The Dread Lord of Essos (Ch. 97) (Patreon)

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

The Dread Lord of Essos

Chapter 97

Tywin Lannister didn’t trust the men he had at his disposal in King’s Garden. His lackeys, even those he had handpicked, were not men of Casterly Rock. Yes, they were bought and paid for, but the loyalty from such men was always thin as broth. He couldn’t trust them to keep their mouths shut, and for something this sensitive, silence was a must. The gold parade had barely finished when Tywin summoned his two most discreet henchmen and set out for the whore’s hideout deep in the Housing District. As he made his way through the Housing District, Tywin was loath to admit that the peasants in Harold’s city lived better than some of the Knights in Westeros. It was a slap in the face to his rule. 

They moved through the city as the sun waned, and the shadows at their feet stretched longer than the men who cast them. Tywin was keenly aware of every pair of eyes that watched his passage from behind shutters and from over high balconies. His men led him to a narrow alley, then up a cramped staircase to the third floor of a shared home. The torches hadn’t been lit yet, and the hallway was poorly lit. At the end of the hall was a white door studded with a bronze handle. 

Tywin stopped at the door and looked at his lead man. He was a silent brute with a cauliflower ear and a nose broken so many times it was now a squashed blob. Tywin nodded, and the brute rapped on the door three times. They waited, listening to the distant noise of the street. They heard a drunk singing, a wooden cart rolling over the cobbled street, and a woman’s cackle. He knocked harder, but still, no one answered.

Tywin’s patience was nearing its end. “Open it,” he commanded.

The brute took a step back and drove his shoulder into the door. It groaned but didn’t yield. He hit it again, and a loud crack came from the frame. On the third strike, the lock gave. The wood buckled inward with a crash, and the stink that wafted out hit Tywin like a punch in the face. It was the reek of unwashed bodies, rotting food, piss, and shit. Tywin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, but he entered before the others, stepping over the broken door and into the darkness beyond.

The room was small, but it was decorated to look as lavish as possible. The table was littered with the remains of someone’s last meal. There were small empty bottles everywhere. Tywin picked one up and sniffed it. He recognized the smell immediately. It was a concoction that healers sold to help with sour stomachs. He entered the small bedroom, and on the bed, covered by a blanket, was Seline.

She was almost unrecognizable. The girl he had tasked to poison Harold should have been beautiful, bright-eyed, and clever, but this creature looked as if a decade had passed in a week. Seline lay curled on her side, shrunken and gray. Her once golden skin was now the color and texture of candle wax, and her hair hung in greasy, ragged clumps that stuck to her sweating face. Piss had soaked the sheet beneath her, and around her mouth the skin was cracked and bleeding. Her eyes were huge and clouded with fever, and she looked at Tywin in desperation … or perhaps it was hope, Tywin thought. 

She tried to rise on one elbow but collapsed with a wet, wheezing cough. Tywin approached, and he kicked the blood-stained rags away from the floor beside her bed. His men hung back, uncertain of the situation. He stood over her for a moment, examining the way her fingers weakly clutched at the edge of the blanket, and how her teeth chattered even as sweat dripped down her hollow face. Seline’s lips moved. Tywin bent low to hear, and he heard her whisper, “Please. Help.”

“Look what’s become of you,” he said without malice. He almost felt pity for the stupid girl. “You were meant to poison him, not yourself.”

He saw the realization dawn in her eyes. Her own cleverness had been used against her. Tywin was impressed, in a way. Seline had been ambitious, but she was not half as smart as she’d thought. She had underestimated Harold, and now she was paying the price. 

He straightened and addressed his brute. “Put her out of her misery.”

The man didn’t hesitate. He drew a long, narrow knife from his belt. Tywin had seen it used to open throats and bellies many times before. He advanced on the bed. Seline tried to scream, but all that came out was a watery gurgle, and she managed to raise her hand in a limp, futile gesture of defense. The blade went in just below her collarbone, and it angled up into the heart. The plunge was so precise it was almost graceful. Seline seized, her eyes rolled back, and then she lay still.

Tywin heard a faint trickle as the girl’s bladder let go for the final time. The silence that followed was all-consuming. The brute wiped the knife on the blanket and stepped back. Tywin gestured to the second man, who grabbed the corpse by the ankles and hauled her off the bed, leaving a wet, pink-stained impression on the mattress.

“Make sure the body is burned. I will not tolerate any mistakes,” Tywin ordered. “And clean the room. I won’t have my name linked to this place.”

The men nodded and set to their grim work. Tywin allowed himself a final glance at the dead girl, then turned and left, stepping over the ruined door and into the dark hallway.

By the time he reached the street, Tywin had composed his features into careful neutrality, and the brisk night air washed the stench from his clothes. His mind was already thinking ahead, calculating how he might salvage the situation.

He turned north, toward the richer districts, and behind him, his henchmen finished their work. Tywin doubted anyone would come looking for one worthless whore who was too dumb for her own good. 

The Dread Lord of Essos

Tywin would have been less confident had he known that every moment of his visit to the whore’s den had been watched, analyzed, and recorded from a glass bead in the corner of the ceiling. The bead was one of Harry’s new Seeing Stones. It was a part of the vast network of magical eyes and ears that blanketed not just his own holdings, but the entirety of Seven Swords. The little device was smaller than a pea and perfectly invisible unless one looked straight at it, and even then it only shimmered faintly in candlelight. Harry had dozens of them seeded throughout the city in preparation for just such intrigues. When Tywin’s brute cracked open the door, the bead blinked to life and piped every sight and sound directly to Harry’s viewing table. Harry, of course, could view it telepathically, so he didn’t even have to sit at the table and watch. 

He watched the entire scene unfold as he lounged on his balcony with a wineglass in one hand and a plate of salted olives in the other. He saw the horror on Seline’s face as her plan crumbled, and he saw the calm, pitiless look on Tywin’s face as the old man ordered her execution. The girl’s final moments were sad, but Harry felt no sympathy for her. She had tried to murder him, and so he felt it was a just ending. He watched the big brute ram the blade up below her collarbone and twist it. Casterly Rock-trained enforcers always went for speed and silence. He could appreciate the efficiency. Harry was the sort of man who saw the value in ruthless professionalism, even when it was turned against him. That was why, instead of being angry, he simply finished his wine and chuckled.

Harry saw the rest of the scene through the bead. Tywin’s men scoured the corpse for clues before wrapping the body up in the sheets and blanket. He watched as they went through the rest of the room, searching for any bit of information that could lead the girl’s death back to Tywin. Once they had searched through everything, the two men carried the wrapped body out the door. No doubt they would dispose of it before returning to clean up. 

Harry sent a quiet mental signal to one of his drones to go pick up the Seeing Stone. Tywin’s men would find no trace of the bead, and certainly no evidence of Harry’s involvement. His grandfather would return to his room in Harry’s castle, convinced that the matter was finished, never realizing it had only just begun.

Harry sat for a while, thinking. He’d known from the start that Tywin would try to have him killed once Harry became powerful enough to dethrone the old man. It was the sort of thing the old lion did. It was as easy as breathing to him. Harry had prepared for that contingency from the very beginning. In a strange way, he felt exhilarated. It had been too long since he’d had a worthy opponent. The nobles of Westeros played the game like children with wooden swords. Tywin was the first person in years to actually make him wary. That alone was almost enough to make Harry respect the old bastard.

Still, there was the matter of escalation. Tywin had lost a pawn and failed to kill him, but he wouldn’t stop there. The next attempt would be cleverer. Harry studied the replay in his mind. He saw the moment Seline realized she’d been tricked, and he saw the flash of raw terror in her eyes. Tywin was as ruthless as they came … to friend or foe. Harry knew he always needed to be at least one step ahead. Harry closed his eyes and thought of all the older men who had underestimated him because of his youth. They had all ended up broken or dead. Tywin’s end would be no different. 

His mind drifted to the influx of Westerosi nobles and their inevitable plotting. The gold shipment had put every ambitious lord and lady on alert, and Harry knew that if he wanted to seize all of Westeros without scorching the continent in dragonfire, he’d have to seduce and outplay their entire social order. Sansa had already given him a suggestion, though she hadn’t realized it. Harry smiled to himself as he thought of her on her knees with her lips wrapped around him. She had begged to see the gold. That’s all she or any of the other Westerosi ladies really cared about. All they desired was the delusion that they were the most important woman in the world. Harry could work with that. After all, deluding yourself was very easy. 

Harry stood and walked inside. The tower was quiet. Sansa was back in her room, and the rest of his household was busy with the nightly feast preparations. He watched the city through his windows, admiring how the lights glimmered on the sea. He thought of how the gold parade had left a trail of fevered excitement and envy through every alleyway and room in Seven Swords. He knew the lords and ladies would spend their evening at the feast, then retire to their chambers to scheme. He wanted them to scheme. He wanted them desperate. Desperate people made mistakes, and he would capitalize on them. 

If he could ensure that every noble house in the Seven Kingdoms tied their ambitions to this city, and if he could make them believe the only way to wealth and power was through loyalty to him, then he would win Westeros without ever needing to fight a major war. Gold bought loyalties in Westeros more surely than fire or fear, and Harry had more gold than they could ever dream of. 

But first, he had to win over the women. A city was never truly taken until its highborn ladies accepted their place in it. Harry knew that from experience. His plan was already working. The city was irresistible to them, and they would return home and infect the rest of Westeros with envy and longing.

However, he needed to keep the important women here. He knew it wouldn’t be hard to convince them. Harry smirked, finished his wine, and left to begin his scheming. 

The Dread Lord of Essos

Catelyn lay in bed, naked and trembling. Harry’s hands moved over her with an intimacy that had her pussy dripping wet. He caressed the curve of her inner thigh and then roamed higher, sending a wave of longing up her body. His lips brushed her breast, and his tongue flicked her nipple until it stiffened. Catelyn gasped and arched her body to meet his mouth. He cupped her breast, squeezed it gently, and Catelyn felt a rush of heat between her legs.

She thought of her duties and the obligations that had once defined her life. All of that seemed hopelessly far away. Harry pressed his face into her chest, inhaling her scent, and Catelyn realized how much she wanted to be desired by him. The realization frightened her, so she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She felt Harry’s hand grip her waist. He kissed his way up her neck and then spoke into her ear. 

“You don’t have to go back,” he said. “Not if you don’t want to.”

She opened her eyes. “I have no choice,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“Everyone always pretends to have no choice,” Harry replied, kissing the lobe of her ear. “But if you want to stay, I can make it happen.”

He pulled her closer, and Catelyn felt his hard cock against her hip. She tried to keep her dignity intact, but his touch stripped it away. Her body betrayed her. Her hips rolled forward, and her hand found the base of his cock and began stroking it. Harry gave a satisfied groan and ran his palm down her belly, stopping just shy of the place where she needed him the most. Catelyn spread her legs as wide as they would go. The smell of her wet pussy became stronger, and Catelyn blushed. Still, she kept her legs open for him. 

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

She hesitated, and her pride nearly stopped her from speaking, but she was so tired of being prideful. “I want you,” she said, and she shuddered when Harry’s fingers slid through the wetness between her legs.

“Good girl,” Harry said against her mouth. He kissed her, and there was none of the gentleness she remembered from her youth. His lips were demanding, and his tongue was greedy. He slipped two fingers inside her, and her pussy clung tightly to him. She whimpered into his mouth as he rubbed circles on her clit with his thumb.

“You’re not like them,” he said. “You’re not weak. That’s why I want you.”

The words fanned the flames inside her. She thought of Ned, and of all the times she’d been told to stand aside, be silent, and to be grateful. Harry pulled away, knelt between her thighs, and bent down to kiss her stomach, her hip, and the smooth mound between her legs. His mouth was skilled, patient, and relentless, and soon Catelyn was bucking against his face as a lustful wail escaped her throat.

She was utterly undone, and her legs trembled when Harry climbed up the length of her body and planted a line of kisses from her belly button to her mouth. He kissed all over her jiggling tits, and with one smooth thrust, entered her. She cried out and wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him deeper. He fucked her with fast, deep thrusts, and at first Catelyn tried to match his rhythm, but soon she was simply clinging to him, letting him use her body. He whispered to her as they made love. He lavished her with words of comfort, seduction, and the life she could have if only she stayed here with him and never looked back.

“You belong here,” he said. “With me. Not in that dreary Winterfell.”

She wanted to protest, but he simply wouldn’t allow it. He reached between their bodies and pressed his fingers to her clit again. Catelyn convulsed, and her whole pussy contracted around him. The orgasm tore through her, and she bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming his name. Harry held her through it, thrusting harder now, and he came a moment later and emptied himself inside her. He collapsed on top of her, and she lovingly stroked his hair as he kissed and sucked on her neck. 

Harry then rolled onto his side and caressed her naked breasts. Catelyn gasped every time he playfully brushed her nipples. He looked at her with a mixture of tenderness and adoration.

“Stay,” he said. “Don’t go back. I’ll give you everything you want.”

Catelyn stared at the ceiling, feeling the cool air on her sweaty skin. She thought of the cold, dark North, and of the long, grim line of Tullys and Starks. Finally, she closed her eyes and nodded once.

“I’ll stay,” she said. The words felt like a betrayal and a relief in equal measure.

She never saw Harry smirk. The next moment, he was between her legs again, making her gasp, moan, and squeal as he claimed her pussy over and over again. 

The Dread Lord of Essos

Sansa stood naked on her balcony, staring out across the moonlit sea. The night air carried the smell of salt and the ocean's chill, and it made her shiver. The sea reflected the moonlight beautifully, and her coppery hair blew wildly around her shoulders. She hugged her arms beneath her breasts, watching the waves crash, and she tried to remember when she had last felt this content.

A half moon sat high overhead, and Sansa leaned out against the balustrade. The tips of her breasts brushed the stone, and the cool air brought goosebumps up her arms and legs. She closed her eyes and smiled. 

The door behind her opened, but Sansa didn’t turn around. She knew the sound of Harry’s steps by heart now. She heard the rustle of his clothing as he shrugged them off. Harry slid behind her, and his hands found her hips. His skin was as warm as the summer sun, and he pressed his chest to her back so that she could feel his heartbeat. It was as steady as a war drum, and his hard cock poked against her ass. Sansa blushed as he kissed her behind the ear, then nipped at her neck. When he spoke, his breath was hot against her skin.

“Do you miss Winterfell?” he asked. 

She shivered, partly from the cool wind and partly from his attention. “I don’t miss anything about it,” she told him as her voice shook.

Harry’s hands slid up her waist, brushing her ribs. He cupped her breasts and squeezed, and her whole body trembled. “You could go back to the North,” he said, rolling her stiff nipples between her fingers. “Or you can stay here and live like a Queen.”

Sansa felt a surge of excitement. That was what he did. He made her want things she had never dared to want before. He made her want to be bold.

She turned and faced him. Harry’s body was lean and hard. His thick, long cock jutted out from between his legs, ready for action. Sansa pressed herself against him, and Harry groaned. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. The taste of him filled her mouth, and she bit his lower lip and sucked. His cock jerked against her soft, smooth belly. She liked that she could drive him as mad as he drove her.

“I want to stay. I want to stay with you.” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

Harry’s eyes were flooded with satisfaction. He lifted her, crushing her breasts against his chest, and Sansa laughed as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She giggled happily and clung tightly to him. He carried her to the edge of the balcony, and her back pressed up against the cool marble column. The sea below seemed impossibly far away.

Harry lined himself up with her damp pussy, and Sansa moaned as he slid inside her. She locked her ankles behind his back, holding him deep inside her. There was nothing gentle in the way he fucked her. His hips slammed into her, and the rhythmic smack of flesh echoed out into the open. Sansa clung to him and dug her nails into his shoulders, and she gasped each time he bottomed out. The wind made her nipples stiff and sensitive, and Harry leaned her back and nipped at each of them, leaving marks on her soft skin.

She had never felt more alive. She opened her eyes and saw the ships in the bay and the lanterns drifting in the dark. She wanted them all to look up and see her getting fucked by the King of Seven Swords. She wanted them to know that he belonged to her, and she belonged to him. 

Harry’s hands squeezed her ass and lifted her higher. He bounced her up and down, impaling her on his cock. He fucked her harder, and Sansa cried out. She knew the sound would carry across the night, but he didn’t care.

She came hard, and her pussy clamped down on him. Her whole body shook, trembled, and bucked as her slippery pussy milked his shaft. Harry carried her back inside, but left the balcony doors open so the whole city could hear their moans as they finished what they’d started.