A/N: Hey all, hope all is going well.
New chapter. I know you're gonna like this :D
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Chapter 37: Wedding on Dragonstone
"He's coming, my love, soon he'll be here!"
Grand Maester Gawen having informed her she could enter labor within the hour even, Alyssa was grateful that in her husband's excitement he didn't seek to dance about their chamber with her as he was oft to in their first moons. She still granted him a merry laugh. "All I've heard for weeks was the return of your brother."
Grinning, Aenys leaned down and kissed her head. "Well of course. He was always beloved for his skill and daring. As natural to a sword as our father and mother."
"Stories of which I have also heard… among other things." Rumors drifted about court… of a palfrey stabbed to death for kicking at him, then a stableboy flogged for trying to stop him. One of many rumors that followed Maegor Targaryen. The King and Queen squashed such like an insect but they still existed, Alyssa having gathered them.
They colored her view of him. Worried as to his brutality… though a slight twinge came to Alyssa at what she imagined him to be. A brute, a monster… a true warrior.
"He returns from the North, at least for a little while. I have gathered the finest minstrels and mummers and mimes from around the land!" Aenys, coming of age and married now, had been tasked with setting up the preparations for Maegor's returning feast and dove into it with his characteristic charm and frivolity. "Only the best for my brother."
Alyssa looked over him. As kindly and delightful a man as could be… but not a warrior. Not like his father, or mother, or her father. Like Queen Rhaenys no doubt as an accomplished dragonrider and lover of the arts, but unlike her Alyssa couldn't see him going to battle.
Fecund though they were, mayhaps such was the reason she only truly liked him. Care was there, enjoyment was there.
Passion, she had yet to feel it.
The roar she now recognized as Balerion had Aenys nearly jumping in excitement. "Father returned!" Ever dutiful, he helped Alyssa up from her chair - a chore given the size of her belly. "It saddened me that Maegor couldn't come to our wedding, but he is here now and I can't wait for you to meet him."
"I cannot wait either." For multiple reasons.
Soon they were all gathered at the outer parade ground of Dragonstone castle, watching Balerion circle the keep once before landing. Two figures leaping off the Black Dread - one the mighty visage of his Grace, Aegon I, and the other…
Alyssa had to fight to keep from gaping, though her eyes widened nonetheless. Prince Maegor… he looked as much a copy of the King as could be, let seemingly stronger. Taller and more powerful if such were possible. Younger than she or Aenys, he nevertheless towered over both of them.
And on his face was a pensive, yet joyous smile. Not the firm savagery of what court whispered on. A dashing, chivalric warrior… just the kind of man she'd always dreamed of marrying.
He greeted his mother, sister, and finally his brother with tight hugs an plenty of tears - none of them from him though his gestures were warm. Yet another thing that drew Alyssa in like a moth to a flame. Without any buffer left, she shook inwardly as she approached him. "Prince Maegor," she almost croaked.
"Dearest goodsister," Maegor spoke, taking her hand and kissing it. To Alyssa it felt like fire spreading from her skin to the rest of her body. A warming fire. "Please accept my apologies for not being at your wedding. Not by design, I promise."
Alyssa believed him. "You are forgiven, goodbrother." Where was the brute she had heard of? The somber, quiet menace? Sure, even the greatest of sadists could be polite and charming on occasion but one look in his dark violet eyes…
The Princess knew he was sincere.
Looking for her husband, Alyssa found him immersed in conversation with his father, the King. Leaving her only escort to be… "Can I have the honor of escorting you, goodsister?" She looked up to see Maegor smiling softly - his eyes never leaving her. "We can get to know each other more."
Trembling slightly, she took his proffered arm. "Lead the way, Prince Maegor." Even at the tiniest touch, he set her body alight.
Walking briskly along the corridors of the holdfast, Queen Alyssa wished to scream… only stopping herself because of the gaggle of attendants and guards that followed her. Why, why, why must those damned memories beset her? Why was it that every weak move her husband made cast upon her those bittersweet memories?
And he made them increasingly frequently. His words still rang in her head, how the increasing complaints and petitions from the Riverlands due to Ser Gargon Qoherys' perfidy and lusts could be dealt with by a stern letter to Lord Daeron. How the Ironborn expulsions of the septons that Maegor and Aenys agreed to were causing said septons to wander the Westerlands condemning House Targaryen yet Aenys dismissed them - stating how much the people loved him since his last tour of the Westerlands years before was greeted in adulation.
Deep down Alyssa knew why the memories kept returning, why Maegor still haunted her mind. She wanted him. She lusted for him. Alyssa was loathe to admit it but she yearned for what they had… what they could've had.
Stop it! Stop being so weak!
Gods, all she had ever wanted was a strong, virile warrior of a man to sweep her off her feet, and this was the result. An affable, indecisive husband and a former lover that corrupted everything he touched.
Sometimes Alyssa felt like leaping off the cliff of Aegon's High Hill.
Glancing down at the courtyard, her mind latched onto something that could provide distraction. Her son, Prince Aegon, was locked in a sparring match with someone… someone quite familiar once she caught a glimpse of his face. Rogar Baratheon.
He had taken an interest in training her eldest boy, as strong, martial, and fierce as his father wasn't. Well, as Aenys isn't. He matched well with the second-in-line heir to Storm's End, who possessed the Baratheon build and Durrandon warlike stubbornness. Little chivalry existed in this spar, both throwing themselves at each other.
She worried for her son, but truthfully it would be good for him as a warrior of renown. Only to elevate him when he took the crown as King of All Westeros.
Both breaking apart for a drink, Rogar took a goblet of wine and errantly glanced up. Lips setting into a smile as he caught Alyssa staring down. He could be the exact opposite of a Valyrian - eyes blue, hair dark, and features rugged - but comely he was. A true knight of the Realm in the manner Alyssa fancied.
She smiled back before waving at her son, who puffed up at his mother's attention and pride. I wonder if my other hatchlings are at their lessons.
Seeing a servant dressed in the outfit of one of the nursery maids, Alyssa waved her over. "You… are you new?" She was slender and pretty… not conventionally so, but one that could turn heads undoubtedly.
The maid curtseyed low. "Aye, your Grace. I am Jeyne, the new attendant for the Princes and Princess Alysanne."
Nodding, Alyssa pointed to the keep's grounds. "Go find my daughter and ensure she gets to her lessons. Undoubtedly she's playing with her dragon and that Arya Reed." Northmen.
Another curtsey. "It shall be done, your Grace." And then she was off.
Shaking her head, Alyssa cursed under her breath. "Why, Maegor. Why did you have to bring such barbarism and depravity into our family?"
Why, Maegor, why didn't you marry me?
Such thoughts went hand in hand much as Alyssa hated herself for it.
The place… this monstrosity marring the glorious landscape of holy Westeros, oh did Jeyne Poore hate it. It never should've existed, built out of nothing by foreign invaders that spat upon the tenets of the Seven who are One. Those upon which she now outwardly served.
Did she hate herself for it?
Mayhaps on some level, even if it was for the greater good.
It had been but weeks, but already she was accustomed to the ebb and flow of life in the palace. She had met the King, and the Queen… gotten to observe Princess Rhaena, Prince Aegon, Prince Jaehaerys… and even Princess Alysanne though her duties were mostly to the eldest Prince and the youngest Prince. A handsome man objectively, no matter of hate couldn't deny that fact, yet one whose eyes never once strayed to her no matter what she wore.
No matter how provocative she acted - though just acting that way mortified her. It was far easier for Floris, who already had been gaining the attention of many. But not for Jeyne, not for the one Barth clearly recruited for the task.
Prince Aegon only had eyes for Alys Harroway. Of this she was obvious. If Jeyne was to complete her goal, something else had to be done.
Until then, it was her outward duties that required her attention.
As the Queen had informed her, Jeyne found the Princess in the grassy field between the gardens and the edge of Aegon's High Hill - normally, the dragons resided there, but Prince Maegor often flew off on Balerion to parts unknown, while Queen Visenya and Princess Rhaena disappeared on Vhagar and Dreamfyre several hours before. Ostensibly to Dragonstone.
Therefore, only Quicksilver was present, the Royal dragon sleeping while curled in a ball. Jeyne gave it a wide berth, hate in her eyes but also plenty of fear. It was one thing to hear about them, yet another to see them.
She truly was within the flames of Old Valyria now.
"Catch me! Catch me!" Running through the grass, Alysanne tried to dodge and weave but her dress restricted her agility. Allowing the screeching Silverwing to vault onto her back. Knocking them both to the ground.
"Aly!" called out Arya Reed, running right after her, concern tempered once Aly started giggling and rising to her feet. "I told you, you gotta wear trousers." She gestured to hers. "None of those problems, and we can make them so you can look feminine too."
"I like dresses," Alysanne replied, giggling as Silverwing climbed all over her before settling on her shoulder. "Aren't you a good girl? Aren't you a sweet little hatchling?" About the size of a large cat, it wouldn't be long before Silverwing couldn't do this anymore so both Princess and dragon were enjoying it as much as they could.
Unlike Vermithor, who was very standoffish and proud much like his kepa, Silverwing was a cuddle whore and loved nothing more than to act cute and get pets from Alysanne.
It was in this that Jeyne arrived. "Princess," she called out, only then noticing Arya. "Lady Reed."
Arya wrinkled her brow. "Do I know you?"
"Oh, Arry, don't be silly." Alysanne smiled at Jeyne. "This is Jeyne, the newest maid in the nursery staff."
"There are like fifty Jeynes serving in the Dragonpalace… forgive me for not being immediately familiar." Ironically, it was the crannogwoman that was growing more arrogant than the Valyrian Princess. Different personalities, Jeyne supposed. Much as she and Lady Rowan back when she lived in Goldengrove - didn't make them any less friends. "The bigger question is what are you doing here?"
She cleared her throat, trying not to be nervous at Arya's gaze. A Targaryen she is not, but a noble lady she is while I am but smallfolk. Ordinarily she might not care, but Jeyne knew she couldn't blow her cover… so, she needed to be humble and submissive. "Her Grace, Queen Alyssa, requests Princess Alysanne to be escorted to her studies."
The Princess, already promising to be a ravishing beauty as her mother and older sister, gasped. "Oh, that's right. Gods, Silverwing makes me lose track of time." Again she stroked the dragon's snout, causing a little coo to leave the hatchling.
Such monsters come from those little things? Even Jeyne couldn't deny the cuteness of Silverwing as of now. Prince Jaehaerys' Vermithor was much more ill-tempered.
"You're a Princess. You can be late if you want."
But Alysanne shook her head. "No, shouldn't keep muna waiting." With a smile, she motioned to Jeyne. "Lead the way."
Jeyne curtseyed again. "Of course, your Grace."
Just reentering the gardens, a voice called out to the Princess. "There you are, Aly." Another young male Targaryen entered view, one less burly than Prince Aegon… more like the King in looks. "Your Septas are shrieking at you being late and it's really irritating to me."
Arya snickered while Alysanne sighed. "Sorry for that, Vis. Lost track of time."
"Just go over there and stop them from bothering me." His eyes shifted to Jeyne, the light indigo widening slightly. "Who is this?"
"This is Jeyne, the new maid," Aly answered. "Jeyne, this is my brother, Viserys."
Under the gaze of the middle Prince, Jeyne curtseyed. "Your Grace… I have finally met all royals, aside from Prince Maegor and his wife."
Viserys chuckled. "My uncle is rather brooding much of the time, lest he's riding or wielding a sword… or other things." His cheeks blushed faintly. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Jeyne. Mayhaps we will see plenty of each other from now on."
"It would be an honor, my Prince." Never did she miss how his gaze raked over her. Both appreciation and… hunger? Aye, hunger.
She might not need to throw herself uselessly at Prince Aegon to complete her task.
Sighing in happiness, Samantha Manderly held up four ribbons, practically bouncing on her heels. "Which one, Rhae? Red? Green? Cream? Blue? Red?"
"Enough, Sammy," groaned Alayne, though there was a slight grin on her face. "Though red would go well with your dress. Give it some proper color."
"The color of my own house, that is," replied Rhaena, who seemed to be on a cloud. Surreal as she took the red ribbon - the second article of red as was her sash, tied around the slim waist against the black color of her dress. Black and red, the colors of House Targaryen. "Um… I could use…"
"Aye, let me." Alys took the ribbon, moving to her updone hair and worked it as she had done with her sisters often before feasts at Harrenhal, Riverrun, or Raventree Hall. "Are you happy?"
A snort. "Of course she's happy," chuckled Margaery. "Look at her!"
Rhaena's smile hadn't died even once since leaving King's Landing atop Dreamfyre, all her favorites clinging to the spines of her back. All but Tyanna - herself having first-hand knowledge - were utterly shocked that they were being brought to her wedding, and to Maegor no less. Yet none were upset, or truly surprised… most of their surprise was in the secrecy of it all, and the little Targaryen currently growing in her belly. "Absolutely fucking estatic," she murmured finally.
Giggling, Melony Piper hugged her. "Second one of us to marry. Quite amusing, since I always expected it to be either Larissa or Elissa."
Glancing at Rhaena's Velaryon cousin, Elissa shrugged. "That's fair. And who was gonna be last?"
"Jorelle," was the quick answer.
The Lady of Bear Island scoffed. "You speak such, but I'd have the last laugh. Northern men love tough women as I."
"And yet you're not in the north," Margaery Tarly replied, grinning.
The banter between her friends was truly dragging Rhaena away from her unbidden thoughts. The fears, the worries… the prospect of the literal chaotic melee that would await her once she left Dragonstone now married to Maegor. It wasn't that so many sought her hand, though that was true. Marrying him, marrying a man with a wife so well-connected to the great houses of Westeros was truly daunting
He still loves her.
What pain she would cause her aunt Ceryse - Rhaena still loved her and wished not to hurt her - paled in comparison to what would come from the Faith. Maegor's enemies would now become the Crown's enemies…
A flutter in her belly drew her hand above the still unseen swell. Rhaena smiled, rubbing it. My sweet babe… my love. A piece of her and Maegor. Forgive me, kepa. I wish not to disrespect you, but I have to do this…
"Rhaena?" She looked up to meet Jorelle's eyes. "Sorry to interrupt your brooding, but for the life of me I don't know why your House didn't make Dragonstone your seat. It's more fitting than those gilded monstrosities on the mainland… dark and drab as it is."
Looking around, she smiled at the comfort that such Valyrian architecture innately gave her. "I've not been here as much as I should." She grinned. "Maegor is Prince of Dragonstone, so I suppose I'll be his Princess. I'll be able to come here whenever I wish… and you are all invited."
"Would be nice to get away from court," Alys offered, beaming at Rhaena, though there was… something else in her eye. Is she hiding something…
Before Rhaena could inquire, the door opened to reveal Tyanna in a purple dress that hugged her body. One that complemented her dark hair and eyes and left her looking absolutely gorgeous. Her expression softened at glimpsing Rhaena. "You look beautiful," she breathed.
Rhaena smiled. "Thank you." She rose, feeling a bit… flattered at Tyanna's marveling gaze. "Is he…?"
She nodded. "Aye, all is ready." Tears pricked at her eyes, and Rhaena hugged her. Wordlessly thanking her for being here in spite of their… former relation. "Are you ready?"
"So ready." Letting out a collective exhale, the others made their last minute touchups to their outfits before following Rhaena and Tyanna through the hallways towards Aegon's Gardens.
Beyond the arch of the Dragon's Tail, the gardens planted by the deceased King Aegon as a wedding present to Queen Rhaenys had a distinctive scent of pine, such saplings imported from the North. Alongside the path to the central courtyard of the gardens grew tall dark trees, wild roses, towering thorny hedges, and cranberries, blood red fruit almost ready for picking. Rhaena resisted the urge to reach out and take one - the babe was making her hungry. Preferable to being sick to my stomach. She'd enjoy a hearty feast afterwards.
When she'd be married. Her smile widened at the thought.
There were few there other than her favorites… emphasizing how few friends and confidants that her uncle truly had - providing her with a sudden sadness. Gawen Corbray was there, dressed in his white cloak. Standing with her long silver hair tied in a severe bun was her grandmother, the still mighty Queen Visenya. Dark Sister may have been now displayed strapped to Rhaena's side, but the fire and blood was still prominent in her… yet tonight she smiled. Close to tears for the first time since grandfather's funeral. A pile of logs rested in front of her, ostensibly for the ceremony. Was this how she and grandfather married? Both her and grandfather were quite cagey about their true religious faith.
But all questions or curiosity died upon her eyes falling on her betrothed. Standing straight dressed in black trousers, red tunic, and red cloak, his frame was adorned by Blackfyre and his face contorted in a look of wonder at seeing her. A look that made Rhaena feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
A feeling she mirrored, thinking him the handsomest man she had ever seen. Maegor - her man - looked exactly like a dragonlord of Old Valyria. Her favorites dispersed all around in a semicircle to watch, Tyanna falling into place beside her grandmother, but Rhaena only had eyes for Maegor. Love shining between them. It was only fitting that they marry as those of Old Valyria did, no one giving her away. Equals, dragonriders both.
I love you.
From the glint in his eyes, he seemed to reply back. I love you too. The fierce, cruel Prince Maegor Targaryen to all, yet she knew him in reality. A man who loved hard, who cherished desperately.
The father of her child. The only man she wished to father any child with her.
Just coming to notice, Syndor poked her head out of the shadows and nudged Rhaena's belly. A low whimper leaving the direwolf's mouth. Rhaena beamed and rubbed her fur, making Syndor loll her tongue out in joy. Aye, you're gonna meet your little brother or sister soon, sweetling.
"Let the ceremony begin," Visenya announced in High Valyrian, following up with unfamiliar prayers. Rhaena, raised in the Sept with Murmison as her teacher, found it odd… yet oddly right. Like a piece of her lost that finally returned. Her inner fire roaring its approval.
Unprompted, Maegor reached out and squeezed her hand quickly before drawing back. Her mouth dropped slightly and eyes flickered to him, to which a smile was his response. Gods, she wanted this to be over so she could show him just how much she adored him.
"And now," Visenya opened her eyes, chants concluded. "Let us have the gods descend upon us and bring forth their blessings on this union of man and wife. May they, dragonriders of the Valyrian people, call upon their mounts."
Not briefed on this step, Rhaena hesitated for a moment - resulting in Dreamfyre landing a few seconds behind Balerion on the outskirts of the gardens. Their heads soon appeared to either side of the Dowager Queen, each seemingly excited in their own draconic way. Try not to bother us with too loud a coupling, muna.
Shut it. Rhaena couldn't help but smirk at Dreamfyre's jape though. It calmed her down.
"Rhaena of House Targaryen, Princess of Westeros, do you take this man to be your husband?"
Looking to her grandmother before beaming at Maegor, Rhaena spoke truly and proudly. "I take this man." Maegor seemed to sigh in relief. You silly fool, did you think I would say no? Mayhaps he did.
"Maegor of House Targaryen, Prince of Westeros, do you take this woman to be your wife?"
"I take this woman," he responded, eyes never leaving Rhaena's. Making her swoon inwardly - though the audible swoons came from Samantha and… Elissa? Margaery? All of them perhaps, even Alayne and Jorelle. Saps, all of them. Such a thought wasn't mocking.
But what followed did surprise her. Maegor, at a nod from Visenya, drew his dagger, rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and cut along it. It was a shallow cut but one that left quite a lot of blood flowing on his arm and down his hand, making Rhaena gasp silently. She looked to her grandmother in fright, but Visenya smiled reassuringly, gesturing to the knife.
Trembling, Rhaena took the offered dagger - one of Valyrian steel - and gritted her teeth as she mirrored the cut Maegor made along her arm. The blood dripped, but somehow she felt no pain.
"Now stand before the gods to receive their blessing." Both Maegor and Rhaena moved forward to the log pile, their bodies close and shoulders touching.
Pointing his head at their dragons, Maegor silently told Rhaena to do the same. "Dracarys!" he yelled as Balerion reared his head. Dracarys. The silent command was enough for Dreamfyre, both dragons releasing a puff of flame simultaneously. Just enough to ignite the logs with red-hot dragonfire.
Hands clasped together and blood mixing, Maegor took their combined arms and thrust them over the roaring pile. Dragonblood, those of the great Valyrians blessed with the power only the gods normally possessed. Daring their divine betters and rewarded for such bravery and thirst for power. Over the fire, the blood of man and wife flowed from their cuts, a part of themselves latching on to the other and uniting them as one blood. As they withdrew their arms from the flame, Rhaena saw Maegor's cut healed without a scar. A check of hers found the same, skin warm and softly glowing with life but without a blemish.
"In sight of the gods and men, I hereby bind these two souls together for eternity!"
With her grandmother's words spoken, Rhaena had not time to even breathe before Maegor drew her to him. Capturing her lips in a kiss. She heard not the claps and cheers of her favorites, only him and his groan when her tongue slid against his. My husband…
Compared to what Maegor had known even in the North, the dinner - lest less than a dozen people could qualify as a feast - had been quite subdued. Not quiet by any means, Rhaena and her favorites engaged in heated conversations that were clearly happy ones. His mother and Lord Commander Gawen giving toasts, as well as the customary cheers upon the calls for him to kiss Rhaena at every opportunity.
He had no qualm against those, and neither did Rhaena from his observation.
A hearty meal of clam stew and honey-roasted pork downed with a mug of Northern black ale and crusty bread left him quite fortified, his own confidence leading to excusing both he and his bride from the table to ribald whistles and comments from Rhaena's favorites. Shy, innocent girls they were not - Tyanna cast him an odd look, while to Rhaena was a look of longing.
I'll have to ask her on that.
But the night wasn't about questions or answers - only her, his beloved. "That was a quiet affair," he heard her say, arm wrapping around his. "Nothing like your first wedding."
"Half the North was there… made it a rowdy affair," he chuckled, only to grow solemn. "I'm sorry, Rhaena. You deserved something just as extravagant…"
Rhaena placed a finger on his mouth. "Shhh… I had you, I had grandmother, I had my favorites, and I had my own culture behind me. It was all I could ever want." His heart melted.
Reaching the bedchamber, he opened the door for her. Letting her in as Syndor - having trotted alongside - allowed her master to pet her once before laying on the floor with her paws in front of her. Standing guard like the faithful creature she was. "We are here."
"Yes, we are." Rhaena worked at the various braids holding her hair up, letting her silver locks cascade down her bare shoulders like a silky sheet. Gods, she looked breathtaking. Turning to him, Rhaena bit her lip as her violet eyes twinkled at her husband. "So…"
"So…" Maegor repeated, smiling softly. "Alone at last, wife."
"Aye, alone…" Her gaze grew hungry. "We've been alone before, coupled before, but this seems different."
"We're married… of course it's different."
She licked her lips. "I know the feeling… To have wanted you since I was but four and ten. Being with you, uncle, it's what I've wanted for so long." Rhaena shivered in lust. "But now I have you. Now you're mine."
He grinned. "Aye, yours."
At those words, Rhaena growled and jumped him. None too gentle with their babe still too little to worry on. Her arms looped round his neck, legs locking tightly around his hips as Rhaena crashed their lips together. Plundering him like the hungry dragon she was. Grinding her core against his lower abdomen like a wanton slattern.
"Fuck… Rhae…" There was nothing more glorious than a dragon in the bedchamber.
"To bed, uncle," she begged, husking the last naughtily while licking the shell of his ear.
Tossing her onto the bed, Maegor was about the climb in before she scrambled off with great dexterity. "Turn around," Rhaena commanded. Maegor did so, only to feel her hands move to the ties of his clothes. "These must come off." There was no room for dissent.
Maegor had none to give. "Please do."
She disrobed him, quickly, following by shoving him onto the bed. Eyes black and raking over him ravenously. Not knowing whether to drool over his handsome face, his thick muscles, or his powerful cock already fully erect for her. "Tonight, the Princess rules her Prince." With a slow, sensual glory peeled her clothes off bit by bit, enticing him with the view of her slender, gorgeous body. Her silver-gold hair shone with youth in the way only a fellow dragonrider could bear. Etherial, beautiful, yet also with a firm power and ferocity. Old Valyria in all its glory.
Gods, no wonder his kepa couldn't resist taking both his munas to wed.
Smirking knowingly at him, without a stitch of clothing remaining Rhaena climbed atop his legs. Slowly inching forward, tall, proud, and confident in spite of her petite frame. Each step found her breasts heave and bounce, ever larger as the pregnancy took root. "You better obey me, uncle," she said, grinning down at him while she hovered above him.
Hands moving to rest along her sides, just above the curve of her hips, Maegor nodded as he groaned. Feeling how she reached behind her and circled his cock in her hand. Sighing in pleasure, she teasingly grinded his cock against her folds without taking him inside of her. Maegor closed his eyes, shaking. With Ceryse or Ralla he would've simply flipped them over and taken them, but Rhaena wasn't like them.
She was as powerful a dragon as he.
"Rhaena…" he murmured, resolve breaking.
Her smile grew. "What, uncle?"
Fuck, now married, her speaking their relation grew all the more a turn on. "Please…" He didn't beg… at least to those other than his beautiful dragon.
"Please what?" She loved this.
"Just… do it."
Rhaena took pity on him - she was desperate for him too. "Alright." Without further delay Rhaena simply sank down onto him. Gasping, biting her lip to stifle her scream. "It's… it's always like the first time." The only cock she'd ever have inside her ever again. Witnessing the sheer pleasure on his face, she leaned down, planted her hands on his chest, and began riding him. Taking his cock all the way inside of her in one quick drop of her hips, then rising again and beginning it all over. Simply slamming onto him, impaling herself onto his cock. "Oooh, husband…"
Cunt like a vice grip over him, Maegor gripped her hips. Adding his own thrusts up to spear into her, splitting her open. Making her ride him she would Dreamfyre into battle. One hand reached up to cup a perfect breast, both it and its sister bouncing wildly. "Scream for me, my dragon," he begged. "I want to hear you roar."
"AH! AH! AH!" Rhaena did not disappoint, screaming each time she dropped down onto him. Never once slacking off. "You feel so good… fuck uncle! Just like that!" Her words shifted seamlessly into High Valyrian, the language of their blood.
His strong hands dug into her asscheeks, slapping them occasionally which caused her to cream around him. "Take my cock, niece. Take my seed."
"Kessa, uncle!" she cried. "Give me your seed! Defile your innocent niece!" She was far from innocent, but knew instinctively how to turn him on. Rolling her hips around his cock, Rhaena continued to bounce atop him even harder, forcing her body down onto his hard enough that the bed frame groaned.
"FUCK!"
"UNCLE!"
He broke first, seed shooting deep in her depths - certain to quicken if she hadn't quickened already. Rhaena didn't stop. Riding him faster until she shattered, wailing and turning lip atop him as she collapsed. Hugging his thick body till the shocks began to dissipate. A sheen of sweat covering her body.
Snuggling against her husband's front, Rhaena kissed him over and over. "I wish we could stay here forever."
"I am the Prince of this keep," Maegor replied. "Yet… your kepa has dominion over us."
"Oh, kepa," Rhaena sighed. "He will not take this well. Mayhaps we should just fly to Essos and stay there. Wait till it dies down."
"That would only cause more issues." Hugging her close, Maegor caressed her bare back. "Let's just enjoy this night… we'll worry on it in the morning."
Feeling him roll atop her, Rhaena chuckled and smiled at him. "Aye, tomorrow." She quieted as he fused their lips together again.
There was little that could even attempt to outclass the Starry Sept in its current form. Mayhaps the Lannister palace at Lannisport where the administrative bulk of the Kingdom of the Rock had been. The new Dragonpalace in King's Landing was said to compare, while Old Valyria in its height actually was the glorious pinnacle of mankind according to all. For Barth though, as he walked through the halls of the adjoining palace complex resided in by the High Septon himself, all of those people were liars.
Nothing was as glorious as this edifice - nothing as beautiful nor as imposing. Truly, what could he have aspired to as the son of a blacksmith that was greater than this? A maester perhaps, but such a conclave was consumed with seniority. With Hugor as High Septon all roads were open, and he had dashed upon the one most powerful with the speed of a warhorse.
Not once did he regret his choice. His loyalty. All paths had emerged from the Starry Sept, yet Barth could've thrown his loyalty towards the Crown… or focused on the spiritual rather than the more earthly matters, and yet here he was. And by the gods it was glorious.
Unlike the previous High Septon or others within the Starry Sept, Hugor kept a rather spartan solar. Little decoration apart from some luxuries he couldn't be parted of, such granting to Barth a sense of relief at the person he served. Someone intelligent yet not consumed by earthly pleasures. Fully committed to the cause. "Ah, Barth. Glad of you to come."
"You summoned me, your Holiness."
Nodding, Hugor gestured him to stand beside his desk. "Has she inserted herself into place?"
"No contact, your Holiness, but my other sources have indicated she has entered the Red Keep at a position of moderate authority."
"Good, good." He chuckled, patting the desk. "Barth, when I indicated my intention to appoint you as my secretary, many in the Most Devout were concerned, given your origins. Do you know what I told them?"
Barth shook his head. "No, I am not aware."
Hugor grinned. "I told them that it mattered not if your father was a smith, forging swords and horseshoes. Knights need swords, horses need shoes, and I needed Barth… and by gods I needed you on matters that I had no knowledge of then."
"You flatter me, your Holiness… I live to serve the Faith, though in honesty I have delighted in the pursuit of knowledge in order to fight our enemies."
"An intellectual feast, I assume?"
"The Father made men curious, some say to test our faith." Hugor raised his brow, but Barth continued. "It is my own abiding sin that whenever I come upon a door, I must see what lies upon the farther side."
"That is… quite poignant of you, dear Barth."
He smiled sheepishly. "Yet... certain doors are best left unopened."
"And what would those be?"
"Those of the magics," Barth answered honestly. "All has fascinated me, though I freely admit that in a proper world underneath the Seven, such sorcery must be extinguished."
Hugor nodded. "All men must know their place. None should have the power to defy the laws of the Father, least of all our nominal overlords." The High Septon rose, gazing out the window. "Sometimes I have the feeling the time is nigh to make our move… to strike, yet I hesitate."
"I am sure such is all too human, your Holiness."
"It seems… there's always potentially a better moment to wait for, even if it threatens to sap your energy."
"The men need more training… more time to coordinate with the banners of our loyal lords and recruit more that are pious to the Faith."
Nodding, Hugor sighed. "Aye, such is true."
The door opened to reveal a warrior son, his armor gleaming in the firelight. "Dispatch, your Holiness."
"I'll take that, good Ser," Barth allowed, the knight soon departing. It was one hastily written down, likely from one of his birds. Hmm… could it be her… Opening it revealed it to be another, his source from Dragonstone castle. Confused since the King wasn't present on Dragonstone at the moment, suddenly Barth's eyes widened as he parsed the scrawl upon the paper. "Your Holiness, I believe our moment is truly nigh upon us."
Taking the slip of paper, soon Hugor wore the same shocked, excited glimmer in his eyes. "We may have to wait for our true start, but the next stage has come. Ready the ravens. We must relay the information as we see it to the world before the dragons can."
Gods be good, Barth figured. The dragons had truly signed their death warrant with this.
Honestly, he hadn't expected it.
A/N: And so they are married.
We see more insight into Alyssa's character as Jeyne arrives in the Dragonpalace.
Till next time!
Enjoy and please comment!