Chapter 61: Eye of Justice
"Calm yourself, your Grace…" Maegor didn't listen, practically running through the halls of the holdfast He'd been running since he dismounted his horse and the guards informed him of his wife's message. Ceryse… She was back, and Rhaena declared it urgent that he come to them.
Not that he would've acted in any way differently.
Lord Commander Gawen on the other hand… "Please, your Grace." They were close to the private chambers of the royal family - Jon Hogg waited outside with his sword, guarding it - and before Maegor could dash the final leg he was grabbed by Gawen. "Stop."
Maegor nearly went for his sword, but stopped himself. "Unhand me, Gawen!" he yelled.
But the wielder of Lady Forlorn was not one the King could push over. "No, your Grace. You need to calm yourself." Maegor narrowed his eyes at the knight, but remembered that he had been given a note from his wife as well, at the same time as he had. "Trust me, Ceryse needs a husband not frantic."
"What did Rhaena tell you?"
Gawen sighed. "It would be best coming from them."
He closed his mouth, biting his tongue as the word salad that would emerge would only work him up more. What Rhaena would seek Gawen to force him to calm down couldn't be anything short of heartbreaking, but Maegor was not some intemperate youth anymore. He was a King, and a father, and a husband - three times over. He would need to calm himself.
The battlefield would see his rage, as it had in the Riverlands. "Fine," he breathed.
Calm he was, but when he entered and spotted Ceryse on the couch holding Rhaena's hand, a bit of emotion broke through the facade he created. He hadn't laid eyes on her in over a year but she was still beautiful. Worn and haggard, but still as radiant as the day he married her. Ceryse noticed him too, and rose. Her eyes locked on his even though she didn't let go of Rhaena. "Husband…"
He didn't wait, rushing forward and embracing her. "Ceryse." Maegor didn't overlook how she stiffened immediately at the touch, but his wife inhale and then melted. Snaking her arms around his waist and burying her head in the crook of his neck. "Thank the gods you're here."
"Maegor…" Her body shook with emotion, to which he tightened the embrace.
Rhaena placed a hand on his shoulder, a quick look showing her smiling. Supporting him. "She told me she snuck out of the Hightower on a hired trader. Took a stop in Pentos before sailing here."
"However it is, you're now with your family" He kissed her forehead, and Ceryse only teared up further. "Are you not happy?"
She shook her head and initially his mood sank. "I cannot be anything but happy, husband… it's just that…" Words failed her, and again she lunged for him. Crying into his chest. Whatever dam holding back her emotions breaking.
Stroking her back as he always did, Maegor met Rhaena's eyes. His niece - his love just as much as Ceryse was - had a grim and sympathetic expression. 'Was she hurt?' he mouthed to her, and she both broke his heart and ignited his dragonfire when she nodded, motioning for them all to sit. Maegor willed away his anger… or at least buried it for now, remembering what he promised to Lord Commander Gawen. He guided the crying Ceryse to the couch, sitting with her on it, Rhaena on the opposite side of them now comforting her aunt.
"I think it's time that you tell Maegor the truth, Aunt Ceryse." Her voice was melodious, comforting the same way she'd coo to little Daemon when he was crying, but underneath was steel. Aye, Rhaena was enraged - it worried Maegor greatly about what was to follow.
Sniffling, Ceryse poked her head up. Trying to gain her composure. "It's hard to face even on my own, now that I'm safe and at home."
"He deserves to know."
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yes, he does."
And so Ceryse regaled him with the truth. Every detail from her arrival in Oldtown. The proclamation of war, the efforts to get her to become a traitor… her own brother. Morgen had been an arrogant prick whenever Maegor had to spend time with him but as an incestuous rapist… Maegor was half disgusted at the hypocrisy of the Faith to condemn House Targaryen's loving relationships when they did this, and the rest of him…
He was sure Balerion was shaking the city with his bellows, an outlet for his own murderous rage. A rage mirrored in Rhaena's eyes, but both of them keeping calm for the sake of Ceryse. She was barely holding herself together.
"I wanted to escape so badly… but I couldn't. Not knowing that you hated me." Tears stained her cheeks.
Maegor closed his hand on hers. "Wife, I could never have hated you nor did I…"
"Why?" she asked. "I gave you every reason to. There would've been nothing stopping you from setting me aside, especially since we have no children thanks to…" She stopped herself.
"What? What were you going to say?" A glance at Rhaena revealed she knew nothing as well.
Ceryse opened her mouth to speak to him, but a rapping on the door - a brusque one at that - interrupted her. "Not now!" Rhaena snarled at the door. "His Grace and I are busy!"
"Rhae." It was Tyanna, and she sounded insistent. "I need to speak with you."
Eyes shifting to the both of them, Rhaena's brow raised. Clearly leaving it up to Maegor and Ceryse. Sighing, Maegor glanced at his wife, the first he married. There were no need for words between them either, Ceryse deflating a bit but nodding. If anyone understood the pressures of statecraft it was she. Nodding to Rhaena as well, his niece cleared her throat. "Come in, Tyanna."
Tyanna wore a black dress that clung to her body. Not too revealing, but on her it gave off the vibe of a pure seductress - down to her hair that fell along her shoulders in black rivulets. The same color as her dress. She looked breathtaking… an effect that had Ceryse looking upon her with different eyes. Maegor could tell there were some emotions there, whether they be curiosity or jealousy he couldn't say.
His newest wife - not that he loved her any more or less - briskly walked towards Rhaena. Offering him a small smile but none to Ceryse, less hostile and more… wary perhaps? It mattered not for she was soon murmuring something into Rhaena's ear. A conversation that had his niece's eyes widening. "You sure?"
"Aye. Positive."
Adopting a mask, Rhaena nodded and rose. "We are wanted in the Throne Hall."
"Can this not wait?" Maegor took Ceryse's hand.
Tyanna shook her head. "I'm afraid not… and this concerns Queen Ceryse as well, so I must insist she come."
Maegor eyed her worryingly, but Ceryse squeezed his hand. "I'll be fine, I promise." It was all the reassurance he needed, though both he and Rhaena stuck close to her just in case. Their family was whole again, and none would see it sundered.
Eyes closed, Tyanna never felt more alone than in this exact moment.
Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, or one of sorrow. She had love in her life, plenty of it in matter of fact. Her hand absentmindedly ghosted over her still flat belly. Thinking of the life growing inside, Tyanna knew that this was more than she ever thought she'd experience… so no, she wasn't lonely in that sense.
Rather, there was a certain solitude in the duties she had undertaken. The practice of spycraft, both in the simplest terms anyone could engage in and the more mystical aspects that made her reputation as a woman to be feared. As if she were the only one standing in the way of shadowy forces that could destroy the life she built for herself.
The life of the family she found, the love that had bloomed between them.
Rhaena and Maegor, they would've helped her if she so wished, but Tyanna didn't want their souls sullied by her work. By the grayness and murkiness of it all. It muddied the soul into nothing but abstracts, making one doubt oneself, but Tyanna could handle it. Few could, but she did.
Over a year of work, of dredging and burrowing and parsing through the darkest strains of humanity had finally come to fruition, and Tyanna hoped she could bring peace to her wife and husband. And Ceryse, whomever she might become to her now that she returned.
"Tyanna?" Turning, she witnessed her friends - her and Rhaena's friends - approach. "You ready?" asked Jorelle Mormont, hand on the sheathed Longclaw by her side.
A sigh. "As I'll ever be."
"You haven't told them the details, have you?" asked Jonquil Darke, leaning on her spear. "The depths of the conspiracy against them?"
She shook her head. "Rhaena knows that I'm presenting a traitor. Maegor doesn't know, and I have no idea what Ceryse knows."
Jorelle crossed her arms. "Think she'll be against us?"
"No, she was raped by her brother, the Warrior's Son." Both her friends' eyes widened in shock. "I doubt she'll side with them, but mayhaps she'll be skeptical. I will have to convince her, and the court, of the charges."
"Fuck." Jonquil shook her head. "We'll be there, at least. Just say the word." Tyanna, smiling, leaned forward and hugged her two friends - more emotion than she was used to expressing, but with death all around it became a greater imperative to seek out one's companions.
Showtime.
As Queen she should've waited, but as the Mistress of Whisperers she made her entrance first and stood at the top of the dias, refusing her seat. The entire court nevertheless knelt for her, which Tyanna would say was a bit of a thrill.
She didn't have to wait long before the rest entered, protected by the Kingsguard - what it was at least. Maegor and Rhaena walked side by side with their swords at their hips, but a sense of shock prevailed at the long-lost sight of Queen Ceryse, not seen since she was but a Princess. A hastily acquired tiara was produced for her. A sign of her change in rank as she sat next to the Iron Throne. "Proceed," stated Rhaena, making the command.
Tyanna nodded and - after one last eye-lock with her determined wife and the silent but still questioning Maegor and Ceryse, the latter icily so - she turned to face the court. "My Lords and Ladies. In my capacity as Queen of Westeros and with the approval of her Grace, Queen Rhaena, his Grace, King Maegor, and her Grace, Queen Ceryse who I am most joyful in welcoming back to King's Landing and her rightful place, I have called all of you here to discuss some most troubling news."
"Your Grace?" Lord Royce, Alayne's father and a loyal supporter of their cause. "I thought the twin victories at the Great Fork and Tumbletown showed that the tide was turning?"
"It does, Lord Royce, but I speak not of the war itself but rather of a secret struggle going on in this very court."
"Is this related to her Grace's return - welcome back, my Queen. Your presence has been truly missed." It was Lord Daemon Velaryon, nephew to Dowager Queen Alyssa and their Master of Ships. Mayhaps he looked a bit irritated, given his position on the Small Council. Tyanna didn't intend to aggravate those remaining in King's Landing, but secrecy was necessary. "Her arrival is… quite sudden, and I have not yet been informed of how she did manage to escape Oldtown."
Before Tyanna could continue, Ceryse cleared her throat. "There are those within the city more loyal to family ties than they are to the regime of the High Septon. I owe my escape to them."
"So it was an escape, then," mused Myles Smallwood. "Not a defection?"
Ceryse eyed Tyanna, the latter searching for any sort of duplicity - she knew and loved Rhaena with all her heart, and through her became acquainted with and then fell for Maegor. Ceryse was… not as familiar as Tyanna would've liked. "I am loyal to my husband, as I said in my vows. My family didn't grasp that, and so I was a hostage, not an ally."
"I believe her," Rhaena stated.
"As do I, the matter is closed." No one dared to question the riders of Dreamfyre and Balerion.
Tyanna appreciated it. "The issue is related to her escape, but not fully connected to it given the scope." She cleared her throat, readying herself. "Grand Maester Gawen, step forward."
He had been mixed in the crowd about thirty feet from the Iron Throne - Tyanna watched as he remained in place for a few seconds before slowly shuffling forward. "Yes… your Grace."
She didn't mistake the slight pause before addressing her. "Tell me, Grand Maester, what is your responsibility?"
"Excuse me?"
"What duties do you perform?"
He peered at her, confused. "It is my duty, charged by the Citadel to ensure the health of the Royal Family… as well as anything else they require of me."
Tyanna's lips curled into a ghost of a smirk. "Does that include poisoning the Queen so she'd go into early labor?"
The entire Throne Hall went silent - a pin drop could be heard. Queen Rhaena's eyes were wide, while Maegor sat stone-faced, his knuckles clenching the armrest of the Iron Throne tightly. Queen Ceryse, in contrast, merely leaned forward. Certainty on her face. Was that why you escaped?
Gawen, for his part, scoffed. "Preposterous."
"You deny it, then? A plot to poison her Grace and kill Crown Prince Daemon while he was still in the womb."
"Of course I deny it!" he yelled. "Who are you to make such accusations against me?!"
"The Queen," proclaimed Myles Smallwood.
Scoffing, Gawen pointed to Ceryse. "She is the only wife of Maegor Targaryen, and she," he pointed to Rhaena, "Is the only Queen. The legitimate child of King Aenys."
That alone could be considered treason, but Tyanna had bigger fish to fry. "Your Graces, I would like to produce a witness."
Speaking for all of them, Maegor nodded. "Granted."
"Bring her forth."
Suddenly, the doors opened to a screeching voice. "Unhand me you bitch! You fucking bastard whore!" Jorelle and Jonquil strode in, holding between them a woman in the clothing of a maid. She screeched as Jorelle shoved her forward. "I'll kill you, fucking wildling."
"Good luck," scoffed Jorelle, stepping back but with Longclaw drawn - just in case. Jonquil leveled her spear for the same reason.
Tyanna turned to Ceryse. "Do you know who this woman is, your Grace."
Ceryse stood, her face like ice. "That is my maid, Freya. She was on my staff ever since I journeyed to King's Landing to marry then Prince Maegor, and transferred to the royal household afterwards… she is also the woman that poisoned me, killing all four of my unborn children with his Grace."
If the previous admission was followed by silence, this one was followed by uproar. "Is this true?!" demanded Rhaena, shooting upright. As for Maegor's reaction - Balerion's roar followed Dreamfyre's by mere seconds.
"These are absolute lies!" Gawen proclaimed.
Only to look like a fool when Freya cackled. "I only regret that I didn't kill the fifth dragonspawn - or the one that grows in your belly, whore!" she spat at Tyanna.
Something snapped in the Queen. One moment Rhaena was standing on the dias… the next, Dark sister had impaled itself through Freya's throat out through the back of her skull, blood spurting everywhere… mostly on Gawen. Gripping the pommel, Rhaena drew it back, everyone watching as the corpse crumpled to the floor.
Tyanna placed her hands on her lap. "Her guilt has been judged. Grand Maester?"
He shook, face covered in fear. "Her… her… her crimes were her own! I had nothing to do with it!"
"Even if the stocks came from your supply?"
"Coincidence… she must have stolen them." He fell to his knees. "Please, mercy your Grace!" he groveled before Rhaena. "I knew nothing of this… some maid acted on her own, please…"
A dark laugh left Ceryse's throat. "Pathetic." She was flippant, though there was a grim undercurrent to her tone. "While I was in Oldtown, my brother confessed to me that he and my father arranged for my poisoning - so that I wouldn't birth a Targaryen babe. He also said you were the one who arranged it all so that Freya would only do so when most convenient for the Starry Sept."
He was covered in sweat. "Your brother is a liar!"
"Of that I have no doubt, but this was the truth." She eyed each of her spouses. "Guilty."
Maegor snarled. "Guilty."
Tyanna nodded. "Guilty."
Before Gawen could protest further, Rhaena slashed Dark Sister, beheading the decrepit old fool. "Guilty."
She deflated. It was all over.
Rising from the Iron Throne, Maegor took Ceryse by the hand and guided her slowly down the steps of the dias. His eyes were on herself and Rhaena the whole time, while Ceryse's grim expression never left the corpse of Gawen and her former maid. Tyanna did not blame her, given the circumstances.
Rhaena sheathed Dark Sister and approached her aunt and sister-wife - Tyanna's sister-wife as well, though sometimes she couldn't believe it. Not just the place she had acquired in the Realm, but also how beautiful Ceryse was… No, not fitting for the solemn moment. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," she heard Rhaena say, taking Ceryse's free hand in hers.
"I'm not," Ceryse replied, her voice… It was as if she was the blood of the dragon now as well. "Just promise me you'll deliver vengeance upon my brother as well." Rhaena nodded firmly.
Clearing his throat, Maegor gazed out at the assembled court. "Her Grace and I shall retire now, and we will not be disturbed. Any petition will be heard by Queen Rhaena and Queen Tyanna." With that, he was off. Tyanna couldn't fault him - Ceryse would need some time alone, and time to reconnect.
A single night of only Rhaena to warm her bed would be bearable, in that regard.
Walking back to the dais, her eyes met Rhaena's curiously. "Her brother?" she murmured. House Hightower was in rebellion, but Ceryse's words seemed personally driven…
Rhaena cut her off with a sharp look. "We will speak of it later," her whisper came, only audible to her. Tyanna's eyes widened slightly, but nodded. Suddenly she began to dread what could've affected her sister-wife so.
Taking her place on the seat next to the Iron Throne, Tyanna watched Rhaena sit upon the perch of her house. Of her kepa and grandfather before her. "Clean up the floor," she commanded the guards, "And place their heads on pikes."
"The bodies, your Grace?"
Her expression was murderous. "They aren't fit to be eaten by the dragons. Leave them in the gutter with the rats." Fitting, very fitting.
Tyanna could only hope that such fate for those criminals would bring peace to Ceryse. She needed it.
My Prince,
Harrenhal has been relieved, your mother and brother safe. Princess Rhaenys has exterminated the Tullys and Riverrun is secure under the leadership of a loyal castilian at this point. If you wish to break out of Castamere and take command of an army loyal to your name, the time is nigh.
We have men stationed near the Golden Tooth. Move quickly and quietly before Tyrion Lannister realizes his flank has collapsed.
Rogar Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End
Trembling, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow, Aegon grabbed circular shield and thrust it into Alys' hands. "When you pass the gate, you crouch and hold this until I give the all clear. Do you understand."
"Aegon…"
"No, you must." He cupped her stomach, feeling the ever so slight swell. Larger than it should've been for someone as far as long as his wife according to the maester of Castamere. Such made Aegon's already intense worry even greater. "I can't bear to think of anything that could happen to you. Please."
Alys' expression softened and she leaned forward, kissing her husband. Aegon kissed her back, losing themselves in the melding of their lips. Pregnant, riding a horse like all the others getting ready to break out of the siege of the Reyne's castle was out of the question. Debates over wheelhouses had raged through the last few nights since Lord Baratheon's raven made it through, only for one of the household knights to find a callback to a more archaic time. A chariot, to which the castle smith and carpenter had spent the entire night refurbishing into working order.
Two shieldbearers were mounted atop, ones Aegon had said would either protect Alys or die a painful death at his hands. They stood, grimly ready to the task.
Kiss ending, Alys cupped his cheek. "I love you, Egg. Stay safe, please."
He nodded. "I will, for the two of you." He rubbed her belly, kissed her once more, and was off. Mounting his horse with a determination bordering on zeal. If his uncle had the trial by seven to ensure his name would forever remain in the histories as a man of courage and strength, let this be Aegon's trial. "You know what to do?"
Lord Reyne nodded. "My sortie will begin momentarily. Wait half an hour and then sally out through the side gate, do not stop until you're past the Golden Tooth unless switching blown horses."
"You have my everlasting gratitude, my Lord, and I will return at the head of a mighty host to relieve you."
"The honor is mine," Lord Reyne replied. "For glory, and for killing as many fuckin' Lannisters as possible!" He raised his sword, the magnificent Valyrian Steel blade Red Rain. "To the gate men! To glory!" A cheer rang out, hundreds of men at arms and knights surging forth.
Almost immediately the archers and crossbowmen unleashed their projectiles with a resonating woosh, heralding the start of the sortie outside the walls of Castamere's above-ground portion. Aegon gripped his lance in one hand and the reins in the other, trembling moreso than his well-trained war mount, who lazily munched on some weeds growing out of the ground below. The seconds drifted by with the clash of steel outside. "Come on… come on…" he mumbled, praying to whatever gods that listened that the Lannisters would take the bait.
Suddenly a horn blew. "Go!" yelled the master-at-arms. "Go! Go!"
Back gate swinging open, Aegon dropped his visor and whistled. "Charge!" He dropped his lance and spurred on his horse, the stallion charging forward. "Stay round the chariot!"
The siege works were near abandoned, only a few pickets manning them as the two dozen riders barrelled towards the far more substantial earthworks guarding them. Aegon's lance sheared through one, hacking off a large chunk of his shoulder as blood spurted. It shattered when impaling on another, Aegon dropping it and then drawing his sword. Hacking and slashing, speed more important than form.
They lost no speed, and soon even Alys' chariot crossed the final line of earthworks towards the forest trails to the west. "Loose the signal!"
A single archer loosed a flaming arrow at a high arc, the signal to Lord Reyne to flee back into Castamere's walls. Aegon searched and found the beautiful eyes of Alys sparkling at him in the low moonlight. They had made it.
Harrenhal they would go, to safety.
Ceryse took a deep breath to slow her pounding heart. "This is ridiculous," she murmured aloud to herself, pacing across the royal bedchamber. Waiting for Maegor to return after he left her here. "Why am I so nervous?" There was nothing new. She had made love to Maegor countless times - more than she could remember. They were married after all, happily for most of it. This shouldn't be different and she shouldn't have been apprehensive.
But then again… it wasn't the same. Everything was different now. Maegor wasn't just hers anymore, but rather shared between her and Rhaena - and Tyanna strangely enough. Whatever affection they had before had died because of his second marriage, and while she realized that she still wanted Maegor regardless of the circumstances, Ceryse knew they would not have their old marriage back.
Whatever would be forged would be forged anew. In this she was akin to a virginal maiden, brought before her new husband not knowing what would transpire. "Gods, I hope he still desires me," she said to herself, wrapping her arms protectively around her chest.
Ceryse jumped slightly as the door opened and Maegor stepped in. He was still as intoxicating as ever dressed down, beard close cropped alongside his silver hair, violet eyes focusing on her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Ceryse felt better about her own nervousness looking at the small smile on Maegor's face. Mayhaps he was going through the same thoughts she was.
"Who were you talking to?"
"Hmmm?" She cocked her head, confused.
"I heard you speaking." Maegor walked close to her, reaching out to touch her arms. Gods, his hands felt good on her skin. Both new and familiar at the same time, sending a little shiver through Ceryse. "Is there someone here that I do not know about?" he asked with a raised brow.
A little bit of color filled her pale cheeks. "Tis nothing… just speaking my thoughts out loud."
He snorted, smirking. "You've never done that before."
"New habit, I suppose." Ceryse's eyes fluttered shut. "Didn't have many I could properly speak to in the Hightower."
Maegor's eyes darkened. "I'm sorry." His grip on her arm grew tighter - not painful, but clearly demonstrating the rage building inside of him. "If I find your brother I shall kill him."
"Can I watch?" He nodded tentatively, clearly keeping his rage in check for her. "Good, I want to see him suffer." A thought occurred to her. "Life among the dragons is turning me into one."
"Would that be so bad?"
She sighed. "Not at all." Ceryse sniffled. "I'm sorry, husband." Wordlessly she fell against his chest, enjoying how his arms encircled her in a close embrace. "I'm sorry it took all of this for me to realize how much I love you."
Maegor stroked her back. "I cannot blame you… my conduct left a lot to be desired."
"You're a Targaryen… you cannot help who you love, nor can I help that I love you." She pulled back, gazing up into his eyes. "I'll love you forever, even if you can't return it."
"Ceryse," he murmured her name in that husky voice she loved. "I could never stop loving you."
"Even with your two young, beautiful wives?" She wanted to know how he'd respond.
"To me, you're just as beautiful." She felt her heart clench. "And… they both love each other as well."
The implication made Ceryse blush red. "Husband…"
He realized it, chuckling and kissing her forehead. "Mayhaps we should focus on us first."
"Aye, that's a better option." Meeting gazes once more, they brought their lips together. Ceryse moaned into their kiss, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Dueling with his as he bristly whiskers of his beard tickled her skin. "Mmmm…"
His hand drifted towards her arse, startling her. Maegor pulled back. "I'm sorry… I mean, after what you endured…"
That he'd worry about such made Ceryse's heart burst with love for him, but only a low growl left her. "Make me forget his vile touch, Maegor." She grabbed his hand and guided it back to her arse. "Replace his with yours. I want it."
Their kiss resumed, this time without the restraint previously showed. There had been a bit of a worry on her part that her body would conflate Maegor's love and desire with the brutality of her brother, but no - her body remembered Maegor's touch. Igniting it as hot as the dragon he rode. He guided her to the bed, sitting on it and pulling her on his lap. The kiss broke, but their wandering hands didn't.
Seeing Maegor starting to undo his shirt, Ceryse moved in to help. "What are these?" she asked a second later, brushing her hands over his back. Feeling the dozens of tiny little scars, not the same battlescars she was familiar with - though there were plenty of those too.
"They're from Rhaena."
Ceryse's eyes widened. "She did this to you?" When she caught his sheepish expression, Ceryse's mood softened. "Why?"
"I didn't mind."
"Oh…" It was like that. Ceryse didn't know what to say - her experiences in the bedchamber with Maegor were filled with a furious passion, but Rhaena was a dragon. Just as fiery and fierce as the uncle she married. "Is that something you need now? A dragon in the bedchamber?"
"I mean, you've enjoyed one since our marriage." That drew a chuckle from her. "We both can assert to how wonderful it is."
"Someone to be fierce? To take charge and plunder what they want." He bit his lip, but Ceryse knew it to be true. They enjoyed themselves together, but there was a bit of a thrill in a dragon taming its prey. She experienced it…
Her eyes darkened, something Maegor noticed very well.
She moved fast. Pressing herself against him, kissing him squarely on the lips, Ceryse hoped to overwhelm him. To make him react to her. For a second there was nothing, and then he moved, kissing her back and wrapping his arms around her. She pressed harder, too hard, and Maegor lost his balance and took her with her. Laughing into the kiss, they toppled over onto the pillows, Ceryse on top of Maegor. It broke the kiss. They stared at each other for a second, but then she dove into his neck, sucking hard.
"Does Rhaena do anything like this?"
Yes… But you're still you…" He gripped her arse as she laved at his neck. "I've missed you, Ceryse."
Ceryse blazed her way up to his ear, licking the shell. Losing herself in lust as her vision blurred, fighting her own tears. "I did too… I love you."
"I love you too."
Ceryse kissed him again, a brief one this time. She settled down on top of him, just enjoying the feel of his body next to hers, his arms wrapped around her as she began to rock her hips against him - working the burning sensation between her legs against his own, her dress hiked up to her hips. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then his eyes shot downward to her breasts, perfectly accentuated in her dress. She gave a flirty grin. "Did you miss them?"
"Yessss," he husked, mesmerized.
The Queen laughed. Not a girlish giggle but a husky, throaty laugh of lust. Near draconic. Their lips met once again as Ceryse moaned and she rolled her hips against Jon. Rocking against his hard cock. She reached for her bodice, pulling it down. Stretching the fabric so her ample tits could spill out. It felt so nice how they scraped against his hard chest. "Enjoy them. They're yours."
It was their wedding night all over again, her a maiden and him first acquainted with the body he'd sate his lusts on for the rest of their lives. Without saying another word, he grabbed her shoulders and hoisted her up. Mouth attacking her nipple like a man starved. Ceryse moaned, one hand gripping the back of his head. She was slightly older than him, and her lust-addled mind conjured the image of an older woman nursing her young lover.
The thought made her wetter than anything - gods, the depravity of it all. Hugor or Boniface's sermons had a bit of truth to them, but fuck them. Ceryse was done, instead simply embracing it. "Fuck, I need you." Her free hand attacked his trousers, fishing out his cock and urgently bringing it to the right place. Without delay, Ceryse impaled herself on it.
"Fuck." He gripped her so hard that there would be bruises on her pale skin. Just like she wanted. Just like she needed. "My wife."
"Mmmmm…" She began to buck her hips up and down, simply simmering with lust and joy at being reunited. "Husband…"
Joined again, just where she should be.
Life was agony.
Resting upon the beach, wings pale and mouth cold - it had been ages since he released more than a simmer - the beautiful dragon gazed upon the waters surrounding the warmth of Dragonstone waiting to die. A dragon was no weak human. It did not seek death in such mundane ways. But the glory of battle and tooth and claw was denied Quicksilver, given a bonded rider with an affinity of peace to war.
But the call of his blood didn't matter, for he loved his kepa. He was devoted and loving, the two raised together from infancy. One of Quicksilver's earliest memories was of a tiny Aenys hugging the hatchling to his breast, babbles and chirps mixing together into one incoherent cacophony.
Decades passed, and still they remained together. Quicksilver knew no other life unlike Balerion, the great leader of the dragon creche. Vhagar might survive, and Arrax. Those two were fierce, while Dreamfyre was a born adventurer. Not like him, not content with his peaceful kepa and devoted to a simple life.
All torn away when the true monsters killed his kepa.
Balerion would've burned all in his way, but the pain was too much for Quicksilver. Taking to the skies he fled King's Landing. Fled for home, the call of the Dragonmont. The simmering center of all the dragons after Valyria died, consumed by fire. Whatever. Quicksilver wasn't Balerion - he never knew Valyria, never felt any call to it. Dragonstone he did, so where else would he go?
And so there he lay. Eating sometimes, moving sometimes. Flying when it suited him, which wasn't often. His sister - Rhaena, stinking of Dreamfyre - often came while she was here to try and console him but Quicksilver never reacted. Little Daemon, Rhaena had thought there could be a connection but there wasn't. He didn't hold anything against the boy, but he was destined for a dragon hatched for him, not another.
For the boy was a fierce one, like his parents. Not one content with a gentle life like Quicksilver's kepa. Mayhaps Quicksilver wanted one who could fight, give fire into his blood. But there was no chance of that.
Until that fateful day. The sun was high overhead, baking Dragonstone in an unfathomable heat. Quicksilver lounged under it, letting the rays sear his skin…
A tug hit him, making his head jerk up for the first time in ages.
Rider?
It was to the west, back towards the mainland. Faint, but he felt it nonetheless.
The tug grew harder, a fire that called to Quicksilver. The dragon rose onto his wingclaws, roaring in the direction of the tug. It resumed, pulling him. An even louder roar, one that seemed to shake Dragonstone itself.
Rider! Are you there?!
The tug nearly felled him, so powerful was it. Kessa. Come to me.
Without any delay, Quicksilver unfurled his wings and launched himself off the cliff. He struggled a bit, bones creaking and muscles aching. He almost pitched into the sea, kicking up a cloud of foamy white spray… but a dragon never forgot how to fly. Soon he was soaring under the hot sun, beating his wings furiously to make it back to the mainland.
He had to find his rider.
He had to find his new purpose.