Legacy of the Dragon Ch. 03

"Ser Barristan, draw your sword," Lucas commanded.

The old knight obeyed without question. Steel hissed as his blade slipped free from its sheath.

Deros's head whipped about, from Ser Barristan to Lucas. "No, please," he begged.

Lucas went down onto one knee, to the slave's eye level. "Deros, I want you to tell Haraph the truth: you saw nothing. I also want you to tell him this lie: we never had this conversation. Can I trust you to do that?"

Deros nodded furiously. "Yes, yes, I'll tell him."

"Are you mad?" Colton asked with disbelief. "We have to kill him."

"He doesn't know anything," Lucas said in the Common Tongue, still staring at the slave. "He hasn't seen them."

"But he knows we have something."

"And what of it? Every wealthy household in every city in the world has secrets. We're not taking a man's life for knowing we do too."

"And if he's lying to you? If he tells Haraph about this little talk of ours?"

"Then he tells Haraph, and they still don't know anything more. They're still where they started." Lucas stood and gestured upwards with his hand. "Rise," he said to the slave in his tongue. Deros slowly did as Lucas bid, joining him on his feet. He was trembling. Lucas looked to Ser Barristan and nodded. "Send him on his way."

"At once, Your Grace." Ser Barristan took Deros by the arm again.

"Thank you, thank you," Deros babbled as the knight took him away.

Colton shook his head. Lucas left his side and started off towards the manse's master bedchamber. "Where are you going?" Colton asked.

Lucas stopped in the doorway. "To speak with my wife," he said.

"This isn't good, you know."

"I know. That's why we're leaving."

"What?"

Lucas looked to Colton over his shoulder. "We're leaving," he repeated. "All of us. On the morrow, at dawn."

"Where are we going?" Colton asked.

Lucas looked ahead again. "I don't know yet."

The next morning, at dawn, while the others packed, Lucas and Colton went down to the city proper and purchased a large cart, two healthy horses, three crates for pigs, an assortment of fishing equipment, and a tiny tincture of milk of the poppy. When Lucas and Colton returned, they loaded the cart with all their belongings. They locked Rhaegon, Dreamwing, and Skyshark in the pig crates and concealed them with blankets. The whelps slept silently during the trip, sedated by the sips of the milk of the poppy Lucas had them drink.

After looking over his map of Essos, Lucas chose for their new homestead a grassy plain alongside the smallest and most secluded mouth of the Rhoyne river that poured into the Summer Sea. There wasn't a town for many miles in any direction, and the closest road was a fifteen-minute walk away and was almost never traversed by travelers. Those venturing west from Volantis to the Orange Shore were almost certain to either choose a more secure road or simply sail there. The homestead's location wasn't so secluded that Lucas couldn't have someone ride out for provisions, but there was more than enough privacy to field three growing dragons. The river meant fresh water, and it and the sea meant easy access to fish and mollusks for food. It was perhaps not perfect, but it was the best that Lucas could've chosen.

With every grown pair of hands pitching in, with Colton, Tobas, Ser Barristan and Lucas managing the handiwork and heavy lifting, and with Clare, Elayna, and Daenerys sewing the fabrics and furs, the homestead was built with an impressive swiftness. Lucas and Daenerys spent only a fortnight in a tent, as he had commanded for their bedchamber to be the first room to be finished and furnished. Ironically, it was Clare who was the most knowledgeable of construction in the group. Her father and brother were both builders who had constructed countless scores of smallfolk's homes in Driftmark.

There were a few injuries in the building of the homestead, but nothing was serious. The worst Daenerys suffered was a finger poked by a sewing needle. The worst Lucas suffered was a hammered thumb, which hurt horribly for about a week, but was fine soon after.

With everyone's combined efforts and a fair few trips to Volantis and back for supplies, the homestead was finished in a month and a half. It was only two buildings, a moderately sized house and a stable just large enough to shelter the two horses. Both were framed with timber, walled with plaster, and rooved with wooden shingles. It was the first home Lucas ever resided in that didn't have a study or a dining hall. Instead, the kitchen was an eating space as well as a food preparation space, and Lucas spent his desk hours in his bedchamber. Overall, the homestead certainly wasn't much, but it was cozy enough. It would do, for the time. Lucas knew their next home would be the one they truly deserved. He would make sure of it.

In the following months on the open homestead, freed from their confinements, the dragons grew rapidly in size and strength. Their voices deepened, from shrieking screeches to fearsome roars. As whelps, they could only spit embers of flames, but as they grew to adolescence, as drakes, they could spout shimmering streams of dragonfire, each with flames made up of their own unique colors. Rhaegon's dragonfire was blood red, Skyshark's was bright blue, and Dreamwing's was pale white. Rhaegon remained the biggest of his brood. Before long, he was nearly as tall as a warhorse, and far lengthier. He wasn't yet large enough to take a man to the sky, but he was more than large enough to kill one. Lucas had once seen him tear apart an elk after bathing it in a gout of his red dragonfire. The dragons roamed as they pleased, but they always returned to the homestead to sleep. They often slept in the hay in the stables, much to the terror of the horses. In his occasional trips to Volantis to purchase provisions, Lucas learned that rumors were spreading of dragons in the skies. But that's all they remained: rumors. None believed those few who claimed to have seen their shadows or heard their roars. Dragons had been extinct for generations, after all.

Lucas continued sparring with Ser Barristan. It was even more important now that they were as isolated as they were. No city guardsmen would save them from Dothraki raiders if they were misfortunate enough to be happened upon by them. The dragons certainly would, but they weren't always home. And Lucas's sword was his father's before it was his. It would be a disservice for an unskilled man to wield it.

Four months after the move, after a supper in which he only barely spoke, Lucas retreated to his and Daenerys's bedchamber and sat at his desk. The room was aglow from the setting sun's reddish rays that glared through the window. Scrolls were strewn about in front of him. Some were blank, some were fully scribbled upon, others were only partly so. His quill rested motionless in its inkwell. Lucas's hands were in his lap, entwined together finger between finger. He was deep in thought.

Some time after Lucas sat down, how much time he couldn't have been certain, Daenerys appeared in their bedchamber, and she appeared with a purpose. She wore a sleeveless gown of pale pink silk, a few shades lighter than the violet of her eyes. She came to Lucas's side and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Jace is taking a nap," she said. "Clare has him." There was a suggestiveness to her words.

Daenerys was good at that, at making time for Lucas to take his pleasure, and at letting him know when each time had come. However, in that moment, Lucas scarcely noticed her tone. He was entranced, lost astray somewhere in some far corner of his mind.

"What're you doing?" Daenerys asked as she looked over his messy pile of hastily scribbled scrolls. She must've thought his desk looked like that of a madman's.

"Thinking," Lucas said.

"Of Westeros?"

"Yes." Lucas drew his quill from the inkwell and readied it over a blank scroll, but then stopped. He lightly tapped the tip of his quill, creating a growing blot of ink on the parchment. He began to think aloud. "If I can make it to High Tide, the castle ... if my family still recognizes me, if they're still the family I remember ... they should restore me to Driftmark's throne ... seeing you and the dragons should make their decision all the easier ... I could write them first, see what their reply is ... or perhaps that would be showing my hand too soon ... if we can return Colton to his little brother, he'll restore him to Duskendale ... if all goes well, that's two houses, their men, and all the smallfolk they rule ... but that's not enough ... even with three dragons, that's not enough ... we'd be slaughtered like the Starks ... and with the Usurper's brother breathing down our neck from Dragonstone ... but perhaps I could bring Randyll Tarly to our cause ... he's my uncle, I'm his blood ... he might see our cause as just ... he was a loyalist in the rebellion ... but he ordered Colton's execution, and that could pose a problem."

It was a flurry of thoughts, a few certain, but most very much not. To Lucas, it was all nearing to be overwhelming ... till he felt girlish fingers cup his cheek and gently turn his head.

Daenerys's lips awaited his. She kissed him sweetly and lovingly, gracing him with one soft stroke of her lips after the other. Her next words came in the natural pauses of their kiss. "You've worried enough for today ... the dragons are still young ... you've still plenty of time to plan."

Lucas sighed deeply into their kiss. "And what would you ... have me do instead?"

"If it would please you ... I would comfort you now."

Daenerys's lips parted for the final time. Lucas opened his eyes and met hers. Her violet gaze was adoring and affectionate, innocent but not chaste, submissive but not fearful. Lucas loved that look. He knew it well. In their early days together, Daenerys had possessed a strong shyness, but now, roughly a year and a half since they had wedded, on some occasions it was her who initiated their lust. Sometimes, when Lucas lay on his back relaxing in bed, it was Daenerys who crawled atop him. And sometimes, when they lay on their sides together, it was Daenerys who reached behind herself and grabbed Lucas's manhood to guide it into her moist slit.

"It would please me very much," Lucas said with a smile.

Daenerys smiled with him. Then she paused for a moment, her eyes gazing into Lucas's. "Lucas ... I have news."

"What news is that?"

Daenerys paused again. "I haven't bled," she said. "It's seven weeks gone."

That took Lucas by surprise.

Before, when Daenerys and the maidservants had told him together that she carried his child, Lucas had already known the day would come. He had foreseen it. But he didn't expect her to bear him a second one so soon.

Lucas opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"We'll have another," Daenerys said.

Lucas's smile returned to him, wider than before. His words soon followed. "Then I say we ought to celebrate."

Daenerys's smile mirrored his, widening and shining with joy.

"Take off your gown," Lucas told her.

Daenerys stood straight and raised her arms to pull her gown over her head. Lucas helped her, tugging upwards on it. When it was off, she cast it aside with a flick of her wrist. Her body was then bared to Lucas. Daenerys was tight and lithe, girlish but womanly, with a flat stomach, narrow waist, and flared hips. Her breasts were pale and pert, with little pink nipples. She did not often wear a brassiere, as there wasn't much purpose to it with how often she was nursing Jace. Her breasts were no less perfect a sight now that she was a mother. They were no less perky, no less shapely. They were a hint larger and their teats often leaked trickles of milk, but that only enticed Lucas more.

With her gown discarded, Daenerys wore only an underskirt spun from a white silk. Her cunt was mere moments away from Lucas's sight, and he was craving it. Heeding his unspoken desire, Daenerys tugged down her underskirt and kicked it away. As soon as it was gone, Lucas wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her closer. Being seated, his head was roughly level with her crotch, and thus it was all too easy for him to stare. Daenerys's cunt was plump and puffy, and the little slit within her cleft was already shining with moisture. Lucas loved the contrasting colors at her crotch: the pale white of her smooth thighs, the silver-blonde of her cunt hairs, and the bright pink of her slim slit.

Lucas leaned towards Daenerys, nestled his nose in the soft hairs of her mound, and gave her little cunt a loving kiss. He smooched her puffy cleft and pushed his tongue into her slit. Her sodden inner flesh was hot on his tongue. It had a somewhat salty taste, almost metallic. Lucas delighted in it. He let Daenerys's wetness gather on his tongue for a moment, soaking it with her strong taste. Then he twisted his head and sucked one of the slim lips of her labia. He rolled her labia in his mouth, pleasuring it with his tongue, and pulled on it till it slipped free.

Lucas tasted Daenerys's cunt in every way he could think of, kissing, licking, sucking. The room soon filled with the usual lewd sounds that came with him devouring her wettest of flesh. Daenerys breathed sweet moans as Lucas pleasured her. She gently grabbed Lucas's head, curling her fingers through his wavy hair. Lucas straightened his head and brushed the flat of his tongue upwards through Daenerys's slit, stroking the little button of her clitoris and its slim hood at the apex of every lick.

Lucas could've spent hours enjoying Daenerys's taste, till the sun fell and rose anew. But he knew there was something even better than tasting her.

After giving his wife's cunt a parting kiss, Lucas reared back. He clutched the arms of his chair and stood for a moment, lifting his chair as he stood. He turned his chair to face Daenerys and then dropped and sat again.

Daenerys went down to her knees before Lucas and began fiddling with his belt. When it was unfastened, she tugged his trousers and breeches down to his feet, where she slipped them off along with his shoes. The moment it was freed, Lucas's manhood sprung out. It was tall and stiff and flush with hot blood, fully erect and eager for flesh. When Daenerys closed a soft, girlish hand around his manhood and gave it a few strokes, it hardened further, growing almost achingly stiff.

Daenerys ran her tongue over her lips. Once she'd moistened them, she lowered her head and smooched a loving kiss onto the crown of Lucas's stiff cock. More kisses followed as Daenerys shifted her mouth around his length, leaving a kiss at every inch she passed. Each brought Lucas a pleasant tickle of pleasure.

"Dany," Lucas said.

Daenerys's violet eyes flicked up at him, curious of his desire, as she froze in place. Her lips were mid-kiss atop his crown.

"Mount me."

Lucas always enjoyed her mouth, but that wasn't what he was craving. He wanted to be inside her, truly inside her, and he didn't want to wait.

Daenerys stood and straddled Lucas in his chair, putting her knees down at each side of him. She reached below herself and again closed a girlish hand around his manhood. She pointed it directly upwards, aligning it with her cunt. She lowered herself till they felt the first touch of their flesh, till his thick, aching crown prodded her moist, warm slit. Another tickle of pleasure wormed through Lucas's loins.

Daenerys released her hand from Lucas's cock and grabbed his shoulders. Then, as she gazed into his eyes, she eased herself downwards. His swollen crown slowly parted her soft slit, making her puffy cunt gape around him. As Daenerys sank, Lucas's crown disappeared inside her, enveloped within her slick, swelteringly hot flesh.

When Daenerys lowered herself the last of the way, the rest of Lucas's towering manhood rose inside her, gliding upwards with ease, despite her tightness. Her sopping wetness gave his large cock easy passage through her little cunt, allowing her closed sheath to open around him. She slid down till all of his length was inside her, till her groin met his and the pink lips of her gaped slit kissed his crotch. Her well-groomed cunt hairs and his coarse and unwieldly ones formed a messy thicket where their groins met, with some hairs scraggly and brown, others soft and silver-blonde. Daenerys's tight cunt enveloped the entirety of Lucas's long length, sheathing every inch from crown to root in heat and wetness. Lucas sighed at the feeling of it. Daenerys's cunt was the same great pleasure it had always been. Motherhood hadn't changed that.

It was still incredible to Lucas that Daenerys's small body and even smaller cunt were ever able to take all of his cock. Such were the wonders of a woman.

With his cock satisfyingly sheathed to her hilt, Lucas leaned forward and took one of Daenerys's pink nipples between his lips. When he suckled it, it promptly awarded him a squirt of milk onto his tongue. Daenerys's milk was remarkably warm, almost hot, as though it were fresh from a pot above a fire. The intense inner heat of Daenerys's body, her pure blood of the dragon, was evident throughout her. The taste of her milk was sweet and sugary, like a cream. It was a treat. With more suckling, more squirts followed. Lucas could've filled his belly with Daenerys's milk, but he figured it was best not to, as he feared he could leave little of it remaining.

Lucas let Daenerys's nipple pop from his lips. Her teat leaked a trickle of milk down her pale breast, eager to continue being suckled. Lucas thumbed the milk away.

Daenerys began swiveling her hips in Lucas's crotch. The hot, wet flesh of her tight tunnel rolled around his stiff cock, swirling it with slow, smooth pleasure. Lucas groaned. He held Daenerys's hips and threw his head back against the cushioned backrest of his chair. Daenerys languidly ground her groin into his, swiveling and twisting, shifting up and down and left and right.

"Gods that's good," Lucas said. He hadn't realized how badly he needed this.

Lucas knew Daenerys would've readily ridden him to his finish entirely on her own if he asked it of her. She would've bounced on his groin like she was in the saddle of a horse. She had done it before. But Lucas didn't want that, not this time. He was finished being idle. He'd been idle enough that day. He wanted her cunt, and he wanted to take it himself. He wanted to ravage her.

Without warning, Lucas firmly grabbed the cheeks of Daenerys's arse. Her rump was not large, but it was cute and shapely. Motherhood seemed to have made it a little more squeezable than before. Lucas could sink his fingers further into the soft flesh, and with greater ease.

Using those cheeks like a handhold, Lucas pushed Daenerys's arse down, impaling her slit cunt onto his cock. The friction of her cunt swiftly sheathing his length graced him with a warm bloom of pleasure in his loins. Lucas brought Daenerys's arse back up and then promptly pushed it back down, just as sharply as before. He made a rhythm of that. He fucked her almost violently, audibly slapping her arse into his crotch at the bottom of every downward thrust. Daenerys's little cunt was slick but gripping, and its lips and inner flesh visibly clung to Lucas's cock every time he raised her up.

Lucas gazed into Daenerys's violet eyes as he fucked himself with her arse. He leered at her with a fierceness. She mewled and panted as he had his way with her. Her hot breath puffed out from her pouty lips. Lucas leaned forward and buried his face between her breasts, savoring their warmth and softness against his shaven cheeks. He continued bouncing her arse in his groin, stroking his manhood with her cunt.

When Lucas withdrew from Daenerys's breasts, he gazed at her face again. Her sweet moans drew his gaze to her mouth, to her moist, slightly parted lips. Lucas decided that he would have them. He wrapped an arm around Daenerys, pulled her down, tilted his head, and took her into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, to claim her with it as his cock claimed her cunt. Daenerys obliged his greedy tongue and greeted it with her own. It was a sloppy kiss. Soon the saliva in their mouths was as much the other's as it was their own.