the intimate moment.

Baelor did not respond for a time, still lost in his thoughts.

“I am worried about tomorrow,” were his tense words, as he pressed Lily closer to himself.

Lily simply responded.

“I want to believe you say that because of the beast you call nephew. My girls attended to the puppeteer before leaving, it was a monstrous act, not worthy of a prince,” Lily said with certainty, making Baelor nod behind her.

“It was. My brother is worried, he does not doubt that Harrys will take the opportunity to mutilate or execute Aerion. I know the King’s Guard will have direct orders to go after Lord Harrys—”

“That is something both Harrys and I expected. My son can take care of himself, do not worry,” Lily said with determination.

Baelor smiled softly.

“I do not doubt it, it is my knights that concern me, to be honest,” he said with a sigh, only to inhale the essence of the beautiful woman with fervent desire.

“Gods, I adore you, your mere scent… awakens the dragon within me, my blood burns fiercely at your mere presence,” said the prince, making Lily smile softly, but she was not foolish.

Years had passed since she had last been in Baelor’s arms, since that last night, just before his wedding to his now deceased wife.

That time, the prince had taken her wildly, again and again without pause, in what both believed was a final farewell.

Fate was… curious, to say the least.

Years later, here they were, together once more, in each other’s arms.

But that was not important now. Baelor was hiding something, something important it seemed, if the look of guilt meant anything.

“Will you attend the trial tomorrow?” the prince asked, clearly changing the subject.

“Obviously, I will sit beside the young Ashford. I received her invitation. Apparently she wishes to speak about Harrys and get to know me more deeply. During the afternoon when she visited me, she mentioned something about understanding Harrys’ desires more thoroughly in order to please him properly. She is a good girl, she would make a good daughter for me,” the redhead admitted, making Baelor laugh softly.

“Do not let Daella hear you say that or she will accuse you of treason,” said the prince, making Lily roll her eyes and frown.

“No comments about the capricious princess. She is a good girl, but… her title as princess has done her no favors, and the absence of her mother is more than evident. The influence of your aunt has not helped either,” she said with her usual sharpness, making Baelor smile softly.

After that, both sank into a comfortable silence, entwined in the furs to shield themselves from the cold night, an intimate moment between lovers.

“Will you return to King’s Landing?” the prince asked, hope evident in his voice, while he gently and delicately caressed her chest, softly squeezing her pink nipples in the way she loved so much.

Lily did not respond, she simply moaned at the gesture.

“It is unlikely, Harrys has plans and we must… AHHHH” the words of the beautiful woman were drowned in a moan of extreme pleasure as she felt Baelor’s hand caress her still sensitive womanhood.

“Harrys is an adult, Lily, he can take care of himself,” said the prince with as much tact as possible.

Lily did not respond, she simply panted with desire.

“I know, but… he is… AHHH… he is my son,” said the beautiful woman, as she panted and pressed her rear against the prince’s groin, which was already as hard as steel.

“Just think about it, please,” Baelor pleaded before rolling her over and thrusting his virility into her again, drawing another guttural moan from the redhead’s lips, and making any thought about her son disappear for the moment.

Now… it was only Baelor and her, a situation that, being honest with herself, she did not dislike at all.

The rest of the night, Baelor made her his as many times as he wished, and Lily gave herself completely, utterly surrendered to that man, even after so many years.

However…

Neither of the two lovers considered that the following day… the trial of a humble knight would have enormous consequences, so great that they would permanently change the political landscape of Westeros.

The foundations of the House of the Dragon would tremble as never before in its history.

Maekar Targaryen, Trial of Seven – Ashford

“There he comes,” said Ser Donnel, already clad in his armor and mounted, watching as the gates of the arena opened and six imposing riders rode toward the place of the trial.

Maekar simply frowned and said:

“You have your orders. The plan is simple: keep Potter as far away from Aerion as possible, while my son ends this damned stupidity once and for all,” Maekar snapped.

The King’s Guard nodded with determination, though it was more than evident that they were nervous, the way they moved on their horses and how their hands remained close to their swords made that clear.

And Maekar could not blame them, to be honest.

Potter… Potter was a fucking beast, the embodiment of a warrior, something that made sense considering who had been his master. He was strong, agile, and lethal, moving with incredible elegance and speed, almost inhuman. Five years ago, the King’s Guard had barely been able to subdue him in the fight that had spiraled out of control in King’s Landing.

And judging by the young Lord’s physical skill in the tourneys, it was evident that Harrys Potter had only refined his abilities even further.

Maekar’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard a commotion on the other side of the arena.

“It seems there are problems on the other side,” said Aerion with a tone of superiority that made Maekar look at his son, demanding an explanation.

However, a disturbance shook the other side of the arena, and Maekar watched as a young squire launched himself fiercely at a Fossoway knight, who simply looked at him with disdain, mounted his horse and began to ride toward where they were, nodding his head toward where Aerion stood.

Maekar, upon seeing the satisfied look on his son’s face, grabbed him by the shoulder with force and snapped with fury:

“What the hell did you do? What did you promise that man?” Maekar demanded furiously.

Was his son truly so stupid as to not realize the message he was sending? The entire damn realm was watching the trial, they saw how House Targaryen was putting on a damned circus over a mere puppeteer.

And what was worse, they saw how Harrys Potter rose without fear against the House of the Dragon, fighting for a knight without a name who, in the eyes of the people, had defended an innocent woman.

“All of this is a fucking disaster,” Maekar snapped, his face tense as he felt the vein in his neck pulse without stopping.

Could anything else go wrong in this damned place?

And just at that moment, his son Daeron whispered:

“And now… the dragon”

Maekar looked at him with doubt in his gaze, but he was unable to ask anything, as he saw his brother Baelor ride out into the arena, clad in Valarr’s armor and positioning himself at the center, declaring:

“I will take Ser Duncan’s side!”

A moment of silence, and then everyone present roared, excited and proud of the noble actions of the crown prince.

Everyone… except two people.

Lily Potter looked toward Baelor with horror and fear, while Harrys did so with a frown, in a cold and calculating manner, resentment and hatred more than clear in his gaze.

Nothing like the cheerful and joking young man he remembered, one he would have loved to call a good son.

But to be fair, time changes people.

“This is a fucking nightmare, let’s end this at once,” Maekar snapped, putting on his helmet and taking position.

“Oh father, this is only the beginning,” said Daeron, his face completely focused, staring with an almost sick intensity toward where Lady Lily and his brother Baelor stood.

The reason? Maekar did not know, but he had a bad feeling.

Something… important was going to happen, of that he had no doubt.

Moments later, the trumpets sounded and the galloping began, making the ground roar with fury.

The Trial of Seven had begun, and with it, a new era in Westeros.

Even if no one knew it yet.