The Dread Lord of Essos (Ch. 96) (Patreon)

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

The Dread Lord of Essos

Chapter 96

Harry awoke not to the gentle warmth of a woman’s skin or the softness of her lips, but to a loud mental ping deep in his subconscious. Harry’s eyes fluttered open, and he rubbed them. Cersei’s naked thigh was draped possessively across his hip, and her golden hair spilled over the pillow beside his face. He didn’t want to get out of bed. It was very late, and he had been indulging himself on Cersei’s body for hours, but the signal was insistent.

He reached out with his mind and found that his drones were being slaughtered. He stiffened, and Cersei mumbled against his chest. “Come back to bed,” she said in a tired, husky voice. Harry gently shifted out from under her, letting her arm fall to the mattress. She rolled onto her back and promptly fell back to sleep.

He sat up and focused on what the drones were seeing. All he got were flashes of snowfields, metal, blood, and fur. The drones’ vision jerked and wobbled as they sprinted in formation down a frozen gully. There weren’t many of them left, and those that were still alive were severely injured. The attackers were fast, silent, and big as horses. Their eyes shone with an icy blue in the darkness, and their shaggy pelts were falling off their rotting flesh. ‘Direwolves,’ Harry thought to himself. However, they weren’t just direwolves. They were corpses that had been perverted by the so-called Others.

Harry stood up, and with a thought, he willed the dragonsteel armor onto his body. It slithered over his skin like a cold, fluid sheath, and it locked at the jaw and throat with a satisfying click. The helmet impeded his vision for a quick second, then everything snapped into a new, hyperreal clarity. He could see every thread in the tapestry on the far wall, and every hair on Cersei’s bare arm. He was already gone by the time her hand patted the empty space beside her.

The instant Harry appeared in the frozen North, his boots crunched down on a narrow ledge of stone encrusted with ice and snow. The cold hit him like a knife in the gut, and his breath crystallized in the freezing air. Harry looked around and spotted his last four drones. They were battered and missing limbs, and they had clustered tightly against the base of the cliff. They were holding their spears out in a defensive manner. All around, the direwolf pack tightened the noose. The beasts’ eyes radiated a cold blue light, and their jaws were stained with greasy red liquid from where they’d torn into his drones. The wolves moved with a coordinated, pitiless purpose, and behind them, looming in the mist, were two figures on tall, glistening ice steeds. Their pale armor was covered in frost.

Harry drew the black blade, and it shrieked as it scraped free. Instantly, the blade ignited with flame, and it burned so hot that it made the air shimmer. This instantly got their attention. The direwolves turned, as did the two riders. The White Walkers sneered in Harry’s direction, and the direwolves' haunches raised. The direwolves let out low, rumbling growls as they slowly inched closer to Harry. In response, Harry pumped more magic into his sword, making it burn hotter and brighter. The nearest direwolves recoiled, but they quickly recovered. Then they surged at him in perfect unison, and their claws dug deep furrows in the thick snow. Harry leaped forward and brought the blade down on the lead wolf’s skull. Fire blasted through bone and frozen meat, splitting the beast in half and sending two more tumbling backward in a spray of scorched fur and steam.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the White Walkers hesitate. Harry grinned behind the faceplate of his armor and waded into the pack. The wolves circled, coming at him from three different directions. He pivoted, ducked beneath snapping jaws, and let the sword’s fire do the work. He cleaved one of their heads off, sending it tumbling to the snowy ground. The headless body dropped and skidded several feet where it finally stopped and twitched. Another came at him from the side, and it let out a yelp as Harry backhanded it with his armored fist. One snapped at him, and it was rewarded with a clean slice across the snout. When the blade touched it, its matted fur ignited, filling the clean air with a foul smell. Harry spun and used a telekinetic shove to hurl two more from the ledge, sending them pinwheeling down the sheer cliff into the abyss.

The larger of the two Walkers whistled, and the remaining wolves fell back to regroup. The Walker dismounted and dropped gracefully to the ice. It was nearly seven feet tall, and its grayish-blue face was gaunt and hollowed. Its eyes burned with the same pale blue light. The air around it crackled, and it drew a sword of its own.

He advanced, and the White Walker matched his pace. When they met, their swords clashed with a sound like breaking glass. Harry felt the raw speed of the creature, but he was faster. He feinted high, swung the blade low, and cut a deep gash across his thigh. The icy skin sizzled, and the White Walker stumbled back as it let out a loud, menacing hiss. It glared at Harry and called out to its comrade. 

The second Walker bared its teeth, pulled out its sword, and charged while the direwolves circled the battlefield. 

The White Walkers fought with a style wholly unlike the armored knights Harry was used to. Every movement was graceful and inhumanly fast, and they collaborated like two limbs of the same body. Their blades were carved from jagged, translucent blue ice, and they hissed and flashed with every blow. The two of them pressed Harry from opposite flanks. One went high and the other low. Their attacks were synchronized to probe for the tiniest lapse in his guard. Harry parried, spun, and retaliated, wielding the flaming black blade as sparks and shards of ice flew with every block. He pivoted and blocked a downward strike. As the icy blade met his black steel, Harry flared the sword’s fire, melting a deep notch in the icy blade. At the same time, the other struck from behind, and only a quick blast of telekinetic force kept its point from slipping between the plates of Harry’s armor. The White Walker tumbled back, but it quickly got back to its feet. 

The direwolves circled the duel, waiting for their moment to rush in. When the White Walkers feinted, three wolves lunged for Harry’s legs. He swept the sword in a crescent strike, severing one beast’s head completely off and torching another’s ribcage. The third managed to clamp its jaws around his armored shin, but Harry kicked hard and shattered its skull, sending the corpse tumbling over the ledge. At the same instant, one White Walker’s sword grazed Harry’s side, and a frosted burn formed along his ribs underneath the armor, but the dragonsteel armor held without taking damage.

He responded with a sudden, brutal assault. Harry ducked under a spinning strike and was tackled by the smaller White Walker. Harry used his considerable physical strength to roll it over and pin it to the frozen ground with the tip of his flaming blade. Harry pushed, and the blade sank into its gut. The ice armor sizzled, and the White Walker howled in pain. The other White Walker pounced and sliced at Harry’s exposed back. Harry rolled clear at the last instant, grabbed the fallen White Walker’s sword, and hurled it like a javelin. It struck the standing Walker in the thigh, plunging deep into its flesh. Both creatures bellowed in rage, but Harry was already back on his feet.

The wolves made a final, desperate rush. Harry roared as his sword erupted into an inferno. He plunged the sword into the ground, and a shockwave of fire detonated in all directions. Two dozen wolves exploded in a cloud of burning fur and fragmented bone. The rest broke rank and bolted with their tails tucked as the Walkers shrieked curses in their alien tongue. Harry advanced on the impaled White Walker, who managed to free the icy sword from its thigh with a wrenching twist. It charged with a severe limp, and swung at Harry’s neck. He sidestepped, parried the icy blade, and used the leverage to rip it from its grip. Then he thrust point-blank through the Walker’s forehead. The creature let out a pitiful wail, spasmed, and burst into flame.

Only the second Walker remained. It lashed out with its claws, but Harry was done playing fair. He seized it with invisible hands, lifted it off the ground, and peeled off its icy armor plate by plate, exposing the gaunt, mummified flesh beneath. The Walker thrashed until Harry poured fire into its exposed chest. It let out an unearthly screech and thrashed around, trying to break free. Once it stopped moving, Harry dumped the body onto its brethren. Both bodies cracked with fire, but Harry wasn’t taking any chances. He held out his palm and let loose a torrent of fire that rendered the two bodies to ash. 

Suddenly there was silence, except for the smoldering of dead carcasses. The direwolves’ bodies steamed in the moonlight, and the ash of the White Walkers was slowly covered by falling snow. Harry stood for a moment and caught his breath. He then walked over to examine the remains. He poked at the bits of frost armor and bent down to inspect the blue crystal swords, which seemed to resist his fire. The field was littered with charred tufts of fur and shards of ice. Harry knelt, picked up a piece of blue crystal, and rolled it between his fingers. The power it radiated was subtle, but it unmistakably belonged to the Others. Harry waved his hand and transported the armor and two swords back to his workshop deep in the bowels of his castle. 

Harry then waved his hand at his damaged drones, and they all disappeared. Harry made his way to the nearby mining facility that had been attacked. The ground was littered with dead drones and their detached body parts. Harry vanished all of it. The mine and equipment were perfectly fine, as were the smelters. Most importantly, the gold, silver, and jewels remained. Harry waved his hand again, and hundreds of new drones appeared out of thin air. Without a word, they immediately went back to work as if nothing had happened. 

Harry then ran his hand over the bars of gold and silver. Each was stamped with the Lion of Night. Harry picked a bar up and grinned at its weight. The Westerosi lords would have fainted at the haul, Harry thought. The mining drones moved restlessly at the entrances of the shafts, already repairing the damage from the battle, but if the Others returned, he needed to make sure there was nothing left for them to plunder.

He extended his hand, and his magic radiated outward. His magic spread over the gold, silver, and gems, and they suddenly disappeared. He could use this to his advantage, Harry thought. He would never pass up the opportunity to show off in front of those snooty Westerosi Lords and Ladies, who thought that everyone was beneath them. 

He faded back to his room, and the sudden warmth made him shiver. His armor vanished, and Harry stood naked in the center of the room. He exhaled deeply and walked to the bed, where Cersei lay curled up under the covers. She stirred as he approached, and she stretched out like a contented cat. 

“Where did you go?” she asked sleepily. She propped herself up on one elbow, and the sheet drooped low enough to reveal the gentle slope of her breast.

Harry grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. “I had urgent business to take care of,” he said. “But I made sure to be back as quickly as possible. I’d hate to ruin your beauty sleep.”

She snorted with amusement and jerked the sheet aside, baring her nude body to him. “You smell like smoke,” she said, then ran her eyes over his body with open approval. “Were you doing something dangerous?”

“No more than usual,” Harry said, and he groaned as he stretched his back. 

“I’d rather you not get yourself killed,” she replied, but Harry detected no real worry in her tone. Instead, she stretched out her legs and patted the mattress beside her. “Come back to bed,” she commanded.

Instead, Harry crawled between her knees and pushed them apart. He held them open by the insides of her thighs. Harry stared down between her open legs, and Cersei gasped as he buried his face in her pussy. He found her pussy slick and ready to be fucked. He liked the way her whole body shuddered at the first touch. He slid two fingers inside her as he worked her clit with his tongue. He found her scent and taste intoxicating, and Cersei grabbed him by his hair and dragged him closer.

She was already close to cumming after a few licks, and her voice rose as she rocked her hips into his face. “Gods, you’re good at that,” she gasped.

Harry lowered his tongue and slowly licked her from asshole to clit, and then he sucked her clit so hard she made a noise halfway between a shriek and a laugh. He kept his fingers thrusting in and out, not letting up until her thighs clamped tight against his head. He felt her cum, and her body shuddered as she pushed her pussy hard against his mouth. 

He sat up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, crawled over her, and settled between her legs. Cersei was still breathless, and her lovely face was flushed. She reached between them and took his cock in hand. She guided his cock until the thick head pressed against her tight, wet entrance. Harry pushed in slowly, groaning from the tight, wet heat of her fluttering pussy. 

“You could have just said you missed me,” Cersei said, smirking as she locked her ankles around his back.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I certainly missed fucking you,” he retorted, and thrust into her all the way, making her eyes go wide.

Cersei’s hands roved over his chest, caressing every rock-hard muscle. She liked it rough, and Harry was happy to oblige. He set a fast, brutal rhythm, and the bed creaked loudly beneath them. She met each of his thrusts with her own as desperation and need took over.

Harry palmed her breast and squeezed, and his thumb circled her nipple until it was hard enough to cut glass. Cersei moaned and bit his shoulder, and Harry fucked her harder. His breathing became ragged as he plowed into her wet, squelching pussy. From the way her hips jerked and her cunt tightened around him, Harry could tell that she was about to cum again. 

“Cum for me,” he growled, and Cersei came again with a loud, shuddering cry. Her pussy tightened around his cock, choking the life out of it. Harry drove into her with a few more frantic thrusts, and then he came too, spilling inside her as he groaned into her neck.

Harry remained on top of her as they caught their breath. After a minute, Cersei started laughing.

“What?” he asked, still panting.

“You’re insatiable. We spent the whole night fucking, and the moment you returned, you couldn’t stop yourself from fucking me again,” she said, and then she kissed him.

Harry just grinned, rolled over, and lay beside her. His hand caressed her soft, smooth belly.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Harry made a spectacle of bringing his gold and silver into the city. The parade started at midday, when Harry was sure King’s Garden would be packed. At the gate, the first cart, which was drawn by four immense horses and flanked by a dozen of Harry’s city watch, rolled through. Harry intentionally made sure the gold and silver wasn’t hidden. Every bar gleamed in the sun. At every intersection, the city watch forced the crowd back and turned the carts straight down the main thoroughfare, where the shops were full of onlookers. 

The carts came in from the harbor, as though it had all just been shipped in. Still, once the second and third carts thundered by, the rumors began. Each new rumor made the crowd grow thicker and louder, and soon the streets along the route were packed three deep, with children climbing to their parents’ shoulders and old men elbowing for a better view.

With each passing cart, the guards stopped the onlookers from getting too close to the gleaming bars. The people stared, dumbfounded by the sight. None had ever seen so much precious metal in one place, and by the twentieth cart, some began to look on with outright greed.

The Westerosi lords were the worst offenders. Each one looked as though he wanted to take all of it for themselves. Their faces had gone splotchy red, and they shifted uneasily. Their eyes darted from the gold to the faces of their peers. Harry saw one man silently moving his lips, calculating the value of the haul.

The women, though, were affected worst of all. Cersei watched on, looking as if she might cream her panties at any moment. Sansa stood nearby. Her face was as still as a statue’s, but her pale skin was flushed. As each loaded cart passed, Sansa’s hands fluttered over the bodice of her gown, and at one point she actually licked her lips, as if tasting gold itself. Her nipples were harder than Harry had ever seen. Arianne Martell made no effort to hide her pleasure at the display. At one point she actually started rubbing her thighs together in an effort to quench the overwhelming tingle between her legs.

Margaery moved to Harry’s side. As the parade had reached fifty carts and counting, she threaded her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “You do realize that everyone watching will want to take this from you,” she whispered. Her lips were so close that Harry could feel her warm breath on his cheek. 

“I certainly hope they try,” Harry replied, never taking his eyes off the street.

She giggled and rubbed against him. “Their cocks are shriveling in jealousy. The ladies, though …” Her hand moved lower, and she squeezed his arm. Harry felt her perky tits rub against him. “We think with cleverer parts.”

“Come to my room tonight so I can see these clever parts for myself,” Harry teased.

She giggled, gave his arm a final squeeze, and fell back into the crowd, leaving Harry to watch over the parade. The last ten carts were loaded with gems. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires were piled so high they looked ready to spill out onto the street. The crowd gasped as one.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Tywin Lannister watched the endless procession of gold and silver carts from a vantage point above the street. He was shielded from the sun by the crimson canopy of the eatery’s private balcony. As King of Westeros, he was afforded the privilege of private rooms and balconies wherever he visited. 

The ostentatiousness of it all nauseated him. Tywin thought that no man ought to possess such reckless, garish wealth … except, of course, himself. The Lannister crest had always been gold and crimson. Wealth and power were theirs by birthright. In a just world, every last bar and glittering gem would have belonged to House Lannister. Instead, it was paraded through the streets like a whore in heat, as if to mock him directly.

He sipped his wine, ignored his courtiers' petty bickering, and watched with narrowed eyes as the crowd surged with each new cart. Tywin noted every look of hunger and greed. He memorized which lords’ eyes lingered longest on the haul, and which ladies’ fingers twitched with want. The show wasn't for the people. It was for the lords. It was a calculated move to destabilize the careful balance of power Tywin had built over decades. Only a fool would miss the message, and Tywin Lannister was nobody’s fool.

He could see Cersei watching. Her expression was that of a whore shown a handsome purse. It disgusted him. At the head of the crowd, his grandson stood with his retinue. He looked as healthy as ever. Tywin frowned. The boy should have been bedridden and writhing with fever by now, or so he had been promised. He tried to recall exactly what the whore had said. She had sworn she had succeeded in poisoning Harold’s cup, and yet, he still stood, proud and strong. 

Tywin’s lips thinned. He could not afford this uncertainty. If the boy survived, all his careful plans might unravel at once. That could end up quite badly for him. He leaned back and subtly gestured to his steward. The man hurried over.

“The whore,” Tywin said, barely above a whisper. “Bring her discreetly. I want answers.” The steward bowed, then melted away into the crowd below.

As the last gem-laden cart passed, Tywin rose from his seat and cast a final, cold glance at the gold. He would know, by nightfall, if his plans had failed. If the whore had lied, he would see her die screaming.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Harry was lying atop his bed with his hands behind his head, watching Sansa kneel between his thighs and worship his cock with a focused intensity he’d never known her to possess. Her lips were parted, her cheeks were hollowed, and her eyes were wide. The contrast of her pale, elegant features and the lewdness of her actions made Harry dizzy. Sansa had never been shy, but she’d never been so unrestrained, and almost desperate to please. She pressed her tongue along the underside, licking his cock from base to tip. Then she took him all the way into her mouth, and her throat squeezed as she choked herself on his cock.

He groaned, and the sound seemed to stoke her further. Sansa’s hands gripped his thighs for leverage, and her head bobbed faster. Her hair brushed and tickled his hips. The top of her dress was pulled down, and her bare breasts trembled with each bob. She sucked so hard his back arched, and every so often she would pull back and slap his cock against her cheek. 

Sansa yanked herself off his cock with a wet, triumphant pop. Her face was flushed red from exertion and arousal. She let the shaft slap against his belly, and with both hands she pumped the shaft and twisted at the head in a way that made his vision blur. She looked up at him with swollen, glistening lips. “Can you take me to see the gold?” she quietly asked. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, trying to process the words through the fog of lust. “You want to see the gold?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she insisted, and her hands never slowed on his cock. “I need to see it. I want to know it’s real … that it’s truly yours. Please, Harold.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course, Sansa. Anything for you, love.” He reached down and stroked her hair, then gathered a handful of it and gently guided her mouth back onto his cock. She moaned, and the sound vibrated against his cock. She went back to work with renewed vigor.

She alternated between sucking, licking, and teasing him with her tongue as she gazed up at him. Her expression was that of excitement and worship. At last, when he felt himself ready to explode, he tried to warn her, but she only pressed in closer and swallowed every drop with greedy, eager gulps.

Afterward, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smiled contentedly, and rested her cheek on his thigh. “Can we go see the gold now?” Harry smirked and ran his fingers through her coppery hair. Sansa purred and kissed his cock. He had her right where he wanted her.