Westeros - The dark side of a kingdom

[LaLia]

2.02. - House of the undying

In the weeks that followed, Daenerys and her small, loyal entourage traveled through the merciless Red Desert. The sun beat down mercilessly, the sand pricked her skin like a thousand needles, and water was becoming scarce. Many of their remaining Dothraki died of thirst and exhaustion, their bodies left by the wayside as a reminder. Ser Jorah and the few others also suffered greatly, but Daenerys led the way with her head held high, the three small dragons tucked against her chest. When they finally reached the magnificent trading metropolis of Qarth, whose high walls and golden domes emerged like a dream from the desert, they were initially turned away. The gates remained locked, and the proud Qarthenians regarded the ragged band with contempt.

Only when the rich merchant Xaro Xhoan Daxos vouched for them were they allowed to enter the city. Daenerys hoped to finally find allies in Qarth and ships that could take her to Westeros. The spice merchant owned a large fleet, but he was not willing to give it to her without something in return. Xaro demanded a marriage - Daenerys should become his wife and thereby grant him access to her power and her dragons. At the same time, the magicians of the House of the Undying lusted after the ancient power of the dragons. One dark night they not only had their most loyal servants killed but also kidnapped the three young dragons from their house.

Without the protection of her most loyal companions, including Ser Jorah, who had been distracted that night, Daenerys decided to face the warlocks alone. The House of the Undying rose like a massive pyramid of dark stone on the edge of the city. Determined and free of visible fear, she entered the building and descended into the darkness.

She soon found herself lost in a magical labyrinth. The stairs led her down deeper and deeper, the walls were cold and wet, and out of the darkness came whispering voices calling her name. An eerie, magical atmosphere was heavy in the air. The walls seemed to breathe, as if they were alive; Fine veins pulsed under the stone, and sometimes Daenerys thought she saw faces that appeared distorted and disappeared from the masonry. The water on the walls did not run down, but slowly crept up, against all natural rules. The steps changed under her feet - sometimes they became smaller and narrower, so that she could barely find her footing, sometimes they seemed warped and crooked, as if reality itself was bending. A thick, whitish fog enveloped her more and more, creeping into her lungs and muffling every sound.

Suddenly she felt a viscous, warm liquid hit her skin in small drops. It was sticky, warmer than rain and gave off an indefinable, sweet-metallic smell. Daenerys looked up, but there was only impenetrable blackness. She continued to descend, her heart pounding.

Panic began to rise within her as the walls seemed to speak to her again. “The mother must be with her dragons,” the voices whispered repeatedly, sometimes close to her ears, sometimes like an echo from far away. “The power of dragons is strongest near them.” The fog grew thicker, weighing heavily on her senses. Suddenly the ground beneath her seemed to give way - the steps simply dissolved and Daenerys fell into the depths.

Had she died? No. Had she been unconscious? She couldn't remember what happened after that. Now, however, she stood in a large, circular hall with high, smooth walls, no longer in the dark realms of the labyrinth. Their hands were bound with heavy iron chains anchored to rings on the pillars. Behind her, on a stone altar, sat the three dragons - Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion - chained and helpless, screaming in excitement.

“Follow us, swear loyalty, give us your soul,” she heard the voice again, this time clear and close. Then Pyat Pree, the most powerful of the magicians, emerged from the shadows. The bald warlock looked at her with cold, violet eyes and calmly repeated the words: "Follow us."

“Never!” Daenerys hissed resolutely, her chin raised defiantly.

The magician smiled thinly. "You will break, and your dragons will follow their new masters. But of course, they still need their mother." With these words he stepped back into the shadows.

The figure that had just been Pyat Pree began to change before Daenerys's eyes. Its size grew rapidly until it towered almost three meters. The face contorted into something animalistic, the skin became scaly and resembled that of a lizard, greenish-black and shiny. The fingers lengthened, moving toward her like living snakes. First there were ten, then there were twenty, forty - a teeming mass of tentacle-like limbs with blunt ends and small, pulsating openings in the middle.

Some of the fingers roughly grabbed Daenerys' long silver-blonde hair, pulling her head back roughly and forcing her to look upwards. Others stroked her arms, cold and clammy. The number continued to grow, and now they looked like something out of this world. The blunt ends opened slightly, as if breathing.

Daenerys felt those inhuman fingers slip under her dress. They roughly pulled her legs apart and slid higher on her inner thighs. Others pushed their way into her robe from above and touched her firm breasts. The rough, slimy surface brushed against her nipples, then she seemed to bite - a sharp, burning pain shot through her. Daenerys screamed briefly.

However, her scream was immediately muffled as two of the live snake fingers forced themselves brutally into her mouth. She gasped, gagging as a salty, bitter taste flooded her tongue and took her breath away.

The creature that had once been Pyat Pree came closer. The eyes now glowed and unnatural green, the breathing was heavy and panting. It was a grotesque mix of human and animal, muscular yet alien. A massive member stirred between his legs, thick, pulsating and overwhelming in its dimensions. Daenerys swallowed hard. Drogo wasn't badly built, but this was beyond human imagination.

The countless fingers pulled down the top of her dress, revealing her full, firm breasts and hanging freely in the cool air. Other fingers pushed the material up her hips, easily lifting her into the air by her thighs and spreading her legs even further apart. Slowly, inexorably, she was moved towards the creature's huge cock.

Daenerys shook her head desperately, tears of fear and humiliation in her eyes. "No... don't... please..." she gasped between the fingers that filled her mouth and almost made her choke. Her gaze wandered helplessly to her dragons on the altar. The little creatures squealed loudly, flapped their wings and tugged at their chains as they watched their mother being violated.

The tentacles lifted Daenerys higher, spreading her legs even wider and pressing her petite body onto the creature's monstrous cock with brutal force. At the same moment the creature struck. A blood-curdling scream ripped from her throat as the massive member drove into her. It felt like she was tearing up inside. The thick, pulsating glans stretched her tight opening to the limit, burning like fire and pushing deeper into her womb until she thought her abdomen would burst. Tears welled up in her eyes, her whole body convulsed in pain and shock.

At the same time, the slimy snake fingers slid into her mouth again and again. Now it was one, then two, then three - they stretched her lips, pressed her tongue down, and thrust deep into her throat. Soon the thick, warm liquid poured over her face and into her mouth. It tasted iron, like blood and damp earth, mixed with a strange, sweet, putrid taste that disgusted Daenerys so much that she had to gag. The liquid ran down her chin and neck, dripped onto her bare breasts and soon formed shiny puddles on the stone floor. Her tears mingled with it, becoming invisible beneath the slimy layer.

The creature panted heavily and animalically as it thrust harder into her. Each brutal thrust caused her body to twitch in the air, her breasts bouncing wildly up and down. It kept her floating effortlessly, its tentacles wrapped around her thighs and waist, squeezing her repeatedly on its massive cock as if it wanted to impale her completely. “Follow us… break… follow us!” the walls themselves seemed to scream, the voices echoing loud and booming through the hall.

But Daenerys clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. A burning hatred and an iron will flare up within her. She wouldn't break. Not here. Not now. Not by this monster.

At that moment the warlocks no longer paid any attention to the three small dragons on the altar. Even Daenerys didn't notice it at first in her torment. But the desperation of the young dragons grew immeasurably. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion squeaked shrilly, flapped their wings, and tugged at their chains. Their fear for their mother awakened something ancient within them. At first it was just hot breath coming from her nostrils. Then small sparks followed, like from a young campfire. Finally, the three flames combined into a single, bright glow.

Then the power exploded. All three dragons together let out a collective burst of fire. The room was suddenly bathed in a blinding orange light. The creature opened its glowing eyes in shock.

Daenerys, half suffocated by the tentacles in her mouth, screamed with the last of her strength: "Dracarys!"

A huge fireball filled the hall. The flames spread with incredible heat. The snake fingers that held her instantly burned up into black, hissing sparks and fell to the ground as ash. The creature let out a deafening, inhuman scream. His monstrous cock was torn from Daenerys' body with a brutal jerk, causing her to gasp in both pain and relief. The creature staggered back, trying to flee into the shadows, but it was too late.

Daenerys saw the creature transform back. For a short moment, Pyat Pree looked at her with his violet eyes, full of hate and disbelieving horror, as if he wanted to curse her for all eternity. Then his body crumbled into gray ash, carried away by the fiery wind.

The heavy iron chains around Daenerys’s wrists glowed red and melted. They fell to the ground with a clatter. She collapsed to her knees, shaking, her abdomen burning and her body covered in slime, but she was free.

The dying mage's scream echoed throughout Qarth. The residents of the city looked at the tower of the House of the Immortals in shock. The next moment, huge flames lit up the night sky. A chorus of horrified screams rose like thunder as the entire tower shattered and collapsed with a tremendous crash. All the warlocks who had been inside were swept into the abyss.

Only Daenerys and her three small dragons escaped alive from the rubble, from where she carried Jorah Mormont to safety.

Daenerys stumbled out of the smoking ruins of the House of the Undying, clutching the three small dragons tightly to her chest. Her body still ached from the brutal penetration, her abdomen burned, and the slimy fluid clung to her skin. But a fire burned inside her that was stronger than any pain. She had escaped the magicians - and she had her dragons back.

She had barely retreated to Xaro's magnificent estate with her few loyal followers when she learned the bitter truth. Xaro Xhoan Daxos had allied himself with the warlocks. He had planned the kidnapping of the dragons and the attack on their servants for a long time. The traitor was none other than Doreah, her former body servant, who she had considered a friend in Qarth. Doreah had told Xaro everything: when Daenerys slept, where the dragons were, how to get around the guards.

The betrayal hurt Daenerys deeply. For a moment she felt the old vulnerability rising within her again - the feeling that she was just a tool that anyone could use. But that moment passed quickly. The hatred and iron will that had grown within her in the Hall of the Immortals gained the upper hand. In a cold voice she ordered that Xaro and Doreah be locked in the empty vault of his own palace. No water, no food, no mercy. The heavy door slammed shut with a thud. Her screams faded away behind thick stone as Daenerys threw the key into the fireplace.

At Xaro's estate they found enough gold, jewels and precious goods to pay for passage to Astapor - the city of the slave masters on the bay of the slavers. There, she had heard, the Unsullied were trained: a disciplined, fearless army of castrated warriors who supposedly fought without fear and without pity.