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Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Red Keep – King's Landing.

"OH GODS!! HARRY... HARRY!!!"

Alicent screamed, her beautiful voice drowned in pleasure through the thick wooden door. The Hightower maiden sounded... trembling and overflowing with need, while the sounds of the bed striking repeatedly against the wall, followed by the blonde girl's cries of pleasure, became increasingly frequent and desperate.

It was more than obvious that Harry was taking Alicent's virginity, much to her evident delight.

"Oh my Lord! I am yours... claim me for yourself!" she cried once again, provoking an ever-growing mixture of fury and envy within the young Princess, who remained punished outside the chambers exactly as Harry had ordered.

Rhaenyra stood there with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, while Alicent's constant moans assaulted her ears and filled her with complicated feelings.

On one hand, her pride was wounded by the audacity of Harry, her future husband, preferring to lose himself between Alicent Hightower's thighs instead of her own.

But another part of the Princess...

A tiny yet persistent part...

Understood perfectly well what Lord Potter was doing.

He was punishing her.

It was truly that simple.

Rhaenyra knew she was capricious.

She could not help it.

She was a Princess, the firstborn child of a King, and every one of her desires had been granted one way or another throughout her life.

And then...

Harry arrived.

Dangerous.

Mysterious.

Handsome.

Harry, who owed nothing to her father or to the Realm, who if he wished could strip House Targaryen of control over their dragons, overthrow the Royal Family, and sit upon the Iron Throne with Rhaenyra kneeling at his feet as nothing more than a decoration and sex pet.

And the most stimulating part?

The overwhelming majority of the Realm's noble houses would probably kneel before him with only a handful of exceptions.

Lord Potter was inevitable.

Seven hells, neither armies, fleets, nor dragons represented any real danger to him, especially considering Tanaris' immense size and the terrifying ease with which House Targaryen's dragons submitted themselves before him.

Any thoughts regarding dragons, politics, or magic were abruptly forgotten when another cry escaped Alicent's lips.

This one was sharper.

More desperate.

The frequency of the moans increased.

The intensity of the bed striking the wall increased.

The sounds coming from inside the room became so obscenely erotic that Rhaenyra could not help but press her thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the burning sensation between her legs.

"AHHHG HARRY! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE! FINISH WITH ME! TOGETHER! TOGETHER!" Alicent screamed, desperation and madness evident in her voice, followed by the most guttural and shameless moan Rhaenyra had ever heard in her life, one she was certain would have made even the whores her uncle Daemon frequented blush.

Immediately afterward, Alicent's voice disappeared entirely, leaving Harry's roar of pleasure as the only sound assaulting the Princess's ears.

It was savage.

Masculine.

And so absurdly attractive that Rhaenyra had to make a titanic effort not to moan herself as the exquisite mental image of what was occurring inside the room filled her thoughts.

It was obvious that Harry was pumping her best friend full of his seed, claiming her and taming her, making the young Hightower nothing more than a cock sleeve for his pleasure.

The Princess remained completely frozen for a moment, the night falling into total silence now that Lord Potter had finally finished taming the young Hightower. Alicent's breathing could still be heard through the door, completely exhausted.

Well.

The show was over.

Harry had once again reaffirmed his dominance over their future relationship in a masterful fashion, making it abundantly clear to the Princess exactly how their marriage would function from this point onward.

A lesson she won't forget, that's for sure.

The Dragon Princess prepared to return to her chambers. After all, Harry had said they had much to do the following day at the Sun Tower, and she still had a certain appointment waiting for her beneath her own sheets and her own fingers.

However, just as the Princess turned around and prepared to leave...

The door opened.

Revealing Lord Potter in all his magnificence.

Completely naked.

His strong and lean body was fully exposed before the hungry eyes of the Princess.

Gods.

Rhaenyra was dying to lick that deliciously firm body.

Yet that thought vanished completely the moment her eyes drifted lower.

By this point, the Princess was more than familiar with Lord Potter's virility, having enjoyed one another's company on dozens of occasions. The thick and lengthy organ remained damp with Alicent's love juices, making the situation more obscene.

And yet, she couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight, wondering if it would taste as would as she thought.

"Come in." said her man, and the young princess just shuddered and obeys.

Harry gave the order without bothering to close the door before turning and walking back into the room, briefly disappearing from Rhaenyra's sight.

Alas, by this point the Princess was entirely trapped beneath Lord Potter's spell.

Without hesitation she entered the room, locking the door behind her.

An instant later, the stench of sex invaded her senses.

Harry's masculine and intoxicating aroma, so familiar to the Realm's Delight, filled her nose immediately, bringing a smile to her face and a shiver down her spine.

Harry walked toward a nearby table and poured himself a glass of the apple juice Alicent always kept in her room at night, but the Princess's fascination was focused on something entirely different.

There, upon the bed, which had been left completely disheveled, rested Alicent's naked and destroyed body. The blonde girl snored softly, sleeping with the most peaceful and content expression Rhaenyra had ever seen on her friend's face.

"Oh Harry, my love... more... more..." Alicent whispered in her dreams as she curled up beneath the sheets, her hands clutching Harry's discarded robe while she inhaled his lingering scent before continuing her peaceful slumber.

Rhaenyra could not help but admire Alicent's beautiful body. Her friend was older than her, which meant that, much to the Princess's annoyance, she possessed a far more developed and feminine figure. Her hips were fuller, her breasts larger, and her waist wonderfully slender.

Yet the Princess's fascination was focused on a very specific part of the young Hightower.

Rhaenyra stared with fascination at Alicent's thighs, observing with veiled desire the unmistakable signs of what had transpired between her friend and Lord Potter, the young Lady's petals were opened and reddened thanks to the punishement that Harry had done, his thick seed was leaking from the well fucked cunt of the young woman, Alicent looked thoroughly conquered, bearing the evidence of Harry's attentions in a way that left little doubt about the depth of her surrender to him.

And as though that were not enough...

"Study the image carefully, my love. Very soon it will be you in that situation, I assure you," Harry whispered seductively into the Princess's ear while she continued staring at the exquisite and undeniably thorough work her betrothed had done upon her best friend.

Rhaenyra was hypnotized by desire, but there remained a small voice within her mind that refused to yield.

"You took her virginity... you will take responsibility for her," the Princess said with mixed emotions, swallowing nervously as she continued to look at her sleeping friend.

Harry merely chuckled softly before answering.

"Of course I will. After all, we will need a competent and trustworthy steward in our future home, dear," Harry said as he wrapped his arms around the Princess from behind, causing the young woman to instinctively lean back against his chest.

"Ser Otto will protest. I don't think he will allow it," Rhaenyra replied uncertainly, sighing softly as she felt Harry's hands settle upon her hips.

Harry simply snorted.

"She is the daughter of a second son, belonging to a vassal of one of your father's vassals. Otto will accept it. I'll make sure of that personally, so don't worry about it," Harry said with complete confidence and certainty.

Rhaenyra's response was immediate.

She rose onto her toes, wrapped her arms around Harry's neck, and kissed him in a possessive and demanding manner, sighing happily as she felt her betrothed's arms tighten around her waist.

The kiss conveyed desperation.

Jealousy.

Possession.

The Princess maintained it until her lungs demanded air, only then pulling away and looking directly into Harry's eyes before speaking with complete conviction.

"I will be better than her. I will please you better than she ever could, I swear it. I will make you forget about her, there is nothing i wouldn't do Harry nothing, I will be better, my cunt will be tighter and hotter, I promise you."

The Princess's declaration caused Harry to laugh softly before pulling her closer and kissing her once more.

"We shall see, dear. For now... let our pet rest. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow after all," Lord Potter said.

Rhaenyra nodded with a smile before glancing once more toward Alicent's sleeping form, conquered and content upon the bed.

A single thought occupied her mind.

She would be better.

She would not become Harry's whore like Alicent, her man could fuck as much as he wants, but to him, all of them will be nothing more than toys and pets, like Alicent.

But Rhaenyra...she was destined to more, she won't be his pet.

She would become his wife.

His equal.

That...

Was a promise.

Daemon Targaryen, close to King's Landing.

The wind struck his face with considerable force, his brow furrowed and his thoughts entirely occupied by the letter Viserys had sent him.

The message had been aggressive.

Decisive.

And frankly, nothing like what Daemon had ever expected from his brother.

Threatening to remove him from the Royal Family if he failed to return to King's Landing, while simultaneously giving him a deadline...

That was the sort of thing Daemon expected from the old King.

Not from Viserys.

And Daemon had no problem admitting that he was both intrigued and cautious.

"Come on, Caraxes," the Rogue Prince said to his companion as they descended through the clouds, fully aware that King's Landing lay beneath them.

And the moment the Prince finally saw the city...

Or, more specifically, the Dragonpit...

The breath left his body.

"What in the fuck is this?" he muttered to himself, utterly stunned by what he was seeing.

The entire city was undergoing renovation. The docks of King's Landing had been expanded dramatically, the decaying wooden piers replaced with massive structures of stone and mortar, bustling with ships, merchants, and commerce.

The city was alive.

The atmosphere created by his brother's tournament filled every corner of the capital, yet Daemon quickly noticed that entire sections of the city had been demolished, especially within Flea Bottom, while a great number of new constructions had begun to appear.

But all of that was forgotten the moment the Prince focused his attention on the Dragonpit.

Or rather...

What remained of it.

Daemon stared in disbelief as the imposing structure had been partially demolished and repurposed for the construction of a colossal Tower. It was circular, tiered, and completely unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. It was obvious that it was not Valyrian architecture. Strange floating balconies protruded from the structure, connecting directly to the interior of the Tower, each one large enough for a dragon to land upon without difficulty. Though unfinished, the Prince had no doubt whatsoever that the completed structure would be indomitable and imposing.

Could Viserys truly be responsible for this madness?

The Prince continued studying the immense construction with astonishment, examining every detail he could from above.

At least for a moment.

Suddenly, Caraxes released a low growl and began a rapid descent toward the lower levels of the Tower, heading directly toward a series of enormous platforms marked with the Targaryen sigil at their center. A pair of what Daemon assumed were Dragon Keepers stood waiting there, moving strange torches through the air as though they were somehow... guiding Caraxes toward a designated landing point.

Something that, apparently, pleased the Blood Wyrm immensely, Daemon noted with curiosity.

But the surprises were far from over.

Quite the opposite.

The moment Caraxes' massive claws touched the platform, pillars of stone rose smoothly from the structure below and gently settled against the body of his companion. Whatever mechanism was at work, the dragon seemed to enjoy it greatly, judging by the deep snort of obvious satisfaction he released.

Was that... magic?

What in the Seven Hells was happening here?

What the fuck had Viserys done?

The Prince swallowed uneasily as he watched a staircase rise from the platform until it reached the perfect height for him to dismount. Meanwhile, several Dragon Keepers approached, clearly waiting for him.

Daemon began his descent with obvious hesitation.

Once he reached the platform and stepped onto solid ground, he was finally able to examine the area properly.

Where once there had been nothing but a damned beach, an entire complex had emerged. Massive stone buildings dominated the coastline, while a broad road constructed from the same material connected the landing platforms directly to the entrance of the Tower.

The place was bustling with activity.

Men and women dressed in red robes and hoods moved with purpose in every direction, each occupied with a specific task. Yet everything clearly revolved around dragons, considering an entire group of them was currently surrounding Meleys, taking notes, brushing her scales, and feeding her.

Daemon frowned.

Still...

The Red Queen appeared to be enjoying herself immensely.

He would investigate this place more thoroughly later.

Then the obvious leader of the welcoming party finally spoke.

"Prince Daemon, welcome to King's Landing. A horse and escort have been prepared to take you to..."

The man never finished, the prince was already bore after all.

Daemon simply rolled his eyes and walked past him, completely ignoring the individuals who had been sent to receive him.

The Rogue Prince headed deeper into the complex, intending to explore the place for himself.

His path was interrupted by two of the new Dragon Keepers, this ones...using somekind of armor, very good quality and very intimidating.

They were large.

Broad-shouldered.

Powerfully built men.

And they possessed the unbelievable audacity to block his path.

"Do you have a death wish?" Daemon asked, his voice filled with disbelief and fury as he attempted to push his way through them.

Only to be stopped.

Not merely stopped.

Thrown to the ground.

Both men moved as one, effortlessly sending him sprawling across the stone.

At that exact moment, an unfamiliar male voice made itself known.

"I assume you're Viserys' brother. Just as stupid and impulsive as the Council described, apparently."

The words filled Daemon with immediate rage.

The Prince rose like a furious beast, his face twisted by hatred as he turned toward the source of the voice.

The man standing there was completely unknown to him.

Imposing.

That was the first thing Daemon noticed.

Good height.

Athletic build.

The physique of an experienced warrior.

He wore black robes trimmed with red, possessed dark hair, and emerald eyes that seemed to glow for some damned reason. His hands rested behind his back while he looked at Daemon in exactly the same way the Prince himself looked at most people throughout the continent.

As though they were insignificant.

As though they were an inconvenience.

The realization wounded Daemon's pride instantly.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to speak to me that way, scum? I—"

The Prince snapped, placing his hand upon the hilt of Dark Sister and drawing the legendary blade.

However...

The moment Daemon raised the weapon and pointed it toward the insolent bastard before him...

The sword disappeared.

Replaced by a...

Fish.

"What the fuck?!"

The Prince recoiled in horror, immediately dropping the wriggling animal before staring toward the impassive stranger, who had calmly begun walking toward him.

"Weak and undisciplined. A slave to your impulses and a prisoner of your own pride. Dangerous and volatile. Just as the Lord Hand warned."

The man continued examining Daemon as though he were some particularly annoying insect.

Predictably, the Prince's pride demanded retribution.

With a roar of fury that sounded more animal than human, Daemon launched himself forward and drove his fist toward the stranger's jaw with every ounce of strength he could muster.

The punch was perfect.

A blow like that would have sent most men crashing to the ground.

Not this one.

"SHIT! MOTHERF...GAAAAHG!"

Daemon cried out in agony as he stared at his ruined hand in horror.

Two fingers were undeniably broken.

The pain was so intense that every trace of his anger vanished instantly.

It felt as though he had punched a solid block of steel.

Hatred gave way to fear.

For the first time since arriving, Daemon looked at the stranger with genuine caution, opening his mouth to demand an explanation.

The man simply pulled a small stick from within his robes.

A twig.

Nothing more.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Daemon suddenly felt his arms and legs snap tightly against his body against his own will.

Rigid.

Immobile.

Completely helpless.

Like a wooden board.

And for the first time in his entire life, the Rogue Prince experienced an emotion he had inflicted upon countless others.

Terror.

The stranger approached him with complete calm, obvious amusement in his eyes, before raising the cursed little stick and speaking with evident satisfaction.

"As I was saying, Viserys wishes to speak with you. Sweet dreams."

The last thing Daemon saw was a crimson flash.

And then...

Total darkness.

Unaware that by the time he awoke, everything he believed he knew about the Royal Family and the Realm would have changed.

Forever.