Saldan Rovlenz had really outdone himself, Viserys mused. He shut the chamber door behind him with a snap, startling the young girl currently occupying the over-sized featherbed. He had left his own room in a rush before he could make a decision regarding Daenerys; she had disappointed him by going through his writing desk, but she had also intrigued him immensely.
Viserys couldn't understand how a girl so young was already responding to visual stimuli in such a manner; he pondered for a moment whether it had anything to do with her dragon's blood, this early sexual awakening. When he had first confessed of his own issues to Maester Pycelle, before the Sack of King's Landing, before Rhaegar's death on the trident, the bearded wise man had told him it shouldn't be cause for worry, and that most likely his Dragonlord heritage had sped up his sexual maturity. The young prince pictured how lovely the man's head would look like on a pike, adorning the outer walls of the Red Keep along with the other betrayers and usurpers, that long, white, beard flowing in the wind like a flag.
"My lord," the girl said, standing up and bowing deeply to him, giving him a good view of her ample cleavage in the process. Straightening back up, she nervously dusted off her simple white dress, looking toward him but not quite at him before she sat back down. He noted sourly that she didn't wait for his approval before sitting, but he found he was too captivated by her chest to comment on it.
"You must be Alyson," Viserys said, offering her a charming smile, one she didn't see in her flustered state as he sat on the edge of the bed, his knee touching hers and making her jump. The girl flushed a brilliant shade of pink and lowered her gaze to the floor, and he was so close now that he could see the small freckles scattered all over her nose, cheeks, shoulders and chest. They were faded, as if she wasn't being let out in the sun long enough; her skin was milky perfection, lighter than even his or Daenerys', as theirs had darkened slightly from exposing themselves to the Lyseni sun so much.
"Yes, my lord—"
"Your grace, I'm sure you mean, for you are addressing the future King of the Seven Kingdoms," Viserys corrected her, not unpleasantly. She paled then, the color draining away from her face as she looked down again, nodding violently, as if terribly afraid to displease him. He brought one hand to her chin, tilting it up so he could look upon her face. Her hair was perfectly straight, a dirty blond that amounted to at least six different shades of gold. Her eyes were a lovely light brown, and now that she was staring at him rather than the floor, he could see the hazel freckles inside of them. She was freckled everywhere, even in her eyes, Viserys thought amusedly. He smirked at her as he wrapped his fingers around her throat, his thumb rubbing the pulse point above her clavicle, feeling with some sick delight how the skin there lifted erratically.
"Tell me," he said slowly. "Why you and not any other maiden?"
"I—I don't really know, your grace." He could feel the vibration of her voice under his hand, and he tightened his grip on her neck, making her whimper softly.
"I don't like liars," Viserys said scornfully, pulling her so close that her breath mingled with his own. "Tell me the truth or I'll fuck you bloody and then kill you in the most intimate, horrible way I can think of before delivering your bruised body to your father…limb by limb." He was being very harsh, he told himself, taking out part of the anger he had reserved for his sister on this innocent girl.
"I'm so sorry, your grace," she tried, but he shook his head, pushing her down on the bed and climbing on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head.
"The truth, Alyson," he breathed against her mouth, and she bit her lip, her eyes squeezing shut. Something about this situation reminded him of something else, and he realized perversely that she was the second maiden he had pinned down that day in such a manner.
"It's because I'm his daughter," she whispered, and Viserys tightened his grip on her wrists at the disturbing information.
"Saldan's daughter?" he asked, a part of him not wanting to believe her. "Tell me!"
"Y-yes," she gasped, her eyes opening and staring into his. "A bastard daughter, but I'm his blood nonetheless."
"Ah, so he wanted me to fuck his illegitimate daughter and give him silver haired pups, is that it?" he snapped haughtily, his hands tightening so hard that he could see the tips of her fingers turning a bruised, purple color.
"I don't know, my lo—your grace," she quickly corrected herself. "He's been saving my purity and hand in marriage for a greater purpose, for an important person I was always told. Until tonight, when he ordered me to present myself to this chamber and let you take what was yours. A prince's right, he called it," and her face took on a softer look, reminding Viserys of her frail age and innocence. She couldn't have been younger than fifteen or sixteen, judging by her bosom, yet her face showed more youth than her body did. Viserys considered asking her, but her father might have told her to lie in order to ensure their coupling.
"He sees it as a gift befitting a prince—"
"And a prince's downfall, should I leave any bit of me behind," Viserys countered acidly, letting go of her wrists and getting off of her. "I know what he wants; he wants a chance to see his blood on the Iron Throne one day, but he's daft if he thinks I'm not in on his little plans."
"Your grace, please don't be upset," said Alyson, and she came closer to where he was sitting, his face set in a scowl.
"Your father has insulted me, girl," he hissed, turning to look at her for merely a moment before looking away again; wanting nothing more than to hit her, hurt her, send her bruised and broken back to her father so the man would understand that Viserys was certainly not an individual to play games with. "I specifically told him I don't take whores into my bed, so he sends me you, his bastard virgin?"
"If I have offended you, my prince, please allow me to make up for my mistakes." He turned back to her then, and was surprised at finding her so close to him, her earthy eyes staring deeply into his. Much like her father's eyes, Viserys realized, and it only infused him with more irritation.
"What do you want from me?" His voice was cooler and calmer now, and he suddenly felt very weary and not at all in the mood for the pleasures that coupling usually offered.
"I wish to please my father," she replied, her voice soft as her hand touched his. "And I wish to please you." Viserys looked down at the contrast between their skins; hers milky pale and delicately soft, his own skin rougher and darkened by the sun; his hand so much larger than hers that a thought came back to him unbidden.
"What is your age, Alyson?"
"I'm nearly fourteen, your grace."
A vision of a blushing Daenerys lying beneath him suddenly flashed in front of his eyes and the prince struggled to push his disturbing, blameworthy thoughts away. "So your father takes me for a violator of children, as well?" He was going to throw her out of the room now, and he stood up, grabbing her by the shoulders and lifting her from the bed. "I made myself very clear and this is not an insult I can take," he snapped, his face twisting maliciously.
"I am not a child, your grace," and for the first time, Viserys detected annoyance in Alyson's tone. Her eyes flashed darkly and he let go of her shoulders, taking a step back and suddenly feeling very wrong for being in this situation to begin with. She stepped closer to him then, her head leaning back to maintain his gaze as he towered over her by more than a head.
"Then what are you, if not a child?" he asked, feeling defeated and exasperated. For Viserys knew that Alyson was no child, not in the true sense of the word; he wondered, as he stared at that plentiful bosom, if her father had been telling the truth regarding her innocence, but he decided he might very soon find out anyway.
"I'm not a woman grown, and I know I probably won't be the prettiest girl you have ever lain with," how wrong she was to think so low of herself, Viserys thought bitterly, "but consider this—I do come willingly. My father was intent on making sure I agreed to it, as he said women came willingly to a prince of royal blood, or not at all."
Viserys found himself moving towards her without even realizing it, drinking in her melodious voice and warm, smiling eyes. But when her knees hit the edge of the bed and she looked back in surprise before turning to him and grinning, he snapped out of the lustful spell and looked at her with some amount of trepidation. He had never taken a girl by savage, had never really needed to, but a horrible part of him believed that he might do it tonight if the girl changed her mind.
His hands reached up slowly, his fingers finding the laces of her ivory gown, and he noted with detest that the color had most likely been chosen to purposefully show off the girl's purity. Losing patience and feeling cheated in some odd way by her old man, Viserys grabbed the thin material of the dress and ripped it open, revealing her breasts to his hungry eyes. Alyson gasped loudly and in an unexpected moment of self-preservation, covered herself with both hands.
Viserys glared at her and shook his head, indicating that this wasn't behavior he condoned in such a situation. The girl bit her lip nervously, her cheeks a bright pink color as she lowered her hands. He pushed the material down over her creamy skin, crouching down to get it past her hips and standing back up when she was divested of all materials. He stood back to observe her curves and the way her hips flared attractively, admiring the way her breasts hung like fresh, plump fruits despite her insubstantial age. Then again, he was only a few years older than her at seventeen, so he probably shouldn't be thinking of her age as so much different from his own. Viserys had to tell himself these lies in order to continue doing what he was doing; for there was probably some sort of special, terrible hell reserved for young men like him who not only broke and corrupted young girls, but took such twisted, perverse delight from it all. When his large hand pressed against her breast, barely covering its tender flesh, a shudder went through him at the thought that he was the first to touch her in this manner.
Viserys divested himself of clothing faster than he thought possible before pushing her down onto the bed and pressing her into it, his knee slipping between her thighs to part her shaking legs. He noted that her pubic hair was darker than her head, a coarse, dirtied golden color that appeared even darker against her pale complexion.
When his thin lips found her softer, plumper ones, Alyson sighed into his kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hand found her lower lips. She was already wet, but when he pushed one finger inside of her she gasped loudly, a mewling sound escaping her when he started to move, the muscles around his fingers becoming impossibly tight. He swallowed his hesitance down, his mouth on her neck as he added in another finger, the girl beneath him making noises so terrible that he was sure to fuck her bloody without a thought to her comfort if she couldn't be silent.
"Alyson," he gasped, his fingers curling into her and then she cried out, her nails digging into his back as she stared at him, face flushed and eyes wide. "If you don't quiet down I'm afraid I might lose what's left of my control."
"Then lose it," she whispered, but it was a challenge rather than an order. Viserys growled into her neck, his fingers slipping out of her as he positioned himself above her, his eyes flickering over her curves as the blood rushed down and rendered him painfully hard. He pushed against her opening, feeling her wetness dripping down onto his cock, making it twitch with a desperate need to be buried inside of her. The girl moaned in pain as he pushed in, and Visery stilled completely at the feeling of her wrapped around him, so wet and warm and impossibly tight that he thought he might die.
He had never known what being with a virgin could do to a man, how it could make a man feel, or how it could change a man forever. As he sheathed himself inside of her with another deeper push, breaking past the skin inside and establishing her womanhood, he groaned with pleasure at the tight, hot sensation, Alyson's nails sinking into his back so harshly he was sure she was drawing blood. He peppered kisses over her entire face, and she made desperate, needy sounds as he pulled out and pushed back in, over and over again, claiming her as his. Viserys looked down to where their bodies joined, and a mad passion grabbed hold of him as he saw how beautifully they contrasted; dark hair against pale hair, light skin against tanned skin, and sharp, angular hips against round, fleshy ones.
Viserys pulled out then, a sudden, dark need taking over him as he turned her body so she was on all fours and entered her swiftly and deeply, eliciting a broken moan from her; whether it was in pain or pleasure or both, the young prince could not say. All he could do was feel the exquisite perfection of Alyson's body against his, the way her hips trembled under his fingers as he held her tightly and buried himself inside of her. When he looked down again and saw fresh, crimson blood coating his privates, he didn't stop and couldn't stop even if he had wanted to; the thrusting of his hips was becoming more erratic with every passing minute as he grew closer and closer to his release. Her moans became strangled cries when he brought his hand to her pelvis, his fingers rubbing harshly against her pleasure point, wondering if he could make her find her own release despite the pain she had just experienced. Alyson proved to be more than willing to fall into his trap of pleasure as she twisted and shuddered beneath him, crying out again and again as he pushed himself into her almost violently now, his fingers continuing their assault on her heated flesh. Viserys found the soft skin of her neck, sinking his teeth into it and marking her as he approached utter fulfillment; he pulled out of her then, holding himself in one hand as his seed shot out of him, the spurts landing on her buttocks and lower back.
The young prince was no fool; he would take a gift and enjoy it completely when given to him so freely and openly. Yet he would not be leaving any souvenirs behind for her to birth and raise; Viserys had experienced firsthand the trials and terrors of an orphaned upbringing, and leaving a child of his own to a life that he hadn't chosen for it was out of the question. He couldn't know what the future held for this young, beautiful girl, and he didn't want to know; burdening her with a child would not only complicate his life in the future if that bastard decided to claim his or her rights to the throne, but it would complicate his life even now if he knew of its existence while it was a babe.
Viserys already had a child to raise and take care of. If he ever found out he had fathered a child he simply wouldn't feel right leaving it solely to the care of its mother; so the logical thing to do, he thought, was to never father a bastard to begin with. For adding another child to the situation would only make it that much harder for him to take back his kingdom when the time came, and there were already many obstacles he had to overcome in order to achieve that one goal; another thing holding him back was not something the young man wanted.
He watched as Alyson slumped down on the sheets, tired and panting heavily, her hair plastered against the wet skin of her back. And Viserys suddenly wondered, a dreadful, guilty feeling growing inside of him, just how much their wasted child would have resembled him.