Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

He was divine now… but that didn’t mean he had to be self-sacrificing and all-encompassing good. Gods were not always righteous and just, that much he’d already known. That was all to say… if Meraxes wanted to stick around, then who was he to deny her that? She wanted to stay, he wanted her… but at the same time, he wanted her for what she could be, not for what she was.

While her current form was massive in comparison to his three dragons, it was ultimately meaningless. Jon was… he was a God now, albeit one in mortal flesh. Still, with the power he could now call upon, he didn’t need Meraxes as she was. Which meant he had leave to change her into what he wanted of her instead, and in the process maybe he would even make a real girl of her at the same time.

“Perhaps I do not want another dragon, Meraxes.”

The shade of a Goddess’ narrows her draconic eyes at that, easily seeing past his words to the underlining meaning of what he was saying. Slowly, she bows herself low to the ground in supplication.

“Then what would the young master want of me? Name it, and I shall endeavor to be it.”

No, it was easier if he just did it, rather than forcing her to try and shave herself down. Rather than reply, Jon reaches out and takes ahold of Meraxes with his mind, his senses exploding outwards in a way that wasn’t possible before. Or maybe it was always possible, and he simply didn’t understand. There was so much that made sense now when it hadn’t previously. His… nascent godhood put things into perspective, there was no denying that.

Meraxes’ massive draconic form seizes up under his hold, the shade of a Goddess going tense as her eyes widen. But Jon shows neither mercy nor hesitation. There can be no ‘let’s take this slow’ with this kind of thing. Either he acts with purpose and haste, or it might all come unraveled and Meraxes will be destroyed regardless of no choice of either of theirs.

And so, he begins to work, like a painter on a canvas… or more accurately, like a sculptor with marble or clay. After all, this is no blank canvas. This shade of a Goddess is truly a mess of a creature, a mass of wriggling essence, a fragment of what had once been but could never be again with the fall of Valyria. And so, Jon moves metaphysical hands through said essence, cutting away at the edges, rounding them down and working to get rid of the frayed nature of her existence.

As he’d thought, this would have been impossible if he’d tried to keep her in her draconic form. Binding her to him would have certainly been possible. Easing some of her suffering, sure. But there was no way to properly shape a sculpture without carving away lots and lots of the raw material first. And so, Jon carves. He carves and he scoops, and he takes from Meraxes, flinging what he cuts from her away into nothingness, letting it fade back into the fabric of the universe.

The great hulking dragon before him shivers and shudders, buckling under his work. And then parts of her begin to slog off. An entire wing, to start with. Claws. Scales. Pounds upon pounds of dragon flesh. Until her entire head and long neck fall away from her, rapidly decaying and vanishing much in the same way King Tommen II did after Jon consumed the fragment of Balerion.

He’s not consuming this shade however, he’s… repurposing her. Even as the dragon falls to pieces and decays, there is SOMETHING left behind… or rather, someone. Under all that flesh and scales turning to dust and vanishing into nothing, a body is left… a humanoid body, even a human body in a lot of ways. Jon… doesn’t try to control this part of the shaping.

He lets his power and what it’s telling him of Meraxes do it for him. With one of his twin divinities coming from the original Dragon Goddess herself, it’s easy enough to just go with the flow and let that part of him take the wheel. As such, he doesn’t know what to expect from his work until the sculpted woman rises from the ashes of her previous form. He has to admit though… his efforts manage to take his breath away, if only for a second.

Meraxes, because she still needed a name, was beautiful. Unquestionably Valyrian features stare back at him as he soaks in her presence. Long, beautiful, cascading hair in silver-gold and white down her back. Striking violet eyes, set in a beautiful face with full, pillowy lips and high cheekbones. And from the neck down, her body wasn’t anything to scoff at either. Full breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, long legs.

Of course, she was not entirely human. Here and there, there were smatterings of silver scales, glistening in the torch light of the room. They mixed and melded with her flesh almost seamlessly, a simple reminder of what she really was… or perhaps, what she’d come from.

If not for the scales, Jon would call her a dead ringer for Daenerys’ long departed mother, Rhaella Targaryen. Not because he’d ever seen what Rhaella looked like, because he hadn’t… but because she was Dany herself, only twenty years older. Rather than a nubile young woman like Jon’s khaleesi, Meraxes’ new form was that of a fully matured woman. A mother of dragons to put even Dany to shame.

Looking down at herself, at her five fingered hands and at her naked body, Meraxes blinks.

“I see- oh. That’s… different.”

One of her hands comes up to run across her bobbing throat as she gets used to her new voice. Jon, meanwhile, can’t help but draw closer. He’s fascinated by just what he’s created… and of course, aroused by her beauty. He’s still a man, after all.

“You truly are the heir to my true self’s legacy, young master. This form… this was the Avatar I preferred to take, the appearance I would assume, when I deigned to speak to the Dragon Priests of Valyria, all those years ago. I can only assume there is no coincidence here.”

Jon cocks his head to the side for a moment before nodding and answering honestly.

“There is not. I let that part of myself guide me as I reshaped you.”

Her full pillowy lips curl back into a smile and her violet eyes dance as she steps up to him, closing the last bit of distance between them.

“I live to serve you, Master.”

And then, putting words to action, Meraxes drops to her knees then and there, making Jon’s breath hitch. Obviously, he was expecting as much. But still, he’s no less aroused when she takes the initiative, working open his pants and pulling out his cock. Cooing at the sight of his raging erection and mammoth-sized member, Meraxes proceeds to put her new womanly form to good use, wrapping her breasts around his shaft and looking up at him with amusement in her face.

“Is this what my Master wants? To see me debase myself in service to him?”

“… For now, yes.”

“Of course, Master. Please, use this worthless concubine to your heart’s content. I am but a slave for my master’s pleasure…”

Getting to work, even as his cock jumps at her words, Meraxes leans forward and spits down into her cleavage, while at the same time sliding her tits up and down his shaft faster and faster. Lubricating the passage, she works him over with her breasts, before finally taking advantage of his size and swallowing the head of his cock whole as it pops out from betwixt her massive tits again and again.

“Ommph~”

Jon groans, resting a hand atop Meraxes’ head and enjoying her mouth and tongue greatly. Especially when she hums, showing off serious technique as her mouth vibrates across his glans. He’s a little startled to see how well she knows how to service him with that body of hers… but then he realizes, he’d made it so. Without even consciously choosing it, he’s bonded them. He was supposed to, to be fair, but he hadn’t even thought about it as she’d risen in her new form, and they’d began to talk.

Except, some part of him clearly had. She was his in mind, body, and soul now. The fragment of a dead Goddess was no more. This Meraxes was merely a woman… a woman single-mindedly devoted and loyal to her new God. She would certainly serve him… but Jon wanted more. And while he knew now that he was a God, not merely a dragon… he was still decidedly a Dragon God.

With a lust-filled growl, he pulls Meraxes off of his cock and lifts her up. Sensing his intentions with ease, his new priestess, the first of his true religion, moans as she wraps her arms and legs around him. A moment later, he’s impaled her upon his cock and is bouncing her up and down as he stands there, sturdy as a tree trunk.

Meraxes cries out, tossing her head back in ecstasy… and thrusting her tits up into his face. How could he do anything but take advantage of the feast on offer before him? Leaning forward, Jon’s eyes spark as he takes one of her tits halfway into his mouth, not just sucking the nipple, but biting down into the breast flesh as his tongue works over her teat.

Then, he swaps to the other, playing between them for a time. All the while, his cock continues to thrust upwards as he plunges her new body down onto his member, impaling her over and over again. He thrusts deep within her, wondering if this new body of hers is capable of getting pregnant.

But then, of course it is. His divinity helpfully informs him of this fact within a moment of Jon having the thought, and also eagerly informs him of his ability to decide whether or not Meraxes would get pregnant with this coupling. Luckily, he’d already had that conversation with Dany about Bellegere all that time ago, wasn’t it?

Because of that, because he already knows Dany’s opinion on the matter, Jon doesn’t hold back. He fucks Meraxes deep and soundly, feeling as she orgasms for him time and time again, bouncing on his member. He sucks her nipples, one after the other, and imagines them lactating for him… only to discover they do so on his unintentional mental command, letting him drink deeply of her breasts, which are full in more ways than one.

Mewling and moaning, Meraxes offers up nothing but words of encouragement and desire, expressing her happiness through both verbal ecstasy and her actions as she clings to him all the harder, holding on tight as he fucks her silly and then some. And when the time finally comes, when Jon finally reaches his own release… he doesn’t hesitate to spill his seed inside of Meraxes. He doesn’t hesitate to fill her with his cum and not just finalize making her his woman, but also breed her as well, impregnating her on the spot.

His priestess can clearly feel this desire through their bond, as she cries out in lust and ecstasy, tossing her jubilation upwards towards the massive chamber’s ceiling.

“Yes! Breed me, Master! Fill my womb with your seed and make me a mother! May your children spread across the surface of this world and bring about a new age of enlightenment!”

Hm, that didn’t sound half bad, if he was being honest…

-x-X-x-

It’s strange to think that his journey to Old Valyria is finally over, and with such success as well. Of course, it’s not quite that simple… but only because Jon has brought quite a lot of mortal men with him, in the end. Now that he’s come into his full power, disabling the ancient magics that protected Valyria and its riches from the likes of greedy men like King Tommen is a simple enough task.

With his natural charisma and all-around charm, which he now knows comes from his divinity, Jon is able to get his people to work on collecting Valyria’s riches within the day. His arrival back at the harbor had been met with awe, not just because Meraxes was beside him, wrapped in a sheet and yet still looking beautiful and sexy. While Jon had not changed in physical appearance, he’d changed in metaphysical appearance… and even the mortal men who followed him could feel that.

Meraxes, when he wasn’t fucking her, quickly got to work on proclaiming him a God and beginning to proselytize to the gathered Dothraki and Unsullied around her. Needless to say, both groups were taking to her teachings with not-so-startling ease, the Dothraki already ready to follow him to the ends of the earth as the Stallion That Mounts The World and the Unsullied ready to accept that one of their saviors was divine.

Of course, Meraxes had her hands full when one of the Unsullied thought for themselves long enough to ask if this meant Daenerys was divine as well. Perhaps sensing that rejecting the idea out of hand would cause problems for her, his priestess had gone ahead and declared Daenerys a Dragon Saint… and then not actually explained what that meant. She didn’t need to though in the end, the officious and important sounding title mollified her Unsullied students.

Meanwhile, Jon was busy cataloging Valyria’s wealth. He was now the richest man on the planet, more than likely. Of course, he’d already been pretty high up there before he took a trip to this peninsula and uncovered his own divinity while ransacking Valyria. But regardless, the amount of Valyrian Steel he now had was enough to outfit an army. And not just in swords and other weaponry either, but in mundane things such as cups and plates and utensils. 

Truly, he was now wealthy beyond compare. But Jon didn’t care about that. What he cared about… was finishing what he started. He had a decision to make now, a choice in front of him once again. Valyria was… Valyria was his, and perhaps he could make it into a proper stronghold, given time. But the rest of the world continued to turn around him as he did other things, and Jon was more aware of that then ever now. 

His awareness, in fact, spread rather far. He couldn’t quite call it omniscience, because he couldn’t see everything everywhere with full clarity, but his sight certainly extended beyond that of a mortal man now. For instance, he could easily peer into Volantis from where he was and see, despite their vaunted massive black walls, that they had imprisoned a beautiful Red Priestess named Kinvara for daring to speak in his name.

The choice between Volantis and Valyria that he’d made ages ago, the decision to come here instead of going there next… it had cost her dearly. But Jon couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Still, she was there, and he was here. He should probably do something about that.

At the same time though, he could look even further afield to his home of Westeros. It had been years since he’d been back, and he already knew that the people of Westeros had not simply frozen in time while he was gone. They had continued to live their lives… which usually entailed killing each other, more often than not. The continent had been embroiled in war for so long.

Unfortunately, either because of the distance or because of the Seven’s hold on the continent, Westeros was more clouded to him than anywhere in Essos. Irritating to say the least, but from what Jon COULD tell by ‘looking’ in that direction, things had… momentarily calmed down, at least. What that meant, he could not say. In the end, did it matter? Things would likely not stay calm for long. And he had a duty, both to his people and to the Iron Bank, to eventually return to Westeros and take the Iron Throne.

Those were his options for the moment. Volantis, to save this Kinvara woman… or leaving her to her fate and venturing to Westeros, to begin finishing what his father and mother started decades ago… and what a Valyrian God and Goddess had started centuries before that.

-x-X-x-

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