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Daenerys Misadventures	By : nitchgut Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 110653 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Game of Thrones, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
-- This is a continuation of the Slave Daenerys plotline (chapters 2 and 6) It takes place sometime between those chapters
-- Again, no beta. So please forgive any glaring mistakes I might have missed.

He had lived a good life, a life lived by a code. He had risen in station, found fame, won glory, and stood beside Kings and Queens. Even here in this foreign sweltering land they knew his name, Ser Barristan Selmy, Barristan the Bold.

A life of honor and respect. A good life, lived by a good man. Or at least that was what others told him, it was what he told himself.

He passed two Unsullied guards and exchanged emotionless nods as he walked through the hallway of sand-colored brick. The walls were adorned with brightly colored tapestries and art in unfamiliar styles. The air was hot and dry.

A selfless life, an honorable life for an honorable man.

An honorable man, Barristan thought to himself as he made his way through the ancient castle's hallways. Beside him two servants hurried past, their heads hung low. They were beautiful, young, tanned of skin. Both wore white silk dresses that hung loosely from their shoulders. Their hair was done up in an elegant style that would make even a Westerosi lady envious. Around their necks, leather collars were pulled tight around their throats, adorned with an iron loop on their front. There were no servants here, only slaves.

Where was the honor in that? But where had his honor been a decade ago when he stood idly by as Aerys Targaryen descended into madness? When he had stood by as his King tore the realm apart. Where was his honor when he had bent to knee to Robert Baratheon, the man who had usurped his King? An honorable man who had sworn himself to his once enemy, and for what? To stand idly by once again upon King Roberts's death, to do nothing when Cersei Lannister tore the King's will to pieces, arrested and executed Eddard Stark.

Even now in this ancient foreign land, surrounded by this depravity and cruelty he did nothing. Even after all the slavers had done to her, he stood by.

It was her choice he told himself, a lie, he knew. They had broken her like they had broken all the slaves they owned. Like the Unsullied that made up their armies, the men that worked the fields, the women that warmed their beds.

And he had stood by. He had done nothing to stop them, he had done nothing to protect her. He was not noble or brave nor had he lived a good life. He had served tyrants and monsters, just as he did now. This foreign land had shown him that, filled with people who did not look like him, did not speak like him, and did not think like him. They had opened his eyes to the truth of things.

His life of honor had been a lie, a mummer's farce, and it had got him nowhere. Disrespected in front of the royal court, and exiled from his home.

Barristan stopped in front of the door to Kraznys chambers, pausing for a moment as two more Unsullied guards glanced at him before motioning him through.

Two more waited inside, they regarded him but did not move. Instead, he stepped forward and entered the chambers like he had done a hundred times before.

Kraznys was standing staring out the window, Missendai, his translator wrote something down at a desk as he spoke.

'Defense,'
'Surrender,'
'War,'
'Dragons,'

His Valyrian was still poor, he struggled to pick up the words but he recognized a few. But it wasn’t what Kraznys was saying that drew his attention but Daenerys Targaryen. He glanced over to where she lay, his Queen. Her silver-blonde was hair splayed out on the bed, her body covered in a sheen of sweat, naked and exposed, toned muscles, tanned skin, her robe open as she lay eyes half hooded, her lips stained blue as she stared aimlessly into nothing. Her hand rested just below her breast, drawing lazy aimless circles over her damp skin. He could see Kraznys' seed spilling out from between her legs.

He heard a chuckle and tore his attention away from the young woman he had sworn to protect.

Kraznys started speaking too fast for him to follow.

"Our Master wishes to know if you like what you see." Missendei said her eyes trained on the ground.

He shook his head, not sure what to say.

This response was good enough to warrant another laugh from the slave master and another string of words he could not place.

"We move towards Volantis at sunrise he says." Missendai translated. "He wishes to know how long it has been for you,"

His silence was seemingly enough of an answer as Kraznys’ grin grew wider.

Barriston Selmy had known a lot of men in his time. Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses, from Great Lords to the common man. He had seen tyrants and honorable knights but Kraznys was a different thing altogether. There was an arrogance there that rivaled any King and a complete lack of empathy for the people around him. He truly saw Daenerys Targaryen as a thing, a tool to be used in every way possible.

Krazny grinned, then started speaking Valyrian again.

Barristan watched as the copper-skinned translator blushed at his words. She kept her eyes trained on the ground

"The wise master says he understands. There is nothing like--" she paused, "--nothing like a Valyrian cunt. Nothing as warm and wet and tight. He understands it is difficult to go back to a common whore after having experienced perfection."

Kraznys grinned and moved to leave but stopped by the old knight. He placed one hand on his shoulder.

"You protect her, you die for her," Kraznys said, his common was broken and thickly accented but understandable. "It only fair you get to have her, no? Until dawn, she is yours." He left then without another word, his translator slave followed suit.

Barristan turned his attention to his Queen, where she lay in all her depraved glory. He let out a heavy sigh. He had drugged her again with that blue-tinged poison. Daenerys lay, breathing slow, her eyes distant. He hoped her mind was in a better place than this.

Daenerys Targaryens had birthed Dragons, those dragons were now large enough to ride. She was the first dragon rider in a hundred years, but she was also this.

Spent, used, well fucked. Barristan stepped forward, standing over her at the edge of the bed, between her legs. Undoubtedly the same position Kraznys had been moments before. She was beautiful, he could not deny that, all the Targaryens were, almost unworldly with their pale skin and silver blond hair. Even in her current state, especially even in her current state, she was like something out of a dream. He could not help but stare as her chest rose and fell, her breasts shined with sweat, her nipples hard. There were faint marks around her breasts and between her hips, he could not be sure if they had been made with her own hands or Kraznys. Her mouth was slightly agape as she stared off into the distance.

The collar around her neck looked tight, restricting. Unlike the simple leather and iron the other slaves wore, hers were adorned with gems and jewels. Intricate shapes of dragons were etched into the rich dark leather depicting battle and war. Flames of rubies erupted from the dragon's open maws, their eyes and claws marked with diamonds. The ring on her throat was not iron, but gold. Her chains held more wealth than most men would see in their entire lives.

As if she knew what he was thinking Daenerys lifted one her hands to her collar. Soft delicate fingers danced over the jewels there, tracing over them with a feather-light touch. Then they moved lower, over her neck, down her sweat-covered neck, trailing the curve of her breast.

A soft whimper escaped her lips, her hips shifted slightly but her gaze stayed distant, staring out unknowingly, her body moving and reacting as if he had a mind of its own.

Barriston’s hand twitched, he could feel the warmth of her even from a distance. He could almost imagine that inviting feeling of being surrounded, the taste of her on his lips. He closed his eyes.

This was not the first time the slave master had offered the Queen to him. He would not be weak again. He reached down, grasping the edge of her robe, he pulled it closed, covering the rising peaks of her breasts. Then he went lower, a vain attempt to protect whatever modesty Daenerys still retained.

He faltered as his knuckles brushed against the toned skin of her hip, she was so warm and soft, so inviting. His stomach turned, not in disgust of her, but himself. A heat burned inside him, desperate and longing and pathetic. His cock throbbed in his trousers. He could not look away, he watched her breasts rise and fall, hidden by the false modesty afforded by the robe he had just covered her with. Her skin glowed, warm and damp with sweat.

How many times had he stood guard as Krazny had his way with her. How many nights had he been forced to listen to Daenerys moan and whimper and beg. Those sounds were a part of him now, he could hear them every night when he tried to sleep. He could see her everytime he tried to dream, stripped bare for him to see, gorgeous and alluring. He had borne witness to the depravities forced upon her over and over again, he had watched the beautiful sight of her coming undone more times than he could count.

There was nothing to stop him, he had been given permission. He tried to ignore the swelling of his cock, tried to ignore the soft feel of her warm skin against his palm as he caressed her stomach.

"Ser Knight?" Daenerys asked in a hushed, low whisper. He looked up, catching her gaze as she stared vacantly at him. "Have you come to rescue me?" she asked her words soft and slightly slurred.

He stared at her, unwavering, they both knew the answer.

"No," he replied, there would be no rescue here, or anywhere, there was no saving anyone.

"Have you come to fuck me then?" she asked, looking away this time. As if trained her legs parted ever so slightly, inviting him between them.

"I see you watching." One of Daenerys’ legs lifted, her bare foot trailing up the back of his high. "You stand watch as our master takes me, uses me, fucks me. Does it please you to watch? Do you like what he does to me?" Her breathing had increased to the point she almost seemed like she was panting with need. Her eyes darkened but it was like she wasn’t even looking at him, instead through him. She was still lost in her own little world.

"Your Grace." he protested weakly.

"I see so much now," she said, she let her hand trail up her body, opening her robe once again. "I know what is in the hearts of men." Her leg came behind him, her heel pushed into his back and pulled him closer.

"Stop," Barriston groaned as he was pulled closer to her. He had no choice but to reach down and grab his Queen. His large hands dwarfed Daenerys' petite waist, nearly wrapping around them.

There was no honor in this and there was no reason he could not stop her, put an end to this farce. She was weak, vulnerable, drugged, she was not sound of mind or spirit. Barristan closed his eyes. There was no honor in this, no honor in him. This had not been the first time the Good Master had offered Daenerys to him. He had no honor then either.

Years of fighting and training had left his hands calloused and rough, a harsh contrast to the soft skin of the young women he held. After a long life spent training and fighting, a weapon always in hand, the touch of her was warm, inviting, addictive.

Dishonorable fool, he cursed himself as he stared down at where his hands lay. Her breaths came slowly, steady, her flat stomach dipping and falling. Her cunt was bare, waxed and shaved, red and swollen, filled with another man's seed.

It hardly mattered, the old man's cock came to life regardless.

Violet eyes stared back at him, half closed, half dead, half alive. They had turned the last of the Targaryens into this. A bed slave, a whore, a willing participant in her own debasement.

"I'm sorry Your Grace." he whispered, as he let those calloused fingers slip down between her legs and over her. She was so warm and wet, and she moaned as he pushed one finger inside of her.

The sound she made rang of undeniable pleasure and need, it was music to his ears, his cock felt impossibly hard. Who was he to deny her? He was meant to serve, was this not serving? He pulled himself from his pants, cock hard and ready and in his hand.

It was wrong he knew, distasteful, and dishonorable and he did not care. He stroked himself, watching as the muscles in her stomach flexed, her body quivered, he could see her breathing increase and her body flush in anticipation of what would come. She knew what he was about to do, Kraznys had trained her well, broken her down to nothing and rebuilt her as this

He pressed himself against her and groaned. She was so warm and wet and inviting.

"Mmh," Daenerys whimpered and to Barristan it was the most perfect sound in the world. Needy and wanting, he grit his teeth holding back a moan of his own as he penetrated his Queen. Her hips lifted, her eyes widened as she opened to him.

"Ser," she gasped, breathlessly, her lips parted as she moaned. Her back bent slightly to give him a better angle, she rolled her hips letting more of his cock sink deeper into her warm and waiting body.

She felt divine. Like she had been crafted by the gods for this purpose and this purpose alone. He buried his face in her chest, found a nipple and took it between his lips. Her body clung to him like a vice, every inch of her squeezing him, pulling him closer. He sucked hungrily, groaning around her nipple, her hips moved, sliding up his cock, the walls of her cunt squeezing him impossibly tight as she did so. A lesser man would of came right there and then. God's he loved this. Daenerys moaned in response and clung to him tighter. She loved it.

At least that’s what he told himself, with each thrust he pushed himself harder and harder into her. Long hard strokes he drove into her, pounding her small body, fucking her like his life depended on it. He pushed every thought from his mind, who she was, what had been done to her, what he was doing to her. The only thing he could think of was how good she felt wrapped around him, it was the only thing he cared about. He drove himself into her, forcing her cunt open and wide as he buried his entire length into her.

"Ahh," Daenerys moaned in pain and pleasure. He felt her nails dig into his back. He pulled away from her breast, he needed to see her, needed to watch her as he fucked her. He drove into her again, then again, one hard thrust after another. Each time she whimpered and moaned, her body shook, quivering beneath him. Her breasts bounced, her face turned up, wincing with pleasure, she reached out, grasping his chest as she watched him back.

Over and over he drove into her, over and over she moaned, louder and more frequent, she matched his movements, pushing back as he pushed forward, lifting her hips to meet his.Their bodies came together and each time she cried out, each time she sounded more desperate. She watched him, her eyes dark, filled with desire and lust. With every thrust he came closer to his release, with every thrust her eyes opened more.

"Ser," she moaned, needy, wanting, her thighs closed around him with surprising strength for someone so small, it was like her entire body was pulling him into her, desperate for more. Barristan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He didn’t want this to end, he needed it to last.

“Ser,” again she moaned, but this time she sounded different, odd. Barristan ignored her, too wrapped up in the feeling of her to care.

“Ser,” she cried out, the confusion and fear obvious in her voice. Barristan opened his eyes and looked at her. The lust and arousal was still there, as it always was, but there was more. Anger and resentment and confusion.

Daenerys' fingers dug into his chest, but it wasn’t in the throws of passion, she was trying to hurt him.

A moment of clarity in a drug-fueled haze, her broken mind slowly coming back to life.

Daenerys recoiled, but she was pinned to the bed, held down by the much larger, much older man, held in place by his hands and cock, she had no place to go. Suddenly his half-conscious Queen looked fully awake, confused and scared and then a realization washed over her.

She shook her head and twisted, her eyes searching for something and only to find nothing

"Your Grace." he mumbled. His hand clamped over her mouth, he could not let her speak. He pinned her to the bed with her body, she groaned and he pushed into her, holding her down with his cock. He grabbed one thigh, keeping her legs spread. He felt her struggle and twist under him. Her cunt still clung to him, squeezing him tighter with each movement. He couldn't stop now. All those times he had been forced to stand by and watch as she came apart on another man’s cock. All the times she had watched her drop to her knees in front of her master. He wouldn’t stop.

"It's okay," he whispered and thrust into her again, she moaned, her eyes going wide. Even now her body reacted, still finding the pleasure of having a hard cock inside her.

The truth was that the brave woman who had birthed dragons was still there, no amount of torture, or teasing, of mind alternating drugs could destroy her, not fully.

She still had moments of clarity, of realization, when her broken and trained mind came together when she realized who and what she was and what had been done to her.

"Shhh," he hushed, as she saw tears spring in her bright violet eyes. His hand slipped between their bodies and found her clit. He pressed into her rubbing in time with the movement of his hips.

Her eyes fluttered ever so softly.

“That’s it,” he whispered, moving slower now, almost gentle as he fucked her.

That's how Kraznys had done it, how he had broken her down. It wasn't pain but pleasure that kept Daenerys Targaryen subservient.

Barristan felt her body respond to his touch, as if being pulled by an invisible force. She wanted this, he told himself again, she needed this. Her eyes shut tight and her whimpering turned into moans, her struggling against him changing to eager thrusts. She was no longer fighting against him, but instead fucking him with furious passion. Whatever terrible things Kraznys had done to make her this way took over once again, returning her to the wanton slut he had made her into.

"Take me, fuck me," Daenerys moaned her legs squeezing him harder, she convulsed around his cock, milking him. He couldn't help but think she was made for this, so tight and wet and warm and perfect. How could something that felt so good be wrong.

"Gods," Barristan groaned. He began to move again, thrusting in out of her needy cunt. He leaned over her, burying his face in her chest, biting and sucking on her breast as he moved inside her.

Daenerys' moaned and whimpered and cried out, her body shuddering beneath him with each wave of unstoppable pleasure, her chest heaved and she pleaded with him, begged him for more.

"Fuck me Ser," she cried, her legs squeezing around him. He felt her cunt clench down around him, the sensation nearly overwhelmed him. She cried out, moaning, her body tensing. The throb of her pleasure coursed through her and into him.

She clung to him as she came, sobbing into his body, her fingers clung to his head as he sucked on her tits as he fucked her. He couldn't stop, he groaned, sweat poured off him, and then he came, grunting into her much younger body. Great spurts of seed erupted from him and into her. His Queen, the woman he had sworn to protect, the woman he had just raped.

He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his heart pounding. She winced as she took his entire weight, crushing her down into the bedding. He worried he might pass out, gasping for breath, this aging body ached, his cock throbbed.

Beneath him Daenerys still moaned, her body still quivered, her cunt still squeezed and milked his cock for all it was worth. But he had nothing left, he was drained, finished. He pulled from her, ignoring the whimper that escaped her lips as soon as his cock slipped from her inviting embrace. He felt sick.

Regret, disgust, a hundred other emotions coursed through him as he rolled over to his back, staring up at the ceiling above him, his pants now down around his ankles.

“Gods,” Barristan muttered. He was a man lost, he could hear Daenerys beside him panting for breath, she was still in the throes of her passion, still riding her own release, he could not look at her. Instead, he looked down at himself, at the quickly softening cock that now rested on his stomach, coated with her juices and his cum.

‘She enjoyed it, she loved it’ he repeated to himself, her moaning beside him and his cock covered in her wetness was proof of that. This was what she wanted. The regret threatened to consume him if he thought any different.

He was done, but Daenerys was not. She followed him, rolling on top of him, her eyes shone bright and alive, if he was a fool he might even believe she was happy. Happy to live a life of a bed slave, happy to be used as a weapon for Kraznys war machine.

She slipped down his body, kissing along the way, cleaning him until she reached his cock and took him into her mouth.

Barristan groaned as her tongue swirled around him, he reached for her, his hand tangling in the loose waves of her silver hair.

A good man would stop this, he thought as she sucked on his cock, milking whatever seed was left inside him.

A good man would protect her. Daenerys' head began to bob up and down, her lips sealed around his shaft, working his cock. Her hand cradled his balls, massaging them gently.

A good man would protect her. He felt himself stir again, even at his age, something about her lit a fire inside him.

A good man would save her.

Barriston Selmy watched as Daenerys Targaryen pulled free his cock, saliva and cum dripping from her lips. She smiled at him but her eyes remained still. His cock throbbed in her hand, she was his for the night and he would have her in every way a man could.

He was not a good man.
- 9
- 10
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Daenerys Misadventures