Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

Jon was a nascent Dragon God. With that came a certain possessive nature to his divinity. The desire to hoard, to take, to own… all of that swirled around him. The desire to conquer too. As such, he really could have gone either way in this moment. But at the same time, as a nascent God, he needed to decide his domains, didn’t he?
 
He wasn’t entirely sure how that worked, but something told him it wasn’t really a choice he got to make. Instead, his domains were tied into his very sense of self, his actions, his soul. And indeed, there were things that he’d done since leaving Winterfell that made sense for what he could call his domains.
 
For starters, he’d traveled and traveled, not stopping and settling down anywhere, but instead continuing forward this entire time. Years he’d spent traveling at this point… indeed, in the future one of his titles might even be the Traveler. But there were the other things as well. His courage and unending determination were both evident in the way he’d challenged first Drogo for Daenerys, and then acted decisively to end the threat Viserys posed to him and his khaleesi. There was courage in the way he’d chosen to fight the Dothraki culture, refusing to let it subsume him and instead transforming it into something more tolerable to his sensibilities.
 
Of course, looking back Jon now knew that it was his divine spark which allowed him to pull off the incredible bullshit that he’d pulled off with the Dothraki. Even just being their messiah figure wouldn’t have saved him if he were naught more than a man. But because he WAS more than a man, he’d succeeded in all that he’d set out to do.
 
That could be another domain, that of Victory and Conquest. He had never lost, never even truly stumbled. His path had been obvious to him from the beginning, and he’d never once stopped moving forward in order to accomplish his goals. And indeed, he’d accomplished every single goal that he set out to accomplish.
 
But more than all of that, Jon felt that his first and primary domain… it had to be Freedom. Starting with the Dothraki, Jon had freed slaves wherever he’d gone. He’d abolished slavery in Vaes Dothrak and all across the Grass Sea, and then he’d gone on to abolish slavery in a place literally called Slaver’s Bay. Freedom… it was something near and dear to Jon’s heart, if he had to be honest.
 
Perhaps that’s why he could see it, when he gazed upon Kinvara. The chains of dripping red, lodged in her sense of self, in her soul. You didn’t get to be the First Servant of the Lord of Light without taking on some spiritual shackles from what Jon could see. And really… that was more offensive to his sensibilities then anything.
 
Reaching forward, Jon lays his actual physical palms upon Kinvara’s cheeks, causing her to look up at him with teary eyes. The broken High Priestess doesn’t seem to know what to do now that her world has come crashing down around her. So Jon helps her out a little bit, and gives the beautiful woman the clarity she deserves.
 
He could have been swift and ruthless in tearing out those chains of hers, he could have done it quickly and left her soul in tatters for him to reshape in the same way he had reshaped Meraxes. But no, he takes his time and does it right, slowly unhooking each chain from the depths of Kinvara’s soul and healing over the gaping wounds left behind in a manner that no doubt causes her pain, but also such sweet relief right alongside it.
 
She gasps, her mouth hanging open as she stares at him in awe and bewilderment. Jon just continues to smile down at her, even as he does his grisly but so very necessary work. Indeed, R’hllor’s hooks don’t want to go. The Red God was not looking to give up one of his most devoted servants so easily. But there was no direct interference. Indeed, Jon was beginning to believe fully with all his heart that the Lord of Light was afraid of him. No matter how Jon stretched out his divine senses, R’hllor was nowhere to be found, despite Volantis being the veritable seat of his power.
 
And so, eventually the task is done and Kinvara is as healed as she can be, while also finally being free. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, Jon gives her a gracious smile as she kneels there, gazing up at him in absolute wonder.
 
“You’re free, Kinvara. High Priestess no more, I declare you free of the shackles of the Red God. You are your own woman, to do with yourself as you please.”
 
Mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a bit, it takes Kinvara time to find the words. When she does, she sounds absolutely flabbergasted, but also tentatively joyous.
 
“I-I had no idea. I didn’t think… how could I not have known?”
 
Shaking his head, Jon sighs.
 
“R’hllor’s claws were deep within you. His hold on his followers is most insidious. No mortal could never have known. You cannot blame yourself.”
 
Latching onto what he said in the middle, Kinvara’s eyes light up.
 
“B-But you knew. You knew and you healed me… you freed me. You… you truly are a God in your own right, aren’t you?”
 
Jon chuckles and inclines his head.
 
“I am. I am the first God of Valyria this world has seen in over four hundred years. I am of the Dragons, but I am also of Freedom, of Courage and Self-determination, and of Victory. I am Jon Targaryen, I am Jhono, Khal of Khals, and I am a number of other titles and names I have simply not been given yet. Rise Kinvara. Rise and leave this place by my side.”
 
Slowly, the former High Priestess begins to rise to her feet… only to sink back down to her knees. For a moment, Jon thinks she might be weak still, but no, she did so on purpose… so that she could reach for his buckle, for his trousers. While he’d half-expected this, he still affects a certain amount of surprise as he raises an eyebrow at her.
 
“My dear?”
 
Blushing, the woman, admittedly young for her position but still older than him, begins to work open his pants and extract his cock from their confines.
 
“You have given me my freedom. I choose to use it f-for this. I choose to worship as a woman might worship a man… I choose to worship as a priestess might worship her God brought before her in mortal flesh.”
 
Certainly a poignant and almost moving statement… and only slightly ruined by her immediately taking his cock in her mouth a moment later. Letting out a soft chuckle, Jon places a hand atop Kinvara’s head and lets her suck his cock. If that’s what she wants, he’s certainly not going to stop her. After all, the freedom of choice is quite important to him now, even more so than it was before.
 
Eyes looking up at him, gazing upon his features almost reverently, Kinvara bobs up and down on his cock, sucking and slurping away without fail as she takes him into her mouth and indeed, does her best to worship him with all her heart. With her lips wrapped around his length and her tongue writhing along the underside of his member, it’s not long before Jon is letting out a heartfelt groan and cumming right down her throat.
 
She swallows every last drop, of course, drinking down his seed with her hands clasped in front of her, almost like… almost like she’s praying. Jon realizes belatedly that’s exactly what she’s doing, and he feels a bit of light from her repaired soul as the godly woman repledges herself to him with a religious fervor he has yet to encounter.
 
… This better not awaken anything in him. He was the God of Freedom or something damnit, not the God of Debauched Worship!
 
-x-X-x-
 
Needless to say, the middle of a dungeon wasn’t the best place to get a blowjob in the first place, so Jon doesn’t let things go any further than that, at least down there. Instead, after she’s done swallowing his load, he leads Kinvara up out of the dungeon depths she’d been imprisoned in, and back into Volantis proper. Now under his control, the First Daughter is at his mercy… so Jon does what he does best and goes about setting it’s peoples free.
 
Meanwhile, he has a bone-deep certainty of what he needs to do next, and not even an insatiable priestess is going to stop him from getting ready.
 
And so Jon gathers his advisors and close loved ones together in the most expensive palace of the city, to talk about finally going to Westeros. That’s how they all find themselves gathered around a table, effectively calling a war council, but with Kinvara bent over in front of him, his cock buried in her twat.
 
Thankfully, everyone seemed to be… very understanding?
 
Jorio Dyniros very deliberately doesn’t look him in the eye as the Braavosi Mercenary Captain clears his throat.
 
“Your majesty… the latest news from Westeros has arrived.”
 
Inclining his head, Jon gives him his full attention.
 
“Let’s hear it. I’m not going to abide by any further of a wait… I intend for us to head for Westeros next. It’s been long enough since I saw my homeland, and I’m sure that the Iron Bank has great hopes for me to finally make good on my obligations.”
 
Chuckling, Captain Dyniros just shrugs, even as the others around the table smile at the self deprecation.
 
“I wouldn’t be so worried about that, Your Grace. The tribute you’ve sent back to the Iron Bank throughout your… travels across Essos has already made a sizable dent in the debt that is owed to my employers by the Iron Throne.”
 
Jon smirks at that.
 
“Hm, I suppose conquering multiple cities and then ransacking the remains of Old Valyria would be quite productive and profitable. Imagine that.”
 
“Indeed, Your Majesty. As for the situation in Westeros… now does seem like the best time for you to head over there. Things in the Seven Kingdoms are in dire straits. The War of the Five Kings is long over… but has in turn been replaced by a much colder, calmer conflict, one between Westeros’ remaining rulers… all of whom appear to be women.”
 
Jon blinks at that, a little surprised.
 
“All… women? Truly? How does that work. No, first… what of Robb Stark and the North?”
 
Here, Dyniros winces, no doubt having been informed of Jon’s connection to Robb. Not for the first time, Jon feels a distinct stab of irritation over his inability to gaze upon Westeros proper with his divine senses. He’d tried before, but only been able to get a sense that things had at least died down a bit. Of course, that might be explained by all of the highborn men in Westeros dying… but that was ridiculous, right?
 
“Unfortunately, King Stark is dead and has been for quite some time. The only solace I can offer you is that those who are said to have had a hand in his murder were all slain as well.”
 
And so Captain Dyniros begins to explain, and Jon learns of such awful events as the Red Wedding, while also hearing joyous tidings in the form of the Purple Wedding. The names weren’t exactly inspired, but they were apt, he had to admit. At times, he fucks Kinvara harder and faster, his anger ultimately taken out on her until he can realize what he’s doing and calm down again.
 
His adoring and devoted priestess just takes it though, covering her mouth to avoid moaning too loudly while Captain Dyniros continues to explain. By the time he’s done, Jon isn’t sure he wants to believe what he’s hearing… but he does. Dyniros isn’t lying, and while some of the details might be off or out-dated because of how long it takes information to travel, the broad strokes are probably true in most cases.
 
Indeed, it would appear that most of the noblemen of the Seven Kingdoms have died, either on battlefields in the War of the Five Kings, or falling to treachery, some from within their own houses, some from without.
 
Robb had died in the Red Wedding and taken much of his army with him. But Jon was gratified to hear that it was Sansa Stark who now ruled as Lady in the North. How she’d done so was a little less exciting to hear… apparently, his sister had grown up a lot since he’d last seen her. The mysterious deaths of Roose Bolton, Ramsay Bolton, and her benefactor Petyr Baelish couldn’t be pinned on her, but they had certainly paved the way for her to take power as the only legitimate heir left in not just Winterfell, but the entire fucking North.
 
Meanwhile, Riverrun and the Eerie were all but headless, babes and children left behind to rule them if they managed to survive all the politics and infighting likely to occur over the next couple decades.
 
And then there was the Baratheon Dynasty, all but destroyed at this point in time. The rumors that Robert Baratheon’s children were not in fact his children, but bastards born of incest, were all but irrelevant by now. King’s Landing didn’t even have anyone sitting on the Iron Throne at this point… instead, the Faith Militant had rose up soon after the disastrous Purple Wedding and with their High Sparrow leading the charge, had disrupted any attempt by either side to salvage the Lannister-Tyrell alliance.
 
Tommen Baratheon, the next in line after his brother Joffrey was poisoned at the Purple Wedding, had been assassinated in all the chaos, along with the Lannister men. Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, and even Tyrion Lannister. All were said to be dead.  Cersei Lannister and Myrcella Baratheon were the only two from that House to make it out of King’s Landing alive, retreating back to Casterly Rock and holing up there.
 
Meanwhile, the Tyrell men had suffered a similar fate as the Lannisters, with only Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother Olenna making it out of King’s Landing and back to Highgarden. It was said that Lady Margaery Tyrell was now ruling there, though how long her authority would last would likely depend on the grace of her more ambitious subjects, and just how good her grandmother was at keeping her from being toppled unceremoniously.
 
Of course, Cersei had sent out letters to all the Seven Kingdoms proclaiming Myrcella as the rightful Queen of Westeros… but no one was swallowing that bitter pill, not at this point. Least of all the new Princess of Dorne, Arianne Martell. With the backing of her uncle’s bastard daughters, she had apparently deposed her own father and taken control of the country.
 
If that all wasn’t ridiculous enough, there was even a Lady Reaper of Pyke for the first time in living memory. Yara Greyjoy had been beset on all sides by challengers after the death of her father, including her father’s brother Euron Greyjoy. However, it was said that the Drowned God must have smiled upon her, because a pitched sea battle between their two forces had ended in Euron’s defeat and death.
 
Finally, there was the weirdest rumors of all. Jon wasn’t sure he believed them though, because it seemed almost too fantastical to possibly be true. It was one thing for there to be a King Beyond the Wall, that was fairly common place. It was another thing entirely for there to be rumors of a Wildling Queen ON the Wall, with it being said that the Wildlings had taken the Wall from the Night’s Watch and then held it, manning it with what was said to be the greatest movement of Wildlings in centuries, over a hundred thousand strong with more of them joining by the day.
 
That last one, Jon wasn’t sure he believed, though the tales of the Queen On the Wall being ‘kissed by fire’ and having beautiful blue eyes certainly made the fanciful rumors more appealing. Still, the rest… the rest he believed, despite not really wanting to.
 
It still all seemed too convenient for words, truth be told. As Jon continues to fuck Kinvara from behind, he can’t help but ponder the complete insanity of what he’s just been told. There are divine hands at work in this particular pie. Be it the Seven meddling, or R’hllor fucking around, or perhaps even the Shade of Balerion acting in some sort of limited capacity to make things work out the way they had. Hell, it could be all three.
 
Either way, this was the reality that Jon found himself in. King’s Landing was overrun by religious fanatics who would almost certainly wage war against him simply for being who and what he was. Meanwhile, the rest of the Seven Kingdoms were either completely headless at this point, or held by highborn women clutching onto the last scraps of power they had with all they could.
 
“I would say, Your Grace… that the Seven Kingdoms are decidedly ripe for the taking.”
 
Still fucking Kinvara, Jon inclines his head over at the Braavosi Captain, acknowledging and agreeing with his words.
 
“You’re right, of course. Now… what say all of you? There are many options here… where should I go first?”
 
Everyone exchanges glances, but ultimately it’s Dyniros who clears his throat and gives the first suggestion.
 
“I would suggest, given your armies and the fleet of ships you can now command, that you make straight for King’s Landing. Take the city and the Iron Throne will be yours by both birthright AND conquest. Certainly, the Capital of the Seven Kingdoms must be secured first and foremost.”
 
He’s not wrong, but at the same time it’s obvious his words are tinged with loyalty to the Iron Bank. In their eyes, King’s Landing would be the biggest priority. Jon nods, but looks to Bellegere and Daenerys as well. Daenerys fidgets for a moment before humming thoughtfully.
 
“I-I remember once upon a time that brother told me about Dorne and how our elder brother was married to a Princess of theirs. I remember Viserys claiming that one day he might marry into their ruling family as well, and use them to retake the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps… perhaps we have allies there and should start in Dorne?”
 
While it was true that Elia Martell was Rhaegar Targaryen’s wife… Jon was the direct result of Rhaegar setting her aside to be able to marry Lyanna Stark. Showing up in Dorne and proclaiming himself the lawful son of that union and direct evidence of Elia’s humiliation might not go well. Or, the Dorne might be looking for any good option at this point, and welcome him with open arms anyways.
 
He would have to deal with them eventually regardless, even if it mean turning his armies and ships in their direction instead of King’s Landing.
 
“Perhaps the North.”
 
Bellegere’s answer finally comes and honestly takes Jon by surprise, just a little bit.
 
“You’ve lost quite a lot of family while you’ve been gone Jon. And while you’ve gained just as much, there’s no reason not to try and secure that which remains. Sansa Stark is your cousin, is she not? Perhaps it would be best to go to her first, to make sure her control over the North is secure… and to show her that she has a powerful friend returning from a long and very fruitful journey.”
 
Not a bad idea, he supposed. Sansa… how WOULD she react to him showing up again after all this time? Honestly, Jon wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to HER. If his sister really had become a poisoner… well, she likely had some very good reasons. Regardless, the North was very far away, even compared to the other options. Dorne was the closest, King’s Landing a bit further up the Narrow Sea, and then the North and White Harbor were all the way up into the Shivering Sea. It would be a long voyage, to be sure.
 
“Mm, m-my Lord… if I might i-interject?”
 
Blinking, Jon looks down to see Kinvara glancing back over her shoulder at him. Nodding his head to her, he watches the beautiful priestess currently impaled on his cock collect her thoughts for a moment before speaking.
 
“The Gods of Essos fear you. R’hllor flees from your presence even now, despite being the strongest deity in all the Free Cities. But the Gods of Westeros… I suspect they will fight you tooth and nail. While this… Faith Militant in King’s Landing must be dealt with, and the Seven put in their place by your August Self, there is also the Iron Islands and their Drowned God to consider. And, I suspect… no one would expect you and your armies to come from the West, would they?”
 
An unorthodox fourth option, to be sure. And one that would probably not work if he was not divinity made manifest. But with his powers… he could probably get them as far as Oldtown before ransacking the place for a resupply, and then go on to the Iron Islands. Perhaps even stop in Highgarden first to secure the Tyrell position, if he felt like it. And if he did go the route of Oldtown and Highgarden, he could then decide if he wanted to secure Casterly Rock first or head up to Pyke from there as well.
 
Four options then. Four paths to take. He was homeward bound, that much was certain, but where would he go first? The Seven Kingdoms awaited his arrival. They were sorely wanting for a King. And Jon was ready to give them one.

-x-X-x-

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