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The exiled Lucas Velaryon, rightful Lord of Driftmark, lives in the Free City of Volantis in Essos under a false name but remains determined to someday return to Westeros. When Lucas learns that the similarly exiled Princess Daenerys Targaryen is alive and is travelling Essos with her brother in search of a suitor, he makes arrangements and acquires her, setting off a series of events that change their realm forever.

- - -

LUCAS

Lucas and Daenerys sat in silence across from each other. The only sound either made was the rustling of the satin cushions they sat upon when they slightly shifted their bottoms or legs. They were being ferried in a palanquin on the shoulders of a half-dozen armored guards whose services Lucas had purchased only for the day. Palanquins and other litters were a typical choice of Volantis's wealthy residents to avoid the filth and stench of the streets.

Volantis was a hot and humid port city located on the largest mouth of the Rhoyne river where it met the Summer Sea. It was the most southeast of Essos's Free Cities, the furthest from Westeros. That title, 'Free City,' was accurate only in the sense that it was self-governed and that no distant tyrant ruled it. True freedom was scarce in Volantis. There were five slaves for every freeman in the city. Volantis may have had a surface that was rich, grand, and majestic, but its underbelly was as depraved and sadistic as anywhere else in the known world. Lucas held no love for the city. Though he had now lived in Volantis longer than he had anywhere else, it was not his true home, and it never would be.

Lucas sat with an air of calmness and confidence. His visage was masculine and handsome, with a strong nose and stronger jaw. His eyes were a pale blue. His wavy hair was brown in color and combed to perfection, and he was clean-shaven. He was tall and fit, no shorter than six feet. His skin was naturally fair in complexion, but it had a slightly golden hue to it, lightly kissed by the sun. His attire was lavish but simple, consisting of a cream-colored doublet, white, spotless trousers, and beige, polished boots. A magnificent longsword was fastened to his hip, sitting in a bejeweled scabbard, with a wide, sea green gemstone embedded into the center of its crossguard.

Across from him, Daenerys was strikingly fair and beautiful. Hers was a soft face, with a straight nose and full lips. Her eyes were as violet as amethysts, and they shone just as brilliantly under light. Her silver-blonde hair was long and brushed smooth. It cascaded down her shoulders, falling to the small of her back. Two locks of it were woven into seamless braids around her head, like crowns. Her eyebrows were the same silver color. Daenerys was reasonably slim and somewhat short in stature; she was no taller than five-foot-three, and could not have weighed much more than eight stone. Her pale complexion was noticeably fairer than Lucas's, almost milky in color. Her face was only lightly and tastefully painted, most notably with a pink gloss on her lips and a black shadow around her eyes. The sleeveless, plum-colored gown she wore was cinched at the waist. It hugged her body, showing off the form of her figure, displaying the narrowness of her tiny waist and the swell of her smallish but perky breasts. Her white sandals bared most of her soft, pedicured feet.

Both were meticulously groomed and smelled of sweet perfumes. As their palanquin left the clustered lower city and neared the bay, the thickness and humidity of the air thinned into brisker breezes courtesy of the sea. They had departed minutes earlier from a third party's manse wherein the gaudy magister Illyrio Mopatis had brokered the sale of Daenerys by her brother Viserys. Though he may have claimed otherwise, Lucas suspected that Viserys in truth had no interest in keeping his sister by his side. A princess could serve only one purpose to a ruthless, would-be king: wedding her off to the highest bidder. Knowing the allure of Daenerys's beauty and her status as the last maiden of a usurped dynasty, Viserys desired either a small army of sellswords or enough coin to hire one. Lucas gave him the latter. That had meant handing over damn near every treasure and heirloom he and his father had brought from Westeros years ago ... but even so ... it was worth it.

Daenerys held her hands together at her waist. She seemed timid and meek, but not fearful, not quite. She had seemed more frightened in the presence of her brother. Lucas wondered just how cruelly Viserys must've treated Daenerys for her to be more at ease with a stranger than with her own kin.

Viserys is in the past now, Lucas thought, quelling his revulsion. Daenerys is where she belongs.

Daenerys's gaze was cast out the glass window at their side. She watched the distant reflection of the golden sun as it hovered above the vast, blue sea. It was the middle of the evening. The sun would sink from the sky in less than a few hours.

Their palanquin tilted upwards as the guardsmen bearing it began ascending a tall hill. Lucas pinned his right arm against the wall, preventing himself from falling into Daenerys's lap. Daenerys looked to him when she noticed his movement. "Are we leaving Volantis?" she asked softly.

Lucas shook his head. "We're going to my manse on the south edge of the city, on Ivory Hill," he told her.

Daenerys looked to the window once more. They let the silence return.

Eventually, the palanquin leveled. Lucas let his right arm rest at his side. Daenerys looked back to him. "You said Orello is your name, my lord?" she asked.

Lucas shook his head again. "That's a false name I use here in Essos. Lucas Velaryon is my true name."

Daenerys gave him a curious look. "I see. Well ... my name is Daenerys. I don't know if Viserys ever bothered to tell you."

"I know your name. I knew it long before I met your brother. Daenerys Targaryen."

Lucas's voice hung on her name, breathing the words a little slower than the ones before it. As for Daenerys, she seemed to pay no mind to his. She did not recognize his house. It seemed Viserys did not teach her much history outside of her own family's. But it mattered not. It simply gave Lucas the chance to present his family to her. He would save that for later, for the more lavish environment that such a revelation truly deserved.

"Did Viserys tell you why I purchased you from him?" Lucas asked.

"He told me I'm to be your bride."

"Does that make you nervous? You can be honest."

Daenerys held on the question for a moment. "Yes," she admitted.

"There's no shame in that. But you've no reason to be." Lucas joined Daenerys in gazing upon the sun. "I've centuries of ancestors watching me today," he mused.

"Is this day important to your family?" Daenerys asked.

"No. But you are."

Daenerys turned her head towards him. She was visibly confused, her silver eyebrows lowered. "What do you mean?"

That moment, the palanquin was eased to the ground, and the single door on its side swung open. Tobas, Lucas's middle-aged steward with balding, salt-and-pepper hair and deep lines in his face, poked his head inside and looked to Lucas. "Welcome home, my lord," he said. When his head turned and his gaze found Daenerys, his eyes widened and bulged. "My lady."

A few minutes later, Lucas strode through the halls of his manse with Daenerys following close behind and his steward at the far rear. Daenerys's eyes wandered as they walked, her head turning from side to side as she took in the sight of the grand abode. Teal sashes adorned every pair of curtains, and the same coat of arms of a silver seahorse on a field of sea green adorned all the shields and tapestries hanging from the walls. They soon passed by a doorway to the kitchen, where billowing steam and mouth-watering smells emanated from within.

"It may not be the castle those of our blood and birth deserve, but it's the best we'll have for now," Lucas remarked.

"We deserve better than this?" Daenerys asked with disbelief.

Lucas smiled and chuckled. "Yes, we do. I suppose that seems a strange thought to you."

"Viserys always said we deserved better. This is what I imagined 'better' was."

Lucas's smile slipped away. "You'd be amazed by the homes the Usurper took from us," he grumbled, his mind souring with thoughts of the fat drunkard that now sat on the Iron Throne. "Driftmark is a bit dour, but Gods is High Tide grandiose. And your family's home? The Red Keep? There's nothing in the world like it."

Moments later, they arrived in a small dining hall. The long table squared in the room's center was lined with chairs, but the chair at the far north end was larger and more lavish than the others. It was the lord's seat. It and one of the chairs next to it had a knife and fork rolled in a fine, white fabric placed on the table before them.

Lucas turned his head towards Daenerys, who stood beside him in the doorway. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

Daenerys looked to him and nodded eagerly.

"Seat your lady, Tobas," Lucas commanded him.

Tobas hurried over to the chair adjacent to the lord's seat and pulled it a couple paces backwards. "Here, my lady." After Daenerys sat down, Tobas pushed her closer to the table. "Are you hot, my lady? I could fetch a fan and cool you."

Daenerys gave the steward a meek, clueless look. It was overtly clear that she was not yet accustomed to servants waiting on her.

"I think she's alright, Tobas, thank you," Lucas told him, rescuing Daenerys from her uncertainty.

Tobas nodded. "Of course, my lord." He swiftly placed Lucas in the lord's seat just as he had placed Daenerys. When he finished, he bowed away and backpedaled to his proper station in the northwest corner of the room.

"Tobas here has been with me all my life," Lucas said as he eyed the steward. "He and the others here were the few servants who followed my father and fled to Essos with us."

"An easy decision, my lord," Tobas said. He smiled at Daenerys when she looked at him over her shoulder. "The Usurper is no king of mine. And Volantis is a beautiful city. Wonderful to retire in."

"He's been like family to me. He and the other two here," Lucas said.

Daenerys turned back to Lucas. Confusion colored her gaze. "What did you mean when you said I'm important to your family?" she asked.

"Daenerys, I'm a Velaryon. House Velaryon has been bannermen to House Targaryen for centuries. My family aided yours in Aegon's Conquest, and we supported you during the forsaken rebellion that sent us all here. My father fought in that war beside your brother Rhaegar. I still have the letter he wrote me after the Usurper slayed Rhaegar at the Trident. When Rhaegar died, my father returned to the Capital. Your father Aerys commanded him to escort your mother Rhaella and Viserys to Driftmark. My home. He was to safeguard them till the war's end. When we heard word that the Usurper's forces were coming, we'd already heard how those monsters slaughtered Rhaegar's wife and her babes. My father and Ser Willem Darry decided that the best chance for your mother and brother surviving was to flee Westeros. I was a boy of only ten years, but I demanded to go with. I wouldn't take no for an answer. The day before they had decided, they had been warned by a letter with a gold lion seal: it said that if anyone safeguarded the last of your family, they'd never be welcomed into 'the king's peace.' My father burned that letter the same day. He didn't care, so I didn't care either."

Lucas's eyes floated into a vacant gaze as he recalled that night that was now so long past. It was a night he would never forget.

"I remember the last time I saw your mother," he went on. "She was heavy with you. She was worried, but resilient, for yours and Viserys's sake. She and Viserys boarded a different ship than my father and me. We loaded coin, treasures, and heirlooms into the cargo of our carrack. It was for all of us to survive on, but a terrible storm separated our ship from yours. I'd never seen a storm like that one, and still never have since. My father was certain you were all dead. We found scores of shipwrecks. We thought yours was among them. We would've searched for you if we'd known otherwise."

"My mother died birthing me," Daenerys told him.

"I feared as much. I'm sorry. Mine died when I was young too."

Daenerys's gaze fell to the floor. "I never knew her." Suddenly, her gaze flicked back up again. "But I knew Ser Willem," she said, nodding. "He took care of Viserys and me at the house with the red door in Braavos, when we were little."

"What happened to him?"

"He took sick when I was twelve. He died a month later."

Lucas nodded. Somehow, he was not surprised. "My father died the same way. You and I have interwoven fates, Daenerys. We were meant to wed. We're two sides of the same coin. 'One side blue as the ocean, the other red as blood. The dragon of the sea and the dragon of the sky.'" Those had been Lucas's father's words, after it was learned that Queen Rhaella carried a girl in her belly. His father had not been one to daydream, but he often did after that news. He was never going to rest till his son and heir had a Targaryen wife, as his own father had before him, and his father's father, and so on and so on. He can rest now, Lucas thought to himself.

Lucas's two maidservants Elayna and Clare entered. Both women were middle-aged and had soft brown eyes and long brown hair. Clare was older than Elayna, with more wrinkles on her face and more white in her hair. On each hand Clare carried a large plate of food, both with a single serving of smoked fish crisped with breadcrumbs, oatbread baked with bits of apple, a sliced, sharp white cheese, and a salad of sweetgrass, spinach, and chickpeas. In each of her hands Elayna carried a glass jug, one filled with water, the other with a red wine. Elayna took in the sight of Daenerys with awe. Clare was more composed, wearing a motherly smile from ear to ear.

"This is Elayna," Lucas said, pointing to the younger of the two. "And this is Clare," he said, pointing to the older.

Clare placed the plates before them, first Lucas, then Daenerys. "Here, my lady," she said with warm affection.

Lucas all but knew that Clare had to intensely focus on being proper and resist the temptation to call Daenerys 'sweetheart' and kiss the top of her head. She had always been an affectionate woman. She had in many ways taken the place of Lucas's mother after her passing.

"Can I ... truly ... have all of this?" Daenerys asked, eyeing her food.

"Well of course, my lady," Clare said sweetly.

"'All of this?'" Lucas parroted her, confused. "Your plate isn't exactly overflowing."

Daenerys paused. "Viserys had only let me eat scraps," she said. "He said he didn't want me 'getting fat.'"

"Of course he did," Lucas grumbled beneath his breath. "Well, your food won't be rationed here. I think you're old enough to know how much you ought to eat."

Elayna filled Lucas's cup with wine. She then approached Daenerys with wide, captivated eyes. "Water or wine, my lady?" she asked with a raspy voice, nearly without breath. Despite her middle age, Elayna still revered Targaryens with the same wonder she no doubt held when she was a young girl being regaled with stories of Aegon's Conquering and the Dance of Dragons.

"The water's been boiled and then iced," Lucas noted.

"Water," Daenerys said, giving the maid a courteous nod and smile.

Elayna's hands visibly shook as she poured water into Daenerys's glass. Daenerys cocked her head and looked to her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes, my lady," Elayna hurriedly assured her. "Don't you worry about me. 'Just a little touched,'that's what I am. Lord Jacaerys always said so," she explained with an awkward grin. She was unaware that it was perhaps not a trait to be so forthright about. 'Touched' was the kinder word for her; 'lackwit' was what crueler men had called her.

"She's nervous," Lucas interjected on her behalf. "We've dreamt of reuniting you with us ever since we first heard rumors of you and Viserys being alive. Having you here is those dreams come true. Elayna, Clare, and Tobas will all serve you now, just as they serve me. They'll do anything you ask. Brush your hair, file your nails, cook your meals, wash your clothes. Anything. You're their lady now."

Daenerys's throat shifted with a heavy gulp. "Thank you," she murmured, just above the edge of hearing.

"It's our pleasure, my lady," Clare told her.

"No thanks are needed," Lucas said. "Such is expected for those of our birth." He unrolled the fabric from around his knife and fork and took them in each hand. "Come now. Let's eat."

The sound of silver clinking on plates filled the room as Lucas and Daenerys began their supper. The maids departed through the doorway they'd entered from. Elayna frantically whispered in Clare's ear as they left, while Clare simply nodded and let the younger maid voice her own thrill and excitement. They would return whenever Lucas had Tobas fetch them to retrieve their dirtied plates and utensils.

Despite her evident hunger, Daenerys picked at her plate like a proper lady, slicing her crisped fish into small cutlets before eating it.

"We both have the blood of Old Valyria in our veins, do you know that?" Lucas asked after drinking from his cup. He had been admiring the sight of Daenerys's Valyrian traits, the silver of her hair and the violet of her eyes. "Both of our families descend from that motherland. I'd have the same color of your hair and eyes, but I'm a half-blood. My mother was a Tarly."

"Does that displease you?" Daenerys asked.

Lucas shook his head. "There's no shame in marrying outside the blood. Your brother Rhaegar wedded a Martell. Still ... it's enchanting to see a Valyrian as pure as you." Many Volantene nobles had traits of the blood of Old Valyria, but Lucas cared not for them. They were a vile people of a vile city. But Daenerys was of his people, of his land. Her beauty was an untainted one.

They returned to eating. Eventually, Daenerys stopped and took on a puzzled expression, much like the look of a child that had been told something they did not fully understand. Lucas soon noticed. "What's on your mind?" he asked.

"The Usurper ... does he know we're here in Volantis? Won't he want both of us dead?"

"Perhaps," Lucas said with a shrug. "But his grubby fingers have little grasp on Essos," he spat. "And his master of whisperers, the Spider, isn't the ally he thinks he is. We aren't friendless in this world, Daenerys. I'm not the only one who knows that we were meant to wed. Our families have intermarried for hundreds of years, and we're going to keep that legacy alive." Lucas leaned forward in his seat and glared daggers at her. "And we belong in Westeros. We belong in the Red Keep," he blazed, his voice rising, swept up in the swirling tempest of his own resolve. "I am not yet sure when, and I am not yet sure how, but our families will rule Westeros again. The legacy of the dragon will not die in this city."

A little over an hour later, Lucas and Daenerys retired to his bedchamber. The chamber wasn't overly large, but it was grand. Its lavish furniture was lined with blue silk and draped with black furs, including his bed, which was a size fit for a king. His desk, dresser and shelves were carved from dark wood. A crate covered with a small blanket sat on his desk. Tall candles burned around the room, offering sweet scents now and a source of light for later. They were lit by Tobas, who had retreated from the room with a knowing smile when Lucas announced that he and Daenerys were retiring for the night.

On the wall across from his bed hung the largest tapestry in the manse. It depicted a vast fleet of ships, spearheaded by Corlys Velaryon's Sea Snake, engaging in a massive naval battle and wrestling for control of the Stepstones islands. The tapestry had previously hung in Driftmark's castle High Tide before Lucas's father had taken it.
Lucas unfastened his sheathed sword from his belt and hung it on its rack on the wall beside his bed. Daenerys stood facing the bedchamber's tall, sole window. It directly overlooked the Summer Sea, where the remaining third of the setting sun painted its golden light over the sparkling water. The sunlight glowed around Daenerys's silhouette.

"Beautiful," Lucas said.

Daenerys glanced over her shoulder. "Truly."

Lucas shook his head as he walked towards her. "Not that. You."

Daenerys's fair cheeks bloomed rosy red. She shyly whipped her head away and looked back to the window.

Lucas laughed. He now stood behind her. "Don't be embarrassed," he said. He reached towards her and put his hand on her upper arm. The moment his hand touched her flesh, Daenerys suddenly flinched, her entire body tightening as though she was struck by lightning. Lucas pulled his hand back, mortified.

No longer did he think her meekness to be merely typical of her youth. There were deep scars aching inside her. The manner of scars that did not show on flesh.

"Did Illyrio ever strike you?" Lucas asked.

Daenerys still faced the window. "No," she said.

The realization clicked in Lucas's mind. Illyrio did not seem the sort of man to beat a girl, especially not one he aimed to sell. He was not so foolish, nor so cruel. But another man was. The man who was more viper than dragon. "Viserys," Lucas thought aloud.

Daenerys said nothing.

Lucas sighed. "Face me," he commanded.

Daenerys slowly turned till her shoulders faced his. But though her body faced him, her gaze did not. It remained fallen to the floor.

"You will never be struck again, Daenerys," Lucas vowed. "You will be queen someday. Queens are not struck."

Daenerys looked up and met Lucas's eyes. At long last, a small smile curled around her lips. "You're not like him," she said.

"No. I'm not. I only spoke with your brother for a short time, but I could see what he was like. Tactless. Cruel. Weak. And his gall to sell you like a slave ... I would never serve him."

"He called himself 'the Dragon.' But he wasn't one, was he?"

Lucas grabbed and held of each of Daenerys's hands. She did not flinch. "There's only two true living dragons, Daenerys," he said, smiling with her. "You ... and I." With that, he leaned forward, tilted his head, and captured her lips with his. Daenerys shut her eyes. Lucas did the same.

Daenerys's lips were soft and warm with a hint of moisture, a delight to Lucas's senses. In unison, a single, long breath poured from each of their noses. He kissed his bride gently at first, but then playfully and passionately, lightly sucking and pulling at her lips. There was an audible smack each time their lips parted, only for Lucas to swiftly bring them together again. Daenerys returned his kiss and moved her lips in rhythm with his as best she could. It was clear she had no experience in romantic kissing, but Lucas did not mind. It did not hinder the desire swelling inside his chest.

Yearning for more, Lucas brought his tongue into their kiss, sweeping it over Daenerys's full lips before every smooch. When Daenerys felt that touch of his tongue, she returned that gesture too, as her own tongue shyly came out to greet his. Lucas's smoothly brushed over hers, feeling slickness and heat. Each touch was a thrill. Lucas's nerves were buzzing. Growing more and more desirous, Lucas locked his wide-open lips with Daenerys's and pushed his tongue into her mouth, so that he could feel more of those addictive sensations.

Eventually, Lucas broke their kiss. Their eyes met again. Daenerys was aglow, her violet eyes shining. Lucas gazed deeply into them as his mind swirled with thoughts.

Theirs would perhaps be a strange marriage. Lucas had been taught what all Westerosi boys were, that a wife was her husband's domain, and that he ought to lord over her. Yet if Daenerys would someday be his queen, then who would lord over who? Would they lord over each other? Were they to be equals? Lucas was not sure. If they were to figure it out along the way, bit by bit, then so be it. They certainly had plenty of time. And Lucas did know one place he was expected to lead the way. It was there, where they stood: the bedchamber.

Without words, Lucas raised Daenerys's arms and pulled her gown upwards, lifting it off her head and then casting it aside. He was shocked to discover that she wore nothing beneath it, but that shock was soon burned away by a blazing lust. His heart was hammering in his chest.

Daenerys was an even more perfect sight in the nude. Her pale figure was tight and slim, with a flat stomach and slender waist, and her breasts were pert and perky, with small, pink nipples. Lucas placed his hands on her bare hips. She was incredibly warm to his touch, as though her flesh overlaid an intense inner heat. Lucas had never once felt a person so warm, not even one that was ill with a fever. The blood of the dragon was strong inside her.

As Lucas's leering gaze lingered on Daenerys's bust, he raised one of his hands and reached for it. He lifted her left breast in his palm as if weighing it, admiring its softness and its warmth. He closed his hand around it and brushed his thumb over her nipple. The little nub was somehow even warmer than the rest of her. It slowly stiffened in response to his touch. Daenerys watched with a shy but desirous smile as Lucas fondled her. "Shouldn't we be wedded first?" she asked. Her words did not sound to be some desperate attempt at sabotaging the moment, but rather a genuine, curious question.

Lucas let his groping hand fall back to her hips. He lifted his gaze from her breasts and looked into her eyes. "We will be, soon," he told her. "On the morrow, if I can arrange it." It won't be the wedding we deserve, though, Lucas bemoaned. But I can make this grand, at least. "And it'll only be a formality. After tonight, you and I will be one."

Daenerys's shy smile widened. Lucas shut his eyes and kissed her again, but only briefly. When he pulled away, he took a single step away from her and began swiftly shedding his clothes. First came his doublet and his undershirt. His chest was muscular and lightly haired. Then came his trousers and his breeches. His stiff cock sprang free. He was well-endowed, lacking neither thickness nor length. His member bounced lightly, throbbing with the beat of his thumping heart.

Lucas and Daenerys unfastened and kicked off their footwear together. Then there they stood, bare as babes, two descendants of the dragonriders of old. Though Lucas's Tarly heritage made him not quite look it, few alive had more Valyrian blood coursing through their veins than them. There could be no more fitting of a union.

Lucas grabbed Daenerys's hips again and brought her closer in his arms, bringing their bodies together. Her soft, pale breasts squished against his hard, sunkissed chest. His hands roamed her body, sampling all the many pleasures it bore. He traveled the curve of her waist to her hips. He squeezed her arse. And finally, he teased his forefinger along the moist, slim slit of her cunt. As Lucas touched that treasure between Daenerys's legs, he very quickly realized that he could wait no longer before looking upon it.

He took her hand and walked her to his bed, where he gestured over it. "Sit," he said. She obeyed.

Daenerys sat on the edge of his bed with her legs slightly parted. Lucas came closer and at last gazed upon her crotch. Her tiny cunt was a tight, pink slit tucked away into a deep, puffy cleft, crowned by the slim hood of her clitoris. Her cunt hairs were trimmed down to a soft, silver-blonde stubble, plenty left to enjoy the sight and feel of it but short enough so that it did not conceal her slit. Whether Daenerys had groomed herself or one of Illyrio's servants had groomed her, Lucas did not know. It mattered little, so long as grooming was all that was done.

He pressed his hands against her inner thighs and opened her legs wider. The flesh of her cunt shifted open with them, revealing a bit more of her shy, pink flower. It was glistening with moisture, and a stirring scent drifted from it to Lucas's nose. He spread her little inner lips with his thumb and forefinger, and there he found her maidenhead. That was all he needed to see to put his mind at ease. No one had sullied her. Nothing had come between them. Her maidenhead was his to claim, as it should be.

But first he would taste her.

Shutting his eyes, Lucas leaned over and gently kissed her gash, smooching it like a lover. That did not last long. He then kissed her with his tongue, sliding it through her hot slit from top to bottom, and then in reverse, again and again. Her inner flesh had a somewhat sour and salty taste, and yet it was a delight like no other. Lucas tilted his head and sucked at her puffy cunt, drawing one of her lips into his mouth and rolling it. Above him, Daenerys mewled like a kitten. When he sucked her clitoris, her mewls grew louder and sharper. Lucas was certain she had never known pleasure like this.

Lucas's manhood ached in his trousers. It felt like steel. When his desire for his own pleasure became overbearing, he finally pulled himself away, letting her cunt slip free from his sucking lips. Daenerys's flower had bloomed and become sodden wet when he opened his eyes and looked upon it again. He suspected that its newfound moisture was from more than his saliva.

Lucas stood straight again and admired the sight of his lover. He stroked Daenerys's thighs and lost himself in thought as ideas raced through his mind. If this night would be among those that Lucas would always look back upon, then he wanted it to be grand. Gods willing, he and Daenerys would someday hold more power than any other. Their first night knowing each other deserved to be more of a feast than a meal. Tonight, Lucas would make his manse a pleasure castle. If they could not have a grand wedding, they would at least have a grand bedding.

"What should I do?" Daenerys asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Lucas cupped her cheek. "Just do as I say. I'll lead the way."

His aching cock was pointing towards her cunt, but Lucas saw no need to deflower her just yet. There were yet more ways he could enjoy her before the night's main course. "Come with me," he said. He took Daenerys's hand again and walked with her to his cushioned armchair in the far corner of the room. Still holding her hand, he turned to face her and let himself fall into the chair. Though his intent seemed blatantly obvious to himself, Daenerys gave him a blank look, clueless of what to do. Lucas wondered just how little she knew of lovemaking.

"Kneel," he said. Daenerys promptly lowered herself to her knees, bringing her head closer to Lucas's crotch. Daenerys seemed to catch on then. Her eyes fell and transfixed themselves to his throbbing member. Her full lips were tantalizingly close to his crown. Lucas had to swallow his mouthful of saliva before he could speak again. "Kiss it."

Daenerys puckered her lips and pressed them against the side of his crown, and then pulled them away with a soft-sounding smooch. A tickle of pleasure shot through Lucas's length. She gave another gentle kiss to the other side of his crown. Her tongue slid across her lips, giving them a little more moisture before returning to smothering his cockhead with slow, affectionate kisses. Each kiss brought Lucas a small bloom of warm pleasure atop his flesh. A drop of pre-seed soon oozed from the slit of his crown. He and Daenerys noticed it at once. "Use your tongue," he said.

Daenerys lolled her tongue from her mouth and brushed it from his base to his tip, lapping away his early seed. She tilted her head and pleasured Lucas with sideways licks, stroking the flat of her tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock, just beneath the flare of his crown. Her movements were experimental and clumsy, but Lucas hardly cared. It was pleasure and thrill all the same. Daenerys explored his stiff flesh with her mouth open wide, drooling a few ropes of spit onto his length. Her licks and kisses soon had his cock shining with a sheen of her saliva. More beads of pre-seed leaked from him, only to be licked away same as the first.

With her tongue slathering his cock, Daenerys turned her gaze upwards and looked to Lucas with big, innocent eyes. The violet of them glittered in the candlelight. "Is this good?" she asked when her tongue left the last of his length.

"Yes," Lucas said, sighing and nodding. "Now ... put your lips around it."

Daenerys grabbed the root of his manhood with her girlish hands, keeping it steady. She lowered her head and closed her mouth around his swollen crown. She sank her puckered lips a few inches down his length, and then slowly pulled them up and away. Lucas groaned as she repeated the action. The feel of it was intensely pleasurable, a toe-curling delight. Her full, moist lips were the perfect pleasure, the perfect flesh to seal around and suck on his hard, throbbing cock. But Daenerys never pushed her lips further than just past his crown. Lucas wanted more.

He reached for Daenerys and gathered a fistful of her smooth, silver tresses. He gently pressed down on the back of her head, pushing her sucking lips down his cock. He pushed them further than they had gone before, till Daenerys coughed as his crown prodded at the back of her throat. Lucas heeded that spot. He brought Daenerys back up and then pushed her head down again to just above that sweet spot, and then did it all again. He bobbed her head on his cock, directing her moist, sealed lips to slide up and down his length, using the roots of her hair as a handhold to leisurely pleasure himself with her mouth.

His manhood was now steeped in her saliva. Sloppy sounds slipped from Daenerys's mouth as she sucked him, slurps and urks. Lucas threw back his head and shut his eyes for a moment, letting the pleasure and sounds dominate his senses.

He soon realized that Daenerys was herself bobbing her head more than he was directing her to. Inside her mouth, the flat of her tongue now pressed against the underside of his cock, adding yet another intense pleasure to delight him with. She was giving effort to please him.

Before long, the blissful heat in Lucas's loins grew into a blazing fire. Daenerys's sucking lips brought him to the edge of orgasm, and he had to fight with all his will to act. As the muscles in his groin tensed, Lucas snapped his eyes open and looked down to Daenerys. "Stop, stop," he said under a whispery breath as he tightened his fingers in her hair and held her utterly still. He did not yet pull her mouth from his cock. He knew he would spill his seed if her lips rose one more time along his length.

When the throbs of his cock finally slowed, Lucas eased Daenerys's mouth off his length, gently guiding her sealed, puckered lips upwards till they came free from his swollen crown with an audible pop. Lucas shuddered.

Daenerys watched him, waiting for his direction. Lucas stood to his feet and urged Daenerys onto hers. He walked back to his bed with her. "Lie down," he said.

Daenerys crawled into his bed. Before joining her, Lucas made his way to the window. The sun was gone, and the sea was dark. He shut the window's curtains and turned to his bed. Daenerys lay atop it at the center, her head against the black furs, her smooth legs parted. Her pale body seemed aglow in the warm candlelight. Lucas could see the glisten on her pink flower from afar.

He crawled into his bed with Daenerys and kneeled beside her. He grabbed one of his thick, down-stuffed pillows and gently lifted Daenerys's head just far enough to slip it beneath her. Lucas then moved downwards and put his knees between her open legs, which opened wider as he came closer. His thick cock slapped down atop her puffy mound. Her silver cunt hairs tickled his sensitive crown. He felt harder than he had ever been. He was aching for her.

Lucas grabbed his cock and lowered it. He prodded his tip against the moist lips of her virginal slit.

It was time.

With a slow drive of his hips, his crown parted her slit and pushed inside, claiming her maidenhead. Her folds clung to him as he pushed through, wrapping him in a heat like he'd never felt. He eased himself further and further inside her, inch by inch, till his cock was sheathed to her very hilt and his crown kissed the entrance to her womb.

They sighed together, their flesh fully joined. At last, they knew each other as a man and woman. As a husband and wife. As a Velaryon king and Targaryen queen.

Lucas looked down to their joined flesh and partly withdrew his cock. In the sheen of moisture on his manhood was now a smear of crimson. Daenerys's maiden's blood. Lucas had truly taken her.

Swelling with passion, he leaned down and captured her in another deep kiss. "You're mine now," he told her, his words soft but assertive.

"I'm yours," she said.

That reciprocation made Lucas's lust boil. A grin spread around his lips as he kissed her deeper. He would wait no longer. "It's time to put our heir in your belly," he whispered.

"Alright," Daenerys whispered back.

Lucas broke their kiss and rose again to his knees. He wanted to enjoy the sight of her while he fucked her.

He began with slow, smooth thrusts, pushing and pulling his stiffness inside her cunt. The pleasure of that alone was enough to draw another long, pleasured sigh from his lungs. Daenerys was sweltering on the inside, slick and hot. She was tense inside as well, no less snug and silky than she was wet and warm. Her cunt was coiled tightly around Lucas's cock; he felt an intense friction with even the slightest of movements. Her inner flesh was squeezing him.

Daenerys took her bottom lip between her teeth in what looked like a half-grimace. Lucas was not sure if she was suffering any pain, but if she was, he was confident it would be gone before long. Such was any girl's first time being bedded.

Despite the disparity in their size, the slickness of her flesh allowed her tiny, slit cunt to take his large, thick cock with ease. Lucas grabbed the small of Daenerys's waist and held her firmly in place, smoothing their lovemaking and ensuring that his manhood entered her straight and steady. And while slick and welcoming, her warm walls still fit him tightly, smothering him with heat and wetness. Her slim inner lips clung to his length with every inward push and every outward pull, and his girth widened her inner walls every time he thrusted up and through her. His flared crown was gripped tightest inside her, wrapped in her hot flesh. It was an incredible pleasure, and Lucas could only groan as he enjoyed the sensations Daenerys's body gave him.

He soon hastened his pace, fucking her with faster thrusts. He lowered his body and jabbed his arms into the furs on each side of her, allowing himself a better angle to take her with. He pounded her, crashing his body into hers. Daenerys's pale breasts bounced on her chest, the soft flesh rising and falling in smooth waves. Lucas put one of his hands on her chest and groped her tits as he fucked her, squeezing them between his fingers. They radiated a growing warmth. Her tight cunt felt hotter too as time passed. Daenerys moaned with Lucas, her expression growing softer and lustier. As her cheeks bloomed red and pleasure gradually colored her face, she was even more beautiful a sight to his eyes.

Lucas's cock throbbed faster again. His legs tightened. His seed would soon spill. Yet he was still not finished with the night. Not even close.

As soon as the idea struck him, Lucas slowed himself to a stop, reached an arm under Daenerys, and lifted her up. His cock wetly slipped from her cunt as he spun them both around and moved to the top of his bed. He sat with his back against the headpost and took Daenerys into his lap, having her straddle him with her knees down on each side. Lucas leaned forward and took the stiff, pink teat of her left breast between his lips. He suckled her like a babe, hollowing his cheeks. When he pulled his mouth away with a pop, her breast fell and bounced with a fleshy jiggle. Below, his cock stood tall like a tower at his crotch, pointing upwards at Daenerys's pink cunt, still twitching from the endless pleasure it had been delighting in.
Lucas grabbed her waist and aligned their sexes. Realizing his desire, Daenerys began lowering herself. Their breath caught when his flared crown prodded against her moist slit. His member had only been barren for a short moment, but Lucas already craved to have it sheathed again inside her. With another push downwards, Lucas's cock parted her cunt and pushed open her warm, wet tunnel as it rose inside her. Daenerys brought herself lower still and took Lucas to her hilt, joining her groin to his. Her pink lips kissed his crotch as their shorthairs combined into a thicket of silver and brown.

Lucas looked up, into Daenerys's eyes. "Ride me," he said.

Daenerys put her hands atop his strong shoulders. She slowly raised her body, pulling her warm cunt from his cock till only his crown was still clasped inside her snug slit, and then gently lowered herself back down, sheathing him to her hilt. It was experimental in nature. The next downward thrust was far less timid. She began bouncing atop his crotch, riding him like a steed. Lucas watched her breasts jiggle in his face.

The air of the bedchamber grew thick and heavy. Daenerys panted hot breaths from her open mouth. Her bouncing made a stray lock of silver hair fall and obscure her eyes. She swiftly brushed it behind her ear. Her face held no trace of a grimace as she rode him. If she had felt any pain when Lucas had first deflowered her, it was long gone now.

Her tight cunt stroked his cock up and down as her arse slapped into his groin. Lucas reached around her and squeezed her rump. The flesh was soft and supple, and he could sink his fingers into it with ease. He considered suckling one of her breasts, to enjoy both sides of her body, but he discarded the notion. Daenerys was bouncing far too fast, and he had no desire for her to slow herself. Beads of sweat now glistened across her nubile body, but her perspiration still paled in comparison to Lucas, who had lines of it trailing down his flesh.

Pleasure coursed through his body like fire through his veins. His cock twitched inside her tight tunnel of hot flesh. Lucas knew his end was nearing him again. He was almost ready to embrace that coming bliss, but there still just one more way he wanted to have Daenerys before he finished.

In one smooth flourish, Lucas leaned forward, let Daenerys slip from his arms and his manhood, and flipped her over onto all fours. He then rose to his knees behind her and grabbed the base of his cock. As Lucas scooted closer, he looked between the cheeks of Daenerys's arse. He sought her slit, but his gaze caught on her arsehole. The little wrinkled rosebud was as pink as her cunt. Lucas was intrigued by it, but he gave it no more thought. He was to put a child in her. His manhood belonged elsewhere. After aiming himself, Lucas found Daenerys's cunt with his crown. With a short drive of his hips, he penetrated her and pushed through, sheathing all of his cock inside her warmth.

Lucas spent no time at a gradual pace. He grabbed and held Daenerys's shoulders as he took her fast from behind. He pulled her towards him with every thrust, making their bodies forcefully collide. His hips noisily clapped into her soft arse, filling his bedchamber with the sound of slapping flesh. Her small slit gaped to take his full girth and length, her hot flesh snugly wrapped around his cock. Her cunt was no less tight then than the first moment he was inside her.

Lucas grunted as he fucked her. Daenerys moaned below him, louder than before. Lusting for her, Lucas took her faster. The cheeks of her arse bounced from his powerful thrusts, and her breasts swayed beneath her. Lucas took her faster still. He pummeled her cunt with his cock, pushing his crown to the very hilt of her tunnel at the apex of every plunge, squeezing all his length into her hot flesh that he could manage. She would perhaps be a bit sore the following morning, but that was alright. This night was a special occasion. It merited some soreness.

Lucas gathered a fistful of her silver hair and tugged on it like a leash. He rutted Daenerys like a bitch, rocking her entire body with every sharp thrust, utterly dominating her. Lucas's pleasure became an inferno in his loins. He could keep his end at bay no longer. But he would not finish inside Daenerys like a hound. He was a lord, not a beast. He wanted to kiss her during the end.

He withdrew from her cunt and clutched the root of his cock in a squeezing grip. "Flip over," he said as he pushed his hand against her waist. Daenerys promptly rolled onto her back. Her eyes found his. She was breathing heavy, her mouth agape. She had worn herself out riding him. She would sleep well tonight. As would Lucas.

He put his knees down between her legs, just as he had before. Daenerys widened her legs as Lucas scooted closer, just as she had. Their lovemaking would end as it began.

He lowered himself atop her. They shut their eyes together as he took her into another deep kiss. With their lips joined, he guided his cock towards her slit. After his crown touched her slit, he pushed inside with ease. Lucas kept Daenerys locked in his passionate kiss as he made love to her. They moaned and groaned into each other's mouths. Little time passed before Lucas's end again came rushing. At last, he let his climax crash upon him.

Lucas's pleasure ignited like a spark into a brazier. Bliss blazed within his very core. He groaned loudly and sheathed himself to Daenerys's hilt as his cock began spurting his seed into her cunt. The first were more like jets than squirts. With as long as he had edged himself, his erupting orgasm never seemed to end. Ropes of his seed spurted inside her one after the other, till his lust was spent and her womb was filled.

When it was over, Lucas gently broke their kiss. He opened his eyes just as Daenerys opened hers. Her violet gaze was soft and affectionate. He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. When the last of his pleasure finally faded from his weary body, he took his body from hers and rose again to his knees. He looked down to her crotch. A few shed strands of brown were now nestled in the silver hairs around her slit. Between her pink lips, his cock had softened and shrunk. It was smeared with white, slick from Daenerys's now-sloppy, well-fucked cunt. Lucas was certain that a sea of his seed rested within her womb. He hoped it would quicken inside her.

As he pulled out the last of his cock, a sticky rope of white stretched from his crown to her cunt till it broke and fell. With Daenerys's next exhale of breath, her hole suddenly drooled a river of his thick seed. Lucas spent only a short moment admiring the sight of it. He grabbed another pillow from the top of the bed and wedged it beneath her arse, raising her lower half above her head.

"What's the pillow for?" Daenerys asked softly.

"Keeping my seed inside you," Lucas answered.

He left his bed and stood to his feet. He went to the window, swiped aside its curtains, and swung it open. The bedchamber's hot, thick air promptly poured outside, taking the smell of sweat and lust with it. The ocean's water was sparkling under the moonlight.

Lucas returned to Daenerys and lay beside her. He held her nearest hand and rested his other atop her stomach, just below her navel, above her womb. He did not dare to pull the furs over them. It was far too hot for that. And Lucas wanted to see her nakedness.

Lucas dreamt during the night.

A red star bled in the night sky. It dwarfed all others around it in brightness. A shadow suddenly passed beneath it, making the star flicker. Then a second shadow darted by, and then a third. The shadows plummeted towards the earth, growing in size till Lucas could make out their shapes in the darkness. They were dragons, colossal in size, with wings that could stretch across a castle. They roared and spouted gouts of fire. They did not slow their descent. They raced towards Lucas, but he could not move his feet. He could not save himself. And yet he felt no fear. Just as the dragons were about to crash atop him and break him beneath them, they spread their wings and drastically slowed their descent. Their feet broke their fall, sending a shockwave through the earth as their claws sank deep into the dirt in a triangle around Lucas.

Only then did Lucas glance down and realize that he was not alone. He carried Daenerys in his arms. She was sound asleep. Her belly was swollen with his child.

The dragons seemed to have paid Lucas no mind when they landed, but now their heads snaked towards him, one by one, till each glared at him with glowing gazes.

Lucas's eyes snapped open. He had dreamt of those three dragons many times before ... but they had never come so close, and they had never looked him in his eyes.

Bright sunlight bled from beneath the window's curtains. Lucas and Daenerys both lay facing it. His arms were wrapped around her waist, his hands clasped over hers at her stomach. His head was just behind hers, resting in a bed of her soft hair. He had taken the pillow from beneath her bottom just before they went to sleep. A small pool of his seed splotched the bed furs, but Lucas did not care. It was nothing the maids could not scrub clean.

Lucas yawned and brought Daenerys closer in his arms. He shut his eyes and rested for a little longer, but he knew full well that he could spend all day in bed if he allowed himself to. He released Daenerys from his arms and scooted to the other side of their bed. He stood to his feet and walked around, to the window. He pulled open the curtains and winced as he was steeped in sunlight.

Lucas stretched and yawned again. When he turned around, he saw Daenerys watching him from their bed, smiling warmly. "How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"A while."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd awoken? I would've let you free."

"I liked having your arms around me."

Lucas smiled and chuckled. He sat beside Daenerys on the edge of their bed, leaned over, and gave her an affectionate kiss. Daenerys exhaled a smooth breath from her nose onto his lips. When Lucas pulled away, he stayed beside her and rested his hand on her hip.

He sat there for some time in the peace and quiet. Longer than he realized. "Do you dream often?" he asked as his mind wandered.

"Yes," Daenerys said.

"Do you dream of dragons?"

"Yes," she said again.

Lucas nodded, unsurprised. "That's our blood. The blood of Old Valyria. I can't imagine how intense the dreams must be for you."

A knocking came from the door. Lucas and Daenerys looked towards it.

"My lord? My lady?" The voice was Tobas's. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Tobas," Lucas called out. "We're simply resting."

"Very good, my lord. Shall I have Clare and Elayna begin preparing breakfast?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." Lucas looked to Daenerys again and found her staring at him. "What?"

"They really respect you," she said.

"I give them reason to."

"Viserys fantasized of being like you," Daenerys mused. "He wanted so desperately to be this strong, confident king, respected by all around him ... but he could only play pretend. You ... it's true for you."

Lucas looked away, to the window. He shrugged off Daenerys's flattery. "My father raised me well," he said.

"I think he'd be proud of you."

Lucas looked back to Daenerys. "I know your mother would be proud of you."

Daenerys's smile widened. Lucas leaned over and kissed her again. When he pulled away, he spent a moment gazing into her eyes.

Lucas left her side and returned to the window. New merchant ships were docking in Volantis's ports. Lucas wondered how many of the sailors were Westerosi ... and then he wondered how many of them were loyal to the Usurper. As he thought of just how much work and hardship still lay before him, a sudden wave of tiredness washed over him.

Lucas glanced at Daenerys over his shoulder. She swung her feet over the edge of their bed and stretched her arms and legs. When her eyes found his, she noticed something was amiss. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Lucas looked out the window again. "There's still so much to be done ... and I'm not sure how we're going to do it."

"Do you mean ... Westeros?"

"Yes. Our fate isn't here, Daenerys. This isn't our home."

"That'll take war."

"It might."

"Viserys is going to try to take Westeros too."

Lucas almost laughed. "He doesn't matter," he said, discarding her warning. "Let him dash himself upon King's Landing's stones. He can purchase any army he wants, he'll still fail. Westeros was only ever conquered once, Daenerys, and it wasn't an army that broke it."

"What did?"

"I'll show you," Lucas said as he left the window.

He walked to the covered crate on his desk and picked it up. It took some effort, as the crate weighed more than seven stone. He approached Daenerys and set the crate on their bed beside her. He sat on the opposite side of it. While she watched, he pulled away the blanket that lay atop it, revealing three large, scaled eggs resting on a bed of silk. They seemed as though they were made of petrified rock, but they did not lack shine or color. The first from the left was blood-red with gold swirls and flecks, the second was blue with green, and the third was white with purple. All three were webbed with thin, motionless veins beneath their scales.

"Dragon eggs," Lucas said. "They were in a vault in High Tide. They're the only treasure from home I knew I couldn't sell."

"Do you know how to hatch them?" Daenerys asked, staring at the eggs.

Lucas shook his head. "No," he said somberly. There was no sadder a thought than knowing that he possessed glorious beasts he knew not how to awaken.

Daenerys gingerly ran her fingers over the red scales of the egg closest to her. Suddenly, at her touch, its red and gold came alive and vibrant. The stone veins swelled and rippled into life, lightly coursing with the beat of a creature's heart. Daenerys yanked her hand away, alarmed. She looked to Lucas. His mouth was agape.