Chapter 46
The watchmen of White Harbor were having a terrible time doing their jobs. Winter had finally arrived and with that came snow, wind, ice, and that horrible, hazy fog that seemed to lay across the water's surface in a never-ending sheet. Though they were covered head to toe in animal skins and furs, the bitter cold still crept between the seams and chilled their shivering bodies.
As watchmen, their jobs were considered important, so they received more food from their Lord than most. Every bit of that food was eaten. None was wasted, for they knew that soon, food would be scarce. That wasn't the worst of it for them. Though they couldn't guess when, at some point, the harbor would freeze over, making their jobs unnecessary. When that day came, their handouts would end as well. They were not looking forward to that day. Sadly, there was nothing they could do but wait.
A storm had blown down from Beyond the Wall, and even that massive slab of ice couldn't stop the snow and howling winds from reaching them. The size of the waves grew by the hour, the average eventually reaching six feet tall. Their visibility was poor, and soon, it would be nonexistent. The sea fog had grown so thick and soupy that they could practically taste it. The only good thing was that they didn't need to keep their attention set on the water. No one in their right mind would attempt to dock at a time like that. They doubted anyone could see the bonfires burning through the thick fog. They were lit to mark the boundaries between water and land, but the wind was so fierce that the flames were practically laying as flat as a wheat patty. Some had blown out altogether. Even with nothing to do, they were still forced to stand there and brave the weather. Ice clung to their beards and eyebrows as they stood close to the burning torches. Very little warmth reached them from the small torches. What warmth that was produced was quickly whisked away by the winter winds.
Each of the men was old enough to have survived at least two winters, so they knew what to expect. Years of bone-rattling cold, hunger, death … It was why Northerners were considered the strongest of the Seven Kingdoms. The weak were quick to die when the food and warmth ran dry, and only the most hardy of men and women survived. Enduring such hard times was hell, and it would surely be hell again now that winter was once again upon them.
It wasn't out of the ordinary for the watchmen to close their eyes for a bit of a rest. Strong, spiced ales were provided to keep them warm. It certainly did a good job at that. The strong alcohol burned their throats as they drank deeply from their warmed cups. The only problem was that too much would make any man drowsy, so they closed their eyes. Not to sleep, of course. That would be a dereliction of duty. No, they just wanted to rest and warm their peepers for a bit, to make sure they remained sharp and keen. So, as the watchmen leaned upon each other, snoring lazily, they gasped and cried out when a loud horn boomed through the thick mist. Now wide awake, they looked around confused as to what was happening. Again, a loud horn cut through the fog and made them jump.
"It's coming from the sea!" one of the watchmen yelled over the wind. They paid closer attention and sure enough, a second horn began to blare, only this one was further out. Then a third boomed even further out.
"Shit!" the head watchman cried out. "Blow the horn or Lord Manderly will have our heads!"
The newest member of the group nearly tripped over his feet as he ran to the large horn that was mounted on a steel swivel. He pressed his lips to it and blew as hard as he could. A deep, bass-filled rumble blew from the wide end. The sound easily cut through the wind and echoed across the harbor. Only a few seconds later, they heard another horn answer them from New Castle. Nervously, they waited.
It had been weeks since any trade ship had docked at their harbor. They had rightly thought that the bad weather made it impossible for trade ships to come to port. Perhaps it wasn't a trade ship. The North was still at war after all. Again they waited for what seemed like forever. No one made a peep, and only the snapping wind made any noise. Finally, a massive, black bow cut through the fog. The unfriendly waves broke across it, smashing apart, and sending hundreds of fat droplets of seawater spraying in every direction. The giant ship didn't pitch and roll as a normal ship would, they noticed. It sailed straight and even as though the harsh waves and mighty swells were nothing more than a minor nuisance. More of the ship appeared until finally the wide, cream-colored sails could be seen. In the middle of the main sail was the black Lion of Night, indicating that this was a trade ship belonging to the King of the White City, as the men in White Harbor called him. Its horn blew, making everyone in the harbor jerk and cover their ears. One after another, dozens of horns blew behind it, letting the watchmen know that there were many more ships coming in to dock. All tiredness forgotten, they immediately got to work.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Lord Manderly had been informed that trade ships had arrived. During winter, that in of itself was strange. It was widely understood that during winter time, it was every kingdom for itself. Not only that, but they were at war. The Crown wouldn't be sending supplies to them, and the Reach damn sure wouldn't. The Iron Islands had nothing to offer, and the Riverlands barely had enough to feed their own people. The Westerlands were likewise at war with them, and the Vale had its own problems at the moment. Dorne, of course, was so far away from the North that they were rarely in contact with one another. Besides, Dorne was a desert and barely grew anything beyond a few fruits and spices. However, when he heard that the ships were from the Seven Swords, that changed everything.
It was known to all the Northern Lords that Catelyn and Sansa Stark had gone to Essos in an attempt to broker a trade agreement. Lord Manderly hadn't heard much about it since, but now he was hopeful that their visit had paid dividends.
Almost as soon as he had gone down to the harbor, he was presented with a letter from Catelyn Stark letting him know that all was well and that she had indeed come to an agreement with her host. Instructions on the distribution of supplies were given in which he was expected to follow. Each Lord was to get his fair share, and the Manderlys would get a bit extra as payment for shipping the goods down the White Knife and into Winterfell. As he read the letter, it was stated that many more ships would be landing all over the North to supply the Dreadfort, Moat Cailin, Barrowtown, Bear Island, Castle Black, and every other castle, keep, and fort.
Lord Manderly hadn't seen shipmen work in such unity before. 'It's like they share a single mind,' he had thought. Little did he know that he was nearly right on the money. He marveled at just how fast the massive trade ship was unloaded. It helped that the ships had their own sets of cranes to help unload. It took six men to operate each of them, but once they were going, they could unload massive pallets, each loaded with dozens of crates full of the most wonderful things imaginable.
As a hefty man that enjoys the occasional succulent feast, he was very happy to inspect the cargo only to find prime cuts of beef, pork, and mutton. Other crates held racks of Auroch ribs, and Wyman could already imagine them dripping with a honey glaze as they slowly roasted over a spit. Even as a Lord of the North, his supply of meat wouldn't last forever. In fact, some of it was already beginning to spoil, and while he liked fish as much as the next man, he didn't want to eat it every day. He wanted some variety in his diet. He closed his eyes as a pallet of bacon was sent to the castle. He could hear it crackling as the cook brought it to the perfect amount of crispiness. Of course, there were also pallets of fresh fruits and vegetables which he normally didn't touch. However, when added to a hearty beef stew, even a man like Wyman could learn to love them. The strawberries, lemons, apples, plums, and blackberries would make for some delicious cakes, pies, and tarts, he happily thought to himself.
Beyond the food, thousands of sacks of long-burning charcoal were unloaded, some being sent to the castle while some were set aside to be shipped downriver. He was surprised to find that ten ships were solely dedicated to shipping cloth material. Tens of thousands of rolls of cotton material were lowered by crane. An equal amount of wool was brought down for the smallfolk to make warm clothes out of. Leathers and furs of all kinds were crated up and ready to be used to make clothes, armor, blankets, and anything else that they needed.
For several days, ships docked, unloaded, and sailed away only to be replaced by another ship ready to unload. Wyman Manderly hadn't seen so many supplies in all his life. Hell, the North now had more than they did in the peak of summer. He shuddered to think of what it all cost, especially since he was told that many more shipments would arrive throughout winter. No doubt White Harbor would need to contribute to the payment. He would have to wait for word from Robb Stark. In the meantime, he dutifully had all of Winterfell's portion loaded up on boats and sent further inland. They would follow the White Knife and take the left break until they reached the Wolfswood. They would then break right and follow the river to Winterfell's doorstep.
As the ships continued to flood the North with their Essosi wares, Wyman got to work. He immediately began issuing loans to his smallfolk that were able to make clothing and other items out of the fabrics, leathers, and furs that they had just procured. The smallfolk would then sell their clothes to other smallfolk and hopefully pay back the initial loan with interest. He did the same with the medicines that were delivered. He issued them to the healers among the peasants with the expectation that they would make timely payments to their Lord. Within a few days, White Harbor was bustling with new activity. Now that they no longer had to fear starvation, every smallfolk in town was trying to figure out a way to earn a few coppers for themselves from the mountain of supplies that continuously showed up at the port. They all had Catelyn Stark to thank for this. Lord Manderly just wished he knew how Lady Stark was able to convince the young King to ally with them. 'Surely, she must be a master negotiator,' he thought to himself as he bit down on roasted ribs and scooped plum pudding into his mouth.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"Please, my King … I'll do anything! Just keep fucking me!" Catelyn cried out. Her face was pressed harder into the pillow as she squealed in delight. Behind her, the young King was brutalizing her backside, and making her cheeks clap wildly as he furiously fucked her. Her tits were being dragged up and down across his silk sheets while her ass was high in the air. Harry had a fistful of her auburn hair and was mashing her face into the pillow as he repeatedly plundered the deepest parts of her insides. He moaned as she tightened. Catelyn loved being taken roughly. All he had to do was put his palm across her ass with enough force to create a loud crack, and the little whore would tighten around him before cumming. There was practically no friction at all. She was so wet that his cock was easily able to glide in and out of her silky folds.
Beside them, Sansa was flat on her back staring at the ceiling in a complete daze. Her deep blue eyes were glazed over, and her long, auburn hair was fanned out behind her. Her chest was bare exposing beautiful tits with lovebites all over them. Her long, smooth legs were spread wide open while cum leaked from between them. She could neither see nor hear what was going on beside her. She was trapped in her own, little world after suffering through several mind-blowing orgasms.
Several hours later, Harry exited his room, leaving the women in his bed to rest. He arched his back and sighed contently when it popped loudly. Twisting his upper half to stretch out his muscles, he groaned before going back to work. He disappeared and less than a second later, he reappeared on the coast of Sothoryos. Stretched out before him appeared to be a massive city at first glance. The only thing missing was the tall buildings that one would expect to see. However, Harry had no need for them. His drones didn't sleep or eat, and they didn't require rest or bathroom breaks. They just worked, fueling themselves from his magic. That was a good thing too, otherwise, he would never be able to sate the appetites of all the kingdoms and cities that were practically begging for food.
The North, while vast in size, was very low in population. They were also quite poor when compared to the other Westerosi kingdoms. Needless to say, if Harry was only seeking gold and silver as payment, they would not have been able to afford his constant shipment of supplies. The entire kingdom would have been bankrupted in less than a year's time. Thankfully, the North had other ways to pay for his goods. Their economy mostly relied on timber, wool, and hides, none of which Harry needed or wanted. What they did have was land and untapped resources. Just north of Winterfell, along the Kingsroad was a mountain range that wasn't rich in gold or jewels, but marble. Pure, white marble that was similar in quality to the stones pulled from Italy in his original world. Sure, the marble was buried a ways down, but that was nothing that his drones couldn't handle. A quarry could be made, and the marble could be shipped down the Last River and into the Shivering Sea. Marble was something that Harry hadn't been able to mine in great quantities, and the mountains of the North were loaded with it. Robb Stark, of course, knew nothing about this. As such, he readily agreed to hand over mining rights to the mountains along with the rights to cultivate the massive swath of land situated between the Long Lake, the Last River, and the Lonely Hills. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with that land just yet, but Harry would think of something.
To make things a bit more even, Harry had agreed to open some businesses in the North to help with the unemployment problems, especially during the winter. It was no skin off his nose. There would be plenty of jobs for them to do.
Harry looked left and then right. As far as the eye could see, the jungle had been cut back to make room for even more farm plots. His shipbuilders continued to pump out ships at an hourly pace. It would take hundreds constantly coming and going just to fulfill his contract to the North. That said nothing about everyone else that needed food. Braavos had been a major trading partner since the beginning. The Iron Bank had dozens of contracts with him to provide different foods, spices, wines, woods, and even wild animals that they had hoped to breed for whatever reason. Harry didn't bother asking. He certainly wouldn't turn his back on them now that even more potential trading partners had made themselves known.
He had recently come into contact with Lorath. Lorath was an island off the coast of northern Essos, just east of Braavos and north of the Hills of Norvos. The people there were quite odd and referred to themselves as "a man" or "a woman". In the end, their weird speech patterns mattered little to him. What did matter was that they could pay in whale oil and walrus tusks. The ivory, Harry would keep for himself and use to adorn his city. The oil would eventually be sold for a profit. As the northern oceans froze, it would become harder and harder to harvest whale oil. If Harry held onto his supply until the dead of winter, his stock would become much more valuable. It was why he was buying up every barrel that he could.
The Three Sisters, the Fingers, and Gulltown were each attempting to come to an agreement with him. They, along with the Eyrie had put off stocking up until it was nearly too late. From what he heard, the Vale wasn't in the best shape leadership-wise. That along with the war had everyone out of sorts. Harry was happy to do business with them. After all, the more desperate they were, the better his return. Those further south weren't as desperate just yet. Highgarden would probably manage just fine without him, unless, of course, winter lasted for an unprecedented amount of time. Oldtown might manage, though not nearly as well as Highgarden. The Tyrells would always take care of themselves first. Proof of that was back in his city. He had the wife and daughter of the Lord of the Reach at his beck and call. They wanted the best for themselves, and as such, they threw their lot in with him. Mace was out on some fool's errand trying to capture the throne for himself. Harry was beginning to think that the idiot would bring his kingdom to utter ruin. Perhaps Harry would be there to pick up the pieces.
What Harry was truly waiting on was Dorne. He was surprised that he hadn't heard anything from them just yet. It shouldn't have been a surprise to him. The Dornish didn't much care for outsiders and preferred to keep to themselves whenever possible. They were a self-sufficient lot that tried to import as little as possible. Still, during winter, there would be much less food being grown and many more hungry bellies. If they were smart, they would try to get on his good side early. No doubt they had many beautiful women that he could foster, Harry thought greedily. As payment, Dorne had plenty of land that he could use. Their lands were mostly comprised of arid deserts, but Harry's magic would surely work wonders on them. He would just have to wait and see.
Dany was doing well as she learned how to rule. Harry was pumping money and resources into Meereen, and it was beginning to flourish. He noticed that the other slave-cities nearby hadn't raised a peep. They were probably scared shitless that he would take them next. Fortunately for them, he had other things to occupy his time. That didn't mean that they were safe. Far from it. Their time would eventually come, and it would be easier now that he had a base of operations in that area of the world. Seeing that everything was running smoothly in Sothoryos, Harry made a quick trip to Meereen to see Dany.
Since she was still young, Harry didn't weigh her down with burdens and responsibilities. He made sure that Dany and Myrcella attended their lessons with him and their other teachers, and occasionally he had the girls sit upon the thrones and cast judgment upon various criminals. Other than that, he allowed them to be young women. As such, he wasn't surprised to find them splashing around in their private swimming pool. Only his "female drones" were allowed to enter that area of the pyramid. Harry, however, went wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. As he walked in, Dany turned to him and smiled. Myrcella smiled as well. She was very happy to see her cousin. Harry was quite happy to see them, especially since they were both nude. Their bottom halves were underwater, but their naked tits were on full display. Dany stood proud with her back straight, not hiding herself at all. Myrcella was a bit shyer. At first, she had her arm across her chest, hiding her small but perky breasts, but after seeing Dany, she slowly lowered her arm, exposing her hard, light pink nipples. Harry could see her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. However, Dany was more than happy to show off in front of him. She bounced up and down, causing her tits to shake and jiggle. "Do you want to join us, Your Grace?" she chirped.
Harry answered her by removing his clothes and walking down the stone steps into the pool. Myrcella kept her eyes glued to his cock which was semi-rigid. As he settled onto the stone bench built into the side of the pool, Dany joined his side. Sitting right up against him, she smiled and grabbed his arm. She held it tightly against her chest, trapped between her breasts. His hand touched her thigh, and she felt him gently caress it. "Myrcella! Come on. Harold's not going to bite," Dany called out. Myrcella had been standing there staring at them with pink cheeks. She snapped out of her daze and looked at him.
"I wouldn't be so sure," he teased, giving her clit a pinch. Dany squealed and bucked before bursting into a giggle fit.
"Come on," he repeated Dany's words, indicating that she should take his other side. Mycella blushed even harder and sat next to him.
Harry inwardly chuckled as he thought about making a move on his young cousin. She was old enough now and well past puberty. Her body had blossomed, and she was nearly as lovely as her mother. In a few years, once her body was done growing, she may even pass Cersei in looks. He put his arm around her and let his fingers caress her sides. He heard her gasp. On his other side, Dany had no problems forcing his hand between her legs. Myrcella, however, wasn't as confident. His hand moved down her side and over her hip. He gave her nude body a squeeze, causing her to rub her thighs together. Dany was placing kisses along his broad shoulder as his fingers toyed with her hard clit.
"There's something in my room that we'd like to show you," Dany breathily told him as she reached in and grabbed his throbbing cock. "Isn't there, Myrcella?" she asked her friend. Myrcella squeaked as Harry squeezed her inner thigh. His hand was nearly touching her quivering pussy. Harry looked at his cousin. Myrcella's cheeks were bright pink, but she silently nodded nonetheless. Harry moved his hand, "accidentally" brushing the side against her little pussy. Myrcella let out a moan.
"Then lead the way, my dear," Harry smiled. Dany smiled back, standing up with his cock still in hand. She led him to her room, using his cock as a leash. Myrcella followed behind, staring at his tight ass the entire way. Once she had crossed the threshold, the door shut behind them.
Chapter 47
Myrcella bit down on the expensive, silk bedsheets that her cousin provided. After living in his city, she developed certain tastes, and she absolutely refused to go back to doing without. His luxurious bedsheets were just one of several dozen things that made her list. One of the reasons for this was that she loved the way they felt against her naked skin. Now that her nipples were rubbing back and forth over the soft, cool material, she was quite happy that she demanded they be in her and Dany's rooms. The sensation of her hard nipples being dragged across the sheets was almost enough to make her cum. Of course, when Harold's mouth touched her upturned pussy, she actually did cum. She came right on his tongue as he tickled her clit and licked her damp slit. Beside her, Dany was giggling at her expense.
She had no sexual experience beyond what little that Dany and she had done together, and while Dany's tongue felt good between her legs, it didn't compare to having a man moving her body around and taking what he wanted from her. As if to prove this, her cousin forced her knees apart, spreading her out even further. Her pussy felt completely exposed, and she was certain that it was. She could feel her soft, taut lips being forced open as her body was spread. Myrcella could imagine that he was now staring at the pink within. Pink and pure was what she was, and she blushed at the thought. When she felt him place his lips around her clit and suck, Myrcella hid her face in the sheets and squealed loudly.
Dany couldn't help but giggle at her friend. Even so, she lovingly stroked her naked back with her hand as Harold buried his face in her backside and started sucking. The sights, the sounds, and even the strong scent of sex had Dany's pussy throbbing with need. Her clit was swollen and needy, and her nipples were hard and puffy. As one hand rubbed Myrcella's back, Dany move the other between her own legs, and she gently began stroking her wet slit. Her eyes fluttered as her fingers slipped between her lips, and the movement of her fingers became harder and more desperate. Dipping her fingers inside of her, Dany pulled them out and found them coated in wetness. Placing them in her mouth, she sucked them clean. Just then, Myrcella was flipped over onto her back. Dany watched as Harold looked her younger friend over. Myrcella squirmed and her body wiggled as he looked at her small but perky tits. Dany had never seen her nipples so hard. The tips were crinkled and were poking far out from her light pink areolas. Even as she squirmed, she didn't try to hide herself, which had been one of the lessons that Cersei had bestowed upon them. As much as Dany had disliked the woman, when it came to sex and seduction, she knew what she was talking about. Both girls had taken her lessons to heart.
As they were taught, Myrcella kept her body open for him. Whatever he wanted, she was to offer. Her smooth, beautiful legs were spread open, and her naked pussy was there to be taken. Dany loved how healthy and exquisite her skin was. There wasn't a single blemish on Myrcella's sexy legs, or any other part of her body. Dany wished that she could claim the same, and while there weren't any major scars or blemishes, there were marks that she had accumulated back when she had, on occasion, accidentally angered her brother. He never went too far, of course, since she was to be sold into marriage. Dany felt a momentary ping of regret that her brother could not be there today. However, she told herself that he wasn't a nice person and that she found someone a thousand times better to take care of her. Dany looked at Harold, and her heart fluttered. He would give her anything that she desired. Dany would offer nothing less. Whatever he wanted from her, she would provide it to him. Unable to stop herself, she crawled up to him and leaned in. Capturing his lips, she moaned into his mouth as their tongues danced together. Her pussy tingled and burned with need. Below him, Myrcella squirmed and whined. Her pussy was glistening with wetness, and Dany could see that she was ready to be taken. She move around behind him and rested her bare chest against his back. Her hands caressed every inch of bare flesh that she could reach while he worked on Myrcella's young, nude body.
Instead of taking her, Harold was gently caressing the insides of Myrcella's thighs, his hands slowly sliding up and down the expanse of incredibly smooth skin. Myrcella bit her lower lip which made her look very cute, Dany had thought. Dany could see a large drop of arousal form on Myrcella's pussy lips before it dripped down and disappeared between her cheeks. Resting her chin on Harold's shoulder, Dany reached down and wrapped her small hand around his large cock. It always amazed her how her hand didn't come close to fitting around his shaft. Still, she squeezed his base and began tugging on his cock. It wasn't long before he was moaning under her tender ministrations.
Myrcella squealed as her body was suddenly lifted up. She found herself straddling his lap as he sat on the bed. Being face-to-face with Dany who was pressed against his back, she couldn't stop herself from blushing as her lower half moved around, desperately trying to pleasure herself against his erection. She was then lifted up, and the head of his shaft was placed at her opening. Slowly, Harold lowered her. Myrcella gasped and shuddered as her tight hole was stretched wide enough to fit his massive girth. She felt him enter her, and her walls tightened themselves around him, hugging his cock tightly. Deeper and deeper he sank, finally hitting her g-spot and causing her to cum on a cock for the first time. He moaned deeply, and Myrcella felt a wave of satisfaction. He enjoyed being inside of her, she thought happily. Remembering what her mother had taught her, she squeezed her inner muscles and lifted up before dropping down. A loud, wet squelch emanated from her soaking wet cunt as she sank down on him. When the head of his cock hit her cervix, Myrcella cried out.
She felt his hands cup her ass and squeeze. Myrcella was breathing heavily from being penetrated in such. Up until then, the most she had been penetrated was when Dany had gotten carried away and accidentally broke her maidenhead. Myrcella had initially been upset, thinking that her first time had been spoiled. She had, after all, wanted to gift it to her cousin, but Dany made her see that she was being silly. She promised that Harold didn't care about such things, and that he would enjoy her first offering just as much with or without a maidenhead. In fact, Dany had promised that he would like it even more since he wouldn't have to go slow and take his time. Her promise turned out to be true, she thought as he lifted her up by her tight ass until only the head was inside of her. He dropped her back down, and Myrcella arched her back and cried out as her g-spot was stimulated once again. Her walls were squeezing his cock and fluttering against the sides of his shaft. She was lifted up and dropped again, filling the room with the sound of a wet pussy being fucked. She was definitely wet, she thought. Her pussy was burning hot and completely soaked. When he hit a deep spot, Myrcella closed her eyes and lightly bit down on his shoulder as she squeaked in pleasure. When she opened her eyes, Dany's face was right there wearing an annoying smirk. She wanted to glare at her friend, but the pleasure was just too much. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she started milking his cock. When her body started bucking, Myrcella nearly passed out from having her g-spot pounded.
When she came too, she found herself on her back with Dany straddling her body. Their nipples were touching, sending sparks of pleasure racing up and down her spine. She opened her mouth to moan or say something, she wasn't sure which, but instead, Dany kissed her deeply and stuck her tongue in her mouth. Myrcella could feel Dany's body being jerked forward, and from the way she was moaning into her mouth, she guessed that Harold was fucking her from behind. Dany broke the kiss and squealed loudly, looking over her shoulder with wild eyes. Harold smirked and slapped her wide ass, making her flesh ripple. Myrcella never expected for him to pull out of Dany and stick it back into her pussy, but when his fat cock parted her lips and stretched her hole once again, Myrcella cried out in bliss. Almost immediately, her pussy clamped down on him and began massaging his thrusting cock. Before she could pass out again, Harold switched again and started fucking Dany. This gave her just enough time to calm down so that she didn't fall unconscious. Of course, he then switched back to her, and just like that, she was cumming all over his cock.
Somehow, Myrcella eventually found herself with Dany's pussy hovering right above her face. Dany was on her hands and knees getting fucked like a whore. Myrcella wasn't going to lie, she wished that it was her in that position right then, but sadly, her pussy was too sensitive from orgasming so much. On her back looking up, she had the perfect view of Dany's bald pussy being penetrated faster and harder than she had ever imagined. The scent was overpowering, and the sounds were incredibly perverse, even when they were almost drowned out by Dany's whorish cries and moans. Myrcella gasped when she realized just how big Harold was. Dany's tiny pussy looked even smaller when compared to his massive thrusting cock. Her pussy was stretched beyond what she thought was possible by the human body, and every time he thrust forward, Myrcella imagined his cock reaching past her belly button. When he pulled back, his arousal-slickened shaft was smeared with white girl-cum. She even saw him pull all the way out, rub his wet cock against Dany's hard clit, and shove it back in all the while Dany was screaming and cumming around him. Fat drops of pussy juice dripped down from Dany's stuffed cunt and landed with a splat on her face. Within minutes, her cheeks, chin, lips, and neck were completely drenched in Dany's drippings.
Dany begged him to stop and give her a moment of rest, and then she would turn right around and beg him to keep fucking her. Harry, however, had no intention of stopping until he had had his fill. Myrcella watched as he pulled out and a torrent of pussy juice squirted from Dany's cumming pussy, drenching her mouth and face. Myrcella squealed and turned her head as a jet of ejaculate hit her in the back of the throat. She was coughing and sputtering while Dany's contracting pussy was being stuffed full once again. Just then, Dany was pushed away and replaced by Myrcella. The young princess gasped as her body was folded in half. Her feet were pushed above her head, exposing her naked slit to him. As soon as he entered her again, Myrcella's pussy started cumming. Like a brute, he jackhammered into her orgasming cunt over and over, making the poor girl scream in pleasure. Her vision was going white, and just before she finally passed out for the night, she felt a thick load of warm cum fill her fluttering pussy. As her eyes closed, Myrcella decided that at that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else but in his bed.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"Leave them on the bed and get out!" Cersei snarled at the young girls who arrived in her room to drop off her freshly laundered dresses. The girls didn't verbally respond in any way. They simply curtsied and quickly left the room. When the door shut with an audible click, Cersei walked over to the bed and picked up the first dress from the pile.
She remembered this dress perfectly. She had gotten it made only months before her trip to Essos. This was before her nephew had come back into her life. She had been having a particularly bad day. She woke up with a headache and almost immediately stubbed her toe as she clumsily got out of bed. At breakfast, she was informed that the kitchens had run out of the tangy lemon spread that she heavily smeared on her toast almost every day. Then, of course, she had to deal with one of Joffrey's tantrums. By midday, she had had enough. She called in her private tailor and had this dress made. Cersei held it up near the window. The sunlight shined in and illuminated the red velvet. Immediately, her eyes zeroed in on a spot in the front where the velvet had worn away. The snow white trimming was discolored so much that it was now more of an eggshell color. Disgusted, she tossed it on the floor before picking up the next dress.
This one was a green dress that she used to receive so many compliments on. It used to fit her figure so snugly and perfectly, she thought morosely. She remembered feeling very sexy when wearing this dress. Now the stitching was coming loose in some parts, making it seem baggy and ill-fitting. She flung it aside and picked up another. Stained … It joined the others. Grabbing another, she saw that the hem was completely stained brown from being dragged across the dirty floor. She let out an angry wail and pulled her hands apart, tearing the dress right down one of the loose seams. She threw the ruined dress across the room where it piled against the wall. Cersei stood there breathing heavily until finally, she was able to get her temper under control. Walking over to her trunk, she ran her soft fingers over the silky-smooth blackwood. The trunk had been just one of several hundred luxury items that she had specially made while back in Seven Swords. The wood was dark and soft to the touch. The hardware was made out of pure silver, and the material making up the inner lining was the finest silk anyone had ever seen. She opened the large trunk and gently lifted out one of her dresses.
A beautiful, white dress hung before her. The silk was flawless, and there was not a stain to be found. She remembered this dress fondly. She had it made in the King's Garden. Just thinking about that area of the city brought back some very good memories. Only the most wealthy and affluent members of Essosi society were even allowed to set foot on that perfect street. 'And I was Queen of it all,' she told herself. Oh, how she missed the way the shop owners treated her. She was, after all, not only the King's aunt but his lover as well. As such, she was treated better than royalty. She had been treated like a goddess. Whatever she wanted was hers, no matter the price. Of course, she never saw the bills. They were sent directly to the royal treasury to be paid. She had heard rumors that some of the shopkeepers had actually fought over the right to serve her. Actual fist fights, she thought with great pleasure.
There were so many things that she missed. One thing that she especially missed was the food. Cersei actually smiled as she stood there, thinking back to when she would spend the whole morning shopping before sitting at what her nephew called a "cafe". The little shop had tables situated outside where she could eat a lovely, little meal while feeling the cool, salty breeze caressing her skin and making her long, golden locks flutter. The wealthy wives and mistresses of the elite Essosi merchants would walk by with their helpers carrying wrapped packages and just stare at her. Cersei would smirk, knowing that even with all that they had, they still wished that they were her.
When the little, white dress had finally been delivered to her, she tried it on. It was styled like most dresses that were made in the city. It was luxurious but very sensual and revealing. Her breasts popped out of the top, and the bottom featured dual slits that exposed every inch of her long, smooth legs. When she had tried it on and showed her nephew, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her to bed. She didn't leave the bed for the rest of the day. Cersei's cheeks suddenly felt hot when she remembered how many orgasms she had that day. She dropped the dress back into the trunk and closed it. The dress was of no use here, she thought. The one time she wore a dress that she had brought back from the White City, her father had taken one look at her and slapped her across the face.
"Go change that dress!" he hissed in anger. "I will not have my daughter prancing around like some diseased whore!" His eyes had burned with rage. Cersei had wanted nothing better than to tell him to go fuck himself, but in the end, she thought better of it. Cersei sat down on the top of her trunk and placed her head in her hands. She groaned while massaging her eyes with the heels of her hands. When she decided to come back to King's Landing, she never thought that this was how it would end up.
In her mind, she saw herself being the true power behind the crown. Her son, Tommen, would be the rightful King, but in the shadows, Cersei would rule. Using all the insights that she gained from living in such a successful city, Cersei planned to turn King's Landing into a city that her family could be proud of. Seven Swords was the White Pearl of Essos, and King's Landing would be the Golden Paradise. All would praise her just as the people praised her nephew. Sadly, things hadn't yet turned out that way. What she didn't count on was her father butting in and taking control of the Crownlands. The old man was constantly hovering around Tommen, making sure that his opinions were the only ones heard. Any time she got close, he would shoot her a small sneer and send her off to do "women's things". That phrase instantly raised her hackles. He thought her some stupid woman that offered nothing beyond her looks. It did bring a smile to her face when she saw the condition in which the city was. In short, the city was a festering shithole. If not for the food that her nephew was constantly supplying them with, the whole damn city would have starved. It made her happy knowing that all the blame was landing where it belonged … square in the lap of her father. The city was under siege, and very little was coming in or going out. The first things to run out were the luxuries. Cersei's days of having custom dresses made were over, at least for the time being. Bolts of silks, satins, and velvets were no longer being sent. King's Landing was now only receiving the bare minimum, and almost all of that was coming from Harold.
While the smallfolk didn't appear to be on the verge of rebelling, there was a very thick tension hanging in the air. That, however, may very well change in the coming weeks or months, she thought. Not long ago, the first snow of winter had arrived. Soon, the peasants would be getting sick from a lack of medicines and firewood to keep themselves warm. No doubt the sicknesses and diseases would quickly spread through the densely packed slums, and it wouldn't take much to set off their bubbling tempers.
Cersei wanted nothing to do with any of this. If she couldn't be the power behind the crown, then why was she even here? Tommen certainly didn't need her. The young King seemed to enjoy learning at the hand of her father. Cersei took this as a slap in the face. Did the boy not know how much she had given up for him? Even having Jaime at her side again didn't quell her foul moods. As much as she disliked saying it, Jaime couldn't hold a candle to his son. Every night Cersei closed her eyes and wished that she was back home in that beautiful, sparkling white castle that burned red during those seaside sunsets. She wished that she was walking through King's Garden again, ordering the latest fashions while sniffing snootily at the passersby. She especially wished that she was back in Harold's bed, moaning his name as he plunged deeper and deeper into her body, making her scream in rapture.
It annoyed her when she realized that Myrcella may have taken her place. She could imagine her beautiful daughter walking around the city in her revealing dresses, showing off her young, taut body. She could imagine all the men's eyes feasting on her form just as they had done with her when she was still there. Myrcella would have no one there to guide her or continue teaching her. She hadn't even heard from her daughter since her return to King's Landing.
Cersei suddenly stood up with a manic expression across her pretty face. There was a look of greed and determination in her lovely, green eyes.
'Why sit here and wish for it when I can make it happen? I'm nothing if not clever and resourceful,' she told herself. She had to be careful though. Cersei had a feeling that her father was attempting to marry her off for political and military assistance. 'He has another thing coming,' she thought. It would take careful planning because if he found out, he would put an immediate stop to it. Thankfully, she was a brilliant strategist and would come up with a foolproof plan that had no chance of going wrong. With a newfound vigor and zest for life, she smiled and got to work.
Chapter 48
"Hurry, My Lord! The savages are almost here!"
Macy Tyrell ignored his servant and quickly scooped up all of the papers strewn across his desk and stuffed them into a trunk. "Have that placed on the wagon!" Mace called out, grabbing a bottle of sweet wine from the table. Two more servants grabbed the heavily laden chest on both sides and groaned as they lifted it. They slowly carried it outside of the tent.
"Please, My Lord … We must …"
"Flee … yes, yes," Mace said, looking around to make sure nothing important was forgotten. Robb Stark's army had ambushed them in a surprise attack.
As the temperature steadily dropped, the flowery armies of the Reach found themselves a bit lackadaisical when it came to things like manual labor and keeping watch throughout the cold nights. It wasn't all their fault though. They were not provided with appropriate clothing or boots. Their hands and feet were in a constant state of being numb. There wasn't a man in the Tyrell army who didn't know someone who had had some fingers or toes amputated due to frostbite. The medical tents were overflowing with men suffering from ailments such as influenza, bronchitis, and pneumonia. The worst part was the moral, however. Their clothes were thin and did little to protect them from the biting wind or snow. Their boots were full of holes, and even those with fresh boots had to walk around with wet feet after snow would find its way in and melt. Mucus poured from their noses and froze in their mustaches and beards. Their lips were dried, cracked, and swollen from the cold. Even the whores that used to come by to earn some coin had stopped. They were too afraid to catch one of the dozens of sicknesses and diseases that had been spreading through camp. The worst of which was dysentery. It wasn't a pleasant sight to see men walking around with frozen diarrhea staining the seats of their trousers. Thankfully, those men usually died not long after, and they were dragged off to be burned. They could no longer bury their men. The ground was too frozen for that. At least the burning bodies provided a bit of heat to the men.
The Northern Army had no such problems, or at least they had them in much lower quantities. They were used to the cold after all. What they were dealing with was nothing to them. So it wasn't shocking that they would decide to attack the moment Tyrell's army was at its lowest point. It wasn't difficult for them to sneak up. The watchmen had likely been asleep, sick, and wrapped up in their tattered cloaks for any amount of warmth that they could muster. They had been the first to be killed … shot with arrows or silently ran through with frozen blades. It didn't take long before they were spotted going from tent to tent, stabbing their enemies, or slitting their throats. When the alarm went out, that's when the real fun started.
Mace threw his winter cloak over his shoulders and walked toward the tent's flap. His servant's face broke out in a relieved expression. He dutifully opened the flap for his Lord and waited for him to walk his fat arse through.
"Seven Hells!" Mace shivered. As he cursed, a massive cloud of frost billowed from his mouth and rose up into the air before dissipating into nothingness. He was layered thickly, and still, he could feel the cold right down to his bones. His body shivered, and he pulled his thick, winter cloak tighter around his rotund form. As he stepped out, Mace stopped short. His cowardly servant cried out in that pathetic, whining voice that annoyed him so. Just short of the wagon, his two other servants were dead. One had a long arrow shaft sticking out of the side of his head. His mouth was open in a twisted but silent scream of pain. The other was flat on his back, his fishy, glazed-over eyes were open and unstaring. He had two arrows lodged firmly in his chest, one up near the neck, and the other was a direct hit in the heart. Next to them was his trunk. It was lying on its side with its lid open. His private letters, battle plans, military orders, and reports from the Reach were being carried off by the violent wind. One piece of expensive, masterfully crafted paper flew toward him and got caught against his leg. Looking down, he could see the familiar handwriting of the woman that had bewitched his heart. Mace could see the lipstick imprint where his beloved Melisandre had kissed the paper. His heart lurched in pain, and just as he bent down to pick it up, it slowly slid to one side of his leg before it too was carried away by the wind. "NO!" he cried out, looking on in horror. Dozens of love letters from his scarlet-haired temptress were gone, never to be seen again. As if to mock him, one of the letters looped high into the air and performed a spectacular feat of aerobatics before nosediving directly into a burning pile of supplies.
"The chest! Get the fucking chest!" Mace bellowed, glaring daggers at his sniveling servant.
His servant squeaked in fright and quickly tilted the chest until it was right-side up. As he did, the lid acted as a sail in the fierce wind and slammed shut right on the young man's fingers. "AAAAAARRRGH!" his servant yelled, holding his hand to his chest protectively. If one could see them, they would see several fingers bent the wrong way. It mattered little, however, because as the young man danced around in pain, an errant arrow drove itself right into his belly with a hollow THUNK! He fell to the ground and grabbed the arrow shaft with his one remaining good hand. He groaned in pain and looked toward his Lord for help, desperation in his cool, blue eyes. Now Mace was scared.
"Almighty Mother, have mercy on me. Brave Warrior, give me the strength and courage to do what is right and just," Mace prayed to his God. He waddled in the direction of the dying young man.
The servant looked at his Lord in a new light. He always thought him a braggart and a buffoon, but now, as arrows whizzed by him, he could see that he wasn't just a blowhard with nothing but false tales to his name. He was the man from the stories that he so often shared during the many feasts that were held, strong, mighty, and brave. The servant looked up at his Lord with complete adoration and hero worship. His Lord bent down and was about to lift him into his big, strong arms and … He grabbed the chest. His Lord grabbed the fucking chest!
"UUUGGGMF!" he squealed as Mace accidentally stepped on his arm while carrying the heavy chest over to the wagon and loading it onto the back. Once it was safely loaded with the rest of his prized possessions, Mace ran past his downed servant and jumped onto the front of the wagon.
"HEEYA!" Mace cried out, snapping the reins and causing the horses to start trotting. Mace thought he heard someone calling him a fucking prick, but he couldn't be bothered to make sure. There was no time for such silly things. His tent being situated in the middle of the encampment, for safety reasons, meant that he had a ways to go before he could break through the back lines and make his way to freedom. Just as that thought came to mind, a stone probably twice as heavy as he was slammed into the tent of one of his commanders. An explosion of dirt and debris blew out in every direction, some of it getting into his mouth and eyes. Mace sputtered and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand while the wagon continued forward. To his right, he saw a group of men clashing swords, and this nearly made him lose control of his bowels. He hadn't realized that Stark's troops had penetrated so deep into his defenses. He saw one of his men fall to their knees before being hacked to death by two Northern attackers. Mace snapped the reins and urged the horses to move faster.
Along with regular arrows, flaming arrows were also falling all around him. Many of the tents that he passed were already on fire. Before him was a dark, smokey beast, twisting in the wind. Mace cracked the reins harder, forcing his horses to run even faster. He drove his wagon right through a horizontal column of black smoke that was being bent on its side by the wind. Mace's eyes stung, and he coughed and choked after breathing in a lungful of the foul-smelling smoke. As his wagon exited the other side of the column, he gasped for breath, breathing in the frosty, cold air. However, this did nothing for his eyes. With his vision blurry, he didn't see the spooked horse run right out in front of him. At the last second, his eyes widened in fear, and he pulled back on the reins hard. This couldn't stop his horses from slamming into the other, knocking it over. Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Mace. He saw his horses fall forward and trip over the downed horse. The downed horse quickly slid underneath his wagon where it collided with the front wheels. The next moment, Mace was flying.
It was such a strange sensation, Mace thought as he weightlessly tumbled through the air, head over heels. Oddly, he felt no fear in that moment. Had his prayer been answered? Had the Warrior given him unbridled courage to face the onslaught of Northern fury? He didn't know. Mortal men weren't meant to know such things. Mace Tyrell closed his eyes, and at that moment, he knew peace. Only a moment later, his back slammed into the ground while his overloaded trunk came down on his legs and broke open, scattering his possessions all over the battlefield. Mace didn't hear his bones snap, but he certainly felt it. His body rolled across the cold, snow-spattered ground and finally came to a stop some twenty feet away from the mangled wreck of his wagon.
Mace sputtered and spat out a mouthful of blood. He coughed and let out a shuddered cry as he forced himself to roll over. As he did, he screamed in agony. Sitting up as far as he could, he was forced to stop by a mind-numbing pain coming from his chest. It was then that he got a look at his legs. One was twisted into a flat, meaty S. The other was bent at a right angle, and he could clearly see the blood-smeared, white bone sticking through the torn leg of his trousers. Mace actually began crying. Fat tears of pain and fear rolled down the cold skin of his cheek. He touched his chest and felt something hard sticking out from it. He was almost too afraid to look, but morbid curiosity got the better of him. A large shard of wood, likely from his smashed wagon, was almost completely buried in his chest. Only an inch or so was sticking out. Mace tried to pull it out, but it was no use. He couldn't get a good grip on the bloody end, and even if he could, he no longer had the strength. He noticed that his breathing was becoming shallow and wetter. He coughed up even more blood. If he didn't get help soon, he wasn't going to make it. Just then, he heard the sound of another wagon coming from the same direction that he had just come. Suddenly filled with hope, Mace held up one of his bloody, torn arms and waved. "Help!" he tried to call out, but he coughed up a mouthful of blood instead. As he did, the wagon went past him, never stopping. In the back of the wagon, his servant was leaning against some stacked bags of beans, the arrow still lodged in his belly. They locked eyes, and Mace felt joyous. He always thought that his servant was a little shit that couldn't do anything right, but now he was sure that the wonderful lad was going to yell for the wagon to stop, and they would pick him up and … 'He flipped me the bird. That little shit flipped me the fucking bird!' Mace inwardly snarled as the wagon drove away.
Mace Tyrell's vision was starting to go black, and his body was growing numb. He felt his spirit's grip on this world slowly starting to slip away. Right before darkness claimed him, he opened his mouth and weakly spat, "You fucking prick."
The Dread Lord of Essos
Tywin Lannister smirked happily as he read his report. It seemed that Robb Stark had finally grown a pair and attacked Mace's men. Tywin didn't yet know the outcome because the fighting was still ongoing, but no matter how it ended, it was good news for him. In truth, he very much hoped that the Tyrell army would crush the Northern battalion. It wasn't that he liked Mace any more than the Stark boy. It was more about the worsening winter. The Northern army would no doubt be used to the frigid cold and would likely put up fierce resistance.
The perfect scenario would be if the Tyrell army destroyed the Starks. Then he could marry off Cersei to Mace or Tommen to Margaery. An alliance could certainly be made between the families if he could pull that off. The only problem was that Mace was still married to that ditz, Alerie Hightower. Not only that, but Margaery was in Essos cohorting with his grandson. Tywin pulled a face thinking about his grandson. 'If only I could order the little brat to kill Mace's hag and send Lady Margaery over by ship.' Sadly for him, Harold was beyond taking orders.
He tapped his long, spindly fingers against his desk. He could not believe that he let the boy slip right through his fingers. He should have kept him at the Rock where he could be controlled. Now he was halfway across the world with a sprawling empire that was growing by the day. Not only was Tywin unable to command the boy to do anything, but if he even tried, he ran the risk of offending him. If that were to happen, he might just cut off the vast abundance of food and supplies that he sent daily. What a world he lived in, Tywin thought. He, the Lion of the Rock, was at the mercy of a bastard. Tywin shook his head and rubbed the area between his eyes. A headache was beginning to form. In the end, all he could do was work with what he had, and what he had was an angry, bitchy daughter that annoyed him more and more every day.
He couldn't pair her with Mace Tyrell. Robb Stark didn't want to marry her. He already had negotiations regarding a marriage between her and the Lord of Winterfell. They went nowhere fast. What good was she? Perhaps he should look to Essos. There were plenty of armies there. There had to be some ruler who valued a marriage alliance between them and the Lannisters. Cersei was still fairly young and mostly beautiful. She could perhaps squeeze out another child before her womb became barren. He decided to study on this a bit more before acting.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Harry strolled down King's Garden and enjoyed the gentle sea breeze. As it had during the summer, his city magically controlled the climate to make living and working there much more pleasant. While the temperature was dropping everywhere else, his city remained the same. As if to prove this, two young Ladies of the Court walked by him, arm in arm. Much of their young, beautiful bodies were on display thanks to the fashion trends of his city. It would have been a shame if they were forced to cover them up with thick cloaks or furs. As they passed, they both stared at him and giggled when he smiled at them. Without a doubt, if he invited them to bed tonight, both would have eagerly shown up.
A group of Qartheen women were shopping and politely chatting with his city's merchants. It was easy to tell that they were from Qarth. Their pale complexions and accents were enough to narrow down their ethnicity. It was their dresses, however, that made it unmistakable. Long, flowing dresses of silk adorned their tall, sensuous bodies and left one of their breasts bare. Behind them, holding their purchases were younger girls who were likely slaves. The girls also wore dresses that bared their breasts, but Harry had a feeling that the Qartheen women were trying to hide the fact that they were slaves. It seemed that Harry had a reputation for attacking slave cities. In truth, it had just turned out that way. All the cities that surrounded him were slave cities. Beside him, Melisandre squeezed his arm against her breasts. Harry smiled and let his hand fall from the small of her back. It slid down over the swell of her perfect ass. Once he had a handful of her backside, he gave it a squeeze. Melisandre smiled as well. She didn't mind being groped in public. She wanted to be known as his property. She was just weird like that, Harry thought.
Harry had been blocking out his connections to his drones that morning. On occasion, he liked to cut everything off and just enjoy a simple walk through his city. After all, what was the point of acquiring something if you're never going to take the time to enjoy it? Unfortunately, he had picked a hell of a day to take a walk. As such, one of his drones scampered over to him and whispered something in his ear. Harry raised an eyebrow as the drone quickly left. Harry immediately re-established a connection with his drone army.
"Is something troubling you, My Lord?" Melisandre asked in her silky voice.
"Mace Tyrell was killed in a battle with Stark's army. Highgarden is momentarily leaderless," he told her. Melisandre instantly perked up.
"Really?" she asked. Harry nodded. "That's a shame. I put so much time into wrapping the imbecile around my finger. What a waste," she lamented. Harry chuckled.
"I'm sure that soon enough, you'll find another sycophant ready to surrender everything for the chance of claiming your lovely body," Harry joked. Melisandre giggled. She hoped that he was right.
"Perhaps you can use the opportunity, My Lord," she told him.
"To move against Westeros?" Harry asked her. She nodded.
Harry thought about it for a moment while they leisurely strolled down the street, waving away offers of free treats. He had never really planned on taking the Iron Throne for himself. There was never really a need to. He had the whole world to choose from, and he didn't want to bog himself down in any one place. Besides, he loved his city. Harry had created Seven Swords from the ground up, and it was still a work in progress. However, he had come across a bit of a problem. His bed was practically a carousel of ambitious women. He had Margaery, Dany, Myrcella, Sansa, Alerie, and Catelyn all scheming against each other. He wasn't convinced that Dany would continue to be happy all the way in Meereen, and he was certain that Myrcella wouldn't want to stay there for the rest of her life. He had no place for Margaery or Sansa. Maybe he should quietly take over the Seven Kingdoms. The girls could rule in his absence, or perhaps he could install one of the girls as Queen while the other girls each ruled their respective Kingdoms. It was something to consider.
While he could just charge in and kill everyone, he didn't think that way of going about it would endear him to many people. Harry didn't need to go about it that way. He could do things quietly. There was a list of people that would need to be taken care of. The male Starks for instance. He would have to find Sansa's wayward sister and bring her into the fold. Margaery's brothers were next in line to rule the Reach. They would need to be handled. Harry talked about this with his lovely, Red Priestess. She looked as though Christmas had come early.
"I can help you, My Lord! There are magics that I can invoke … things that I can summon. Please allow me to help you, My Lord!" she begged, her eyes pleading. Harry tickled her under her chin and kissed her deeply.
"Of course, you may serve your King," he told her, gently caressing the soft skin of her neck. Melisandre shuddered and began to tingle between her legs. Unbeknownst to him, a bead of arousal dripped down the inside of her luscious, thick thigh. Inwardly, Melisandre's heart exploded with joy. She so rarely got to help her Lord. She was already making plans to spite any person who dared to hinder his conquest of Westeros.