His two main Thralls knelt before him, terrified, but commendably silent while he raged and fumed, his flesh fully given over to his wamphyri form due to his anger and fury, his eyes blazing red as he stalked back and forth before them, cursing and roaring obscenities.
They were in what would be the main chamber of his quarters under the Red Keep, bare and not yet furnished, which was probably a good thing as he would have likely smashed anything he could get his hands on to pulp, such was his wrath, such was the wrath of his leech at what had transpired.
Everything, everything had gone to plan, perfectly, until, until those, those dammed Targaryen's had arrived in Kings Landing.
Even now, he could barely even think about it without losing control and likely killing his two thralls, just to appease his roiling, roaring emotions.
The, the.... those three... humans... were, were.....untouchable to him..... The trio glowed with the same light as Valyrian steel, not as bright, but the glow was there nonetheless. Their minds were closed to him utterly, whatever this magic was it repulsed his attempts to reach them with his mental power totally.
And it that was not enough, when that fucker Aegon had ascended the Iron Throne the dammed hunk of metal had started glowing even brighter, its light pulsing strangely like a heartbeat.
All three of them radiated this horrid, terrible glow, and he knew he would not be able to come closer than a few feet to them, if even that. And his plans to maze and enthrall them? In ruins, in absolute and total tatters!
He let out another terrible roar to vent his and his leech's frustration at this turn of events, his bellowed, incoherent howl echoing back at him from the bare, stone and brick walls of the chamber.
"GAH!" he finally spat out, ceasing his pacing and deciding to instead devote his energies to pondering a way out of this failure. No, not failure, never that, for one such as he never failed, he needed to rethink his plans and adjust them accordingly, it, it was not a total disaster, and most, if not all of what he wanted could still be salvaged from this setback.
Yes, a setback, that was all this was, though certain things would have to be altered on a permanent basis. Though some of his plans, such as enthralling the entire Small Council, would definitely go ahead, as well as his plans for two pretty and delectable noble daughters, along with the mother of one of them. Though on that later point, his lack of direct control over the King might scupper these plans and might force him to act sooner and with perhaps more.... finality than he had originally hoped for.
Anyway, time would tell. "Very well," he husked through a mouthful of fangs, "certain of my plans... have changed due to unforeseen circumstances....but the core of my purpose. remains."
"Yes Master," his thralls chirped in unison, terror evident in their voices.
"You both have seen what your master is in truth, remember that if you ever think to betray me!" a redundant threat as neither of them could actually betray him, such was his leverage over their minds, but it never hurt to remind lesser beings of his superiority.
"Yes Master!" came the instant and simultaneous responses from his thralls.
For now he was going to rely on this pair, Lord Stark had of course stepped down as Regent, that role being no longer relevant. Ser Barristan had proved to be..... less than useful in the regard of actually having any influence or worth, but he might yet prove an asset.
The new Hand of the King, Lord Jon Connington, had been easy to suborn, as had the senior members of the Golden Company.
But the wholesale adjustments of lands and titles that Aegon, sixth of his name was indulging in was rather destabilizing for the realm, to put it mildly.
While a war would certainly get his juices stirred up, he wanted peace now, for his own selfish interests of course
"This new King of ours, how amenable is he to advice?" he asked, after letting his thralls stew for a while.
"He, he listens to the Lord Hand mostly, he is.... willful at the best of times though," Baelish replied, he noticed Varys nodding his head in agreement.
"Hrmmm, well Jon Connington is a creature of mine, I will have to needs keep a tight rein on him in that case. The Lannister's?"
"Ser Jamie, Joffrey and Tommen have been offered the Wall, or, or death," Varys simpered in that rather annoying way of his.
"And""
"Ser, Ser Jamie has accepted the Wall, as has Prince Tommen," Littlefinger added quickly
"I assume that Prince Joffrey is incapable of grasping the reality that now confronts him?"
"Aye, maybe the Hound's blow knocked loose what little wits the boy had," chucked Little finger
"Good riddance!" he snorted as he let his features return to a closer semblance of humanity. "And the former Queen and her daughter?" he asked, lust thickening his voice to an almost clotted gurgle.
"They, they will remain as wards of the Iron Throne, hostages to ensure that Ser Jamie and Prince Tommen take their vows and that Lord Tyrion behaves himself as Warden of the West." Varys quickly reported, almost stumbling over his words.
"Good" he chuckled, "and Lady Sansa?" he grunted, his voice dripping low and husked, his lusts obvious to all. "She, she will also remain in Kings Landing, as a guest of the Iron Throne, she, she will join the hand maidens of Princess Daenerys," Littlefinger spoke, his voice trembling and fear filled, despite his best efforts.
"Ah Littlefinger, have no fear, I will honor Lady Sansa in ways she cannot even begin to comprehend, I will pleasure her like no man could ever, ever pleasure her. You should be happy for her, happy that she will know the immeasurable joys and delights that only one such as I can bestow!" and he chuckled darkly at the fear that continued to strain Littlefinger's face.
"You must work, with the others that are mine, to ensure that King Aegon, Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys are married out to other families, the betrothal between King Aegon and Princess Daenerys must be terminated. This needs must be done to stabilize the realm after the end of the Targaryen interregnum, is this understood?"
"Yes Master," they replied, Littlefinger adding, "Lord Mace Tyrell has a beautiful daughter of the correct age for the King to marry, I have already proposed in the Small Council that a royal marriage be sought for the girl. Prince Viserys was proposed, but if Lord Jon could persuade the King to renounce his betrothal to his aunt, the Tyrell girl would make a perfect wife for King Aegon, sixth of his name."
"Yes, that might work," he replied, the Tyrell girl was supposedly a great beauty to all accounts, and as she was not a blasted Targaryen, he would be able to.... consort with her as needed.
All this talk was making him aroused, but he was also hungry, and the unending thirst of the wamphyri always came first when needs required to be satisfied.
And rather than heading back to the brothel that was still his home and having one of the morsels that Littlefinger kept on hand for his needs, he needed to release some of the tension and anger that this set back had caused him.
So he loped off down the tunnels and followed them out under Kings Landing, until he emerged into the wan moonlight of night, to see about satisfying his needs.
A filthy drunk, lying insensate in his own grime was passed up, his nose wrinkling in disgust, as he continued on, scanning all who crossed his path to see if they would do duty.
None did until he came across a lonely whore, plying her trade in some of the less salubrious streets adjacent to the street of silk.
He approached the girl, who was from his cursory dip into her mind, a relative novice at her profession, having only arrived in Kings Landing in the last few months. He needed to know
little more, stepping close to the girl, his height towering over her, she stepped back from him, until her escape was stopped by the wall of a building.
No words were exchanged, his will clamping onto hers in a vice like grip, the girl automatically hiking her skirts as he freed his cock, he reached down and gripped the girl at her hips, lifting her up like she weighed nothing and set her atop his cock. He played with her entrance with the tip of his cock a while, feeling the whore's core become sodden, his mind twisting and probing long known parts of a female's brain to elicit this response from her cunt.
The whore's mouth lolled open, little gasps and pants escaping it, the only sound he allowed her to make, as he thrust her downwards and thrust his hips upwards at the same time. A started grunt escaped the whore's mouth, he grinned and let his jaws yawn impossibly wide, thrusting his head down and engulfing the entire lower part of the whore's jaw, his tongue thickening and lengthening and wriggling down her throat.
The whore's body spasmed at this, as her mind desperately tried to fight off its paralysis, inside her cunt his cock expanded and tendrils of wamphyric flesh thrust out of it to tear and burrow into her arteries and veins, in her throat the surging, alien flesh of his parasite was doing the same, and he began to drink deep of the blood that was the life.
He left his flesh run riot within the whore, tearing and ripping and whipping about in a frantic need to consume every last drop of precious blood, until the corpse was thoroughly drained and desecrated.
He removed his face and let his features shrink back to their human form, lifting the whore off his cock once it had fully returned to its normal shape and size. He twisted the whore's neck and dropped her corpse at his feet, adjusted his clothing and strolled off into the night.
As he wandered through the streets, he mused that the whore had only really whetted his appetite for the night's activities, and that there were sure to be more opportunities for more varied and diverse pleasures in this city of nearly half a million souls.