[A/N: I'm moving Daenerys' age up a bit, or else things will never move. She will be 16 in this chapter.]
Westeros, Angel's Peak,
Angel's Peak was always in a constant flow of expansion. So what if Lord Septon was away? The growth mustn't stop. The influence must not end, only grow. And it helped that fools like Lord Mace Tyrell found personal satisfaction in slaving for Lord Septon.
Although Bronn's castle was already completed, alongside the walls and the town inside, a whole city could be built around his private estate. A city fully entrenched in Seven's worship, with Bronn as the central figure.
Angel's Peak was already something of a pilgrimage site. Nobles and smallfolk came for healing and to receive blessings. The status of Starry Sept in Oldtown and the Great Sept in King's Landing couldn't even compare.
But more than anything else, Angel's Peak was a place of wealth accumulation by Bronn. He didn't just preach in Essos; he also expanded his trade, received offerings, and at times, gifts.
All sorts of coinages fill the vaults of Angel's Peak. And in turn, that gold was used to expand the town and gain influence across Westeros. Already, groups of septons had reached the North to spread the word of the Seven there and also help the smallfolk. Be it patching a roof or building a road, they did it.
The septons were ordered to never be violent, even when facing violence. The goal was to win the smallfolk. Eventually, the nobles wouldn't have a choice but to accept the change.
And for that same reason, a few lords arrived at Winterfell to discuss it with the Warden of the North.
####
Winterfell,
"My lord, this has gone far enough. We need to drive the Seven's preachers from our lands before the chance is lost."
Eddard Stark looked at the faces of everyone around the large table as he sat in the seat of honor. He felt conflicted. He'd met and seen Bronn the Blessed, and he knew how dangerous that man was. Yet, was there anything he could do? If he banished the septons, the first to warn him would be Manderlys, and then the entire South. Houses like Hightower and Tyrell may even wage a war. Moreover, Robert himself wouldn't be pleased.
"M'lord," said Lord Karstark. "The smallfolk now sing the treacherous songs of those septons. We let them walk our lands, but this has gone too far. We cannot keep our eyes shut. They seek to turn the North to their faith. We are not blind."
Of course, they weren't blind. The septons weren't even being secretive about their intentions. They openly preached, as if mocking the noble houses, daring them to do something. It was a provocation to eventually incite the South against the North.
Eddard Stark sighed, remembering the words his noble wife had spoken recently to him. It seemed the preaching and rumors of Lord Septon had influenced Catelyn. She'd warned him not to rise against the faith or else the North would face more trouble.
He'd never seen Catelyn stand so firmly against him. Yet, he knew she was right. If he did anything to those septons, the North may fail to secure grains from the South. Even Riverlands, no matter how closely tied to the North, wouldn't help.
The grip of Bronn the Blessed over the Faith, and the Faith's grip on the South was… overwhelming.
"We can't risk giving offense to the houses of the south," he said quietly. "Our bellies rely on their grain. Even the crown bends to Lord Septon's word, since he saved Prince Steffon's life. Yet we can't let these septons turn the hearts of the people against us.
"My lords, the smallfolk sing those songs because we left them to hunger and want. If we mean to silence the songs, we must take the septons' place. We must hear the grievances of the smallfolk and set them right. Their trust in us is fading. We must kindle it anew, and make it burn brighter. This is no war of sermons. This is a war of sway and favor."
Eddard chose to do what he'd learned by watching Lord Septon. That man was a master of manipulation. An opportunist who used others' weaknesses to his own advantage.
"And how do we do that, eh?" Lord Umber said, shaking his head. "Those septons throw coin about like it'll never run dry. How are we meant to match that? We can patch roofs with our own hands, but we can't fill their bellies or give away silver the way the septons do."
That was yet another challenge. And to this, Eddard truly had no fix. He had no idea how wealthy the Lord Septon was, but it was clearly enough to carry his work in Essos while targeting the North at the same time.
"My lords, I have heard your words, and I share your grievances. I'll ride to King's Landing myself and speak with King Robert. This matter rests with him above all others. Until that time, you must work to turn the hearts of the smallfolk. They don't abandon the Old Gods by desire, but by necessity. When a man must choose between an empty belly and prayers to the Gods, hunger will always prevail."
The nobles nodded to that.
What other choice did they even have? House Stark wasn't rich either, not enough to compete with the faith.
####
Pentos, Illyrio's Manse,
Bronn knew that magisters held immense wealth, but this was… exciting. He didn't feel jealous, however. He had more than many magisters combined, and he had military strength that most magisters could only dream of. But still, the beauty of Illyrio's manse was a breath of fresh air.
Escorted by thirty Angelic Knights, all dressed in regal white armor, he walked through the manse, entering the pillared galleries. He saw the Unsullied as well, guarding the manse. They looked interesting. Half-men raised to die for their masters, a concept he very much liked. But they were slaves, and as a Septon of the Seven, he couldn't indulge in it.
"This way, Your Holiness."
Most of all, Bronn enjoyed the sight of the woman leading them through the halls. She was gorgeous and bubbly, her smile as bright as the moon. Her eyes were blue, skin soft white, hair golden-blonde, slender yet shaped like an hourglass.
"Doreah," he spoke her name, gaining her attention. "Seven blessed, you said you hail from Lys. Speak to me of it."
The woman smiled brightly. "Lys. There's so much I wish to say, Your Holiness. We are nearly to the Magister. Might I speak of Lys later, in your chamber?"
Bronn smirked, catching the hidden meaning. He said nothing after that and let her lead him. Behind him, Unella and Bellegere followed. Malora was left at the mansion to brew some potions.
Before long, they climbed a few steps and entered through large twin doors, arriving at a sizable welcome hall. It was a place meant to overwhelm the visitors. Luxurious, filled with ornaments, showpieces that could be considered treasures lay all around. On the wall, on the tables. The carpet itself seemed as if embroidered with gold.
And in the middle of it, just a few steps away, stood three figures.
"Welcome, welcome, my holy friends from Westeros," the immensely tall, fat pig of a man voiced, dripping sweet like honey. Laughing, smiling, arms spread wide, his huge belly and heavy breasts sagged and throbbed. His yellow beard, oiled like gold, tossed. "I'm Illyrio Mopatis, Your Holiness, and it is an honor to have you here."
Bronn couldn't give a fuck about that. No, he wasn't even looking at the waste of space. Seven hells, no, he was looking at the figures behind him, mainly the girl on the left. What a sight, and Bronn felt his heart thump and cock speak to him.
Seven holy sweet cunts! That must be… Daenerys Targaryen.
Bronn had seen plenty of beauties, but nothing like this. Daenerys looked young, perhaps in her late teens. Her violet eyes were striking, her skin pale as snow, her face oval, her lips delicious pink, her hair long, pale silver-gold. Her slender frame was so feminine, her breasts small. In that sleeveless, white, almost see-through gown that clung to her waist, oh, he ached to have her.
Aye, I'll have her.
Having bedded nobles and a queen, even bred, he still wished to bed a Targaryen. They were known for their beauty, and in truth, he wanted to feel what was so special about the bloodline that ruled Westeros for so long. But to his disappointment, all Targaryens were dead. There were no Targaryen cunts to explore.
Yet there he stood, face to face with perhaps the greatest Targaryen treasure in the known world. Daenerys Targaryen, sweet, gorgeous, and from the looks of it, untouched. The way she seemed so fearful and alert, her eyes constantly eyeing the Targaryen boy beside her, he already knew all he needed to know.
Nothing to worry about anymore, my Targaryen princess. Your blessed savior has arrived. Umm… I'll savor you slowly, touch by touch.
Was there anything even greater than bedding a Targaryen? Of course, there was. It was bedding a virgin Targaryen and corrupting her into becoming his permanent bedwarmer. Or perhaps more, only time would tell. But one thing was clear.
I want her at all costs. Oh, maiden whore, just look at her.
___________________
Check out Breeding Daenerys NSFW ART, and advance chapters at [email protected]/MrPlotThickens or Subscribestar.adult/mrplotthickens
Advance chapters on [PATREON] are in long-form format. I have 4 long chapters of this story on Patreon. That's equal to 18-22 Webnovel chapters.
Old Free Art on Discord: https://discord.gg/W5FdB6WXaP