(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
-------------------------------------------------
King's Landing...
In King's Landing,
The bells tolled across the city,
Their sound carried by the wind to every corner of the capital.
Yet beneath their celebratory chime,
There was unease—
A hollow echo that no amount of wine or gold could truly drown.
For weeks now...
King Viserys I Targaryen had exhausted every means of search.
Every maester had been questioned.
Every port from Driftmark to Oldtown had been inspected.
Every spy in the Red Keep and every raven across Westeros had been sent in vain.
And yet—
No trace of Rhaenyra.
No whisper of Eldoria.
No shadow of Leo Morningstar.
It was as though they had been swallowed by the world itself.
The court had begun to murmur in private.
'The princess was gone with her dragon.'
Some said she'd been seduced by a false king.
Others whispered she'd been cursed by her own bloodline.
But today, those whispers were silenced.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Today, the Iron Throne was draped in gold and crimson.
Today, banners of the Targaryen and Hightower houses hung side by side.
The great hall gleamed with torches and flowers,
Nobles crowded shoulder to shoulder,
And the sound of lutes and harps played softly through the air.
For today,
Viserys had taken a new queen—
And the capital had been commanded to rejoice.
Seated on the dais,
Viserys tried to smile as he raised his cup.
"...."
His face looked thinner now,
His eyes dull with exhaustion and the faint cloud of guilt that no one dared name aloud.
At his side stood Elizabeth Hightower,
Otto's young niece—
Barely in her twenties, draped in pale green and silver silk.
Her long brown hair shimmered beneath her crown.
She kept her hands folded over her stomach,
Her gaze lowered in perfect modesty.
The whispers had spread already.
The king's new wife was with child.
The maesters had confirmed it just the previous day.
Otto Hightower stood among the gathered court,
Pride gleaming behind his calm exterior.
His plan—
His endless weaving of power and opportunity—
Was at last taking root.
The Hand bowed respectfully as Viserys rose to speak.
"Lords and Ladies of Westeros,"
The king began, his voice echoing through the hall,
"you have stood by me through grief and uncertainty. My beloved Aemma and my son are gone, and though sorrow has long been my companion, the gods have not abandoned me."
He turned slightly to Elizabeth,
His expression softening as he took her hand.
"Today, I take a new wife—Elizabeth Hightower of Oldtown—whose gentle heart has given me hope again. And by the grace of the Seven, she carries the future of our line."
The crowd broke into applause,
Cheers~ Cheers~
Cheers~ Cheers~
Though the sound was laced with tension.
Otto stepped forward with a polished smile.
"A union of light between our houses, Your Grace. The realm will rejoice, and the Old gods will bless this child as the dawn of peace."
From across the room,
Daemon Targaryen watched with thinly veiled disdain,
Swirling his wine in silence.
"...."
His eyes darted from Viserys to Otto, then to the new queen.
"Peace,"
He muttered under his breath, a wry smile forming.
"That's not peace—it's a leash."
The other dragonriders seated nearby caught his tone but wisely kept quiet.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The courtiers raised their cups as servants hurried with platters of fruit and roasted boar.
Laughter rose, musicians struck louder notes,
And the scent of spiced wine filled the air.
But behind the celebration,
Otto's mind raced—
"...."
Calculating every move.
With Alicent gone and Rhaenyra vanished,
The path to the throne now lay firmly through Elizabeth's unborn child.
A Hightower heir—
Half Targaryen by blood,
But bound by Oldtown's loyalty.
Otto's eyes flicked toward Viserys's cup as he sipped,
His expression faintly unreadable.
'Just a few more months,'
He thought.
'And the realm will truly be mine.'
Outside, the streets of King's Landing blazed with celebration.
Flags flew, the people cheered, and wine flowed freely.
The torches in the royal bedchamber flickered low,
Shadows bending against the stone walls as King Viserys Targaryen loosened his tunic and sank onto the edge of his bed.
The cheers from the feast below had dulled to a distant murmur.
Only the slow crackle of the hearth kept him company.
He lifted the hem of his undershirt and frowned.
Frowned~
"...."
Across his stomach,
Faint red blotches had spread since morning—
Small, raised, and maddeningly itchy.
He scratched absently at them, hissing under his breath.
Scratch~ Scratch~
"...."
"The maester said it was nothing,"
He muttered.
"A rash from the crown's weight, perhaps…"
But the itch would not fade.
The skin there felt hot—
Almost pulsing with a feverish rhythm.
With a sigh,
Sigh~
"...."
Viserys drew the fabric down again and tried to force the unease from his mind.
The realm was celebrating, his line was secured,
And for the first time in months there was laughter in the Red Keep.
He leaned back on the mattress, closing his eyes.
The knock at the door came hard and fast.
Knock~
"Your Grace! Your Grace—!"
Viserys sat up, startled,
As the door swung open and a guard burst in,
Sweat running down his brow.
"Speak,"
The king snapped, rising to his feet.
The guard bowed hastily.
"Forgive me, sire. It's Prince Daemon… he—he's taken the dragon egg that was meant for your unborn child!"
For a moment, silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Viserys's eyes widened in disbelief.
"He what?"
"Your brother entered the Dragonpit drunk. He claimed the egg in the name of the 'heir that never was.' He… he called the prince—" the guard swallowed hard, "—'the heir for a day.'"
The words hit like a blade.
Viserys's face went pale,
"...."
Then flushed crimson.
His hand clenched at his side, the nails biting into his palm.
"Bring him to me,"
He said, voice low and shaking with rage.
"Now."
Within the hour...
Daemon stood in the throne room,
The stolen egg in his hand,
His grin wide and careless.
Grin~
"Brother,"
He drawled, half-drunk, half-mocking,
"a cradle needs a dragon, doesn't it? Even if the cradle's empty."
Gasps rippled through the court.
"...."
Viserys descended the steps of the Iron Throne one slow, deliberate pace at a time.
His eyes burned with grief and fury.
"You dare make sport of my son's death? My wife's death?"
Daemon shrugged.
"A jest. The realm has been too grim—"
"Enough!"
The king's shout cracked through the chamber like a whip.
"You disgrace this house with every breath you take! You mock my crown, my blood, my family's pain!"
For a heartbeat, the brothers stared at one another—
"...."
"...."
Dragon fire meeting dragon fire.
Then Viserys raised his hand, voice trembling but resolute.
"By royal decree, Daemon Targaryen is banished from King's Landing. You will depart at once for Dragonstone and remain there until I command otherwise. If you defy me again, you'll lose the right to call yourself my brother."
Daemon's grin faltered,
"...."
The mockery fading just enough for his eyes to glint with wounded pride.
He bowed, slow and exaggerated.
"As you wish… Your Grace."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the hall,
The dragon egg tucked under his arm,
The guards too frightened to bar his path.
Viserys watched him go until the great doors slammed shut.
THUD.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Only then did he feel the burning in his stomach again—
Worse this time, spreading under the skin like embers beneath flesh.
He pressed a hand to his abdomen, wincing.
"Damn this itch…"
But he said nothing more of it.
Meanwhile...
Eldoria...
The evening air in Eldoria was soft, warm, and filled with the hum of distant dragons gliding across the sunset sky.
Inside the royal lounge of the Dawnfire Citadel,
Things were… far less regal.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"Rhaenyra—no, no, that's offside!"
Leo called out,
HAHA!
Half-laughing as the princess on the other end of the couch mashed buttons furiously on the sleek black controller in her hands.
"I don't care what that means!"
Rhaenyra shouted back, tongue between her teeth in fierce concentration.
"If I can't win with skill, I'll win by chaos!"
HAHAHAHA!!!
The screen flashed—
Her player tackled Leo's with an illegal slide.
The referee blew the whistle,
Whistle~
And a red card popped up.
"...."
Leo leaned back, laughing, his controller resting on his knee.
Hahaha!!!
"That's your fifth foul in ten minutes. I think FIFA's about to sue you."
Rhaenyra pouted, glaring at the screen.
Pout~
"In real life, I'd just burn the other team."
Leo smirked.
Smirk~
"You're improving though. I'll give you that."
She crossed her arms,
But the faint grin betrayed her pride.
Grin~
After another few rounds,
Leo switched the game.
"Alright. Time for something you might actually enjoy."
The title WWE 2K24 loaded up on the screen.
Rhaenyra's eyes lit up instantly.
"What is this?"
"Wrestling,"
Leo explained, handing her another controller.
"You pick a fighter and beat the life out of your opponent. No dragons, no swords—just brute strength and tactics."
She tilted her head, intrigued.
"So… physical combat, but for fun?"
"Exactly."
It took her five minutes to fall in love with it.
Ten minutes to figure out the basic moves.
And thirty minutes to master the art of suplexing Leo into virtual tables.
Her laughter filled the room,
Bright and unrestrained—
The kind of laugh she hadn't allowed herself in years.
Leo smiled as he wiped an imaginary sweat off his brow.
"You realize you just used The Undertaker's finisher on me twice."
Rhaenyra flicked her hair back smugly.
"Then perhaps he should fear me now."
He chuckled, eyes softening.
Chuckle~
'Mavis is going to love her,'
He thought.
'Two gaming maniacs in the same house… gods help me.'
They were midway through another match when a sudden flash of gold lit up the window.
A falcon—
Its feathers shimmering like burnished sunlight—
Descended from the sky and swooped gracefully through the open balcony,
Landing on the armrest beside Leo.
The princess blinked in surprise.
"...."
"A… bird? From where?"
Leo paused the game,
His expression turning serious.
"Not just any bird."
The falcon extended one leg,
Where a golden scroll was bound with a crimson ribbon.
The seal glowed faintly—
The sigil of Eldoria's Spymaster Division,
One of the kingdom's automatic intelligence networks tied to the system's surveillance.
He untied the scroll and read silently.
Rhaenyra watched as his eyes narrowed.
Frown~
"What is it?"
Leo lowered the parchment slowly,
His expression unreadable.
"King's Landing,"
He said finally.
"Your uncle Daemon just got himself banished. He took your unborn brother's dragon egg… mocked your father's loss… and was sent to Dragonstone."
Rhaenyra froze, controller slipping slightly from her hand.
"…He mocked Baelon?"
Leo nodded.
Nod~
"In front of the court."
Her voice went cold, sharp as Valyrian steel.
"That fool doesn't know when to stop. He's been itching to provoke my father for years."
She stood abruptly, pacing toward the balcony, her anger simmering beneath the surface.
The wind tangled through her silver hair,
The glow of Eldoria's night sky painting her in gold and crimson hues.
Leo remained seated,
Rolling the scroll back up and setting it on the table.
"Your father's choices are already unraveling. Otto's manipulating him, your uncle's rebelling, and the court's splitting into factions. The Targaryen line's starting to fracture."
Rhaenyra turned to him, her eyes blazing.
"And what would you have me do? Sit here and watch while my bloodline tears itself apart?"
Leo met her glare calmly.
"No. You'll learn from it."
Her anger faltered, confusion flickering across her face.
"...."
"Let them burn their own house down,"
Leo continued.
"You're not part of that cycle anymore. You're Eldoria now. When the ashes settle, you'll rise from them as something greater."
Rhaenyra stared at him for a long moment—
"...."
Then finally exhaled, her shoulders loosening.
Sigh~
"You always speak like you've seen it all before."
He smiled faintly.
"Maybe I have."
The falcon gave a short screech and took off again,
Screech~
Vanishing into the night.
Rhaenyra returned to the couch slowly,
Reclaiming her controller.
"…So, another round?"
Leo chuckled and unpaused the game.
Chuckle~
"Sure. But no using chairs this time."
Her smirk returned instantly.
Smirk~
"No promises."
The room filled again with laughter,
The clash of virtual wrestlers echoing faintly—
While, far away, in King's Landing, the first cracks in House Targaryen's legacy had begun to spread.
Night draped over Eldoria,
The sky awash with silver and faint traces of violet lightning from distant storms.
The citadel was quiet now, its halls humming softly with the atmosphere.
Leo lay in his chamber,
One arm behind his head,
His eyes half-closed as he listened to the rhythmic breath of the wind outside.
For once, there was peace—
No alarms from the system, no duties demanding his attention.
"...."
"...."
"...."
{Warning R-18 }
A soft knock broke the stillness.
Knock~
He turned his head toward the door.
"Come in."
The latch turned, and Aemma stepped inside.
The dim candlelight caught the pale gleam of her hair and the faint red hue in her eyes—
"...."
Signs of the power that now flowed through her.
Leo raised an eyebrow.
"Aemma?"
She didn't answer immediately.
She closed the door behind her, the click echoing gently,
Click~
And crossed the room with quiet, measured steps.
He could feel it—
The pulse of her emotions through the link that bound them.
Desire.
Hunger. Devotion.
When she stopped beside the bed,
Her voice was low, steady.
"I came to fulfill my duty… as your bride."
Before he could reply,
The words sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin.
His cock stirred, thickening beneath his trousers, and he exhaled sharply through his nose.
'Duty.'
As if this were some chore, some obligation she had to check off a list.
But the way her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt,
The way her thumb grazed the flat of his nipple through the cloth—
There was nothing dutiful about the shiver that ran through her,
The way her breath hitched just slightly.
He let her push.
Let her guide him back against the pillows,
His body sinking into the plush furs as she followed,
Crawling over him with the grace of a predator who had just been granted permission to feast.
The bed dipped beneath her weight, the furs rustling as she settled between his thighs, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips.
The position was dominant, possessive, and yet there was something almost reverent in the way she looked down at him,
Her red-tinged eyes drinking in every shift of his expression.
"So that's how it is tonight,"
He murmured, his voice rough with amusement—
And something else, something darker.
His hands found her waist,
His thumbs brushing the dip beneath her ribs,
Feeling the way her skin jumped beneath his touch.
She was warm.
Too warm.
Like she'd been standing too close to a fire.
Aemma's lips curved, a faint, knowing smile that sent another jolt of arousal through him.
"Did you expect otherwise?"
Her hand slid lower,
Her fingers walking a path down his chest,
Over the ridged planes of his abdomen,
Before dipping beneath the hem of his shirt.
The calluses on her palms—
Earned from hours of training with sword and bow—
Scraped deliciously against his skin,
And he arched into the touch without thinking.
"No,"
He admitted,
His voice dropping to a growl as her nails raked down his stomach,
Tracing the deep V of his hips.
"But I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't curious what duty entails tonight."
Her answer was a slow,
Deliberate rock of her hips,
The heat of her core pressing against the growing bulge in his trousers.
He groaned, low and rough, his fingers tightening on her waist.
She was already wet.
"...."
He could smell it—
The musky, intoxicating scent of her arousal,
Thick in the air between them.
The realization made his cock throb,
Straining against the confines of his pants.
Aemma leaned down,
Her breath warm against the shell of his ear.
"Everything,"
She whispered, her lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath his lobe.
"I'll give you everything."
The promise in those words,
The raw, unfiltered devotion in her voice,
Nearly undid him.
His hands slid up her back, tangling in the silk of her hair as he pulled her mouth to his.
The kiss was hungry, desperate—
Teeth clashing, tongues twisting together in a dance that was all heat and need.
She tasted like wine and something darker.
Her fingers worked at the laces of his trousers,
Nimble and sure,
And when she finally freed his cock,
The cool air did nothing to temper the fiery pulse of it.
Huff~ Huff~
"...."
"...."
She broke the kiss just long enough to look down between them,
Her breath hitching at the sight of him—
Thick, veined, the head already slick with pre-cum.
"...."
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip,
And the sight nearly made him come undone.
"Fuck,"
He groaned,
His hips jerking upward as her fingers wrapped around his shaft, her grip firm,
Almost possessive.
Aemma didn't tease.
"...."
Didn't play.
She sank down in one smooth motion,
Taking him to the hilt, her tight, wet heat swallowing him whole.
They both gasped, her nails digging into his chest as she adjusted to the stretch, the burn.
Gasps~
"...."
"...."
He was big—
Too big, maybe—
But she took him like she was made for it,
Her body clenching around him in waves that had his vision whiting out at the edges.
"Fuck, you're perfect,"
He growled, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as she began to move.
She rode him with a rhythm that was all her own—
Slow at first, her body rolling in deep,
Deliberate strokes that dragged him against every inch of her inner walls.
The wet, obscene sounds of their bodies filled the room,
Mingling with their ragged breaths,
The creak of the bed beneath them.
Creak! Creak! Creak!
Creak! Creak!
Her power hummed between them,
A current that made the air crackle,
Made his skin prickle with something more than just lust.
It was intoxicating.
Addictive.
He could feel it in the way her pussy clenched around him,
In the way her breath came faster,
Her moans growing louder, more desperate.
"Harder,"
He commanded, his voice rough with need.
"Take what you want."
Aemma didn't need to be told twice.
"...."
Her pace quickened, her hips slamming down against his,
Her breasts bouncing with each rough thrust.
Clap~ Clap~
The sound of skin slapping skin echoed off the stone walls,
The scent of sex thick in the air.
He could feel her getting closer,
Her body tightening like a bowstring,
Her moans turning to broken, breathless cries.
"That's it,"
He snarled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass as he drove up into her,
Meeting her stroke for stroke.
"Cum for me, bride."
The word sent her over the edge.
"...."
Her back arched,
Her nails raking down his chest as her orgasm crashed over her,
Her pussy clamping down around his cock in waves that milked him mercilessly.
The sight of her—
"...."
"...."
Flush-cheeked, lips parted, her body trembling with the force of her release—
Was too much.
With a guttural groan,
He buried himself to the hilt and came,
His cum spilling deep inside her in hot, thick pulses.
"...."
She collapsed against him,
Her forehead pressing to his as they both fought to catch their breath.
Huff~ Huff~
The bond between them burned brighter,
A living thing,
Fed by pleasure and power and something far more dangerous.
And as her lips found his again, slow and deep, he knew this was only the beginning.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N)I hope you guys are enjoying the story.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give areview
And power stone!!!
It will Motivate Me.