The Dread Lord of Essos (Ch. 95) (Patreon)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

The Dread Lord of Essos

Chapter 95

Harry was in his bedchamber going over crop reports when the expected knock came at the door. Her timing was perfect. She had chosen to come after a banquet he had just thrown, when the castle’s servants were distracted by the sudden influx of drunken minor lords and the kitchens were drowning in requests for late-night sweets and imported cheeses. Harry slid the decanter he was holding to the table beside him and stood up. 

Let her wait, he thought. Let her stand in the corridor and wonder if I’m asleep, or busy, or otherwise engaged. The art of power lay in shaping expectations. At least that was what his grandfather had told him as a child. He counted thirty seconds, then called out, “Enter.”

The heavy oak door swung open, and she stepped in. She was even prettier than reports from his drones had said. She was tall for an Essosi woman, and her bronze hair fell in waves over one shoulder. Her eyes looked stunning in the low light of his room. Her shoulders were bare, and the dress had been picked to make a statement. The neckline dropped almost to her mound, exposing her belly and most of her breasts. Her arms were bare except for a few gold bangles. Every step she took was intentionally done to draw his eyes. Her ankles crossed, her hips rolled, and her breasts pushed at the silk like they wanted out.

She stopped in the doorway and looked from Harry to the room, making sure no one else was present. He walked over and met her eyes.

“Your Grace,” she said. Her voice was soft and sultry.

Harry came closer with his hands behind his back, like he was looking at a painting. He let his eyes linger on her dress longer than was polite, then raised an eyebrow. “And who might you be?” he asked. He already knew her. Her name was Seline. She was twenty-three and born to a poor family in Braavos, though she spent over ten years honing her skills in Lys. She was currently hiding a small vial of poison in a secret pocket sewn into the inside of her dress.

Seline smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth. She curtseyed, and her hair fell forward. The neckline opened up, exposing both dusky nipples. “I am Seline, Your Grace. A lord from the Reach sent me as a gift.” She tilted her head in a way that made her look innocent. She was good at playing the game, Harry thought. 

Harry let out a long sigh, which was obviously fake. “I suppose it would be rude to refuse such a tantalizing gift.” He waved at the room. “Come in. Let’s see if their gift is worthy of a king.”

She came in with a sway of her hips and a bounce of her breasts, and every move was meant to pull his eyes onto her curvy body. The door shut behind her, and she made a show of bolting the door with a smirk. The room suddenly felt a little bit hotter with her in it. Her hips moved, and the dress caught the firelight, making the silk shimmer. Harry watched her eyes. She checked the weapons on the wall, the decanter, and the windows. She could see that there was no easy way out.

“May I pour for you, Your Grace?” she asked. She bent over the table for the crystal decanter. The dress gaped, and he saw her breasts hang low. Her dusky nipples slipped free, and his eyes followed the smooth line of her belly down to the shadow between her thighs. He smiled a little and turned his back to look out the window. He wanted to give her time to act. A few seconds later, a soft hand touched his shoulder. He turned around and saw her smiling while holding out a glass. She had another filled glass sitting on the table. 

He took the glass she offered, and as she turned, he wiggled his fingers and magically switched glasses. Just to make sure, he flicked his finger at his new glass to magically test for poison. The liquid didn’t glow, telling him it was safe. She grabbed her glass and turned back to him. Harry smiled and drank from his cup. A satisfied smile graced Seline’s lovely face. She then drank from her glass. 

“Do you like it?” he asked. “The wine.”

She swirled it. “It’s good,” she said. “It is much better than the swill we get back in Lys.”

Harry grinned, drank again, and set the glass down. “I hear the brothels in Lys teach you more than just how to pleasure a man. Is this true?”

Seline gave him a knowing look. She set her glass aside and put her hands on her hips, and the dress fell open enough to bare a strip of smooth skin from her chest to her hairless mound. Her breasts shifted, and one slipped free of its silk prison. “I’ve never met a man I couldn’t satisfy … or kill, if it came to that.” She winked.

Harry laughed. “You’re direct. I like that. Do you always talk like that to the men who pay you?”

“Only when they want it,” she said. She came around the table. “Some men prefer lies, Your Grace. Others like the truth.” She dragged a long nail along his jaw. “Which are you?”

He let her touch him. He let her get close enough that he smelled jasmine in her hair and felt the heat of her body. “Oh, I definitely prefer the fantasy,” Harry smirked. 

Her lips parted, and she almost laughed. “That’s what I thought, Your Grace.”

Harry reached out and put his hands on her wide hips. He moved them up over the swell and onto her slim waist. Seline seemed happy to let him play. She stepped back and took him by the hand. “Shall we go to bed?” she asked teasingly.

Harry smiled and followed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and crossed one leg over the other. The slit opened wide, and he saw the smooth inside of her thigh and the crotch of her black panties. 

“You’re not what I expected,” he said, keeping it vague. 

She straddled his lap and leaned in. Her breath was warm on his ear, and her breasts pressed against his chest. “What did you expect, my Lord? Trembling hands? A stammer? Perhaps a scared girl from the alleys of Lys?”

Harry smiled. “Based on some of the women I’ve had to deal with, I half expected a knife in my ribs.” He watched her, and she didn’t even flinch. In fact, she just laughed.

“If I wanted you dead, Your Grace, you would already be dead,” she said with a knowing smirk. Then she kissed the corner of his jaw, and her hand slid down his arm.

He let her keep going. He wanted to see how far the act went. He bent and kissed her neck, and he heard her gasp softly. He tasted perfume and a little salt from her skin. His hand came up and cupped her breast through the thin dress. He then slipped his hand inside her dress and cupped her naked tit directly. It was heavy and warm, and the nipple hardened against his palm. She made a small, pleasured sound and pushed her tit harder into his hand.

For a minute they played the part of lovers. Seline ground herself on him and seductively rolled her wide hips. Harry rolled her stiff nipple between his fingers, making her mewl as she kissed him.

“May I undress, Your Grace?” she asked innocently. It was obvious she planned to go all the way. Not doing so might expose her and Tywin’s plot.

Harry nodded at the bed. “By all means. I want to see what the old man paid for.”

She stood, slid the gold bangles off, and placed them on the small table by the bed. Then she reached behind her neck and untied the black ribbon. The dress spilled down, and she let it pool at her feet. She was naked underneath it, except for the small pair of panties covering her crotch, and Harry saw that the parts of her inner thighs that were nearest to her pussy were damp and shiny. She was getting off on her treachery, and Harry couldn’t help but be amused. 

Her breasts were full, round, and perky, and her skin was a healthy kind of pale. Her dusky nipples were tight and stiff from the cool air and from being played with. Her waist was narrow, her hips were wide, and the lace between her legs sat low enough that he could see the top of her silky smooth mound. She turned slowly so he got an eyeful of her wide, jiggling ass, and the thin strip of lace between her jutting cheeks. Then she faced him again and hooked her thumbs in the lace.

“All of it?” she asked.

“All of it.”

She pushed the lace down her thighs and stepped out of it. Her cunt was completely bare. Her lips were swollen and glossy. When she shifted her weight, they parted a little, and he saw how wet she already was.

She came back to the bed and climbed onto it on her knees. She didn’t wait or even ask for permission. She opened his trousers, pulled his cock free, and looked at it like, sizing it up. He was already hard, and she let out a pleased sound. She wrapped her hand around the shaft, stroked it a few times, and then leaned down and took him in her mouth.

Her mouth was hot and wet, and she went deep on the first try. She tightened her lips while her tongue worked the underside, and she didn’t gag. Seline was clearly experienced. She pulled back until just the head was in her mouth, sucked hard, and then sank down again until her nose touched his belly. His shaft was shiny with her saliva, and she used her hand on what she couldn’t swallow and kept a steady rhythm. Her free hand cupped his balls and rolled them in her palm. She looked up while she did it, watching him watch her.

Harry put a hand in her hair and gently scratched at her scalp, making her eyes flutter. “So that’s what they teach in Lys,” he said.

She pulled off with a wet pop, and a string of saliva connected her lip to the head of his cock. “Among other things,” she cryptically stated. She stroked his slick cock and climbed into his lap. She reached between them, lined him up, and sank down in one slow push. The loud squelch of wet flesh quickly followed.

She was tight and soaked, and her cunt gripped him all the way in. She let out a low, breathy moan when he bottomed out. She stayed there a second to get used to his size, and then she started to ride him. She moved slow at first, taking her time before building up speed. Her hips rolled seductively, and her breasts bounced in his face. He caught one in his mouth and sucked the nipple, and she moaned and ground down harder.

“Your cock feels so good,” she said. Her voice was rough and lustful now. Her act was beginning to slip. “It’s so thick.”

He gripped her ass and helped her move. Each time she dropped, her cunt made a wet sound, and her clit dragged against him. She moved even faster, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. He felt her pussy flutter around him. Trained or not, she was getting close. 

He flipped her onto her back without pulling out. She gasped as he hooked her knees over his arms and fucked her deeply and steadily while watching her face. Her mouth opened, and she moaned like the whore she was. Her tits shook with each thrust, and her nipples stood proud and stiff. Harry reached down and rubbed her clit with his thumb in tight circles, and she came with a loud cry. Her cunt clenched hard around his cock while her thighs shook uncontrollably. Her back arched off the bed, and her pussy contracted repeatedly, trying to suck the cum straight from his bloated sack. 

He kept fucking her through her orgasm. He fucked her slower, then harder again, keeping her off balance until she was whimpering and pushing back to meet him. When he was close, he pulled out, stroked himself twice, and came across her belly and her breasts in thick stripes. She lay there breathing hard with his cum shining on her skin, and she smiled up at him with a flushed face.

“It’s been a while since someone has made me cum like that,” she said.

“The night is just getting started,” he said, rolling her clit between his fingers. She moaned and covered her face with her hands, and she didn’t see Harry smirk down at her. 

The Dread Lord of Essos

Tywin waited in the narrowest sliver of shadow the whore district could offer. He’d chosen the alley for its strategic vantage. There were three exits, and none were visible from the bustling main street. There was a line of sight to every approach. He wore a plain black cloak with the hood drawn up. It was a disguise that might fool the rabble or drunks but would never have fooled Tywin himself, had he been hunting a man so poorly hidden. Still, this was the whore district. Nobody looked twice at a lurking shadow, especially not at dawn, when all the patrons staggered home, and the whores limped to their beds.

He checked the alley exits and didn’t see the girl. The damn whore was late, and he tensed with each passing moment. The city woke early, and already the shouts of mongers and the laughter of whores drifted over the rooftops. He ignored the drunkards who passed by. A few stumbled close enough for him to catch the sour smell of stale mead and sweat. They parted around him like water around a stone, never wondering why he was in the alley all alone. That suited him just fine. 

At last, a dark silhouette detached itself from the throng. The woman’s gait was unmistakable, even in poor light. Her wide hips rolled, and there was a subtle favoring of her left leg. The female figure moved like someone accustomed to being looked at. Seline, he thought. She wore a cheap cloak over a far more expensive silk dress. It was the kind of dress that only the city’s most prized courtesans would dare to flaunt. Tywin watched her limp up the alley, and his face betrayed nothing.

She stopped just inside the mouth of the alley, and her eyes scanned for him. She spotted the glint of his signet ring as he adjusted his hood. She grinned, then moved up close. “You picked a fine place for a meeting, my lord,” she said. Her voice was rough and strained, but it was sweetened with the purr she reserved for clients with deep purses.

“Would you prefer a council chamber?” Tywin’s impatience leaked through the mask of courtesy. “You are late.”

She cocked her head, seemingly unafraid of him. “Most men would be grateful I showed at all. After last night, I nearly couldn’t walk.”

He eyed the love marks along her exposed collarbone. “Were you followed?” he asked.

“No. I even left your spies wondering where I’m at,” Seline said, leaning against the wall. “I left before he woke, just as you said.”

Tywin didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he pulled a small sack from his cloak pocket and pressed it into her palm. Seline opened it and counted the gemstones inside. “Would you like a report?”

“You know what I want,” Tywin said. “I expect results, not excuses.”

She met his gaze, and for a moment her bravado faltered. “I did exactly what you told me to. I placed a single drop in his cup when he wasn’t looking. He drank the entire glass, and I spent the night with him. I left before he woke and destroyed the vial and the poisoned cup.”

Tywin’s voice was colder than the dawn wind. “And he is not suspicious of you?”

“Not a chance,” Seline said. “He thinks I’m a gift from one of his friends. If anything, he’s more interested now. He thinks I’m quite clever.”

Tywin nodded once in approval. “Good. After tonight, you must disappear. Go to the safehouse I arranged for you. Stay away from brothels and taverns, and do not contact anyone until he is dead and buried. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” She tucked the bag into her cloak, checked the alley behind her, and started to back away. “If something happens, if he figures me out …”

“He won’t,” Tywin said. “But if he does, run. Do not look back. Contact me, and I’ll arrange your transport ot King’s Landing.”

Seline grinned again. “You always take such good care of your girls, my lord.”

He didn’t reply. He merely melted back into the deeper darkness of the alley, and she walked out the way she’d come.

Seline hit the main street and blended in with the rest of the whores. There was a slight pain in her belly and an ache in her chest, but she paid it no mind. She had work to do, and a brighter future to prepare for.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Harry awoke to the irritating feeling of sunlight in his eyes. He lay still, not wanting to let the day in just yet, but the brightness was insistent. It pierced his eyelids and made him uncomfortable. He reached for Seline, expecting the warmth of her hip beneath the sheets, but his hand found nothing. There was just the cool linen and the faintest trace of her perfume. He inhaled it with a smirk. A quick glance confirmed it. She was gone, and the only evidence of her presence was a single bronze hair on the pillow. Even the damned glass he’d been drinking from was gone. Seline was nothing if not thorough.

He stretched, feeling the soreness in his limbs. The pleasant ache reminded him of the night before. Say what you want about Seline’s character, but no one could deny that she wasn’t a firecracker in bed. He rolled out of bed, walked across the floor, and poured himself a cup of water. A moment later, a knock on the door jolted him from his reverie.

“Enter,” Harry called out, setting the cup down and running a hand through his disheveled hair.

The door swung open, and Margaery entered with a bright, lovely smile. She wore a robe the color of fresh cream. It was cinched at her waist, but what drew his attention was the white dress box she carried. The silk ribbons were tied in an extravagant bow.

She placed the box on the table, then cocked her head. “I hope you don’t mind, but the dressmaker sent it up early. I simply had to see it in person.”

Harry grinned. “You went shopping again. Is it fair to say that you have a problem?”

Margaery pouted in mock indignation. “If you are going to accuse me of extravagance, at least do so while I’m properly dressed.”

He gestured to the robe. “You seem dressed enough to me.”

She let her lips curl into a devilish grin. “Would you like to see the new gown?”

“Only if you promise to model it for me,” Harry said, sinking into a nearby chair. He watched her with open appreciation. She was a performer, and he liked that about her. She took her time unwrapping the ribbons and sliding the lid off the box with a flourish. She would periodically glance at him with a sexy smirk. 

As she lifted the dress from its tissue-paper wrapping, the sunlight caught the fabric. It shimmered like a frost-laced spiderweb. It was made of finely spun lace with pearls stitched into the bodice. Harry knew that the dress likely cost a small fortune. 

Margaery ran her fingers over the lace, then turned to Harry and cutely said, “Would you mind terribly if I charge it to your account?”

He snorted. “Let me guess … You already have.”

She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Maybe.”

“Then it had better look good on you,” Harry said. “Or I’m sending it back.”

She laughed, knowing he would never dare do that to her. “I can try it on now, if you wish.”

“Please do,” he said, settling in to watch.

She let her robe slip from her shoulders, revealing her naked back and shapely ass, and for a moment Harry considered forgetting the rest of the day entirely. But as she stepped into the dress and slid it up over her hips, his mind turned elsewhere. Specifically, to the problem of his grandfather. The matter gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.

He had always known that Tywin Lannister would not die easily. The old man’s will was made of iron, and his suspicion of Harry was as deep as it was enduring. Killing him outright would be almost impossible for anyone but Harry, but that would be too simple and unfulfilling. 

No, he thought. He wanted to use it to his advantage, and most of all, Harry wanted to make the old bastard suffer. ‘Maybe it’s time I start thinking about conquering Westeros. It wouldn’t be too hard to start turning everyone against the old man. It’ll be fun to watch him squirm and beg me for help.’

Margaery finished lacing herself into the dress and turned, giving him a slow twirl. The gown hugged her curves, and the pale fabric gleamed against her skin. The dress proudly displayed most of her perky tits and all of her long, sexy legs. She held her arms out, awaiting his verdict.

“So?” she asked.

“Stunning,” he said, and he meant it. “Tales will be written about you in that dress.”

She smiled, pleased with his reaction. Margaery then tilted her head as she studied his face. “You look lost in your thoughts, Harold. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

He considered deflecting her question, but Margaery was not the sort of woman who let things go. He exhaled. “It’s my grandfather. He’s plotting something, I can feel it.”

“Tywin always is,” she said, matter-of-factly. “So are you. It’s the Lannister way.”

Harry laughed at that, knowing she was right. He leaned back in the chair and appreciated how sexy she looked in her new dress. “What would you do if you were me?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she crossed to the table, poured herself a cup of water, and sat on the edge. Her eyes were sharp as she assessed the problem. “You want to be loved by the masses. I know that. But you also want to be feared. Tywin Lannister is neither loved nor feared … not anymore. Not by the people who matter, anyway. He’s only tolerated. If you show mercy, they’ll say you’re weak. If you shed his blood, they’ll say you’re a kinslayer. So you must do something else entirely.”

“Such as?”

“Make him irrelevant,” she said. “He fears irrelevance more than death. Let him realize he has no more moves to play, and that the game is already over. It will destroy him.”

Harry smiled, because she was right. It was what he’d always known, but hearing it aloud made him feel better about his decision. He stood, moved over to her, and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. She nuzzled her cheek against his palm. “I knew there was a reason I kept you close,” he said.

“And here I thought it was for my taste in gowns,” she teased.

“No, I keep you around so I can take the gowns off of you,” he teased her back and lifted her up. Margaery squealed and laughed as he carried her to his bed.