Chapter 82
The wind cut across the high, frozen ridge and left Harry's cheeks and nose raw. He pulled the fur collar of his cloak higher and shifted in the saddle. Melisandre rode beside him. The Red Woman wore dark leather trousers and thick black boots that reached almost to her knees. Her coat was trimmed with crimson fox fur, but she looked unimpressed by the cold. Missandei trailed a length behind. She hunched over her mare, clenching the reins with cold fingers. Her fur coat was cinched so tightly it bunched at her hips, making her look smaller.
They crested the hill, and the valley opened up. The land below was a vast, grassy basin ringed by forest. In the center was a huge, geometric shadow that stretched for miles. It was a perfect square, and already three-quarters of it was bordered by a new stone wall. The wall was so tall it cast a sharp black shadow across a huge swath of land, and so wide that they could see the parapet was big enough to drive a team of horses along its top.
Inside the wall was an explosion of organized chaos. Thousands of Harry's drones hauled blocks of stone up makeshift ramps. Smaller teams, clustered along the wall's length, used hoists and ropes to lever the stones into place. The blocks were the size of a small carriage, and the drones moved them in long, disciplined lines. They looked like worker ants building a fortress for a king.
Missandei tried to steady her breath as the wind knocked the words from her lungs. "It is even larger than the city wall," she said, her voice muffled by her scarf.
Harry nodded and squinted through the cold, howling wind. "By twofold. It will enclose everything from here to the lake," he explained, pointing to the shimmering lake in the distance.
Melisandre shifted in her saddle, her eyes sharp and calculating. "How many men are working?"
"Five thousand," Harry said. He reached into his pocket and fished out a pair of enchanted brass lenses. He pressed them to his face, and the scene below leaped forward. He tracked a team of drones as they lugged a stone block up a ramp, paused for a moment, then shoved it off. The block crashed onto the next tier, slid a yard, and was instantly halted by another team. These kinds of actions were a suicide mission for normal men, but the drones were enhanced by Harry's godly powers. It was a perfect chain of movement, every step calculated and synchronized.
He handed the lenses to Missandei. She fumbled a bit, then pressed them to her eyes and gasped at the scale. "How much longer will it take?"
"If they keep this pace, another couple of months," Harry replied.
A blast of wind made Missandei shiver violently. She hunched down in her saddle, one hand holding her scarf in place and the other still gripping the brass lenses. "It will be a cold winter," she said through chattering teeth.
Harry turned to look at her. "Are you cold?"
She nodded, but tried to smile. "It is nothing. I am not used to such wind."
Harry nudged his horse closer and waved a hand at her. The moment his magic touched her, she shuddered with relief. She looked down in wonder at the small cloud of steam rising from her palm.
Melisandre watched them with a faint smirk. "Why build a wall of this size, My Lord?" She didn't raise her voice, but she didn't have to. Somehow, her melodic voice seemed to cut through the wind. "The city already has plenty of room to expand."
Harry scanned the land below, then gestured at the enormous wall. "That is not just an expansion of the city. That is a farm. Every acre inside will be worked year-round. There will be orchards, vegetable beds, and livestock barns. In six months, there will be food enough for a hundred cities."
Missandei's eyes widened. "That much food?"
Harry nodded. "More. As the world gets colder, every city in Essos is coming to us for help. The South cannot feed them all. The warmer areas will barely be able to feed themselves."
Melisandre watched a drone team guide a block into place. The block settled with a low, thunderous sound that was audible from the ridge. "If your city already produces more than it needs, why expand?"
Harry took a slow breath, filling his lungs with the icy air. "Because most of what we eat here is grown in Sothoryos. It is still warm there, but the further north you go, the less will grow. Most cities are already desperate for food. If they do not get it, millions will starve."
He looked at Melisandre and Missandei with a knowing smile. "I very much intend to be the savior of this barbaric world. I want the smallfolk in every city and kingdom to praise my name." Missande rolled her eyes, and Melisandre giggled happily. It was only fitting that her lord be praised by millions.
Below them, a huge block swung in midair, suspended by ropes as thick as a man's thigh. A team of thirty drones muscled it into place. When it hit the platform, the ground shook hard enough that their horses felt it and stamped nervously. The stone didn't crack. It locked perfectly into the wall.
Missandei wrapped her hands together and blew into them. Even with Harry's spell, the cold was a bit too much for her to handle. Missandei had always lived in hot climates, and she wasn't used to the frigid temperatures that winter brought. "I would like to return to the city now," she said, blinking through the wind. "If that is permitted."
Melisandre gave her a look of amusement and pity. "Poor girl. You are softer than you look."
Missandei made a face. "I am very soft … isn't that right, My Lord?" she teasingly asked Harry.
Harry grinned and chuckled. "Let's go. There's no point freezing when a warm castle bed is waiting for us."
He wheeled his horse around and started down the path. Melisandre followed, riding straight-backed and poised as ever. Missandei fell in last, pulling her hood up. Her eyes were still fixed on the distant city wall.
Behind them, the sound of the next stone block dropping rang up the slope. It was a deep, earth-shaking boom that seemed to carry for miles. Harry glanced back and watched as the wall grew one block at a time.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Harry sat behind his desk in the highest room of his castle. His shoulders were hunched, his chin was resting on his hand, and his eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. The office was his sanctuary, but it doubled as the most exclusive prison in the city, and the endless reports and paperwork were his shackles. The space was generous, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city lights. He had a private balcony where he sometimes retreated to sip wine and relax. But tonight, he was surrounded by a forest of papers. There were bank ledgers, shipping manifests, and architectural blueprints. Most were scrawled with neat annotations in Missandei's fine hand, but some contained sticky patches of dried perfume. He knew those letters came from the women hoping to rent a space in his new Pleasure District. He shuffled through a report about the new grain silos, frowned at the mention of "double allocation of funds," and muttered a curse about his goddamned bookkeepers. He would have to investigate to make sure they weren't pilfering some of his hard-earned gold.
A sharp rap on the door yanked his attention from the papers. He sat up, rolled his neck, and, when the knock came again, he called out, "Come in."
The door swung open, and the world's most spectacular pair of tits made their entrance. The handmaiden was tall, almost six feet, he figured. She had a curvy body, and the soft, ripe flesh of her tits bulged out of her uniform. The dress was jet black and trimmed with coppery thread. It fit her so tightly that it looked like it might tear if she so much as inhaled. Her breasts were pale and lightly freckled, and they strained against the plunging neckline, nearly popping the top button. A hint of pink areola peeped over the edge.
She smiled nervously and stepped forward, a sealed envelope balanced atop her cleavage like a tray. "A letter for you, Your Grace. It's marked urgent," she managed, her voice high and anxious. Harry smiled at the way she presented the letter. No doubt, it was Melisandre's doing.
Harry gave her the full once-over, his eyes lingering on the deep, glistening valley of cleavage. He enjoyed the way the dress hugged her hips. The uniform was definitely Melisandre's design. She believed in using beauty as an advertisement for his city, and this one left nothing to the imagination. The handmaiden's face was flushed. She was either embarrassed or excited, or maybe both. She had that look of a new recruit who half-hoped she'd get ravished on the spot.
He reached out, took the envelope from her cleavage, and let his hand brush her warm skin. She trembled. "Thank you," he said, grinning wide enough to make her blush deepen. "I'll let Melisandre know that I approve of the new uniforms."
The handmaiden dipped into a deep curtsy, which caused her breasts to flop out of the dress. She caught them with one arm, then fled the room with a hasty, "Thank you, Your Grace!" Her hips wiggled as she closed the door behind her.
Harry rolled the letter between his fingers, feeling the weight and smelling the faint, flowery scent. The wax was Lannister crimson, stamped with the head of a lioness. He slit it open with a dagger, then unfolded the parchment. The script was Cersei's bold, looping handwriting. He poured himself a glass of wine, leaned back, and began to read.
'My dearest Harold,
First, let me congratulate you on your latest triumph in the east. The entire city is already abuzz with tales of your new Pleasure District. They say your cock is more famous than the Crown itself. For the sake of my poor pride, I beg you to tell me this is only half true.'
Harry chuckled and took a long sip. He could practically hear the sarcasm in her voice.
'You will be pleased to know that my father, King Tywin, remains alive and annoyingly lucid. He called me to King's Landing under the pretense of advice, but I know the truth. He wishes to parade me before the remaining lords as proof that the old order still exists, even as the walls crumble around him.
'The city, if you can even call it that, is more of a decaying carcass than a living thing. The rot has spread from Flea Bottom to every corner. The stench of shit and corpses is worse than ever. The Maesters say the outbreak among the smallfolk is carried by lice, but I know better. The entire city is covered in a layer of filth so thick that there is barely a place you can step without sinking ankle deep in shit.'
Harry grimaced at that. He could easily remember the stench wafting from Flea Bottom. However, he smiled at the phrase "parade me before the remaining lords." Cersei was born for the throne room, not the gutter.
'Father is, predictably, unimpressed by my choice in fashion. He called the slits in my gown an abomination and my neckline a disgrace to the Realm. It only made me wear my dress lower the next day. You should see the look of abject jealousy on the faces of the other ladies. I've set a new standard in King's Landing, and the courtiers now whisper about "Lannister whores" in the corridors. You would be proud.'
She underlined the last sentence. Harry grinned and chuckled.
'Father wishes to speak with you in person. He has not forgiven the insult of becoming successful, but he cannot ignore your power. He believes that a grand meeting of the minds will force you into concession, but I know that you will only use it to humiliate him. Please, if you come, bring a small army and display as much wealth as possible. This would please me greatly.
The city will not last another winter. There are rumors that the Riverlands and the Stormlands will bend the knee to you if you provide enough grain and timber. If you wish to make a proper show of strength, invite the lords and ladies of Westeros to Seven Swords. Show them what a real city looks like. Father believes it would be a sign of weakness, but I know better. He cares only for his own power, and he does not wish the other lords to know of his failures. Let them see the wealth, the decadence, and the power you have amassed. Let them choke on their envy.
I miss you greatly. I miss your lips, your hands, your tongue, and the other things I should not write about. I promise to return as soon as my father releases me from this gilded cage. That should be in two months, barring catastrophe.
I will write again soon. Do not do anything too reckless without me.
Yours, in every way that matters,
Cersei
Please send more gold. These Lannisters bleed the vault dry.'
Harry laughed until he nearly choked on his wine. He read the letter again, amused by the malice and the pride that oozed from every line. He could see her now, stalking the Red Keep in a slit dress, her tits and ass on display while daring any nobleman to say something to her face.
He closed his eyes and, for a second, imagined what it would be like to walk through King's Landing with his many scantily dressed women on his arms. He pictured Tywin's sour face, the disgusted courtiers, the chaos, and the hunger that would drive every lord into his pocket. The thought was intoxicating.
He set the letter aside, poured another glass, and watched the city lights flicker below his window. There was nothing in the world as sweet as victory, except maybe a woman who understood the taste of it.
Harry thought about Cersei's suggestion of bringing the lords and ladies of Westeros to his city. It had merit. Let the old houses come and see the kingdom he'd built from nothing. Let them taste the bread, see the women, and try to imagine their threadbare palaces compared to this. Winter would soon close the roads and ice the seas, but if he moved quickly, he could time the event with the grand opening of the Pleasure District. If the lords and ladies wanted to wallow in decadence, he would give them an experience they would never forget.
He snapped open a drawer and pulled out his finest parchment. He dipped a heavy, glass-bodied pen into the ink pot and began to write. His script was broad, and every loop and line was written with confidence.
'Dearest Cersei,
Your letter has been received and is appreciated. I am gratified to hear that your father remains in command of his faculties. Please inform grandfather that I send my regards and my continued respect for his resourcefulness, if not his taste in matters of fashion.
I trust you will continue to set new standards for the ladies of the realm, regardless of what old men think or say. Perhaps one day, the nobles of King's Landing will recognize true beauty when they see it … or at least, when you force them to.'
Harry grinned, imagining Cersei's smile as she read that. He continued.
'Regarding your suggestion, it is a good one. If the lords and ladies of Westeros wish to see what a civilized society looks like, I shall invite them. You know my city is unequaled in all the world. I will trust your judgment in creating the guest list. Include all people of importance.'
He paused to take a drink, then continued writing.
'As for your body, I miss your tongue, your thighs, and many other body parts that I will be happy to describe in great detail if you so desire it. I will ensure you are safely escorted back here at the first opportunity. In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of replenishing your gold purse. It will arrive with this letter. If you must bankrupt the Lannister treasury to clothe yourself, do it in my name.'
He put the pen down, reread the letter, and then scrawled a postscript.
'I look forward to your return and to the taste of your lips on mine.'
He let the ink dry, then folded the parchment and sealed it with a blob of black wax. He pressed his personal signet into the soft wax, then summoned the handmaiden by calling out to her.
She returned, breathless and still flushed from before. Harry handed her the letter, along with a pouch that jingled heavily with gold coins. He watched the way her eyes widened, and her lips parted at the sight of so much gold, and for a second, he almost called her back for a more personal thank you. But there would be time for that later.
"Take these to Missandei and tell her to send them with the next ship going to King's Landing," he said. "And tell Melisandre to have the staff ready for a flood of guests in two months' time."
The handmaiden bobbed a curtsy, and her tits bounced in time with her steps as she hurried from the room. Harry watched her go, then leaned back and propped his boots up on the desk.
Let the world come and see what he had built. Let them weep or drool with envy. By the time Cersei returned, the Pleasure District would be the talk of the continent, and he would sit on a throne of gold, surrounded by the world's most beautiful women. He smiled, drank from his cup, and chuckled to himself. Let the old world come calling. He was ready to show them how a true king ruled.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Missandei appeared at Harry's door less than an hour later with her head bowed and her hands locked in front of her belly. She waited for him to finish sealing the last letter, then raised her gaze to meet his. Harry beckoned her in with a finger, and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The instant the latch clicked, Missandei let her dress fall from her shoulders. Her skin glowed in the soft light. Her smooth, light brown skin was flawless, and her nipples stood stiff from the cooled air. She did not speak, but the invitation in her eyes was plain. Harry admired the shape of her slender body, the gentle curves of her hips and thighs, and the way she stood with her feet apart, allowing him to see her puffy slit and engorged clit.
She reached for his hand, and Harry took it, feeling the heat and tremor in her palm. He drew her closer until her bare breasts pressed against his chest. He then swept her up in his arms. Missandei let her head fall back, and she laughed. The sound was gentle but laced with desire. Harry carried her across the chamber and laid her on the vast bed. Its sheets were cool from the evening air. She stretched out lazily, her arms open in welcome, and her legs parted to draw his eyes to her.
Harry undressed with little ceremony, stripping away his clothes in a matter of moments. He was hard already, but he did not mount her at once. Instead, he knelt at the edge of the bed, his hands sliding over her ankles and calves. His fingertips lingered at the tender hollows behind her knees. Missandei flushed deeply, and her lips parted as Harry's hands roamed up her thighs, which were as smooth as silk and much warmer. She reached for him, but Harry seized her wrists and pinned them to the mattress, grinning down at her as he leaned in.
He traced kisses up the inside of her thigh, pausing just short of her damp pussy. He teased her by gently blowing on her sensitive clit, which made her hips jerk. Missandei moaned quietly and rolled her head from side to side, her curls spreading over the pillow. Harry released her hands, and she buried them in his hair as he set about his work. He licked at her softly at first, barely grazing her clit. He then flattened his tongue and drew it slowly across her slit. Missandei's knees rose, and her heels dug into the mattress as she bucked against his mouth. He loved the taste of her. She had a sweet, musky taste that always drove him wild.
Harry pushed Missandei's legs wide open and devoured her, licking with a greedy rhythm that soon had her gasping and writhing. She curled her hands into fists and bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back the noises that grew louder with each pass of his tongue. Harry could feel her muscles and thighs trembling as the pleasure built within her. He gripped her hips to steady her as he buried his tongue deeper, and Missandei cried out in a melodic, passionate wail.
He kept licking her dripping cunt until her whole body arched from the bed, and she shuddered beneath him, her orgasm crashing over her in waves.
Missandei pulled away from his tongue and rolled Harry onto his back. She straddled his hips, and she didn't hesitate. She pressed her soaked slit along the length of his cock and ground herself down, painting him with each slow, steady swipe of her pelvis. His hands found her smooth, sexy thighs, and he ran his fingertips up to her hips, gripping her with a force that said she was his.
She hovered, gently sliding the head of his cock between her silky, delicate folds. She then placed the head at her entrance and took him in with a slow, shivering slide. Her mouth fell open, her lips parted in a silent moan, and she braced her hands on his chest, pinning him to the bed to keep him in place. She rode him hard, and the slapping of their hips filled the room. Her eyes locked onto his as her lovely face twisted in pleasure. Harry's fingers dug into her hips, and he helped guide her slender body up and down.
Their bodies began moving together. Her body arched above him while he thrust up to meet her. She tipped her head back and let out a cry as her pussy began to flutter again. Harry's vision momentarily whited out as he emptied inside her, and all he could feel was the pleasure of her pussy clenching around him.
Missandei rolled off and melted against his side, and she rested one leg between his. They lay together in silence, and the only sound was their mingled breathing. Harry ran his hand along her smooth back, feeling her body quiver as he caressed her soft skin. He pressed a kiss to her temple and then to her mouth. Missandei accepted the kiss and moaned against his lips.
Missandei curled into him, and he pulled the covers over them both. It was late, and they were both tired, so they just lay there, wrapped around each other. He loved the feeling of her breasts against his arm and the weight of her thigh over his leg. He listened to her heartbeat slow, and soon, she yawned cutely. Harry chuckled and kissed her forehead. Missandei closed her eyes and mewled cutely. Harry waved his hand and snuffed out the lights.
Chapter 83
Cersei Lannister lounged on the edge of her canopied bed with a single foot propped on the velvet footstool. Her eyes were heavy with boredom and irritation. The view through the high window was a gray sky, thick with the choking smoke of a thousand cooking fires and the last desperate attempts at warmth from the hovels below. She toyed with the diamond pendant at her throat, spinning it on its gold chain, and waited for the messenger to work up the courage to approach her.
The door creaked open, and a page shuffled in, his arms trembling from the weight of the leather bag in his grasp. He set down the bag and the sealed letter on her end table, his head bowed so low she could barely see his hairline. "From the east, Lady Cersei," he squeaked.
"Of course it is," she said, and waved him away. The bag clinked when she lifted it. It was solid, dense, and very heavy. She hefted it, then opened the top. Inside were enough gold Lions to bankrupt half the old houses in Westeros. She smiled wickedly, knowing she had the most powerful man on the planet looking after her.
She set the bag aside and slit the letter open with a fingernail. The paper was thick, and the black wax seal was pressed with Harry's personal signet. She read it in a single, greedy go, her eyes flickering with pleasure at each line. He wanted her to invite the most important, the most powerful, and the most envious lords and ladies in Westeros to his city. He wanted her to compile the guest list. He trusted her to do it right.
Cersei's breath caught for just a moment. The bastard. The absolute, wonderful bastard. She curled the letter around her finger, grinning at the sudden expansion of her power.
She stood and drifted to the window, the red silk of her gown whispering along the carpet. She pulled open the thick, wooden shutters and peered down. She could see the whole city sprawling below the Red Keep. The palace gardens were frosted at the edges, and the paths were being swept by the tireless groundskeepers. The rooftops of the upper city shimmered with white frost. Everything was dusted from the first bite of winter. But the farther her gaze wandered, the quicker the city dissolved into filth and chaos.
A shantytown of lopsided shacks and patched tents hugged the outer walls, and smoke rose from open pit fires. Children in filthy rags skittered among the alleyways, chased by packs of bony dogs. The city stank even up here. She could smell the rot and sewage, the rank sweat and stale ale, and the endless piss of a million desperate bodies stacked atop one another. And somewhere beneath it all, there was a steady undertone of death. Old men keeled over in the streets, plague-riddled whores lay motionless in the cold, damp alleys, and dead rats bloated in the shit-stained gutters. In the garden patch nearest the kitchen, a servant hurried with a shovel, doing a poor job of hiding a lump in the frozen soil. Even here, so far above it all, Cersei wrinkled her nose.
The view made her think of Harold's city, with its perfect streets and marble facades, the Pleasure District gleaming with fresh gold, and the heated air perfumed by imported lilies. She remembered the bathhouses, the luxurious shops that catered to her every whim, and the endless trays of sugared sweets and exotic fruits. King's Landing was a shit-pile in comparison, an open wound filled with lice and misery. Only the Red Keep itself rose above the rot, and even here, the stone corridors were already colder than a tomb.
Cersei pressed a palm to the icy brick wall and laughed under her breath. "Those idiots do not know how true royalty lives," she murmured, thinking of the lords and ladies Harold meant to invite. She could already imagine them, pink-nosed and trembling, gorging themselves at his table, and staring at the bare tits of his concubines. They would pretend not to care that their own wives and daughters were outshined by a single one of Harold's well-dressed chambermaids. She couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces.
A draft bit at her legs, and she shivered. She stepped back from the window and sauntered to the gilded standing mirror across the room. The woman in the glass smirked back at her. Her lips were like spilled wine, her hair was artfully mussed, and her skin was flawless even in the flat gray light of winter. She adjusted her dress, tugging it down just far enough to show the full curve of her breasts. The silk clung to her slim belly, and the slits ran so high up that both hips were exposed. Oh, how her father hated her dresses, and the thought delighted her. Tywin could bitch and moan until he was red in the face, but both he and Cersei knew that there was nothing else he could do about it. She had Harold on her side, and it would be a fatal mistake to piss him off.
She turned, admiring the length of her leg in the reflection. Her calves were pale and smooth, and the muscles were toned from hours of walking the drafty halls. She bent one knee, then the other, watching the slit open and close with each movement. The effect was scandalous, even for her. If Tywin could see her now, he'd either faint or have a fit.
She puffed out her chest and watched her plump tits swell, barely contained by the crimson silk. She cupped one breast and thumbed the nipple through the fabric. It was already hard, and as she rubbed it, she couldn't help but think of Harold's lips wrapped around the stiff, crinkled peak.
She let her hands fall and glided to the wardrobe. The cold crept up her body now, and she hesitated a moment before reaching for the white fur overcoat that Harry had sent her. The furs were from the jungles of Sothoryos, he had told her. It was soft as a cloud, thick, and lined with some otherworldly pelt that almost radiated warmth. She shrugged it on, burying her body in the softness, and inhaled the faint scent of vanilla that clung to it.
The coat made her look even more regal as the red silk shined against the white fur. She inspected herself in the mirror one more time, and this time, the woman who looked back was something new. She was not just a queen in a crumbling castle, but an empress waiting to return to her empire.
She glanced at the letter again, and her mouth twisted into a sly, predatory smile. She would write back, and she would make the guest list that would bring the rest of the world to its knees. She'd make every lord and lady beg for an invitation, then let them see for themselves how pathetic the rest of the realm had become. The anticipation and excitement warmed her more than the coat ever could.
Cersei strode from the room, her mind already dancing through the names she would put at the top of the list … and the ones she'd leave off, just to watch them squirm. As she passed the window, she didn't bother to look down. The city could drown in shit for all she cared. In her heart, she was already half a world away, gliding through warm gardens and corridors lined with gold. She would soon return home, and nothing in this city could stop her.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The black horse thundered across the half-frozen ground, muscles rippling under sheets of blackened steel. Harry leaned forward in the saddle with a sword in hand and a hunger in his chest. The hooves of his mount tore muddy trenches in the earth, spraying globs of sod and ice behind. Steam jetted from the horse's flared nostrils in clouds, and its eyes glared red and wild through the slits in its visor. The sellswords ahead had built their line in two ranks, hoping to slow the charge, but Harry saw the panic before he even reached them.
The first row braced their shields, and the wall of iron and wood slammed into the oncoming beast. The horse drove through them like a battering ram. Bodies flew, shields split, and a scream tore the air as one unlucky bastard vanished under the trample of hooves. Harry lifted his sword and brought it down on the head of the next man in line, splitting helm and skull in one blow. He yanked the blade free with a twist, then kicked the corpse aside as if it weighed nothing.
The horse kept going like an unstoppable force of nature, and Harry let it run wild. His men howled behind him with thousands of voices raised in a chorus of violence. He heard the crash of metal, the shriek of steel on steel, and the wet, meaty sound of bodies breaking. He glanced left and saw his second wave pouring into the gap, spears thrusting and axes rising and falling.
The second rank of sellswords tried to hold, but they were already wavering. The captain in charge screamed something, but his voice was lost in the rising wind and the thunder of hooves. Harry barreled down on them, and a second sword magically appeared in his free hand. His horse lunged, and Harry brought both blades down in a scissoring sweep. The first blade took a man's arm off at the shoulder. The second gutted the man beside him. Harry kept moving, leaving a trail of ruined flesh in his wake.
A spear flashed in from the right, aimed low at the horse's belly. The tip struck the armor and snapped in half. The horse lashed out with a kick, shattering the spearman's knee. The man crumpled, and Harry barely noticed as he trampled the shrieking body underhoof. Another sellsword tried to hamstring the horse with a hatchet, but the weapon bounced off the reinforced plates. Harry flung his conjured sword at him, and it spun dangerously through the air and impaled his chest with a meaty thunk.
At the far end of the field, the black and white dragons circled above, waiting. Harry tilted his head, and with a single mental command, he called them down. The dragons plunged, wings tucked, and the first blast of fire was a rolling thunder that incinerated half a hundred men in an instant. The heat hit Harry's face even at this distance, and the stench of burning flesh followed it on the wind.
Men ran screaming in all directions, their clothes and hair aflame. Some hit the ground rolling as they tried to smother the agonizing flames. Some writhed on the ground, clawing at the dirt, while others flung themselves into the icy stream that cut the field in two. Most just died where they stood, charred black in the cheap armor that had been their only hope.
Harry's horse drove into the heart of the panic. Sellswords broke and scattered, but some fools stood their ground. One of them, a brute of a man with a patchy red beard and an axe as big as Harry's chest, roared a challenge. Harry didn't even slow down. He guided his horse straight at the man, drew his flaming sword, and swung it. The axe-man tried to parry, but the force of the blow took his hand off at the wrist. The sword didn't stop there. It kept going, biting into the man's neck and nearly taking off his head. Blood sprayed in a thick mist, spattering Harry's armor.
A group of sellswords gathered at the far edge of the carnage, shields raised, and spears pointed. Harry rode straight at them, feeling the thrill of godlike invincibility. The first spear hit his chest and snapped. The second clanged off his arm and fell from the sellsword's grasp. Harry raised his sword and drove it through the top of the nearest helmet. The man screamed as the blade burned through flesh and bone. The rest of them hesitated, glancing at each other, and in that instant, Harry barreled into them, swinging wildly.
He cut one down, then another. A third tried to run, but the horse snapped at his back and dragged him to the ground. Harry leapt from the saddle and landed in the middle of the cluster, slashing and stabbing anything he could reach. The sellswords faltered and fell, dropping their shields as they tried to scramble away.
The black and white dragons returned, sweeping low. Harry raised his fiery sword in salute, and Daemon spat another torrent of fire. This time, the blast caught a line of archers just as they were trying to form up. Men tumbled and fell, shrieking, their bows and quivers gone in a single rush of flame. The ground steamed as the bodies hit, and the air filled with the unpleasant scent of burnt meat.
Harry surveyed the slaughter. His men had broken the last line of defense and were chasing the survivors into the woods beyond the field. Most of the sellswords had thrown down their weapons. A few still bravely fought, but it was hopeless. Harry strode toward the nearest group of enemies, his flaming sword burning with supernatural heat.
The sellswords saw him coming and froze. For a second, nobody moved. Then one of them, a pale boy with bad teeth and terror in his eyes, pissed his trousers, dropped his shield, and bolted. The others followed suit, vanishing into the trees.
Harry laughed, and the sound was colder than the wind. He lifted his sword and waved it overhead. The blade left a trail of fire in its wake. His men saw the sign and roared out a war cry as they chased down the retreating army. The enemy was broken, and their spirit was gone. He could feel the fear radiating off them, more potent than any weapon.
He planted the tip of his sword in the earth and looked up at the sky. The dragons circled, their bellies gleaming from the firelight below. Harry sucked in a deep breath, savoring his victory. Harry then grabbed his sword, turned, and whistled loudly. Within seconds, his black horse trotted over to him, and Harry jumped onto the saddle and rode back to his city, victorious.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The black stallion galloped up the muddy slope toward the city gates, and Harry sat tall in the saddle. Blood was splattered on the plates of his armor, and a fragment of someone's torn blue tabard still hung from his horse's armor. His eyes were fixed on the high wall ahead. The white marble reflected the gray light of late afternoon, and the gates themselves were four stories tall, reinforced with iron bands and hammered gold. They were imposing, and they screamed of wealth.
Two sentries spotted him first. They cupped their hands and shouted down to the main guardhouse, and instantly, the wall came to life. Men scrambled to their stations, bows at the ready, but as soon as they saw the colors and the battered horse, they started to whoop and cheer. The gates began to move, and their gears ground as the doors parted just enough for a man to slip through.
Harry slowed to a trot as he approached the archway. The guards on either side bowed so low their helms nearly knocked together. One grinned, and the other just stared, wild-eyed, at the battered mess of the horse and rider.
"You made it, Your Grace!" shouted the older guard, who had thick gray brows and a nose that had never healed straight.
Harry laughed and reined the horse to a stop right in front of the archway. "Sound the horn. Let everyone know they're safe."
The guards moved as one. One of them ran up the spiral steps of the nearest tower and vanished inside. The others pushed at the gates, which groaned and creaked but gave way, and within moments the city was open to its king.
Harry spurred his horse forward and entered through the high arch. The first horn blast rang out over the city, the sound carrying throughout. Every window in the nearest row of houses opened, and soon the square was flooded with smallfolk. They poured out of the alleys, some still in their aprons or carrying armfuls of raw bread dough. Children darted between legs, chasing each other and shrieking with excitement.
At the center of the square, a baker with arms as thick as cured ham legs hauled himself up onto an ale barrel and pointed at Harry. "There he is! The Lion returns!"
A hundred others joined in, and suddenly Harry was mobbed by people. The city guard tried to hold them back, but the crowd surged forward anyway. A dozen hands reached for him. Harry grinned and swept off his helm, letting his dark hair fall out in a wave. He held the helm up and bellowed, "Your city is safe! No man will ever breach our walls!"
The roar of approval nearly drowned out the next horn blast. People threw hats, loaves of bread, and even flowers. Old men laughed and fired up their pipes. Women shrieked with relief, joy, and lust for their king. Harry's horse snorted and pranced in place, its hooves leaving muddy imprints on the smooth road.
A girl in a flowery dress ran up with a shy grin and held up a bouquet of wilted daisies. Harry leaned down, took the flowers, and ruffled her hair. "Go home to your mum," he said. "Tell her a feast for the smallfolk will be held tonight."
Another horn blast echoed over the rooftops, and the crowds swelled. Every window and balcony was crowded with faces, and in the distance, the bells of the Temple of the Mother rang out in celebration.
The guards ushered Harry down the main thoroughfare, and people lined the road on both sides. He rode through the city at a slow walk, waving, laughing, and occasionally blowing a kiss to the prettiest girls in the crowd. The faces that stared back at him glowed with pride. The people cheered not because they were well-fed or happy, but because their king was not only alive, but victorious.
When he finally reached the steps of his palace, he slid off the horse. The stablemaster rushed out and took the reins, his eyes wide with awe at the blood-splattered stallion. The palace guards snapped to attention, forming a crisp line up the marble steps. Harry nodded at them and disappeared inside, ready for a hot bath.
The Dread Lord of Essos
Harry rolled his shoulders as he relaxed in his pool-sized marble tub, his eyes half-lidded. He could already feel his body start to relax. The remnants of the battle outside felt a thousand miles away. Here, there was only warmth and the soft lapping of water against his chest.
The door at the far end of the room creaked open, and Melisandre glided in first. She wore a crimson velvet robe belted at the waist, and every movement made the fabric shimmer and cling to the curves of her hips and thighs. Her lips curled up in a knowing smile as she met his gaze.
A step behind her came Kinvara in black silk. Kinvara's smile was wider and a little more wicked. Her dark eyes never left Harry's body as she closed the distance. She tugged the pin from her hair and shook out a mane of jet-black curls.
Melisandre stopped at the edge of the bath and looked down at Harry, her lips pulled into a sexy smirk. "You're alive, I see."
"Alive, and eager for better company than foul-mouthed sellswords," Harry said.
Melisandre's eyes sparkled. She shrugged out of her robe and let it pool at her feet. Her body was as smooth as cream, with not a single mark or scar. Her waist was small, her hips generous and soft, and her tits were round and high, tipped with hard, pink nipples that were made to be sucked. She stepped into the water, and the surface rippled up around her thighs.
Kinvara didn't wait her turn. She peeled her own dress off and tossed it behind her, walking with a deliberate, exaggerated sway. Her body was different than Melisandre's. It was taller and leaner, but with a belly and hips made for riding and fucking, and her tits bounced with every step. Like Melisandre, she was perfectly bare below the waist, and the mound of her pussy was smooth, puffy, and gleaming with a hint of oil. She stepped right up to the edge of the bath, locked eyes with Harry, and then slid in with a splash.
The water covered their skin in a glimmering sheen, and the scent of jasmine curled around them as they drifted closer. Melisandre slid behind Harry, her breasts flattening against his back, and she wrapped her arms around his chest. Kinvara took the front, her hands gliding up his thighs until they reached the spot she wanted.
"Did you destroy them?" Kinvara asked, not even pretending to be interested in the answer. Her hands were already stroking his cock under the water, and her thumb traced lazy circles just below the tip.
Harry grinned and let his head fall back against Melisandre's shoulder. "They didn't stand a chance. There were maybe three thousand men at the most, and most of them looked desperate enough to sell their swords for a crust of bread."
Kinvara nibbled at his jawline, her lips velvety and warm. "You're a brute who shows no mercy to your enemies," she said, and giggled as his cock twitched in her grip. "I wholeheartedly approve."
Melisandre reached up and ran her nails lightly down his chest, then started rubbing the soap into his skin. She used both hands, making sure to leave a trail of tiny red marks. "They will keep coming," she huskily said in his ear. "Every hungry man in the world wants what you have."
Harry grunted in agreement, but the sensation of Kinvara's hand working his cock made it difficult to focus. "Let them come. I'll kill them all."
Kinvara tilted her head and sucked at the hollow of his neck. "You like that, do you not?" Her other hand drifted between her own legs, and she moaned quietly. "You enjoy being tested by the unworthy."
Harry pulled her closer and mashed his lips against hers. She kissed back hard, nipping at his lower lip, and her tongue was eager and insistent. Under the water, her hand squeezed his cock, and the pressure was perfect.
Melisandre's hands drifted lower. She cupped his balls and kneaded them gently with skilled fingers. "Does it make you hard, thinking about the battles that will come?" she breathed against his ear.
He laughed. "Everything makes me hard when you're around."
Melisandre giggled and slid around to the front, nudging Kinvara aside with a playful bump of her hip. Her tits bobbed above the water, and her nipples were stiff and pink. She straddled Harry's lap, and her hands guided his cock between her thighs.
Kinvara pouted theatrically, then slipped behind Harry and started kissing his neck and shoulders. Her hair spilled over him like black silk, and she pressed her tits to his back, pinning him between both women.
Melisandre pressed her mound against his cock and began to rock her hips, grinding her slit along his length. She locked eyes with him and reached down, grabbing his shaft with one hand and stroking it against her clit. The lips of her pussy parted around the tip, leaving a trail of arousal as she moved up and down.
"Tell us about the battle," she demanded, but there was no real curiosity in her voice. She just liked hearing him talk while she worked him with her body.
Harry reached up and grabbed both of her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her moan. "There's not much to tell. They tried to make a shield wall. I broke it. The dragons roasted the rest."
Melisandre's eyes rolled back, and she shuddered as she kept grinding her pussy against the head of his cock. "Did you feel like a god?"
Harry squeezed her nipples between his fingers, making her gasp. "I always feel like a god," he said, then pushed his hips up hard enough to lift her out of the water. No one knew of his true origin, and he preferred to keep it that way.
Melisandre laughed and grabbed him by the hair. She leaned in and bit his earlobe. Her voice dropped to a naughty whisper. "Show me."
She pulled back, then slid down into the water, her hair streaming behind her like a red cloud. She vanished beneath the surface, and Harry felt her hands guiding his cock between her lips. Her mouth was hot and slick, and she took him deep enough that the pressure made his vision blur. She started to move, and each bob of her head was punctuated by the swirl of her tongue.
Kinvara giggled in his ear, her hands roaming all over his body. She pressed her own tits against his back, then reached around and gripped his pecs. "You are so easy to please," she whispered, then bit down on his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.
Harry moaned as Melisandre worked his cock with her mouth. Her hands stroked his thighs, her nails raking the skin, and every now and then she surfaced for air, her red hair clinging to her face, her lips parted, and her eyes wicked. Then she dove back under, taking his cock deeper than before, and the pleasure built until he thought he would explode.
Kinvara slid around to face him and sat on his lap, her pussy mashed against his thigh. She reached down, grabbed Melisandre by the hair, and pulled her up. The priestess gasped as water streamed down her face, and she grinned as she licked the drips from her lips.
"Do not be greedy," Kinvara scolded. She leaned in and kissed Melisandre, and the two women locked lips, their tongues tangling into a hot, sexy knot.
Harry watched, his cock still rock-hard, and the head popped just above the surface of the water. Melisandre reached down, took him in her hand, and pointed it at Kinvara's slit. Kinvara didn't hesitate. She pushed her hips forward, guiding the tip between her lips, then sat down hard. She hissed as Harry's cock slid inside her, and the muscles of her pussy clamped down like a tight, velvety vice.
She rocked her hips slowly and deeply while Melisandre watched, rubbing her own clit with eager fingers. Kinvara's tits bounced with every thrust, and her moans grew louder. She leaned forward and kissed Harry, biting his lip and then sucking it. He reached up, grabbed her ass, and squeezed hard, driving her down onto his cock.
Melisandre slid behind Harry again, wrapped her arms around his neck, then nibbled and licked at his ear. She moaned deeply as she rubbed her aching nipples against his muscled back.
Harry grunted, but he couldn't form words. Kinvara's pussy milked his cock with every clench, and Melisandre's hands expertly played with his balls. It was bloody fantastic, Harry thought.
The water sloshed and splashed as Kinvara started to lose control. Her moans became high-pitched and desperate, and she dug her nails into Harry's shoulders. Melisandre leaned around and sucked one of Kinvara's nipples into her mouth, flicking it with her tongue. That was enough to send Kinvara over the edge. She came, and her pussy clamped down so hard that Harry almost lost it then and there.
He waited, holding back by force of will, until Kinvara slumped against him, panting and quivering. Melisandre slid back to his front and straddled his lap again. She kissed him hard while he gripped her ass and spread her luscious cheeks.
"My turn," she breathily stated. Melisandre then guided his cock into her soaked pussy. She was tighter and hotter, and she rode him with practiced skill, her hands on his shoulders, and her tits bouncing in his face. Kinvara kissed Harry's neck and stroked his chest, but she also reached around and rubbed Melisandre's clit while she rode.
The sensation was overwhelming. Harry gritted his teeth, gripped Melisandre's hips, and fucked her so hard the water churned up to the rim. Melisandre screamed and came, her nails digging into his back. Harry let himself go and filled her with everything he had, the pleasure hitting him like a bolt of lightning.
He collapsed back, his arms draped around both women. They curled against him, breathing in time with his own heaving chest. Once they had caught their breath, the two women giggled and soaped up his body, paying extra attention to his cock. When they were done, it was sparkling clean, and they immediately dragged him back into his bedroom and got it dirty again.
Chapter 84
Myrcella arched her back and let out a ragged, involuntary cry as Harry's cock drove her through another rippling orgasm. He watched in delight as her body shook and her pale skin flushed all the way from her cheeks to her chest. Her cunt, which was already tightly gripping him, became hotter, wetter, and impossibly snug, and he relished the way her slick, velvety walls spasmed around his length, milking him for every drop he had. He slowed, savoring each flutter of her pussy, and leaned over her trembling body, trapping her in place with his weight. He took one of her tits in his hand, the other in his mouth, and sucked hard at her stiff, pink nipple. Myrcella whimpered, and then she let out a gasping moan as Harry bit down just enough to make her squirm.
Her hands flailed at the bedsheets and knotted them in her fists, and she writhed so beautifully that Harry nearly lost control himself. His hands roamed her body, and his fingers dug into the softness of her thighs and the sharp curve of her hipbones. He felt her shudder as her orgasm kept coming in waves. He didn't let up, and he tongued her nipple until she was keening. He then pulled back and smiled at her flushed, dreamy expression. She was just on the edge of being overwhelmed.
The room was filled with the humid musk of sweat and sex, and as far as Harry was concerned, nothing existed but the two of them and their writhing bodies. But then the door to the room opened with a soft click.
Daenerys strode in barefoot with her silver hair loose and gleaming in the early morning light. She wore only a silken robe, which she untied with the casual ease of someone very used to being naked. She let it slip from her shoulders and pool at her feet, revealing her statuesque form. She had perfect, perky breasts perched high on her chest, their nipples already stiff with arousal. Her soft belly was flat and toned, and as Harry looked down her body, he saw the clean, hairless mound between her legs. Harry's eyes lowered further, and the sight of her smooth, shapely thighs turned him on even more. He thrust hard into Myrcella's cumming pussy, and she squealed loudly. Dany carried herself with the confidence of a queen, and even as she rolled her eyes at the two in bed, there was a mischievous tilt to her lips.
"And here I was, thinking you'd wait for me," Dany said with mock reproach, cocking a hip and folding her arms beneath her breasts. This made her already perky tits look even better … if that was somehow possible.
Myrcella, still gasping for breath, managed to glare at her while letting out a shaky laugh. "You took too long," she retorted, her voice strained but playful.
Harry just grinned, letting his cock slide out of Myrcella's clutching pussy with an obscene little pop. Myrcella whimpered from the sudden loss, sat up, and tried to fix her messy hair. He was still hard, and the sight of Daenerys nude and ready made him impossibly harder. He beckoned her closer, and as she approached, he reached for her, yanking her onto the bed with the easy strength of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Dany straddled him for a second, ground her slick, wet cunt along his thigh, and reached out to stroke Myrcella's hair.
"You started without me, but I'll allow it," Dany said in a smug tone as she pressed a lingering kiss to Myrcella's lips. The two girls kissed deeply and moaned into each other's mouths. Harry watched their wet, pink tongues wrestle. Dany then pushed Myrcella back and crawled forward on all fours until her face hovered between Myrcella's spread thighs.
Harry manhandled Dany into position, pushing her upper back down until her face was buried in Myrcella's still-quivering pussy. Myrcella gasped as Dany licked her. Her tongue moved softly at first and then became urgent as Harry massaged her pussy and asshole. Myrcella moaned again, and her hands went to Dany's hair, twisting the platinum locks around her fingers and shoving her face deeper. Harry's cock bobbed up and down as he moved behind Dany. It was glistening and ready, and he took one look at Dany's upturned, wiggling ass and lined himself up behind her without hesitation.
He thrust in slowly and groaned from the way his thick shaft parted Dany's incredibly tight folds and forced her open around him. She squealed into Myrcella's pussy, and the sound was muffled by Myrcella's thighs. She arched her back and pushed herself onto his cock, meeting him stroke for stroke. Harry grabbed her hips, held her steady, and began to fuck her in earnest. The slap of flesh on flesh echoed through the room, and Dany's moans blended with the wet, hungry noises of her tongue working its way inside Myrcella.
Myrcella's entire body went taut with pleasure, and her thighs trembled against Dany's cheeks as another orgasm was quickly approaching. Harry could feel Dany's pussy gripping him just as tightly as Myrcella's had. It was hot, wet, and desperate for his cum. He leaned forward with one hand pressing down on Dany's lower back to hold her in place, and he reached around with the other to twist one of her hard, pink nipples between his fingers. Dany let out a gasping moan, and Harry felt her muscles flutter around him as she started to cum. Her whole body shuddered with the force of it, but she didn't stop licking Myrcella, even as she whimpered and gasped. Myrcella's cries rose in pitch until she was thrashing under the onslaught of Dany's wiggling tongue.
The rhythm of their fucking grew frantic, and Dany's hips slammed back against Harry as if she was begging to be split in two. Myrcella's legs clamped tight around Dany's head, anchoring her in place. The bed creaked and groaned, but none of them cared if it broke beneath them.
Harry's control was slipping as the pleasure grew with each thrust, and he could feel Dany's tightness massaging his cock and pushing him toward the edge. Myrcella's hands were tightly gripping the silk sheets while Dany's tongue kept her teetering at the brink. It wasn't long before Myrcella let out a high-pitched squeal and bucked her hips as she came on Dany's tongue. Only a moment later, Dany cried out as well as her pussy clamped down on Harry's thrusting cock.
Together, the noises from all three of them grew louder. Myrcella's high, breathless whines, Dany's muffled, keening moans, and Harry's deep, guttural grunts filled the room. Harry let out one last moan and emptied into Dany's fluttering pussy. He slowed his thrusts and made sure his balls were completely empty before he pulled out. Dany collapsed forward and fell into Myrcella's embrace. Harry wiped his forehead and looked down at them in satisfaction. He loved starting the day off right.
The Dread Lord of Essos
The opening of the Pleasure District was not going to be a simple event. It was a spectacle in which Harry intended to put every other king, lord, and merchant to shame. The invitations had gone out the week before, and soon the cream of Westeros would slither into his city, each hoping to glimpse, to taste, or to claim a piece of his impossible wealth. The sun was high, gilding the marble archways in the Garden Road with a soft shimmer. Outside the city, the air was cold and uncomfortable, but in here, it was warm and pleasant. The women walking by in light, airy dresses only proved that.
Harry strode down the main avenue with Missandei beside him, and the soft clicks of her heels contrasted with the heavy clunk of his boots. The Dread Lord's cloak was a creamy white that was trimmed in gold, and it flared behind as he confidently strode down the road. Missandei wore a pale blue dress cut to the hip, and its slit was edged with sapphire beads. The bodice was tight enough that nothing was left to the imagination, and the plunging neckline set off the brown velvet of her skin. She had her notebook in one hand, one of his enchanted pens in the other, and she scribbled constantly, even as she walked.
Harry pointed at the base of a new marble statue of a nymph in the throes of ecstasy. "The flowers are half-dead," he said. "That's unacceptable. Tell the gardeners to rip them out. Plant the white peonies instead."
Missandei didn't break stride. She made a note, then snapped her fingers at the nearest staffer. A pimply-faced boy ran up to them and bowed deeply. "Replace the wilting lilies with peonies, immediately," she commanded. The boy nodded and ran. She wrote a second note, then added, "The fountains in the eastern square are running low. The water pressure has been off since the bathhouses were filled."
Harry shot a look down the avenue and saw that she was right. The water in the distant fountain slouched out, rather than arcing as he had specified in the design plans. "That's something that I'll need to handle. I'll take care of it later today," he assured her. He would tweak the runes and enchantments to increase the water flow and pressure. "I want that tree trimmed back some. The branches are hanging too low, and they'll brush against the tops of any carriage that drives by," he told her, pointing at a lovely almond tree that was blooming white and pink. Harry had enchanted every flowering tree in his city to always be blooming. The almond and cherry blossoms were his favorites.
Missandei barked the order to a runner, who vanished into a side alley. Harry gave her a sideways smirk. "You're getting too good at this, you know." Missandei had come a long way. When he had first taken her under his wing, she was very shy and timid. Now, she was much more confident.
She flashed a smile, which only made her look prettier. "That is why you chose me, is it not?"
He flashed her a smile of his own. He put his hands on her slim waist and slid them down to her flared hips and squeezed. "It's one of many reasons," he cheekily stated, and kissed the side of her neck. Missandei giggled and tilted her head, letting him kiss as much of her silky skin as he desired.
He was just starting to have fun when a commotion near the Lotus Garden drew his attention. Two shopkeepers screamed at a pair of half-naked dancers who were carrying a rolled carpet between them. One dancer was a slender young man with gold-painted nipples, and his hair slicked back with oil. The other was a young woman with a crystal beaded loincloth hanging between her thighs, her breasts completely bare except for swirls of glitter. The carpet unspooled, tripping the girl, and she tumbled forward. Instead of scrambling to her feet, she lay there on the carpet and posed, laughing. Her feet were in the air, and her ass was propped up for every passing customer. The street burst into cheers and hoots.
Harry watched the spectacle and grinned. "They're having more fun than the lords and ladies ever will."
Missandei marked something on her list. "Security will need to keep them in line once the crowd grows. Those two certainly enjoy making a spectacle of themselves."
"They do indeed," Harry chuckled and watched as the young man helped the girl to her feet. "But their antics only liven the district. Just tell them not to take things too far."
Missandei nodded. "I will alert the event master."
They continued on with their trek. Every fifty paces, a new drama demanded their attention. In front of a bathhouse, the manager, an older man with a hawk-like face, was berating a pair of girls whose uniforms were made of see-through netting. "If you bend over like that, they'll see your minge before they get to the doors!" he hissed. One girl shrugged and bent over even lower, deliberately mooning some passing merchants. The pack of wealthy merchants cackled and applauded, and one threw her a silver coin. The manager rolled his eyes, then noticed Harry and Missandei. He bowed so fast his wig nearly fell off.
Harry gave him a lazy salute. "Carry on," he said, and the man looked like he'd just been pardoned for murder.
The farther they went, the busier the street became. By noon, the avenue would be impassable. Everyone was getting ready for the Grand Opening. He enjoyed seeing all the frantic polishing, dusting, and last-minute bribes that were out in the open. The merchants hawked from their open stalls, their voices blending with the music that poured out of every brothel and pillow house. The open stalls would soon be gone. Harry only allowed them for the time being, so they could sell food to all the hungry workers who were making the district sparkle.
There were even a few brave mummers practicing in the middle of the avenue, juggling glass spheres and fake daggers while yelling obscene limericks at each other.
At the intersection with Sapphire Lane, Harry halted abruptly. Something glittered at the edge of his vision. A woman stood in the archway of a florist's shop, her body draped in a fabric so thin and sheer it might have been made of cobwebs. The sunlight caught the tiny diamond studs that dotted the silk, and it made her look like a living, walking constellation. Her hair was a curtain of black, and her skin was the color of caramel. She bent over a bouquet, and her neckline dropped so low that her entire breast was exposed. She adjusted the flowers, then straightened and stretched, yawning like a cat.
Harry watched as she turned, and the whole avenue seemed to slow. Every eye glanced at her. He recognized her instantly. So did every man within sight. She wore a necklace of thin gold, with tiny pearls spaced along the chain. Her wrists jangled with bangles. On her right hand was the signature signet ring of the Otherys family, unmistakable even at this distance.
Missandei leaned in. "The Black Pearl is out early," she whispered.
Harry didn't bother hiding his smirk. "The opening of the district is important to her. She is, after all, starting a new life in our city, and she intends to be the most powerful woman in it."
The Black Pearl, Bellegere Otherys, spotted him. She waved with two fingers, then beckoned him over with a tilt of her head. He felt every eye in the district follow as he approached with Missandei at his side. As they got closer, he saw that the dress was open from the throat to below her navel, held together by only three very thin golden chains. The swell of her inner breasts and the perfect line of her abdomen were exposed. There was no undergarment, and a hint of the top of her smooth, gleaming mound peeked out from the dress's part. Each nipple was a dark, decadent shade of brown and stood hard and proud. Her earrings were golden sunbursts, and there was only a hint of makeup on her already gorgeous face.
She seductively glided over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him down, and her lips brushed his cheek, then hovered near his mouth.
"Is it too early to congratulate you, Lord Harold?" she purred.
He laughed, then kissed her full on the lips. There was nothing chaste about it. The Black Pearl's lips were soft and full, and she let her tongue slip into his mouth. Harry felt the street freeze around them as every man and several women craned their necks to see how far they would go in public. He settled for sliding his hands around her bare waist and feeling the curve of her lower back. She pressed herself tight against him, so her nipples crushed against his chest.
"Not too early at all," Harry said when he broke the kiss. "What brings you out so early? I know you like to sleep past noon."
She giggled, making her tits dance. "I'm doing some last-minute decorating. Everything needs to be perfect for the big day." She shot a glance at Missandei before looking back to him. "My girls are all here, and they're ready for anything. We are just waiting on your instructions."
Missandei coughed politely. "We're finalizing the schedule now. I believe you have the opening performance?"
Bellegere's eyes twinkled, clearly pleased. "Of course. The whole city will know what real pleasure looks like." She ran a finger down Harry's chest. "You should visit my villa tonight and meet the others. They are dying to impress you."
Harry squeezed her hip, just above the curve of her ass. "I'll bring wine."
She smiled, showing off her straight, white teeth. "Just bring yourself. I have all the wine I want." She kissed him again. This kiss was softer and more passionate. She then turned and sauntered away, her wide ass bouncing from side to side.
He watched her go. The dress did little to hide her ass, which was round and perfect. She didn't bother covering herself, even as the street gawked at her departure. Missandei snapped the notebook shut. "You'll take her up on the invitation?"
He grinned. "It would be rude not to."
They resumed their walk, and as they did, a group of courtesans whispered and tittered at the spectacle. Harry caught Veranys, a redhead from Lys, smiling openly at him. Her dress was little more than a ribbon wrapped around her curvy form, and her tits bounced as she made a show of bending over to retrieve a dropped glove.
He turned to Missandei. "Remind me to have someone check the bathhouse floors. If the visiting lords see a single stain, I won't be pleased."
Missandei opened her book, wrote it down, then said, "You should appoint more staff. There is still so much to do."
"I prefer quality to quantity," he replied, then dropped his voice so only she could hear. "That's why I keep you so close."
Missandei's cheeks warmed, but she didn't look away. "Then you'll want to inspect the grand stage before the ceremony. There's a new mural, and it might not be to your taste."
Harry scowled. "What's wrong with it?"
She shrugged, which made her breasts bounce. "Too many cocks, not enough tits."
He burst out laughing. "Tell the artist to invert the ratio. More tits are always better."
She nodded, then tucked the notebook away and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "If we get this right, we will be the talk of the continent."
He squeezed her body and pulled her close. "We already are. Even now, wealthy people from all over Essos are traveling to our city. Soon, every room in the castle will be full."
They walked on, and the sun warmed their backs. The city was practically throbbing with anticipation. The Pleasure District was alive, but it was nothing compared to what would come later.