Game Of Thrones: Khal Pollo (GOT)

In her opulent chambers in Maegor's Holdfast, Daenerys Targaryen stared out the window. The Red Keep was no longer an enemy fortress; it was her gilded cage. Outside, in the streets of King's Landing, she could hear the occasional echo of coarse Dothraki shouts, a constant reminder that the city, and she, belonged to a foreign conqueror.

Irri entered silently, carrying a tray with hot tea. "You look tired, Khaleesi," she whispered, her dark eyes filled with worry.

Daenerys turned from the window. "I dreamt of Jorah last night, Irri," she said, her voice barely audible. "I saw him falling, again and again." She paused, swallowing. "Pollo said he eliminated a threat. But what I saw was him killing loyalty."

Irri put down the tray and stepped closer. With a sudden boldness, she touched Daenerys' arm. "You are our Khaleesi," she whispered fiercely. "Blood of our blood. There are many who still remember who walked out of the fire."

The words stuck in Daenerys' heart, a small spark in the midst of the darkness. She was not entirely alone.

In the Tower of the Hand, now his command center, Pollo was not looking at a map of Westeros. He was reading a report from the Dothraki guards he had placed around Daenerys. The report detailed the "loyal" conversation between Daenerys and Irri.

He then opened the Black Book. He was not looking for the secrets of the Lords, but of the servants. He found the entries for Irri and several other Dothraki warriors, noting their unwavering personal loyalty to Daenerys since the night of the dragon fire.

His internal thoughts were cold and tactical: A cancerous cell must be isolated or removed. She is building her own power base. I need a counterweight.

He summoned a maester. "Send a raven to Highgarden," he commanded, his voice flat. "Convey an 'invitation' from King Pollo to Lady Margaery Tyrell to come to court as a friend to Queen Daenerys."

In the Red Keep's library, Tyrion Lannister was moving ivory cyvasse pieces on a board. He was playing against himself, and so far, he was losing.

Varys appeared soundlessly in the doorway. "Spring seems to have come early to King's Landing this year, my lord," the Master of Whisperers said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Bringing with it the Roses of Highgarden."

Tyrion froze, his hand hovering over a dragon piece. He immediately understood the implication. "He is not only conquering his enemies," Tyrion thought bitterly. "He is also conquering his allies."

A few weeks later, Margaery Tyrell arrived. Her procession was a spectacle of The Reach's wealth and grace, a river of green and gold silks that flowed into the Red Keep's courtyard, which was now guarded by coarse Dothraki warriors. Pollo and Daenerys received her together in the courtyard.

Daenerys looked at Margaery, beautiful, clever, confident, with a perfectly polished smile. She understood instantly. This was no friend. This was a replacement. This was a threat.

Margaery curtsied gracefully before them. "Your Grace, my King," she said to Pollo, then turned to Daenerys, her eyes glinting with calculation. "Your Grace, my Queen. It is an honor to be your friend in these delightful times."

Daenerys looked from Margaery's perfect smile to Pollo's cold, unreadable face, realizing that a new, more subtle, and more dangerous battle had just begun.

=====

In the Red Keep's Rose Garden, Daenerys Targaryen sat across from Margaery Tyrell. The air was thick with the sweet scent of roses, but the atmosphere between the two women was tense. They drank tea from fine porcelain cups, their conversation a polite dance of words, yet full of invisible thorns.

"You must try the lemon cakes, Your Grace," Margaery said, her smile never wavering. "They are a court favorite. The nobles in the South have... more refined tastes."

Daenerys felt the subtle sting in the words. "On the Dothraki Sea, we prefer stallion hearts," she countered, her voice cold. "It gives strength."

Margaery let out a small laugh, a sound like silver bells. "Of course. Every culture has its source of strength. The King is so wise to want to learn more about the customs of The Reach from me, to help you feel more comfortable here."

Every sentence was a maneuver, a subtle reminder that Daenerys was a foreigner in her own land, while Margaery was its most precious flower. Daenerys felt a cold fury building inside her, but she could only force a smile.

Later, in her chambers, as Irri was brushing her silver hair, a Dothraki warrior entered without knocking. He bowed awkwardly. "The Khal summons the Lady of the Rose to his study," he said in a flat voice. "For a private discussion."

Daenerys stiffened. She saw the warrior's reflection in the mirror, then her own violet eyes. The invitation was a dagger delivered with a smile. Her rage began to burn.

=====

Inside his spacious bedroom, lit only by the crackling fire in the hearth, Pollo waited. Margaery Tyrell entered, her green silk gown rustling softly over the stone floor. She stopped in the middle of the room, her chin held high. She was afraid, but her eyes showed the resolve of a player who knew the stakes.

"I am here as you commanded, Your Grace," she said, her voice steady. "House Tyrell has always served the Crown."

Pollo wasted no time with pleasantries. He rose from his chair, his imposing figure towering in the room. He walked closer, stopping directly in front of her.

"Undress," he commanded, his voice low and husky.

Margaery swallowed, but her steady hands moved to the clasp at the back of her neck. The green silk slid down her shoulders with a soft hiss, pooling at her feet like fallen leaves, leaving her in only a thin undergarment.

"Everything," Pollo added.

After a momentary pause, she unfastened the rest of her clothing, until she stood naked before him. Her pale skin was like marble in the firelight.

"You came to me to offer the loyalty of The Reach," Pollo said, his eyes tracing every curve of her body. "Show me the arts of your land. Dance for me."

Margaery understood. This was not a request. It was the first test. She took a deep breath, and as the imaginary music of her ambition began to play in her head, she started to move.

Her dance was slow at first. Her hips began to sway in a lazy, hypnotic circle, her stomach rippling softly to the rhythm of the crackling fire. Her slender hands rose, her fingers tracing the sides of her body, from her ribs to her thighs, a deliberate, teasing self-touch. She met Pollo's gaze, her large brown eyes promising submission while hiding a cold calculation.

She spun slowly, revealing her smooth back and the curve of her buttocks. She bent over, her hands touching the floor, her wavy brown hair falling like a curtain, before she rose back up in a fluid motion. Every movement was an invitation, every look a promise.

Pollo watched her in silence, lust beginning to burn within him. "Enough," he growled. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

He pushed her to her knees on the thick fur rug in front of the fireplace. "Start here," he commanded.

Margaery did not hesitate. Her hot, wet mouth enveloped Pollo's hardening manhood. His thick, veiny penis pulsed in her throat. She moaned, her voice a mix of submission and power as she began to suck with a skilled rhythm. Her tongue danced along his shaft, licking his sensitive head.

"Ahh..." a deep groan escaped Pollo's chest. His hands gripped Margaery's hair, not roughly, but to guide her, pushing her deeper.

After a while, he pulled her to her feet. He lifted her and carried her to the bed, tossing her onto a pile of furs and silks. He climbed on top of her, pinning her down with his weight.

"Open your eyes," he commanded.

He entered her with one deep, powerful thrust.

"Nghh!" a muffled cry escaped Margaery's lips as her tight, wet vagina stretched to receive him. Pollo began to move, his thrusts strong and rhythmic.

The sound of their sweat-slicked and lust-wet skin echoed in the room. Their breaths became ragged gasps.

"Ahh... ah... ah..." Margaery moaned, her eyes squeezed shut, her head thrown to the side on the pillow.

"Look at me," Pollo snarled.

Margaery's eyes opened, glistening with pleasure and pain. Pollo stared into them as he continued to pound into her, his penis pumping in and out of her soaked pussy. He watched her full breasts bounce with each thrust, her pink nipples hardening into tight marbles.

"Flip over," he ordered.

Margaery, breathless, obeyed, positioning herself on her hands and knees. Pollo entered her from behind, his grip firm on her hips. His thrusts were deeper, more savage. He could see the muscles in her beautiful buttocks twitch with every plunge.

"Oh... God... Yes..." Margaery whimpered, her nails digging into the silk sheets.

Pollo's rhythm became faster, more furious. He could feel her orgasm approaching. "I'm... going... to come..." he growled.

He felt the muscles inside Margaery's vagina begin to spasm, gripping his manhood pleasurably as the first wave of her climax hit her. "AAAAHHHH!" she shrieked, her back arching.

At the same moment, a deep, guttural roar escaped Pollo's chest as he released himself. Thick, hot semen erupted into her womb.

It was then that an intense, reddish-gold light enveloped Pollo. As the light faded, a small, exquisite crystal vial appeared in his hand, containing a clear liquid that shimmered like a god's tear. "The Water of Loyalty and Love."

His mission was complete. He pulled out of Margaery and rose from the bed, leaving her trembling and breathless. He examined his new artifact, then stared at the woman in the bed.

"You have served the Crown well tonight, Lady Margaery."

=====

Daenerys could not stay still. Driven by anger and suspicion, she walked down the dimly lit corridor toward Pollo's chambers. She would demand answers. As she approached the large oak door, it opened.

Margaery stepped out. Her gown was slightly rumpled, her hair a little disheveled, and there was a flush on her cheeks. She froze when she saw Daenerys.

Their eyes met for a few eternal seconds.

Before either of them could speak, the door behind Margaery opened wider. Pollo stood there, shirtless, his muscles gleaming in the torchlight. In his hand, he held the small, glowing crystal vial.

His face showed no surprise. "Daenerys. Lady Margaery," he said calmly. "Please, come in. There is something we must settle."

Daenerys stepped into Pollo's chamber, Margaery following behind her, her eyes shifting restlessly.

"What is the meaning of this, Pollo?!" Daenerys demanded.

Pollo remained calm, holding the small, gently glowing crystal vial in his hand. "This is the solution," he said. "To your doubts. To your suffering. Drink it."

"I would rather die than be your puppet!" Daenerys shrieked.

Pollo moved with a blur of speed. He held her, his grip firm but not hurting. He forced the vial to her lips. The clear, shimmering liquid trickled down her throat.

The effect was instant and total. Her anger and fear shattered, replaced by an overwhelming wave of warmth and adoration. The man before her was no longer a monster; he was a god. His cruelty was a necessary strength.

She stopped struggling. Her tense body went limp in Pollo's embrace. "My lord..." she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. "My King... I... I understand now."

Driven by her new passion and adoration, Daenerys kissed Pollo with a wild, desperate fervor. Pollo lifted her and carried her to a large chair that resembled a throne, then stared at a frightened Margaery. "You, too," he commanded.

[Long NSFW warning, you can scroll straight to the bottom to see the end.]

[This is also the final NSFW chapter in this fanfic.]

The two women knelt before him on the thick fur rug. Pollo sat in his great chair like a god on his throne, his thick, hard penis perfectly erect, its veins throbbing along the shaft, the wet tip of its head gleaming reddish-purple in the firelight.

Daenerys, with eyes full of love and adoration, was the first to move. She leaned forward, her long silver hair sweeping over Pollo's thigh. She stared at his manhood for a moment, her gaze full of a burning passion, before opening her lips.

Her hot, wet mouth enveloped the head of Pollo's penis. A muffled sigh escaped her throat. "Mmmph..."

She began to suck with an uncontrollable fervor, her head moving up and down with a desperate rhythm. Her cheeks were hollowed as she sucked hard, her eyes never leaving Pollo's, as if she were worshiping at an altar. Glistening saliva began to slick her chin, dripping onto the base of Pollo's pulsing penis.

Margaery, trembling yet determined not to show weakness, joined her. She approached from the other side, her brown eyes wide with a mix of fear and ambition. She extended her tongue and hesitantly licked the hard shaft of Pollo's penis. It was salty with the sweat of lust. Driven by the Khal's sharp gaze, she grew bolder, her mouth joining Daenerys'.

The scene turned into a wet, wild dance of dual tongues. Daenerys' eager tongue circled the head of Pollo's penis, while Margaery's more skilled tongue traced the veins along the shaft. The sound of their wet, greedy sucking filled the silence of the room, an obscene symphony of "Slrrp... slrrp... mmmph..." that mingled with their muffled sighs.

Pollo's penis was drenched in their saliva, gleaming like a raw jewel under the firelight. Clear lust-fluid began to leak from the tip, adding to the shine and flavor of their service.

The faces of both women were flushed with passion and effort. Daenerys' eyes were half-closed in pure ecstasy, while Margaery's remained wide open, focused, ensuring her every move pleased her master.

"Ahh... yes..." Daenerys moaned between her sucks, her voice hoarse and full of lust.

"Magnificent... my lord..." Margaery whispered, her voice trembling.

Pollo gave a low growl, a deep, guttural sound from his chest. He placed one hand on the back of Daenerys' head and the other on Margaery's, his fingers tangling in their hair. He began to guide their rhythm, pushing his manhood deeper into their throats in turns, asserting his total control over their pleasure and his own.

Pollo rose from his chair, lifting a breathless Daenerys with an effortless ease as if she were weightless. He carried her to the great canopy bed and pushed her onto her back on the cool silk sheets. He climbed on top of her, his large, muscular body covering hers, his knees forcing Daenerys' thighs apart.

He stared into Daenerys' adoring violet eyes. Without hesitation, he positioned his saliva-slicked penis at her already soaked vagina. With one deep, powerful thrust, he entered her.

"AAAAHHHH!"

A piercing shriek escaped Daenerys' lips, a mix of sharp pain and overwhelming pleasure. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Pollo gave her no time to adjust. He began to pound into her, his thrusts deep, powerful, and relentless.

The sound of their sweat-slicked and lust-wet skin colliding echoed in the room, a brutal, primal rhythm. Each deep thrust wrenched a moan of pure ecstasy from Daenerys' throat.

"Yes... my King... ahhh... please... deeper!" she pleaded, her words broken between her gasps. Her legs wrapped tightly around Pollo's rock-hard waist, pulling him even deeper with each thrust. Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted as piercing moans escaped her.

Pollo then pulled out, leaving a trembling and breathless Daenerys. He stared at Margaery, who had been standing silently by the bed, her face pale with a mix of her first threesome experience and involuntary arousal.

"Now it is your turn," Pollo commanded, his voice hoarse.

With a shaky but graceful step, Margaery climbed onto the bed and carefully took a cowgirl position on top of Pollo. She lowered herself onto Pollo's still erect and gleaming penis, her wet vagina easily swallowing him. She gasped as she felt Pollo's size and hardness inside her.

She began to move, her hips rotating with a skilled but desperate rhythm. She knew this was a performance, an audition, and she was dancing for her life and the future of her house. Her firm, round breasts jiggled with each movement, her hardened nipples grazing Pollo's sweaty chest. Her long brown hair fell forward, covering her face which showed intense concentration.

Daenerys, now lying on her side, watched her not with jealousy, but with eyes full of adoration for their Khal. She saw Margaery's service as another form of offering to their god. She even reached out and stroked Margaery's thigh as it moved up and down. "Faster," Daenerys whispered. "Please him."

Pollo gave Margaery no rest. He pulled her off his body and with one powerful motion, flipped her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees on the bed. He entered her from behind, his thick, wet penis sliding into her already soaked vagina with a wet squelch.

His thrusts were deep, fast, and punishing. Every thrust drove Margaery's body forward, her full breasts rubbing against the silk sheets. Pollo gripped her hips with both hands, controlling her completely, using her body as his own. Margaery shrieked, her cries a mixture of pain, inevitable pleasure, and a desperate need to please her conqueror.

Pollo pulled out as he felt Margaery approaching her peak, leaving her breathless and shaking. Without a pause, he moved to Daenerys, who had been waiting with eyes glistening with lust. He positioned her in the same way.

When he entered her, Daenerys' reaction was completely different. It was not a shriek of pain, but a deep sigh of relief and homecoming. "YAAAAHHH... MY KING!"

She pushed her hips back to meet every one of Pollo's thrusts, trying to take every inch of his manhood.

The sound of their sweat-slicked and lust-wet skin colliding echoed louder, wilder.

"More... my lord... please, more!" Daenerys screamed, her voice hoarse with pleasure.

The night became a blur of endless passion. Pollo, driven by his superhuman stamina, became a storm of desire. He took them both again and again, in every conceivable position. He flipped Daenerys over, lifting her slender legs to his shoulders, pounding into her with a force that made the whole bed tremble. He pressed Margaery against the wall, lifting her as if she were weightless, his penis thrusting deep into her as Margaery gripped his shoulders to hold on.

He returned to Daenerys, then Margaery, again and again, without rest. The sounds of their sighs and moans merged into one symphony of uncontrolled pleasure. Their voices became hoarse, their bodies trembling with exhaustion, but Pollo did not stop. He pushed them beyond their limits, bringing them to the brink of orgasm repeatedly until they could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and suffering.

Finally, as the first light of dawn began to break, he brought them to a final climax. With Daenerys beneath him and Margaery beside him, he released himself with a deep, guttural roar of triumph. Thick, hot semen flooded into Daenerys' womb. At the same time, both women shrieked one last time, their bodies spasming violently before they finally collapsed, completely drained, passed out from exhaustion and total pleasure.

Daenerys curled up in Pollo's embrace, feeling peaceful and whole. She looked at a sleeping Margaery, no longer with jealousy.

Pollo stroked the hair of both women. "Now..." he said, his voice deep and satisfied. "We are truly ready for war."

Daenerys looked up at him, her eyes filled with adoration. "Yes, my King," she whispered. "Anything you command."