Chapter 17: Chapter 16
As Jon and his crew—Rhea, Oberyn, Selina, Diana, and Arthur—strutted out of the magical suitcase and back into the real world, it felt like he was stepping onto a new set of a show he had only binge-watched. The streets of Braavos were a swirl of activity, but Jon had his sights set on the Martell manse, a building that looked like it could have been ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel.
The manse was a spectacular mix of Dornish and Braavosi styles, a grand fusion of opulence and comfort that screamed, "Hey, we've got taste!" Jon felt a rush of anticipation. This was like moving on to the next level of a game, only with more intrigue and less loading time.
Oberyn was in full command mode, leading the way with his usual swagger. The guards at the entrance gave him a nod of recognition that said, "Here comes trouble," their eyes widening as they took in Jon's extraordinary entourage. If only they knew about Diana and Selina's secret identities. Seriously, who needs Batman and Wonder Woman when you've got these two?
Once inside, the crew was ushered into a sprawling courtyard bursting with the vibrant hues and intoxicating scents of Dornish flora. It was like stepping into a luxurious garden party with a plot twist. Seriously, if this were a movie, this is where the dramatic soundtrack would kick in.
Jon took a moment to appreciate the setting—a serene contrast to the chaotic streets outside. With his team of legends and the plush surroundings, he was ready to tackle whatever came next. And if it involved more epic battles or maybe just a really cool plot twist, he was so ready for it.
Oberyn's grin was the kind that said, *I've got secrets you'll want to know*, as he gestured to the impressive manse they'd just walked into. "Welcome to our temporary refuge in Braavos. Make yourselves comfortable. We've got much to discuss."
Jon—who, under all that Stark broodiness, was just a sixteen-year-old guy trying to nail his Jon Snow impression—nodded with what he hoped was the right amount of gravitas. "Thank you, Oberyn. It's good to have a place to start. We've got a lot ahead of us."
Yeah, like pretending I'm the long-lost Targaryen heir while trying not to get stabbed, poisoned, or propositioned by one of these crazy-hot Sand Snakes. And speaking of crazy… has anyone else noticed that Wonder Woman and Catwoman are just chilling here, trying to act normal? No? Just me? Cool.
Arthur, ever the dutiful knight, stationed himself by the door, scanning the room like he was expecting the walls to sprout swords. Meanwhile, Diana and Selina were taking in the grand surroundings, both of them with an air of casual elegance that screamed, I could take over this place if I wanted to. Which, let's be real, they totally could.
Seriously, how am I supposed to focus on not getting killed when Wonder Woman is right there, pretending to be all normal and stuff? And don't get me started on Selina. She's probably already cased the joint, and I'm pretty sure she's mentally planning her exit strategy in case things go sideways. I need a drink.
Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Ellaria Sand, moving with the kind of grace that said, I own this place, and you better not forget it. Behind her trailed the Sand Snakes, each one looking like they could kill you and then look fabulous at your funeral.
Ellaria's face lit up when she saw Oberyn, and she pulled him into a warm embrace. "You've returned," she said, her voice a mix of relief and affection. Then she turned her attention to the new arrivals, her gaze sharp and curious.
Oberyn, never one to miss a chance for theatrics, poured out the wine like he was the star of a Dornish Red commercial. "To new alliances and the road ahead. May we find victory and vengeance in equal measure."
And may I find a way to get through this without screwing up so badly that I accidentally kickstart the apocalypse. Again.
They all raised their glasses, the sound of the toast echoing through the courtyard. And here's to hoping I don't end up having to explain to Diana why her lasso of truth won't work on me because I technically don't exist in this world. That's a conversation I'm not ready for.
Ellaria sauntered over to Jon, her gaze appraising him like he was some rare artifact she couldn't quite place. "Welcome to our home," she said, her voice smooth and inviting. "You bring interesting company, Oberyn."
Rhea—who Jon knew was really Rhaenys Targaryen but was playing the role of one of Oberyn's daughters—stepped forward with a calm confidence that only added to the whole Targaryen sex appeal thing. She gave Jon a look that could only be described as we're definitely going to make out later, and said, "Ellaria, this is my half-brother, Daemon Targaryen."
Ellaria's eyes widened slightly, clearly intrigued. "Daemon Targaryen?" she repeated, her voice tinged with surprise. "So, you are the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen?"
Oberyn, sensing the tension that could be creeping in, jumped in with that smooth Dornish charm. "Even if Rhaegar and Lyanna might have betrayed my dear sister Elia, we Dornish do not hold the sins of the parents against their children. You are welcome here, Daemon, as family."
Jon gave a slow nod, trying not to let the absurdity of the situation crack his solemn facade. Great, I'm family now. Just the kind of family where everyone's either super hot, super deadly, or both. And don't even get me started on the fact that I've got Wonder Woman and Catwoman here backing me up. I'm supposed to pretend this is normal? Sure. No problem.
"Thank you, Oberyn. And thank you, Ellaria," Jon said, his voice steady and appropriately Stark-like. "I aim to honor both my Stark and Targaryen heritage and to forge a new path forward for all of us."
The Sand Snakes exchanged looks that clearly said, Oh, this just got interesting, and Jon could feel the tension ramping up several notches.
Nymeria was the first to close in, her smile both dangerous and alluring. "Daemon, you certainly inherited the Targaryen good looks," she purred. "Dragons aren't the only things that are legendary, it seems."
Oh, great. Compliments from the deadly snake lady. Because that's not terrifying at all. Seriously, did I accidentally wander into a HBO late-night special?
Tyene, who had somehow managed to sidle up to him without him noticing—thanks, Catwoman,—added, "Yes, those striking features and strong build... You must turn quite a few heads. I wouldn't mind being one of them."
Cue the internal screaming. Someone, please tell me I'm not about to be the center of a Sand Snake seduction plan. I can barely handle normal flirting, let alone this. Also, Diana, if you're secretly enjoying this, I swear…
Obara, ever the blunt one, gave Jon a look that was equal parts appraisal and challenge. "Handsome and strong. Quite the combination. Makes me wonder what other talents you have."
Ellaria chuckled, her gaze practically undressing him on the spot. "It's not every day we meet a Targaryen prince with such charm. You must have quite an effect on the ladies."
Jon could feel his face heating up, and he was pretty sure that if Rhea didn't step in soon, he was going to have a full-blown panic attack. Okay, we've officially gone from Game of Thrones to Game of Oh-Gods-Please-Stop-Flirting-With-Me. How am I supposed to respond to this without sounding like an idiot?
"Thank you. Your... attention is appreciated," he managed to say, trying to sound like he wasn't about to crawl out of his skin.
Rhea stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with something possessive and undeniably Targaryen. "Alright, sisters, that's enough," she said, her tone firm but with a teasing edge. "Back off, I have first claim on our dear Daemon."
The Sand Snakes exchanged knowing smirks, clearly enjoying every second of this. Nymeria raised an eyebrow, her grin wicked. "Oh, do you now?"
Tyene giggled, giving Rhea a playful nudge. "Claim away, sister. Just don't keep him all to yourself."
Obara chuckled, crossing her arms like she was already planning her next move. "Fair enough. We'll let you have your fun—for now."
Ellaria's smile was all indulgent approval as she watched the back-and-forth. "It seems Rhea knows what she wants. Daemon, you've certainly caught her eye."
Jon, still blushing like a schoolboy, looked at Rhea, who was giving him those classic Targaryen we're definitely doing it later eyes. "I didn't realize I had such a... dedicated supporter," he said, his voice softening as he met her gaze.
Rhea's smile was warm and determined, her eyes saying everything that needed to be said. "You do now, Daemon," she replied. "And I intend to make the most of it."
Oberyn, ever the connoisseur of drama, grinned like the cat who'd caught the canary. "Ah, the Targaryen way," he mused. "It seems fate has brought you two together. Embrace it, revel in it. After all, what's life without a bit of excitement?"
And so, here I am, fake-dating my fake-half-sister in front of a bunch of horny, deadly women who are basically Westeros's answer to the Avengers—if the Avengers were really into poison and seduction. And oh yeah, Wonder Woman and Catwoman are right here, watching this whole thing go down. Somebody pinch me, because this has to be a fever dream.
Diana and Selina could practically feel the tension in the room—thick enough to cut with a Valyrian steel sword. But, being seasoned pros—Wonder Woman and Catwoman, no less—they knew when to interject and redirect.
"Perhaps we should focus on our immediate goals for now," Diana suggested, her voice carrying a diplomatic firmness that brooked no argument. You don't mess with Wonder Woman.
Selina, who had her own complicated romantic history (because Batman, obviously), added smoothly, "And let's not forget, he prefers to be called Jon." Her tone was just insistently enough. "We're still trying to keep his Targaryen heritage under wraps, just like Rhaenys is hiding as Rhea."
Jon—who was definitely not Jon Snow but a 16-year-old modern-day Jon Smith transmigrated into his body—shared a knowing look with Rhea. They both understood the stakes, and that their growing attraction was as dangerous as wildfire. But survival and completing their mission were their top priorities.
*Oh great, Jon, you're not actually Jon Snow. Just a 16-year-old kid stuck in a medieval drama. Survival first, awkward Targaryen flirting later. Keep it together, don't blow your cover, and maybe make it out alive. And who knows, you might even get the Targaryen princess to notice you. Because that's totally normal, right?*
Oberyn, with his usual indulgent attitude, reluctantly agreed. Even he could see the wisdom in setting aside personal desires. "Very well," he conceded, sounding like he was putting away a particularly fine bottle of Dornish wine. "Let us focus on our objectives for now. There will be time for such matters later."
"Agreed," Jon—fine, Jon for now—nodded with all the seriousness he could muster. "Our priority is to locate Viserys and Daenerys and ensure their safety. Once we've reunited the last remaining Targaryens, we can figure out what's next."
Translation: Find the crazy dragon prince and his sister before they screw things up even more. And then try to survive this mess. Easy peasy, right?
He glanced around, trying to keep his internal freak-out under control. "Let's not waste any more time. We have a mission to fulfill, and the sooner we start, the better."
Rhea, her eyes glinting with Targaryen determination, stepped up with crucial intel. "Jon," she said, her voice making his heart do a weird flip-flop—Focus, Jon. This is Westeros, not some high school romance.—"the last we heard, Viserys and Daenerys were in Pentos, residing in the Manse of Magister Illyrio Mopatis."
Jon—because what else was he supposed to call himself—nodded, trying to channel his inner brooding Stark with maximum solemnity. "Thank you, Rhea. That gives us a solid starting point."
Oberyn, who had clearly been thinking about other things (like indulging in his hedonistic pleasures), added, "I've dispatched my spies to confirm this information. We should have word by tonight."
Jon gave Oberyn a grateful nod—*Cool, a spy network. Let's hope this doesn't turn into a Red Wedding rerun*—and turned back to the group. "Let's wait for confirmation before making any moves. In the meantime, we'll need to prepare for the journey ahead."
Rhea, her Targaryen intensity unmasked, suggested, "In the meanwhile, how about you show my sisters the 'gifts' you received from the Old Gods?"
Fantastic. Time to play show-and-tell with a bunch of legendary warriors who are probably judging my every move. No pressure.
But outwardly, Jon kept it cool. "Good idea, Rhea. Let's show them what we've got."
And so began the most surreal inventory check of his life. First, he presented Dawnbreaker, the sword that made him fanboy harder than a teenager with a new game console. "Behold," he said, holding it up like a prize, "this is Dawnbreaker, a sword forged from the heart of a fallen star. With its power, we can vanquish our enemies and bring light to the darkest places."
And if it could win beauty pageants, it'd be crowned Miss Westeros. Seriously, it's that cool.
Next was the Wakandan shield. "And here we have my shield," he said, like he was trying not to geek out. "Fashioned from the rarest of metals, it offers unparalleled protection in battle."
Also doubles as a mirror for checking if you've got spinach in your teeth. Because practicality, right?
Finally, Jon turned to the pièce de résistance: the suitcase. Yes, a suitcase. In Westeros. Just roll with it.
"But perhaps the most extraordinary of all," he said with the gravity of someone about to pull off a magic trick, "is this humble-looking suitcase." With a flourish, he opened it to reveal its vast interior. "Inside lies a realm of endless possibilities, where anything is possible and nothing is beyond our reach."
The Sand Snakes—no easy crowd to impress—looked genuinely awestruck. Okay, one point for Jon—no, not Jon—ugh, whatever, one point for me. Now if only I could navigate this mess without dying or getting caught up in more Targaryen drama.
As the Sand Snakes stepped into the suitcase—I swear, this sounds insane—their eyes widened at the sight. Ghost, the badass direwolf, sat regally, his red eyes giving them the side-eye.
Beside him was Midnight, the shadowcat, blending into the shadows like the ninja kitty she was, her tail flicking in anticipation.
And then, of course, there was Vermithor, the Night Fury—because apparently, Jon Snow's life wasn't complicated enough without adding a dragon to the mix. The Sand Snakes watched in stunned silence as the dragon emerged, wings unfurling in a display of majestic power.
Yeah, nothing like showing off a dragon to make people realize they've been underestimating you. Just another day in the crazy life of Jon Snow—wait, no, the crazy life of me.
—
Once the group had dispersed, Oberyn led Jon and Arthur to their rooms. Meanwhile, Ellaria and the Dornish women guided Diana and Selina to the luxurious bathhouse within their manse.
As the Dornish ladies began disrobing with their usual nonchalance, Selina and Diana remained composed, their expressions betraying no hint of surprise. Their lives had been a whirlwind of adventure and audacious escapades, and they were no strangers to unconventional scenarios.
Selina, the consummate seductress with a thief's eye for detail, flashed a sly grin as she surveyed the Dornish women. Her gaze lingered with a hint of appreciation, acknowledging their unshakable confidence. Diana, having been raised among the formidable Amazons, observed with a blend of curiosity and admiration, recognizing the strength and resilience in the Dornish women's unapologetic display of self-assurance.
The two women exchanged a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the shared experience of embracing one's true self despite societal norms or expectations.
As they settled into the warm embrace of the bath, enveloped in the opulent luxury of the Dornish bathhouse, the Dornish women wasted no time in immersing Diana and Selina into their world of uninhibited conversation.
"Have you seen his eyes?" Obara, one of the Sand Snakes, quipped with a smirk, her tone thick with suggestive intent.
"Oh, I've seen more than just his eyes," Nymeria chimed in, her gaze flickering mischievously between Selina and Diana. "And let me tell you, they're just as captivating as they say."
Selina's lips curled into a sly grin as she responded with a knowing chuckle. "Oh, I'm well aware of the effect his eyes can have," she teased, her voice dripping with playful flirtation. "But there's so much more to him than meets the eye, wouldn't you agree, Diana?"
Diana, intrigued by the conversation, nodded with an amused smile. "Indeed," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. "His... gifts seem to extend far beyond his eyes."
The Dornish women erupted into laughter, their voices resonating off the tiled walls of the bathhouse as they exchanged knowing glances and suggestive remarks. Surrounded by steam and the heady aroma of scented oils, Selina and Diana were drawn into the spirited camaraderie, their own contributions weaving into the playful banter and risqué gossip that filled the air.
—
Oberyn's voice filled the room with tales of Essos that seemed almost too fantastical to be true.
"You wouldn't believe the sights I've seen," Oberyn said, his excitement practically vibrating through the air. "From the sprawling cities of Slaver's Bay to the mystical forests of Yi Ti, Essos is a land of wonders."
Jon, who was totally not Jon Snow but a modern-day Jon Smith awkwardly playing the role of the brooding Stark, leaned in. Right, let's absorb this. I'm here pretending to be Jon Snow while trying not to blow my cover or get killed. So, Essos, hit me with your best shots.
"Tell me more," Jon said, trying to sound like he genuinely cared about whatever cool stuff was in Essos.
Oberyn grinned, leaning back with that self-satisfied smirk that screamed, Yeah, I'm the coolest person in the room. "There was the time I fought alongside the Second Sons in the Disputed Lands," he started. "We were hired by a wealthy merchant to guard his caravan from bandits. The battles were fierce, but the pay was excellent."
Jon nodded, picturing the chaos of battle in his head. Bandits, mercenaries, sounds like an epic RPG quest. I should be getting XP points for this. Or at least a cool trophy.
"And what about the Free Cities?" Jon asked, trying to sound as interested as he felt. "Are they really as magnificent as they say?"
Oberyn's eyes lit up, clearly relishing the chance to brag. "Indeed they are," he said. "Each city has its own unique culture and customs. From the grandeur of Volantis to the mystery of Braavos, there's something for everyone in the Free Cities."
Jon found himself drawn into Oberyn's tales, despite knowing way too much about this world already. Man, if only this were a video game, I'd be leveling up faster than you can say 'dragon.' And I'd probably have some cheat codes by now.
"Have you ever explored the ruins of Old Valyria?" Jon asked, trying to sound scholarly.
Oberyn shook his head, clearly excited by the mere thought. "Not yet," he admitted. "But it's definitely on my list. The ruins are said to be full of secrets and dangers, but that's part of the allure."
Jon nodded as if he were deeply contemplating a future trip. "Perhaps we could plan an expedition there someday," he suggested. "It would be risky, but the rewards could be immense."
Oberyn's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "I like the way you think, Jon," he said, his grin widening. "An expedition to Old Valyria would be an adventure unlike any other."
Awesome, now I've just signed up for a treasure hunt in a dragon-infested ruin. Why not add a few more impossible tasks to my list? At least it'll make for one heck of a story later. Assuming I survive, of course.
—
The moonlight poured into Jon's room, casting an eerie, silver glow that made the shadows dance on the walls. Jon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, restless and unable to sleep. Ah, the classic sleepless night scenario. If only I had a magical snooze button. Or a script with less drama.
He was just about to count sheep when the door creaked open. His heart leapt into his throat. Here comes trouble, or at least a plot twist I didn't expect.
Then, in the doorway, was Rhea, silhouetted by moonlight. Her entrance was so graceful it could have been choreographed by a professional. The outfit she wore—well, let's just say it was more "revealing" than anything Jon had seen at a Winterfell feast. His eyes widened, and his mind did somersaults. *Well, this is unexpected. Did I accidentally switch to a different show?*
Rhea approached with a feline grace that would make a cat jealous, her steps silent and confident. She settled beside Jon's bed. Okay, Jon, focus. This isn't a dream sequence. Or maybe it is. I need a decision tree.
"Rhea…" Jon began, his voice cracking like an overused punchline.
Rhea's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned closer. "I couldn't resist," she purred. "The night is young, and so are we."
Jon's heart pounded like a war drum. He tried to sound cool. "I couldn't agree more."
Rhea, with a playful grin, climbed onto the bed and sat beside him. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice smooth and inviting.
Jon's breath caught in his throat. Oh great, it's happening. And I'm supposed to be Jon Snow. Is this some sort of initiation rite?
"I… I don't know," he stammered, feeling more like a deer caught in the headlights than a brooding hero.
Rhea chuckled and gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. "Relax, Jon," she said softly, sending shivers down his spine. "I just thought we could… talk."
Jon's mind was a blender of confusion and awkwardness. "Sure, talking sounds… good," he said, trying to sound casual.
Then Rhea dropped a bombshell. "I've never been with a man before."
Jon blinked, caught off guard. Wow. This is like finding out your favorite TV show just got a surprise plot twist. And not the kind you want.
"You… you're a virgin?" Jon echoed, his disbelief apparent.
Rhea laughed, clearly enjoying his surprise. "Surprised? Guess I'm not your typical Sand Snake."
Jon let out a nervous laugh. "I suppose not," he admitted, his relief evident. "But it's… refreshing, in a way."
As they exchanged light-hearted banter, Jon felt an unexpected warmth. He took a deep breath. "I haven't been with a woman either," he confessed, trying to sound vulnerable as he reached out to hold her face.
Rhea's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Have you never even been to a brothel?"
Jon hesitated, then chose his words carefully. "Once," he said, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Theon and Robb took me to one in Wintertown. They… they paid for a whore to spend the night with me." He tried to sound embarrassed, hoping it would fit his Jon Snow persona.
Rhea's playful demeanor softened. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she said gently. "We all have our experiences. What matters is how we handle them."
Jon looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "It was awkward," he admitted, his voice soft. "I didn't know what to do, and… it just didn't feel right."
He paused, a shadow crossing his face. "Until recently, I was Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell," he continued, channeling Jon's vulnerability. "The idea of being with a woman, of her possibly getting with child because of me, of fathering another Bastard… It was too much. So I froze, and then I ran."
Rhea's expression softened, her understanding evident. She reached out and touched his shoulder, offering comfort. "It's okay, Jon," she said with warmth. "You were just a boy trying to navigate a tough world. But now, you're different. You've faced challenges and shown great compassion."
Her voice grew resolute. "You are not Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell. You are Daemon Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, a Dragon of House Targaryen."
Jon felt the weight of her words. He struggled to embrace this new identity she was offering. As she spoke of his transformation from Jon Snow to Daemon Targaryen, he nodded, trying to accept this role.
Before he could fully process it, Rhea kissed him with an intensity that took him by surprise. As she straddled him, Jon's heart raced with a mix of excitement and confusion. He tried to align his feelings with the expectations placed on him, pushing aside doubts of his true origin.
In that moment, Jon realized their connection was more profound than he initially understood. Embracing Rhea and the identity she affirmed, he sought to become the powerful figure she saw in him, even as he grappled with his internal conflict.
—
As they lay entwined in the moonlit room, Jon turned to Rhea with a wry grin. "So, I thought you said you were a virgin," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. He tried to sound casual, but inside, he was thinking, Great, now I'm debating the virginity status of a Sand Snake. Just another day in the weirdest fantasy crossover ever.
Rhea, still catching her breath, gave him a playful look. "I said I'd never been with a man," she replied, her tone dripping with teasing confidence. "Didn't say anything about the women I've been with."
Jon chuckled, shaking his head as he tried to absorb the unexpected twist. Of course. She's a Sand Snake with secrets—why am I not surprised? "You're full of surprises, Rhea. Or should I say Rhaenys?"
Rhea leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "How about this," she suggested, her voice low and playful, "When we're in bed, we're Daemon and Rhaenys. Outside of it, we're Jon and Rhea."
Jon's eyes twinkled with affection as he kissed her back. Oh, perfect. A split personality arrangement—why not? "I think I can live with that," he murmured, his voice warm. "Daemon and Rhaenys here, Jon and Rhea out there. Sounds like a plan to me."
Jon's fingers traced light patterns along Rhea's spine, the soft moonlight casting a silver glow over her as she lay on her stomach. With a mischievous grin, he gave her side a playful nudge. "So, what's the deal with you and the Sack of King's Landing?" he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity.
Rhea turned to face him, her eyes holding a blend of solemnity and vulnerability. "I wasn't actually there for the Sack," she confessed, her voice heavy with the weight of her past. "My mother, Elia, handed me off to Oberyn after the Tourney of Harrenhal. She knew things were about to go sideways when Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark."
Jon's mind was racing. So, Rhea's not just another pretty face with a tragic backstory. Got it. He could see the pain in her eyes as she continued, "My mother made a huge sacrifice to keep me safe. She entrusted me to Oberyn, who even got a Dornish orphan to pass as me at court."
Jon's heart ached for her. "Your mother was incredibly brave," he said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. Talk about a family drama. And here I thought watching the show was enough.
Rhea gave him a faint smile, gratitude and sorrow mingling in her expression. "Oberyn raised me as his own," she said, her voice steady. "But when it came time for the Aegon decoy plan, it was too late. The chaos of the Usurper's Rebellion wrecked it all."
Jon nodded, admiring her even more. "You've been through a lot, Rhaenys," he said softly. This girl's story makes my high school drama look like a sitcom.
Rhea's voice carried a hint of bitterness. "I could blame you for what Rhaegar and Lyanna did," she said, meeting Jon's gaze with determination. "For what my family lost because of them." She paused, her expression conflicted. "But Oberyn's right. We can't blame the child for the sins of the parents."
Jon felt a surge of warmth as he absorbed her words. She's really got that Targaryen fire going. I think I'm falling for this character. "Thank you, Rhea," he said genuinely, squeezing her hand. "With you by my side, I feel like we can handle anything—like real Targaryen dragons."
As he spoke, he couldn't help but think, So, this is what it feels like to be in a fantasy soap opera. With dragons and royalty and, well, a lot of emotional baggage.
In a clear attempt to change the subject, Rhea pressed her naked body against Jon's side with a playful smirk, her curves tantalizingly close. "So, what do you say, sweet brother? Ready to learn the 'Lord's Kiss'?" Her voice was a sultry purr, making the air between them crackle with electricity.
Jon tried to sound nonchalant, but his heartbeat quickened. "Absolutely, sister dearest," he said with a teasing grin. "I'm all ears for your... lessons."
As the conversation melted into heated gazes, Jon's hands began to explore Rhea's body. His touch was deliberate and slow, tracing every curve with a blend of curiosity and reverence. Oh great, so this is what being a knight in shining armor and total nerd feels like, huh? Pretty sure this isn't in the original script of "Game of Thrones."
The dim candlelight cast flickering shadows, setting the stage for their passionate encounter. Jon's touch drew shivers from Rhea, and as their lips met in a fervent kiss, the world outside seemed to vanish. Every sigh and moan filled the room, heightening the sensual tension between them.
Their bodies intertwined in a rhythm that grew more urgent with each passing moment. Jon's thoughts raced, caught between the excitement of the moment and the absurdity of his situation. Seriously, is this how it's supposed to go down in the "Game of Thrones" reboot?
With a final, longing kiss, Jon shifted his position, lowering his face between Rhea's legs. The heat and scent of her arousal overwhelmed his senses. Here we go, facing the "wildlings" of the night. Hope this doesn't get me a "not suitable for under 18" rating.
As Jon's breath touched her core, Rhea's reaction was immediate, her body arching and her grip tightening on his hair. The intense pleasure built between them, each moment of connection leaving them both breathless and yearning for more.
—
As Rhea drifted into a peaceful sleep beside him, Jon lay there, listening to the quiet of the night. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the wind outside, and the occasional creak of the bed as he shifted. With a deep breath, he reached out to Hestia, the mysterious presence in his mind.
"Hestia," Jon said softly into the silence, "what's the word? Any updates from the cosmic scoreboard?"
In the vast, shadowy expanse of his thoughts, Hestia appeared. Her form glowed with an otherworldly light, like a celestial beacon in his mental landscape. Her smile was serene and calming, a contrast to the whirlwind of Jon's thoughts.
"You've done exceptionally well, Jon," Hestia's voice floated through the mental ether, smooth and melodic. "You've earned a substantial amount of Gacha Points—500, to be exact."
Jon's mental eyebrows shot up. 500 points? he thought, incredulous. Did I just score big for my performance in bed? Was there an additional "romantic escapade" bonus or something? He did a quick mental tally: 750 points total. Why do I feel like I'm in some twisted RPG now?
Not one to let things slide, Jon couldn't help but ask, "Hestia, am I missing something here? Are you, by any chance, a bit of a... voyeur?"
Hestia's response was swift and defensive, her presence shimmering with indignation. "I am not a voyeur, Jon!" she snapped, her voice carrying a note of indignation. "I'm an impartial observer, simply tallying rewards based on the Gacha system's parameters."
Jon's inner monologue was anything but convinced. Impartial, huh? Sure, and I'm the King of Westeros. How deep does this rabbit hole go? He rolled the thought around, feeling a mix of discomfort and curiosity. The more he pondered it, the more he wondered just how much influence Hestia had in the surreal adventure he found himself in.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!
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