A/N: Hey everyone.
Good news, with Bet of Dragons done, my one shot done, and Targaryen Dynasty wrapping up (check them all out, I promise you'll love them), I shall be starting a new project: a modern romantic comedy (with plenty of smut) starring Jon and Daenerys called "My Best Friend's Wedding :D It'll be posted on Ao3.
Be sure to check out my current stories Dragonshield and Heart of the Blessed.
Enjoy.
Chapter 87: Legitimacy
It should've made her feel guilty.
She shouldn't have indulged in how spoiled it made her, when those of less standing or wealth didn't hold such luxury.
But Lyanna Stark could let herself be damned to the seven hells. The servants and maids could handle Daemon, Rickon, and Visenya while she let Elia's longue, perfect tongue plunge through her depths and drive her over the edge. "Ooooh… this is the perfect way to wake…" the Queen moaned, hands weaving through the silky black locks of her Dornish beauty.
Elia pulled back, smirking. "Me enjoying a breakfast of dragon seed in the best bowl the gods could've sculpted?"
The filthy words only made Lyanna moan again. "Aye… please… don't stop." At her urgings, Elia chuckled and continued, tongue exploring every square inch of her cunt for every drop of juice she produced or seed Rhaegar had deposited only minutes before - doing his best to quicken another child, not that Lyanna minded.
One advantage of marrying a dragon - they had immense stamina by virtue of their blood. Teeth gritted and muscles tense, Rhaegar gripped Elia's tight hips with an almost bruising hold as he rocked in and out at a furious pace. "Gods… bless Meraxes for tight, Dornish cunts," he hissed, sounding a lot like Aegarax blowing out smoke. Fuck, it turned the Queens both on like a bonfire. "Rock back, just like that."
"Mmmm, take her, my dragon," Lyanna moaned. There were times where they could explore each other, taking hours to pleasure every nipple and hole with loving attention… this was not one of those times. Each of them had their duties for the day and this was… a distraction. One they couldn't deny themselves but a distraction nonetheless. Hard and fast it would have to be, not that any of them minded.
With a husband and a wife like she had, Lyanna could take them in a blizzard and she'd love every second of it.
Playing with her nipple, when Elia slid three fingers inside of her, Lyanna nearly screamed. "Yes… yes…" Her lip quivered, hot tongue thrashing her nub.
The Dornish Queen mewled into her heat, Rhaegar's cockhead hitting a rather sensitive spot deep inside her. Elia rolled her hips, trying to take him deeper. His hand pressed into the space between her shoulderblades, pushing her over the edge as he followed up with harder thrusts. "Yesssssss…"
Screaming into her cunt, Elia's climax triggered Lyanna's as she let out a silent scream - only moments before Rhaegar grunted, spilling his seed in his beautiful Dornish wife. They seized and trembled for what seemed like forever, only to simply collapse. Elia atop her she-wolf, Rhaegar beside them both. When the King managed to catch his breath, he chuckled. "Say the word, and I'll annul my marriages and take you as my Queens."
Breathing deeply, that didn't stop Lyanna from giving him a glare. "And to think we let you seed our wombs."
"To be generous, neither of us complained when he did, Lya," Elia replied, kissing her neck - giving it a sweet series of licks for good measure. "Even if he can be insufferable at times." That was punctuated by a sardonic look which made Rhaegar laugh.
"I will never lose my wits with the two of you - keep my mind sharp." He rose, knowing that two pairs of feminine eyes were glued to his backside. "Wanton whores, the both of you," Rhaegar japed.
"Your fault," Lyanna replied. "And I think you should remain that way all day."
"Oh? So you'd wish the other ladies in court to catch a glimpse of me?"
"Who said we'd let you leave these chambers?" While the idea was tempting - greatly so - Elia knew that they had their duties. Reluctantly, she detangled from her beautiful wife and rose herself, trying her best to make her hair presentable from the tangled mess Lyanna left it in. "And I would think our children would keep all of us on our toes."
Lyanna grabbed for a washcloth and began wiping herself down of the sweat and seed - a bath sounded heavenly but they didn't have the time… and she wouldn't be able to take Dacey's teasing if she looked completely like she just left a brothel. "Even the least intelligent of them can run rings around most maesters I've met." Pride filled her at birthing and raising such wonderful, intelligent children. "And our Baelon's the most intelligent of them all." Maybe Dany could compare, but she was her goodsister, not her daughter.
To their disappointment as unabashed lechers, Rhaegar had already tugged on his trousers and was lacing up a crimson tunic. "I didn't want to tell either of you, but the betrothal offers are already coming in."
"Vultures," muttered Elia, sitting at her vanity and starting to piece herself back together into a respectable Queen. "Do they have no shame?"
"They haven't asked for the babes, so there's at least some standards they're willing to follow." But Rhaegar was just as contemptuous of it. "Garlan sent me a letter saying that his mother was angling for Margaery to marry Jon… or at least Egg, while saving her son Loras for Rhaenys."
"Garlan's not like his father… he has respect, and a brain," Lyanna replied. "And none for his little daughter?"
Rhaegar snorted. "He hinted that he wouldn't mind if young Willa would be betrothed to Daemon or Rickon, but didn't state it outright. He has a bit of Olenna in him." They continued to dress, Lyanna selecting a high-collared dress in mind of the marks on her neck… courtesy of Elia it turned out, not that the Dornish beauty had any shame in it. "Tywin's mum, bless him, though Leyton Hightower and Elbert are pretty insistent."
"Elbert has no children?"
"Legitimate children," Lyanna answered. "And knowing Ned's former goodsister the bastards are probably better than any brats she'd whelp." Lysa was insane, and that wasn't just Lyanna's opinion. "Better than Walder Frey's offer. We don't need the silver he's willing to get for a royal betrothal. Nor do we need Hoster's insistence on Rhaenys or Daenerys marrying Edmure - I know my niece and nephew are half-Tully but I've just had enough with that family." Without warning, she thumped Rhaegar in the arm before going back to adjusting the bodice in her dress. "Why couldn't your ancestors have made another House the House Paramount of the Riverlands?"
Rhaegar shook his head. "Damned if I know. I suppose the Conquerors rewarded the first one who bent the knee without checking to see if it was worth it. A mistake in hindsight but what can one do?"
The Dornish Queen wasn't one to forgive easily… not after what she heard. "I wouldn't let that snake Edmure anywhere near our family." She began affixing her amber earrings to her lobes, ones that she knew got both of her beloveds hot and bothered - she wore them often as a result. "Did you know he refers to our nephew as a 'Blonde Bastard?'"
Lyanna blinked, taking a moment to put the pieces together. When she did, her face turned red. "That cunt, dare he talk about Robb in that manner? I should wring his neck… or have Tywin wring his neck. The lion would be first to do so if he knew." The Tullys were still smarting from Robb becoming the heir to Winterfell, removing the one marriage alliance they had managed to acquire that bore any fruit considering Lysa's shortcomings.
"Calm down, my love. That dolt won't marry any of ours," Rhaegar insisted firmly. "Hoster might shares such sentiment but he was always the smarter one of the two. He was mollified when I suggested Sansa could marry Baelon."
"I thought Daenerys was marrying Baelon?" Elia spoke. "They already spend all their time together… and I believe they basically sleep in the same bed."
"My son the heartbreaker," Lyanna giggled. "Either is good, or perhaps both?" She simpered with glee. "Just like his kepa," said the Queen, hugging Rhaegar.
"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves," Rhaegar remarked. "He hasn't yet met Sansa so we can't be sure yet." An idea popped into his mind… one he'd been debating for weeks but didn't know how to broach to either of them. "We could travel to Winterfell?"
Lya's eyes widened. "Rhaegar? Truly?!"
"Yes… it's about time we saw Ned and his brood, not to mention starting up the Royal Progresses again."
"I would certainly love to go and see Winterfell for the first time," Elia chimed in, imagining kissing Lyanna as the snow fell around her. It was a particular fantasy that hadn't went away - she'd already had her in the Water Gardens after all.
Squealing like a young maiden, Lyanna hugged them both. "I'll have Ash and Dacey see to the arrangements at once!" She quickly threw on a necklace and made her way to the door.
"Only after the arrival of the Volentene triarchs!" Rhaegar called out, hoping she heard him.
"Momma!" The brightest of expressions shone on Lady Sansa's face. "Look, momma, look!"
Eyes shifting from the delightful bundle of joy nestled in her arms, Lady Cersei Stark was drawn by her stepdaughter's excited cries. "Yes, sweet pup?" she asked, walking over to where Sansa was seated. "You want to show me something?"
Sansa nodded vigorously and held up a black square of cloth. "I stitched a direwolf! Isn't he beautiful?!"
Cersei regarded it. In objective measure, the crudely stitched figure of a wolf made of white string was nothing to write home about… but dear Sansa was but five namedays. It was an aesthetic marvel for someone so young. "It is beautiful, Sansa. Your first try?"
"Aye, my Lady," Old Nan stated from her perch across from Sansa. "Thought the wee wolf could try her hands on an actual symbol on the cloth."
"Well, you decided rightly."
The praise made Sansa beam even wider. "Thank you, momma." She stood and hugged Cersei's skirts tightly, her own crimson dress meshing in the same color Cersei was wearing. It had been many moons since the girl dropped all pretenses and gave into her desire for a mother. While Cersei's first weeks in Winterfell had earned the respect of the northmen, again a tension descended as even Ned worried of the Lannister lioness' reaction.
Judging from how Cersei lovingly reached down and stroked Sansa's fiery locks, she clearly took it well. Accepting Sansa as her own alongside Robb - she was just so much like Ned, a beautiful girl one found it hard not to fall for. The ladies will die to be her companion and the young knights will kill each other for her hand. The way Sansa was insisting to copy Cersei in manner of dress and style only confirmed this. Men and women alike drooled over her back in the day… especially Sansa's father. My handsome wolf.
But eventually Sansa's squeezing was starting to discomfort Cersei. "Easy, pup. Careful of your sister."
Ever a dutiful little lady, Sansa pulled back. "Sorry momma." She leaned up on her tiptoes. "Sorry, Joanna. I love you." Sansa placed a kiss on a chubby cheek for good measure.
"Tis alright, Sansa. See if you can pretty up the wolf a bit so we can show your father." Watching her go about her task with a new vigor, Cersei looked down at the babe in her arms. "You, my golden wolf, are perfect," she cooed. "The most beautiful babe." Joanna squirmed sleepily, making Cersei melt.
It was quite the irony, a merry joke by all in the North. Two of Queen Lyanna's three Targaryen babes were almost perfectly Stark in appearance while fir the Lord of Winterfell himself, only the grey eyes of Sansa were Stark traits of his children. Robb and Joanna were pure Lannister, while the growing Rickard was pure Tully. Rhaegar liked to tease Ned about it in his letters, but Cersei feared that Ned took the worries to heart.
Handing Joanna to Malera to put to bed, Cersei sighed happily as she looked over her lady in waiting's growing belly. Just as Malera and Jory's wedded bliss led to a babe, so to was Cersei prepared to keep trying until she and Ned had a babe with the Stark traits.
Stepping out on the balcony, Cersei shivered at the chilly gust of air that bracketed her thick dress. Even for someone that grew up against the winds of the Sunset Sea, she didn't think she'd ever get used to the cold as Robb did. Looking down at the sound of clashing steel, her mood improved even more as her aforementioned son took to swordplay as a prodigy. Slow and simple with a wooden play sword, but with the strength of his father and skill of his uncle showing itself already.
"Right, good show, young Stark," Ser Rodrik remarked, observing and guiding his young charges in their introduction to the harsh, brutal northern style of combat. "Keep your blade up, always, yes, that's it." He nudged Robb's arm up slightly, then patted the young boy on the head.
Cersei smiled. "How goes it, Ser Rodrik?"
The master-at-arms looked confused for a moment before he glanced at the balcony. "My Lady, forgive me." He bowed. "The little Lord is on his way to a long career as a great swordsman. Haven't seen a young one take to a sword so well since his aunt the Queen."
"Well, I've seen her fight, so that's a compliment." She shifted to look at Robb. "Are you alright, sweetling?"
"Yes, momma. I'm good," Robb called back. "I'll be a proud fighter like poppa! Or n'cle Jaime."
"Praise be the gods, you shall one day," Cersei beamed. A boy off to the side got her attention. "And Theon?"
Ser Rodrik was one of the few that didn't regard the Ironborn hostage as pond scum… though his feelings were more neutral than anything positive. "He's doin' well, my Lady. Not the best, but not the worst. He's more disciplined than when he started."
Nodding, Cersei cleared her throat. "Theon."
Theon Greyjoy looked up. "Yes, my Lady?" he said, still a bit scared of her.
Good… he'll learn better that way. "Finish your sparring lessons without complaint and you may dine with Lord Stark and I tonight."
"I'll do my best, my Lady. Thank you." Usually eating among the higher-ranking servants, it was an honor and Theon understood it. Slowly, he was starting to be accepted by those in Winterfell.
But Cersei reserved her smiles for Robb. "Keep it up, my darling boy."
"I will, momma!"
Outside in the hall, Lann perked up as soon as Cersei exited the chambers. Well… perked up as a lion would, simply opening an eye and raising an ear. She shook her head. "Get up, lazy mongrel," Cersei laughed. "Come on, let's see your poppa." Lann yawned, shook his proud mane, and rose - trotting after Cersei. Many were still terrified of him in Winterfell.
None know he's too damn lazy to attack anyone as long as he's fed. They hadn't yet been threatened by anyone, so Lann's ferocity hadn't yet been tested. He was pretty docile around the Stark children, even those without Lannister blood. Sansa called him a 'big fluffy' and everyone found it hilarious.
As Cersei imagined, Ned was in his solar looking overwhelmed by stacks of papers. "Having trouble, my wolf?"
Almost startled, Ned's expression softened at the love of his life. "Cers, thank the Gods… I could use another pair of hands here."
Giggling at how overwhelmed he was, she made her way behind him and wrapped her arms round his neck. "I could fetch Tyrion. He's pretty good with this."
Ned groaned. "My head hurts too much for me to deal with his antics right now… besides, I think he's in the brothel."
"Why am I not surprised?" Wordlessly, Cersei began to massage his temples, smiling at his grunts of satisfaction. "Well, I suppose I can be of assistance. What's the issue now?"
"Letter from the Forresters. They're asking that Robb be fostered at Ironrath when he's older - a token of their gratitude at our granting them full-control over their own lands."
"Hmmm… they are seeking to make their way up in the world. First a fostering of their daughter in Highgarden and now this?" She wasn't inclined against it. House Forrester was a loyal ally and Robb could do well to be seen more as Northern. Would soften the blow when he inevitably squires for Jaime. "I'll think on it, but I don't see a problem."
"Had it been the Dreadfort, I would have problems, but this is fine." Ned groaned. "I'm still not comfortable with Domeric Bolton coming here."
Cersei rolled her eyes. "I spoke with his aunt, Barbary Dustin. He's not like other Boltons… his bastard brother on the other hand…"
Raising a hand, Ned shushed her. "I don't wish to discuss the Boltons anymore. My headache is bad enough." He reached for another dispatch. "This one bears the seal of my sister. I hadn't yet the heart to open it lest she annoys me again."
"Your annoying sibling is thousands of miles away. Mine is spreading his seed all over the rump of a cheap whore in Wintertown as we speak, so don't complain." Cersei opened the letter and immediately perked up. "Seems the Royal Family is coming to Winterfell."
She only had to wait a second before Ned shot up out of his chair.
"What is it that my Lord Hand wishes to discuss?"
Tapping her fingers against the flat surface of a jagged blade with the hilt in the shape of a - melted hand, so House Gardener - Rhaella sighed. "My son, you've asked me this question several times before. My answer won't change, he hasn't told me."
The King, having been made to wait quite a while, groaned. "I know that, muna, but you used to deal with him back when he was Hand to kepa. Did he play mind games like this?"
"With your kepa, everything was a mind game. Even before his madness - it was his way of keeping his council on its toes and sharp." Rhaella closed her eyes, taking a breath. "Worked in its own way, even though most of us were driven to distraction almost daily." Aerys was a decisive, competent ruler early on but his jealousy, insecurity, and bitterness brought forth by Joanna's death left him susceptible to the dark demons. Rhaella mourned her brother, but not the husband he became. "As for Tywin, he doesn't play mind games unless it suits his cause but… he has a certain flair for the dramatic that most don't see."
Rhaegar snorted. "Sounds like a certain dwarf we know."
The Dowager Queen smirked. "Don't let him hear you say that."
"I would rather not… he scares me sometimes."
"We have dragons and he scares me too," confessed Rhaella. "He even scares Ser Barristan."
Raising an eyebrow, Rhaegar laughed. "Is that true? Barristan the Bold fearful of someone?"
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, protecting his King and Queen Dowager, only shrugged with the smallest of smiles. "I was the one that killed Maelys Blackfyre, your Grace. It was Lord Tywin's plan that I executed. Do not put anything past him," he said just as the guards opened the door to the throne room
"Presenting," announced the herald. "Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King." Lord Tywin was as calm and collected as always, dressed in a simple red doublet bound by gold clasps that billowed out into a tunic and trousers. Finely tailored from the best material, but simple - the only other adornment being the iron hand of the king pin. Lips pressed in a thin line, he bowed shallowly before the Iron Throne. "Your Grace. My Queen."
Rhaegar nodded. "Lord Hand. I trust you have a reason that you asked to see myself and my mother without the presence of my Queens." His eyebrow rose at seeing Ser Arthur behind Tywin. That… was surprising.
"Forgive me, your Grace. It was a bit disrespectful and I did not intend for it to be such, but I didn't wish to alarm their Graces since they tend to be quite overprotective of the Princesses and Princes."
"Go on." Rhaegar had to admit Tywin was right. Lya was a mama direwolf and Elia had her fangs out when it came to Rhae, Egg, Jon, Lyssa, and the babes. Looking back at Arthur, he put it together. "You wish for Baelon to start his swordplay lessons with Ser Arthur?"
"Partly, though through my conversations with Ser Arthur, the Crown Prince is more than ready to start." He cracked his knuckles nonchalantly. "I believe that the current lessons for all the royal children - including Princess Daenerys and my own granddaughter, my Queen," he informed Rhaella. "Are inadequate."
"His Grace, Prince Aemon, has been in charge of them," Rhaella noted.
Tywin bobbed his head. "A brilliant man, but I merely suggest that the precocious future of House Targaryen be expanded out of general knowledge and into matters such as statecraft that I can find proper tutors for. Princess Rhaenys shall rule her own keep when she comes of age, as will Prince Aegon and Princess Alyssa I hope."
"And not Princess Daenerys?"
The Hand was silent for a moment. "It is obvious that due to her… companionship, she is being groomed for bigger things."
Rhaegar smirked. "Perhaps," he replied, sharing a look with Rhaella. Even Tywin, the man with an iron heart, is on board to marrying Jon and Daenerys when they come of age. From what he had heard it would be a close run thing between Dany and Sansa Stark, though Jon meeting his Stark cousin could make the choice between them easier. "So is that all, Lord Tywin? If it is, you have my leave to make preparations pending my approval of a final lesson plan." If that was all, Rhaegar was looking forward to a spar with Ser Arthur, a bath with his loves, and then quality time with the children before dinner...
"Actually…" Rhaegar's face fell as the Hand continued - a mood that was exacerbated as even Tywin himself looked… apprehensive. Oh, this can't be good. "I received two dispatches from Storm's End." Ire turned to surprise… and then to a fiery darkness in the King. "Considering the… sensitive nature of your relations with Lord Baratheon I took the liberty of perusing their contents first…"
"Just hand it here!" Rhaegar ordered, tearing the letter from Tywin's hands and immediately scanning it over.
Cousin,
Our glorious triumph together over the squid still fills me with the greatest joy, and shows to me the need to patch together the slights made against me during the unpleasantness of years earlier. Therefore, since I am in need of heirs and no maiden has shown herself worthy of my marriage bed, I shall consider us fully reconciled in blood and loyalty upon the legitimization of four of my bastard children.
Long past time for our families to join together once more!
Robert
It took all of Rhaegar's self-control not to rip the letter into little bits right then and there. "That insolent…" He forced himself to take deep breaths, Rhaella having to squeeze his shoulder. "The drunken idiot thinks he can refer to me in such informality after what he's done!"
"Rhaegar, calm down and give me the letter." Rhaella was just as aware of the situation with Robert Baratheon, but for the good of the realm she studied the badly scrawled dispatch with dispassionate eyes. "Legitimize? Four bastards? What is he speaking of? Lord Tywin?"
"Aye, he's making a formal request." The Hand of the King brought forth the second dispatch. "Anticipating what his elder brother would've wrote, young Ser Stannis penned a letter of his own." Oh, Steffon. You couldn't have decreed Stannis to be your heir? It was shameful his friend was succeeded by someone both bitter and buffoonish.
Sensing Rhaegar was immersed in his rage, Rhaella took the letter herself and read the contents.
Your Grace,
Seven's blessings on the entire royal family on behalf of House Baratheon. Our houses have since the conquest been steadfast in loyalty and alliance, and on behalf of my brother I extend such everlasting fealty.
I can only ask as a humble bannerman to the House of the Dragon, but considering the precarious nature of our house and the refusal of my brother to wed, I seek the legitimization of Mya Stone, Gendry Waters, Edric Storm, and Bella Rivers. Their paternity is acknowledged as being the children of Robert of House Baratheon, and they are to pledge their everlasting fealty to you as I have done.
Your loyal servant,
Stannis Baratheon
"Well, Stannis has some sense about him, though it could be his marriage to one of the Hightowers. They've always been a level-headed bunch." Rhaella's brows furrowed in confusion. "Gendry Waters? Bella Rivers? Do we know any of these?"
"I'm sure Lord Varys could give a clue," Ser Barristan said, trying to be helpful. "Stannis has clearly done his due diligence."
"But why would he seek to legitimize bastards? He's young and healthy… at least in the body."
Groaning, Rhaegar slammed his fist on the Iron Throne. "It's obvious, muna. My dear cousin," he said, dripping with contempt, "Cannot see himself marrying any woman that isn't my wife… MY WIFE… so the only way that he will ever avoid a succession crisis and his house dying out is legitimizing his bastards. All because he can't forget about my Lyanna!"
"Your Grace," interjected Barristan. "Stannis is his heir and he is married to Lynesse Hightower. They could have children, no?"
But Rhaella shook her head. "Queen Elia informed me that Lady Lynesse's birth was a difficult one. Her… ability to have children has been compromised it seems." She only had sympathy for her, but it wasn't the point. "Lest Robert marries, this is the only way he will get heirs."
"Don't do it, your Grace," Arthur insisted. "Don't legitimize his own delusions."
"Not smart, Ser Arthur," Tywin replied. "I think you should grant the request, in full."
Rhaegar looked at him incredulously. "What?"
But the Lord of Casterly Rock came prepared. "My… companion is the mother of one of these children." Tywin's relationship with a whore from the Riverlands was one that all the court knew about… but none brought up. Lady Talla Rivers was occasionally on the social scene, and joined Lady Marya Seaworth in being someone of humble origins to hold their own with the highborn ladies. It… somewhat validated her presence as the paramour of the Hand. "Bella Rivers. Robert sired her sometime before Stony Sept."
"Not surprised," grumbled Rhaegar. "But why should I grant Robert his boon?"
"Young Bella would be an ally of ours through her mother, and for the other children seek their fostering with your family or families loyal to you. Who's going to raise them, Robert?" He snorted. "You have the chance to end the Baratheon disloyalty in one generation… and Stannis is more likely to grant you his fealty, so anything to increase that would be welcome."
Looking at his mother, Rhaegar sought her counsel. She gave it readily. "People adopt their father's identity if they are close to them. Do you see Robert as a father as you are?" Rhaegar hung his head, giving the answer. "House Baratheon is one of the most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms. Ensuring there isn't a succession crisis in the Stormlands is critical for the Realm. Keep your eye on things, but I agree with Tywin."
He sighed deeply. "Lyanna's not going to like this." But in spite of that, the King took a quill proffered to him and signed the decrees drawn up by his Hand.
With that, House Baratheon now could welcome Mya Baratheon, Gendry Baratheon, Edric Baratheon, and Bella Baratheon within their ranks.
"Talisa!" Dressed in her finery, a female servant girl on each side of her just in case the swaying of the ship caused her to stumble, Soraya Maegyr called out to the cabin door just two away from her own. "Talisa, are you alright?"
Submissive and desperate to please - the collar adorning her neck and lack of recent lashes on her bare back fueling such motivation - one of the girls lifted their dainty knuckles and rapped twice on the door. One couldn't expect the sweet mistress to engage in such lowly activity.
And she was the nicest of the mistresses they had the pleasure to serve in their young lives… well, almost the nicest. That title belonged to the lady that answered. "Yes, mother?" came a sweet voice from inside the cabin. "Come in."
Soraya immediately brushed past the body slave of hers and entered her youngest daughter's bedchamber for the voyage. They hadn't been on the great ship of the Volentene Triarchal Fleet for an hour and the girl already made herself at home. "Goodness, Talisa. How many books did you bring?"
Ten and three, Talisa looked years older. Her slender frame was beginning to take a feminine shape and her face losing the chubby cheeks of childhood… but her eyes were still wide and innocent with a childlike excitement that delighted her parents and siblings. Everyone loved her, and she did nothing to abuse such love. "Oh, mother, just enough to last a bit of time. Hopefully the Targaryens will allow me the use of their library."
"Well I don't know why not? We are their honored guests," Soraya replied, moving aside several of the tomes and scribbled notes in her daughter's handwriting so she could sit upon the bed. "But there are to be plenty of things you will need to do as the niece of the Triarch, not a wide-eyed girl on a personal adventure."
"I know, mother," Talisa sighed, only to clasp her hands in glee. "But think of it. The largest private collection of books outside of the Citadel… or the Sealord's Library in Braavos. Imagine the treasures of Jaehaerys, Daeron, and Aerys Targaryen that dwell within." The studious girl fell back onto her couch, giggling from joy.
Wincing slightly, Soraya leaned forward, placing a hand on her daughter's chest. "Just remember, my sweet. The Red Keep may be a mysterious place you find full of adventure, but the same dangers abound behind it as they would back within the Black Walls of home."
The young maiden rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm well aware. I shall be fine, I promise." A brilliant smile followed, backed up by the same innocent brown eyes. In this she was confident.
She wasn't the She-wolf of House Targaryen for nothing, but even this wasn't expected by the King. "You wretch!" Expensive porcelain vase crashing against the wall just beside him, Rhaegar just managed to dodge it. "Fuck you! Fuck you, you cunt!"
Somehow, Rhaegar felt that this was how being married to Cersei Lannister would be like… or what being married to Lysa Tully was like for poor Lord Elbert. "Lya, please…"
"No! You fucking betrayed me!" Another piece of furniture - a silver candlestick - was hurled at Rhaegar. In her rage, Lyanna didn't aim as well as she could've and the King escaped injury. "How could you? For that whoremonger?!"
Having dismissed the Kingsguards with a desperate insistence, not that Arthur or Barristan or Benjen wanted to be anywhere near a marital spat between the Sunrise Dragon and the She-Wolf, Elia watched with horror. "Please, I can't take this, Lyanna… don't do this." She tried to go and hug Lyanna, but the Queen pushed her away.
"He betrayed me, Lia! He throws out the fucking welcome mat for that whoring piece of shit without even telling me till after the fact!" Stomping her foot, Lyanna let out a screech and simply stormed out - a black cloud planted high over her head.
Tears in her eyes, Elia simply walked into Rhaegar's arms. Letting him hold her after what they endured.
They hadn't fought like that since…
Taking a deep breath, Rhaegar places his hand on the latch to his bedchamber door… but the thought of what happened only an hour before made him hesitate. "She hasn't left since then?" he asked his goodbrother.
"Aye, remained in there the whole time, your Grace," Benjen replied.
"Truly?" Elia clasped her hands together, lip quivering. "Has she said anything? Did you hear her cry?"
Benjen shook his head. "She's been quiet… lest when I tried to enter. Her ire hasn't lessened, at least towards me." He shuddered. "Good luck, goodsister, goodbrother."
Rhaegar sighed. "Take a position elsewhere, Ben. This could get ugly." He nodded and moved. Steeling himself, the King needed all of his bravery and will for this. He'd brave a thousand Ironborn reavers or Stormlander knights with Blackfyre in hand rather than face a wrothful Lyanna… Elia squeezed his hand, and he felt better.
Somewhat.
Aside from a weak flame flickering in the hearth, the royal bedchamber was dark. Devoid of the sense of life and love that it brought the royal triad over the years. Lyanna sat upon the fur duvet, her slender form quite small in the midst of the massive bed that could both fit them and endure their… frenzied activities. "Leave me alone, Ben," she said without looking up. "Just… go away."
Her tone was insistent, but also filled with hurt. It broke Rhaegar's heart. "Lya…" She stiffened. "It's me and Elia. Can we talk?"
Looking up from the bed, the northern Queen's eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Rhaegar…" Without another word, she rose and ran to him. Arms around his waist, hugging him close. "I'm sorry, my love. You didn't deserve that." Her eyes found Elia, the grey pools wide and pleading. "Neither of you did."
Elia nodded, joining the embrace. "We forgive you, and love you too." Nothing was worth jeopardizing their love. Absolutely nothing, it was priceless to each of them.
"I don't blame your ire, Lyanna," replied Rhaegar. "It was… a heady decision for me as well."
"You should've talked to me about it," mumbled Lya into his chest, inhaling his powerful scent. Rugged and manly, with a hint of ash and smoke that belied his dragonblood… it filled her with awe and lust for him, steeling her. "I know the sorts of reasons you did it, Rhaegar, but I still don't agree."
Squeezing her waist, Elia kissed the corner of Lyanna's mouth. "Wanna talk about it, properly this time?" Seeing her nod, she guided them both to their bed, her on Lya's left and Rhaegar on Lya's right. Elia rested her head on her wife's shoulder while Rhaegar rubbed the small of her back. "Whenever you're ready."
The touches made Lyanna sigh in contentment. Gods, she loved them both… suppose, that was the point after all. "House Baratheon has been one of the most important banners of the Targaryen Crown since the conquest… I don't deny this, and to have a secure line of succession is of vital interest."
"Stannis is the heir at the moment, Lya, but his bride is barren after her tough labor and he won't set her aside. You must know that I trust my sources…"
Holding up her hand, Lya stilled Elia's explanations. "I know, my beautiful Dornish apple. You have my full trust." She smiled weakly, kissing her hair. "This legitimization assures the continuation of House Baratheon, and I know most of all that Robert… he won't be any sort of attentive father - that's not what worried me. Or made me upset."
Rhaegar knew. He had felt the same. "You're certain he hasn't let go of his desire of you." It wasn't a question.
Rising without thinking of it, Lyanna ran a hand through her hair as the other fisted. "That… that wretch!" Her ire returned just thinking of it, but this time not directed at either of her loves. "I have made myself known in all manners of my ability! I have told him personally, made however many public displays of my adoration of the two of you towards crowds of the tens of thousands… bore three babes and took four others as mine own." Her eyes shut, shaking in rage. "By the old gods and the new, I held a fucking sword to his throat and he still cannot let me go!"
"You did what?!" Elia was absolutely shocked. "When did you hold a sword to his throat?"
"Not important," Lyanna shot back.
"Arthur probably knows," Rhaegar grumbled, but was silenced by a glare from her. "Not important, but what would you have me do?"
"Kill him… poison him in his sleep and let his eldest bastard rule," Lya demanded. "Stannis can serve as regent."
Rhaegar shook his head. "I can't do that."
"And whyever not? I'm certain Tywin wouldn't have a problem with it. Varys or Oberyn could see it happen without fuss."
Elia sighed. "It's not that simple, Lya."
She rolled her eyes. "Enlighten me, then."
The Dornish Queen stood. "Lya… we are in the most tenuous of circumstances. Our victory over the Ironborn united the Kingdoms, but with Hoster Tully upset at our nephew's ascension as heir of Winterfell, Lord Arryn's inability to sire a legitimate child off his wife, and the still tense atmosphere due to the rebellion and plague would leave only the worst sort of rumors if Robert drops dead of anything that could be conceived as foul play. Even the least sort of foul play would be blamed on us by some."
"You don't know him… you don't realize what a threat he'll be." She dropped back between them, hands on her lap. "He'll never let me go."
"If he tries, he'll meet my blade," Rhaegar insisted. "That's if Arthur doesn't get him first."
Nodding, Lyanna looked at him. "Aye… I know." Without warning, she jumped him. Rhaegar unable to get but a single breath before her lips were on his. "Husband… wife…"
"Lya…" he groaned. "What is this…?"
"Claim me," she begged, pinning his hands above his head with one hand while reaching for Elia with the other. "Prove to me that I'm yours and only yours." Lyanna got exactly what she wanted with his darkened violet eyes and her sharp intake of breath.
Soon, the frame began to rock powerfully as love returned to the royal bedchamber.
A/N: House Baratheon is still a headache, but a decent line of succession won out for the royals on making the decision. Robert's an ass, and do we think Lyanna's right about him?
Cersei is really settling in well at Winterfell :)
Next up, the Volentenes arrive. 25 comments gets an early update
