Chapter 56: Fourth Head

At first she screamed. Tried to fight back with all her clawing and writhing and snarls of murder.

As it continued, her attempts to resist grew to sorrow. She was powerless to stop it, but not so to make it unpleasant for him. In spite of the begging for her to enjoy it, to gasp and moan and consume herself with lust as he did when rutting into her, she would cry and blubber and squirm. Being as clearly hurt and defiled that she truly felt inside.

Eventually though, what was the point? Neither had made it cease. Neither tactic had stopped Morgen from entering her chambers, stripping off his resplendent armor of a Warrior's Son, shoving her onto her back or over a table or bed, and having her.

She learned to just close her eyes and let it pass. Mayhaps he would grow tired of her, but otherwise it would simply end quicker that way.

Ceryse found that true today, thank the gods for that. Panting, Morgen removed his cock from her cunt - currently presented high above the bed with her knees splayed apart, fully exposed for his pleasure. "Gods… your dragonspawn husband is a bloody fool. Chasing his niece's forbidden cunt instead of this." Still wearing his tunic, it fell to cover his crotch, sparing Ceryse the disgust of seeing her brother's member.

Maegor's was wonderfully long and thick, one that made her loins inflame with desire. His, shorter, just made her stomach churn with bile.

"Here." Wiping his sweaty face with a washcloth, Morgen thrust a cold cup of tea in her face. "One day you'll birth my sons - proper, faithful boys that will grow to rule this Holy Dominion as they should - but for now drink the moon tea. Can't have any distractions, can we?"

"Yes, brother." Ceryse, face buried in the quilts of her bed, in spite of her fatigue, shame, and pain scrambled up to drink the tea. Mayhaps a show of obedience, but for once her interests aligned with Morgen's.

He had donned his trousers, leering at her nude form once before making his way out. "Until next time, my lovely sister. His Holiness wishes for a proper war council with father and myself, but mayhaps later in the week we can spend a whole day together." Like a child, gleefully imagining sweets after dinner.

She forced a lovely smile on her face, like the ones she gave Maegor when he planned a picnic on Dragonstone. "I cannot wait… my love." The words tasted like acid, but Ceryse's smile never wavered.

It proved a mixed blessing, for he crossed the chambers to kiss her. Sloppy and full of tongue - too much unwanted tongue, like a dog licking her, but Ceryse reciprocated as best she could. Being cold and passive when he did her business required her to be more… affectionate in other respects lest earn his anger.

When he finally departed, his steps no longer audible through the door, her carefully prepared facade simply evaporated. Walls crumbling, the sobs left her throat and eyes like a torrent. The cup fell from her hands, shattering on the floor as she ran to grab a towel. Wiping the evidence of their coupling furiously from between her legs. Her cunt was sore, but Ceryse didn't care.

"Get it off," she murmured through the panicked cries. "Just get out of me!" They echoed through the walls, only for her own benefit.

Or the gods, whichever ones were out there. The Seven surely had abandoned her.

Three hellish hours later did the servants arrive to bathe her. A hot bath, allowing Ceryse to wash away the last traces of Morgen's vile lusts. He'd be back eventually, dirtying her again but at least in this she had an escape.

Leaning back against the lip of the tub, teak-brown hair soaked and clinging to her neck, Ceryse sighed. "Escape to what?" she mumbled to herself, servants dismissed. She was still stuck in the Hightower… 'for her own protection,' as her father said. A luxurious life but one as a valued hostage in all but name. Ostensibly to keep her protected from Targaryen agents but also from her leaving. Depriving Hugor of a huge propaganda asset.

"Queen Ceryse Hightower, pious and chaste, tossed aside by her lustful, bigamous husband in order that he may copulate with his niece and a foreign witch. See the deperdations of the dragonspawn. Forcing your beloved Ceryse to hide in her father's keep, desperate to protect herself from the Targaryen Madness?!"

A sermon she'd heard, been present for. It certainly had the people of Oldtown eating from the palm of Hugor's hand. Desperate to protect her, how much they loved her. Ceryse couldn't hate them for being lied to.

And there was the worst of it all. Mayhaps if not for Morgen's barbarity, Ceryse may have actually seen this as a refuge. Maegor had wronged her, she bitterly thought once, laying with Rhaena. Getting the child he'd always wanted. Oh, she hated him at one point. Wanted him and Rhaena and now the witch Tyanna to suffer.

Now she just hugged her chest protectively in the midst of the bath. Wishing beyond all hope that she would fall asleep and wake up being held by Maegor again. Loved by him, comforted by him, even if Rhaena was present also.

Ceryse just wanted him, and his love. "I'm sorry, my sweet husband." To be in his arms again, to swell with their child and see him or her live to be born.

Swell with child… It was more likely her first living babe would be Morgen's. The moon tea worked so far, but would it continue? Ceryse had seen plenty of servants sipping it only to be round with a knight or lord's child later on. Shuddering at the vile notion, she rose from the bath and hurriedly dried herself off. Her heart pounded, needing further armor against this.

"Oh child." Her aunt wrapped her arms around her, kissing her forehead. "Do you need me to fetch a Maester?"

Shaking her head, Ceryse simply sat down in one of the plush chairs of Patrice's solar. Needing something soft on her… abused arse. "No, dear aunt. He never hurts me that way. At least not after that first time."

Biting her lip, Patrice nodded. She knew, about everything - over a moon ago Morgen in his depravity wished to take her in the arse. Maegor had done that, and even after blushing like the pious maiden she was Ceryse allowed him and oh, was it magical. Difference was, she wanted it with Maegor. Morgen was unwelcome, and her body reacted as such.

She hurt. She hurt badly, with blood. He went near mad with worry, and the only one he could trust to bring was Patrice. Morgen made some claim of finding her in the embrace of some lowborn guard, but only later did Ceryse confess the truth to her aunt. Begging to keep her mouth shut.

There was no hope. Her father would disbelieve her, and Barth would likely conjure up some story where she was screaming trauma that Maegor had inflicted on her in the past. People would believe that.

Patrice was her only confidant and healer. "I can poison his drink if you wish me to, niece."

That would be satisfying… "No, don't condemn us both."

"Alright." Her aunt could read her mind. "Worried moon tea won't help you?"

"Yes."

"Here's something stronger." She pulled a vial and poured it into another cup of tea. "Can end a pregnancy as well as prevent one."

"Bless you, aunt." Ceryse gulped it down… only to stop mid swallow. The taste. It was familiar.

Too familiar. As if she tasted it before…

Ceryse let the second cup drop from her hand and shatter on the floor. Only this time the tears were not of a helpless woman.

They were of an angered Queen, thirsting for vengeance.

Balerion was quiet on the return journey from the Twins. Not sullen but… focused. The dragon was tense, Maegor could tell. Eyes focused downward upon the great expanse of the world. The eastern Riverlands and western Crownlands, contested beyond belief by both the royal forces and those of the Faith.

Mayhaps his dragon wished to vent his anger and sorrow upon the Faith's multitudes. Some form of vengeance. Maegor understood. Seven Hells, it burned deep within him to gain the same vengeance. They killed his brother after all - but still. There would be a time and a place.

Brandon Snow had taught him restraint long ago. A child hunting in the woods, taught to be patient and wait for the right moment to strike.

King's Landing grew in the distance. Finally the city seemed to be recovering from the fighting that plagued it. Locked down it was, given it was effectively under a bit of a loose siege while the two main Faith armies in the Riverlands and marching up from the Reach were still unopposed in the field, but the Velaryon fleets brought supplies from a suspiciously compliant Volantis and the smell of smoke and ash had dissipated with the help of recent rains. Hope for the future, however grim.

Landing within the Dragonpalace, he climbed down from Balerion and stroked the dragon's scales. "Good boy," he murmured. The dragon merely grumbled from his throat - akin to a purr - and folded his wings. A well-deserved sleep.

Chuckling, the King made his way towards the holdfast. Spotting a feminine figure waiting for him. Could it be Rhaena, returned early from the Vale? Getting closer, it wasn't his wife, but someone he did yearn to see just as much.

His strides covered the ground in no time and up was the woman swept in his arms. Twirled around till she squealed and giggled. "Put me down!"

"No," he grinned, but finally did. Tyanna, just as pale as Rhaena but with ink-black hair and a tall, slender figure. Just as much of a rare and desirable beauty once one cared to look. Grin not faltering, he kissed her. Reveling in her moan as she kissed him back.

Eventually they broke apart, her breath heavy. "A treasured gift, to be kissed by you," she replied. "Only Rhaena's kisses can compare."

His brow rose. "Mayhaps I'd like to see you more than kiss."

Tyanna's mouth dropped, until she pursed her lips and swatted his shoulder. "Mayhaps you've been thinking such since years ago, dirty lecher."

"Do you mind?"

She blushed. "No, suppose not." With that, they headed for the holdfast arm in arm. It was warm, it was intimate… but realities intruded on what was a happily budding relationship. "Rogar has reached Tumbleton."

Maegor grumbled under his breath. "He should've just held Stonebridge and not crossed the river… idiot."

"The Tyrells have joined him, alongside the Tarlys and the rest of the northern Reach lords… but so too have the Dornish merged with Roxton and Doggett."

"So we're outnumbered there." He sighed. "I think Rhaena will have to go there."

"What?" Tyanna looked at him with wide eyes. "She's already risked herself enough. You go."

"I'm needed here in the Riverlands."

"Rhaenys already has a dragon."

"Aye, but our forces aren't as strong. The Faith, on the other hand, can supply both Tyrion Lannister's army and that of Red Harren. Arrax and I can fend them off, while Dreamfyre and Vhagar when my muna returns can safeguard the south."

A sigh… "I just don't want her in harm's way… just thinking of you in harm's way is bad enough."

His expression softened. "I know, Tyanna. I know."

They detoured to see his son. Daemon was sleeping, so Maegor merely leaned down to kiss his brow, whispering an oath of love and protection to the wee Crown Prince, who murmured and twisted in his sleep. More precious than any vault of gold or crown of silver. It was brief, since Maegor wished not to wake him from his slumber.

Gods, he was tired as well.

But not enough to deny what came next once he reached his bedchamber. With a tug of the wrist, the - most likely halfhearted - attempts for Tyanna to seek alternate sleeping arrangements was dashed. Before the door closed they were all over each other, mouths slanted together.

Their love had been all but declared, and now was time in Maegor's opinion to cement it. From Tyanna's ardor, attacking his clothes and seeking his bare skin, such opinion was greatly reciprocated.

Maegor hadn't been looking to add a third woman to his marriages. He loved Ceryse, however much their relationship was strained, and Rhaena was his other half - the call to love her was simply too strong and built into his very blood. However, whatever connection Tyanna had with Rhaena emerged between her and him as well. It was slow, and damn near inexplicable, but there nonetheless. The curse of the dragons, to make the impossible possible.

With her dress discarded, he could properly study her. Explore her with his hands and mouth, touching her body while kissing and nipping her neck and shoulders with such wonderful moans coming from her. Tyanna was tall yet slender. She felt delicate and fragile in his arms, at least she should given her figure. But there was a strength about her. Something that most would fear but which a dragon found exhilarating. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and then his scalp when he attacked her breasts. Scraping so hard it almost drew blood. It drove him further.

Soon she was on his back, legs wrapping around her. He let her long, lustrous black hair down and admired the way it formed a halo around her face. Like a dark sorceress where Rhaena was his Princess of light. "Maegor…" she murmured, eyes lidded and mouth agape at what was transpiring. "I want you."

He smiled. "I want you too."

"No… you're a man… and I want you." She kissed him, then looked away. "I've never been with a man, never wanted to. Till you."

"I'm honored." He leaned down and kissed her eyelids, making her swoon. They called him cruel, but he could be very gentle when he wished. "I shall go slow, I promise." When she nodded, he pushed into her and heard her gasp. Gods, he gasped as well. "Oh, hells…"

"Maegor… So full…" Tyanna bucked her hips, as if trying to get him deeper. "Keep going."

And so he did. Slow and gentle. But Tyanna was fierce underneath her exotic grace. She demanded more, digging her nails into his meaty shoulders. Urging him with kicks against his arse. Maegor was nothing if not one that listened to his lovers.

Soon his hips still slammed against her roughly, firm and hard even as he held back a little. Her slender legs wrapped tighter with each thrust, urging him deeper as her back frequently arched up off the bed. "Kessa!" she cried. "Keep pounding that cock into me." Her eyes were open, staring at him.

"Tyanna," he gritted out.

She was breathing heavily from the force of his fucking. "My King… I love you!"

"I love you," he replied, feeling the pressure in his cock. It didn't take as long as usual for him to push forward towards his end, mayhaps this was something he wanted for a long time. To make Tyanna his, just as Rhaena had already done years before. "Marry me," he blurted out.

A gasp left her throat, only for her to shudder around him. "Kessa, I will…" And then all words died as ecstasy exploded across her face.

Maegor pulled nearly all the way out of her and then gave her one final full-force thrust, almost shoving her halfway across the bed. It was enough to trigger him into her convulsing cunt, filling her with all the seed he could manage. Tyanna screamed fiercely at the feeling, but when it was over her eyes drifted shut. Panting with sweat soaking her body.

He turned them over, laying on his back with her slumped on top of him - him still inside her. "We marry when Rhaena returns," she whispered to him. "I want her here."

Nodding, he kissing her brow. "That is acceptable." Exhaustion pulled him into the blackness, and soon they fell asleep together.

Here they stood. Near fifteen thousand men, all wearing brand new armor and armed with shiny swords and spears fresh from the forges. As powerful a force the North had ever faced, yet Rhaenys could see it in their eyes. It was the same look that she saw every morning looking back at her in the mirror.

Death.

Each of them had taken part in the murder of a tenth of their number. Forced into it by Lannister soldiers and Poor Fellows compelling them by spearpoint but they had done so nonetheless. It haunted a man to no end, leaving them hollow. Shells that were once hardy, boisterous men of the North. The land of her husband, of her children. Of her now.

Rhaenys Stark hadn't endured the same death face to face, but her husband was dead. Killed by Tyrion Lannister in the same circumstanced that led these men to their calamity. Every day it haunted her, tormented her, made Rhaenys wish she could open her veins and just let it end.

But she wouldn't. By the gods, she wouldn't. She was a Targaryen.

Death hung over her, hung over the whole army… but Fire and Blood were not just death, but life as well. Ice laughed at death, only the most hardened of souls able to embrace it.

She wore Stark colors that day, but with her silver hair displayed for all and Arrax simply resting behind the platform in which the troops had lined up - the battered souls in front and the Boltons, Freys, and other allies behind them - she ascended and stared at all of them.

Maegor and she had prepared the planned attack into the Riverlands, and it was Rhaenys' responsibility to inform the troops. "Men, I come here not as your Lady. Not as the sister of a King or Aunt of a Queen, but as a wife who has lost her husband, a sister who has lost her brother, the mother of babes who has lost their father. In this, I am one of you."

There was silence, naught but the wind, but every pair of eyes focused on her. The nature of the Targaryens - none could be ignored, be it due to their beauty, majesty, or ferocity.

She continued. "The faith and reverence which you have for the gods, by whom you swear, and the respect which you have for your rulers, whom you esteem, you have made abundantly clear. No one more loyal exists than the men of the North, ones who face blizzards in the heat of summer. Survival is your life, struggle your mistress, and only you could've held out for so long when all others would've fallen."

Still no one spoke, but Rhaenys knew she was getting to them. These broken soldiers.

"And now, because justice demands it, it is my duty as a woman if not born of the North but adopted by it - embraced by it - to undertake and successively resolve this threat that faces us. I fight for the North, and its very life is tied to the hip of the dragons in which I have emerged. For we together are despised by the others of this continent. Its oldest dwellers and youngest combined, seen as heathens, abominations, cancers to remove by steel and rope."

"Never!" One man spoke, a grizzled veteran of many battles, including the ones Rhaenys fought north of the Wall. He was sullen and quiet, but now arisen to anger and determination.

A good start. "I must not allow the North to lie helpless while the rest of Westeros burns, purged of all those to whom the North can call friends. Today we march! Today we seek not glory or riches, but revenge. But immortality! But our very lives!"

Only cheers replied, spontaneous but no less sincere. The men of the North pledging to a Valyrian dragonrider, the two beginning their journey into the Seven Hells together.

It was all Rhaenys could handle. Not to alarm her people, from the lowliest guard to Lord Bolton himself, it wasn't until right outside her chambers did she start to break down. Thankfully Gelina - her trusted escort - managed to guide her behind the closed door of her guest chambers in the Twins before the tears bubbled to the surface. "Oh, Rhaenys…"

She accepted Gelina's hug, keeping it together for the most part. Her tears came out but in trickles down her cheek, soaking the wildling's fur cloak. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, tis' fine. I know yeh' still hurt."

A snort. "You wildlings always talk of moving on quickly."

"Cause we have to… doesn't mean yeh' can't be hurt. I was when me' husband died. And mi'lovers."

Rhaenys blinked. "You were married?"

A wistful smile. "Aye, good man. Chieftain of our clan… had a son. Think he's still in the True North, mi'sister raisin' him."

"How did he die?" Ash filled her mouth. "Did I…?"

"Oh, no." Gelina shook her head. "Shadowcat got 'im two years ago, same with mi'first lover. Second and third… one fell in a river and the'other killed by a jealous fuck." She sighed. "I avenged her."

"Her?" But Rhaenys shook her head. "Not surprised, you like the ladies."

"Nah, not ladies… tough cunts." They broke their embrace, but Gelina held on to Rhaenys' hands. "Tough, fair cunts. Lik' ye'." Her eyes were earnest, meeting Rhaenys'.

The moment felt electric, the first Rhaenys ever experienced since last with Brandon. Gelina… she was tough and fierce, but otherwise was nothing like her husband. Light compared to the Stark dark coloring, slim and toned compared to strong bulk, a smooth and silky face against the rough whiskers of her man. But as Rhaena once told her - hells, as her muna once told her after several cups of northern ale - the female beauty was different but no less pleasing than that of the male.

And they were alike in the same manner - fierce, proud northerners.

Rhaenys' action was automatic - she didn't expect it a split-second before she initiated it, but soon they were kissing. Gelina's lips were soft and tender, Rhaenys stroking her face and brushing the edges of her ice-blonde hair. At first she was surprised, but Gelina moaned and kissed back, harder with the moons of pent up desire as her hands shot up to her braids and pulled them free.

But as suddenly as she initiated the kiss, Rhaenys broke the kiss, leaning back to stare at her wild beauty and the waves of her hair - only a shade more golden than hers - framing her face. "We can't do this," she murmured.

Gelina, breathless, cupped her waist on either side. "We can."

"No… I'm in mourning…"

A finger brushed her lips. "He'd want ye' to feel."

Poignant, even poetic words from the wildling chieftess. The most surprising place in the world, but Rhaenys found it persuasive, even if she was hurting and needed some comfort. Whether from weakness or simply need, Rhaenys nodded. Gelina wasted no time, pulling her into a kiss, fingers entwining about her neck. She sighed into it, closing my eyes. It was comforting to feel the soft lips, to know that she was someone who understood her agony.

Their kiss grew more passionate, lips parting to let each other in. Gelina tasted so sweet in contrast to her fierce exterior. Rhaenys trembled, heart beating truly for the first time in weeks as her hands slipped from her neck to her shoulders. Gelina quickly tore at Rhaenys' dress, the Princess and Lady of Winterfell not giving a damn. Her hands rended at Gelina's furs and tunic, quickly stripping each other. Needing it, both ravenous and reverent at the same time.

Rhaenys fell back against the wall, gasping as Gelina's tongue followed the slope of her now bare breast. "Oh, Gelina," she sighed, fingers weaving into her hair. "That's nice."

"Uh-huh," she replied, her sky blue eyes gazing up at Rhaenys as she circled her nipple with her tongue. "Let out your desires, Princess. Don't hold them in." She then leaned down and captured her nipple with her sucking lips. Rhaenys cradled her head to my breast, fingers running through her silky hair.

After sucking both nipples raw, Gelina licked her way back up Rhaenys' chest and throat until they kissed again. It was hot and heady. Sending shivers through Rhaenys' core that made her hands wander to explore her.

Rhaenys, strength filling her, pushed Gelina to the quilts of the bed and she climbed over the powerful wildling. Mouth watering over the bare cunt left for her. "You shaved your cunt?" she asked, curious.

Gelina, the wild chieftess, blushed like a maiden. It was so endearing. "Heard some ladies gossipin' about what southern men liked. They mentioned that, so I did it."

"But not for the men?"

"No, fer' ye'." Rhaenys stared at her with a sudden hunger and then dove. Crashing their mouths together as their breasts mashed against the other. Rhaenys enjoyed her nipples scraping along hers, but when their clits brushed it was near too much.

A sweet distraction.

"Oh, Gelina," she sighed as their hips started rocking together. "Oh, that feels so nice."

"Aye… oh, aye," Gelina moaned, working her hips harder. It was amazing, wondrous. Heat burned between them as their clits kissed. The sensual slide of hot flesh on hot flesh. Rhaenys broke the kiss and blazed down her neck. Nibbling and sucking on the pale flesh of her chin, loving the way the fierce woman sighed and moaned like a desperate maiden. Her hands slid up and down Rhaenys' naked back, spurring her on.

Helping Rhaenys feel warmth for the first time since Brandon died. Never replacing him, but mayhaps providing some healing.

Gelina's hands shot down her back to grasp her arse, fingernails biting down and pulling Rhaenys harder into her pussy. "I'm close, Princess." She bucked beneath, her tongue seeking out another kiss which Rhaenys gladly gave, mouths dueling as she shuddered and writhed.

"Same." Gods, it felt wonderful. The heat unbearable. "Cum," Rhaenys hissed, grinding their clits harder, faster together.

"Ah!" Gelina bucked beneath, gasping so sweetly, squeezing Rhaenys' arse almost painfully her neck arched. Rhaenys buried her lips into that graceful neck, cunt clenching from the might of her climax. Screaming a dragon's roar into her neck. Waves of bliss washed through Rhaenys until they peaked, leaving her gasping.

Warmth pervaded them, wrapped tightly together. "This cannot continue," Rhaenys murmured.

"Ye' need to heal, Princess," was the soft reply.

"But…"

"Shhhh."

"But…"

"Shhhh…" Whatever reply from Rhaenys was silenced with a gentle kiss.

Rhaenys didn't speak after that.

"Are you ready?" she barely heard Rhaena ask, her heart thumping in her chest and drowning out all other noise. "Tyanna?"

Tyanna closed her eyes, heading off the heady feelings. Not wishing to open them, for she would see her own wedding attire. A thin red robe that hugged her tall, slender frame, contrasted well by her raven hair and the silver necklace dangling round her neck. Her hair was down around her shoulders and past them. Let loose and free, a symbol of purity and the Valyrian spirit.

She was no dragonrider, but it was fitting nonetheless.

"I'm going to be married."

Rhaena laughed melodiously. "Kessa, you are."

Finally she opened her eyes, catching sight of Rhaena. She was not in the same red robe as it was in her dreams, but rather a Queenly dress of black leather. Powerful, fearsome as befitting a warrior Queen - a Queen officiating the ceremony. "For years I hoped we would find ourselves here one day."

"Never did you expect Maegor would be joining us, did you?"

Tyanna shook her head. "No," she murmured.

Caressing her shoulder, Rhaena kissed her cheek. "Do you regret that?"

Gazing out at the sunset over the western horizon, Tyanna smiled slightly. "No, I don't. One of life's wonderful surprises." Her companion, her love, grinned and took her hand. This was it, truly it. With a deep breath, Tyanna allowed herself to be led out into the gardens of the Red Keep.

And just around the corner was the man of her dreams. Recent dreams, but making her no less breathless than Rhaena did her whole life.

This was a small ceremony. Only a few guards and Prince Jaehaerys present to bear witness. That was fine, for Tyanna only wanted her loves. Rhaena was breathtakingly beautiful, but Maegor simply took her breath away. The red robe he had been given was made of a heavy fabric, belted at the waist and flowing all the way to his feet, ending a mere inch above the ground. Blackfyre was at his waist and his hair and beard were trimmed. Unlike the normal Targaryen fashion, but Tyanna thought it suited him.

Everything about this man screamed power, and the look of adoration given to her upon sight proved to Tyanna that there was still a gentle soul behind it. One only a few would experience.

His power was simply intoxicating in the best of ways. In that he shared it in common with his niece and wife. Soon to be her wife as well, which made it all the better.

Syndor was at his side, tongue lolled out. In the distance were the dragons. Balerion and Dreamfyre - Tyanna knew she'd have to get further used to all of them, but didn't mind. Not when she approached did his violet eyes were locked onto hers, filled with awe. "Look at you. You're perfect."

Trembling, Tyanna moved to cup his face, her palms resting on top of his beard. "It's you who is perfect. You take my breath away." He turned his head and kissed the palm, making her swoon.

"I hope you haven't forgotten myself," Rhaena teased, mirth in her equally beautiful eyes.

"Never." Tyanna answered for the both of them.

The ceremony was ready for them, meticulously prepared. Stones had been placed into an altar, resting atop it being candles of red, orange, and gold. They burned brightly alongside two black braziers. Tyanna was deathly silent as Rhaena stepped behind the altar and handed her and Maegor each a dagger made of dragonglass.

She knew what was coming. The blood oath. Suddenly her beating heart stilled. Her nerves calming. Tyanna was ready for this. Maegor was her first male lover, he was the second that captured her heart, and she was ready to be his consort. To be Rhaena's consort. Without any hesitation, she placed her left hand onto his cheek, holding him still as he used the blade to cut into his lower lip. Nor did she flinch or make a sound when he did the same to her lip.

Both simultaneously drew the Valyrian symbols of unity and purity upon their foreheads before the daggers moved to their palms, cutting across them and driving more crimson-red blood to the surface. Their eyes met, Tyanna hoping Maegor could see the love in them as she pressed their palms together. Blood mixing. It stung, but she ignored it.

Rhaena's voice was so ever beautiful, even in her Queenly tone. "Hen lantoti ānogar." Her delicate fingers wrapped a strip of cloth around their hands, the fabric red trimmed with black. "Va sȳndroti vāedroma."

Dark wine of Dragonstone itself, grown in the Valyrian custom, was poured into a cup and offered first to Tyanna. It was rich to the taste, but tart and sweet. Mixing with the blood from her slit lip.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr."

Tyanna handed the chalice to him, keeping their hands wrought together while he drank it down his gullet.

"Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi. Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, qēlossa ozūndesi."

Their free hands clasped their shoulders, Tyanna taking a step closer to her King.

"Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi."

Offering him a smile, Tyanna simply leaned forward and claimed his lips. Their blood mixed in a tangy, coppery taste upon her tongue, but she didn't care. She nipped his lip, drawing out more blood and simply kissing him deeper. Tongue caressing with his, exploring his mouth, and then caressing his some more. Wonderful, amazing… and everything she ever wanted.

Blood of two, joined as one.

It was only later, in their bedchamber in the Red Keep, would she be able to join her lips with the other love of her life. "Oh, Tyanna." Having slit her lip as well prior to the clothes coming off, Rhaena's blood leaked into her open mouth as they kissed. A filthy kiss, hungry to grow closer and plunder the other's mouth. Rhaena was ravenous, as was Tyanna - yet she was desperate for something else.

Something to hold her, to ground her, to smother the explosion before it was due.

Her wife was flushed, her pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat from the vigorous attention that both Tyanna and Maegor paid her not half an hour before. Maegor had already plowed Alys tonight and planted his seed inside of her, while the raven-haired Queen-consort - her heart did a little catch every time she was reminded of her now wedded state - could taste her own juices with every swipe of her tongue over Rhaena's lips and skin. It had been wonderful, finally reacquainting herself with the beautiful female body that haunted her dreams.

Tyanna welcomed her kiss as eagerly as she welcomed any affection from either of them. They remained locked together, arms wrapped around their shoulders and putting more and more passion into their embrace.

And so when Rhaena left her lips and kissed down her neck to be level with Tyanna's breasts, the attention her mouth lavished upon the pale pink tips only served to further drive her mad. "So good!" One hand each wove itself through each mop of silver-hair. "Fuck me, my prince!

Watching Rhaena lick and suck at Tyanna's breasts had driven her new husband to pure savagery. His lips were pressed tightly into a snarl and his eyes were dark, making a glorious visage as he loomed tall over the both of them. Thrusting his hips to work his cock deep into her pink flower. Fast and hard, leaving her no room for words besides a soundless scream.

"Fuck her, husband." Rhaena flicked her tongue as would a snake upon a pebbled nipple, making Tyanna writhe atop the quilt. "Seed her. Make her swell with our babe."

"Fuck…" he ground out, increasing his pace. Splitting her open with his powerful cock. Tyanna's body rocked atop the bed, her breasts bouncing. Rhaena left them and rose to kiss Maegor hungrily, only serving to give Tyanna the most perfect sight.

Her two beautiful Valyrians.

She needed more. "Sit on my face," Tyanna begged with a moan. "I need to taste you."

Grinning, Rhaena winked at Maegor and straddled Tyanna's face. Her dripping cunt and the remainder of Maegor's seed making for an excellent meal for the hungry Tyanna. In no time were Rhaena's moans the equal of her own.

"You're so good at that, Ty," Rhaena gasped. "You just keep getting better and better with that mouth of yours."

"Mmmm… I'm glad… oh fuck!" Her vision failed her as Maegor worked himself harder, slamming his cock into Tyanna hard enough to make the bed shake. A massive bed, once said to have held Aegon the Conqueror and his two wives. Gods, how had it survived three dragonriders, if it strained with just two. Tyanna just kept lavishing Rhaena's cunt, gorging herself on the juices while Rhaena screamed. Maegor sucking on her neck while Tyanna attacked her clit.

Soon he was twitching, buried as deeply as he could manage. Tyanna seized, her belly taught and her limbs spasming at the feel of his seed squirting inside her channel. Yes… she wanted this. Wanted to have his babes. To fulfill a destiny she never knew was going to happen… sealed by the delicious taste of Rhaena creaming atop her mouth.

"I love you," she murmured as soon as Rhaena collapsed on her, nuzzling between the valley of her breasts as Maegor landed beside them. An arm wrapping round Tyanna's shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss.

Forget the war for now. Just enjoy this, for it could disappear at any moment.

Mayhaps they had both tired him out, or mayhaps he was still winded from his injuries in the trial by seven, but Maegor had fallen into the sleep of the dead. His breathing even but his eyes shut and completely shut off from the world. Tyanna eyed him with a gentle adoration, stroking his cheek. Marveling at the bristly stubble there.

"You can't believe it, can you?" Above, Rhaena smiled down at her, the moonlight making her look like a goddess. "Being here with him?"

She sighed. "I can't believe I'm here with you, let alone him."

Rhaena kissed her, and it spread a contented warmth through Tyanna's body. "I've always loved Maegor, but there was an emptiness in me when we ended things."

"Destiny is fickle. Seems I was always intended as the continuation of the Valyrian tradition." Tyanna chuckled. "Who will Daemon see fit to continue them with?"

"Rhaenys had a daughter recently, Lyanna if I recall correctly. Perhaps her." Her face fell. "Gods, for her to grow up without a father… Daemon almost suffered that but I'm glad he didn't. Neither our future children."

Her brow rose. "Never thought about having children."

"Well, if you're not pregnant after tonight." Tyanna blushed at the implication. "Daemon already loves you."

A warm sigh. "And I love him already…" She did, for he was a lovely boy. "When do you depart?"

Rhaena frowned, sad. "A week. Myself to the Reach and Maegor to the Riverlands."

"I'll watch things here. It'll be easier with the authority of Queen… just promise to return to me."

"I promise." As their King and husband slept beside them, the two long lost lovers reconnected themselves, something sorely needed. And greatly enjoyed.

Not bothering to rise as the door opened and Barth walked in, Hugor kept his gaze locked with that of the elderly Malcolm Wyl - certainly not a man to be underestimated. The two of them had that in common. That and the trail of corpses of those that had underestimated each of them. "Welcome Barth. Please tell our guest what you told me earlier."

Nodding, Barth took his place by his master's side. Septon's robes were normally resplendent for someone so high in the ranks of the Starry Sept - Hugor's certainly were - but on Barth they looked menacing. Hugor approved of that. "Tell me, my Lord," he began, "Your Prince's cousin, Princess Nymeria the Bastard. She had a child recently, yes?"

Wyl didn't say anything for the longest time before responding. "Yes, actually. Princess Myriah. She is well loved by the court at Sunspear, and promises to be a great beauty with her sea-green eyes. At least according to my Prince."

Hugor smirked. "Dear Mors doesn't seem as someone who cares for much more than battle and the expansion of his Realm, I gather… though not particularly proficient in sword and generalship that he is." Hugor didn't need to learn this through his spies. Mors Martell and Wyl were in Oldtown to formalize their alliance and to show piety before the Seven - the young man's nature was apparent to all.

"I cannot speak ill of my Prince."

"Indeed." It was as good a confirmation he would get from Wyl.

Barth cleared his throat. "I have come across information that young Myriah was fathered by Ser Victor Velaryon when he arrived in Sunspear on a diplomatic visit."

"Oh?" If Wyl was surprised he did not show it. "This is… unfortunate. The Velaryons are the main bannermen of the Targaryens."

"It is not necessary for the child to come to harm, I reiterate. A grievous sin to kill a child." Especially one whose parentage was not even ascertained. A known Velaryon would be different…

Wyl understood. "Certainly not."

Hugor smiled. "Her mother on the other hand…"

"She is popular with the soldiers. It would be… difficult."

"Battle will soon be joined, Lord Wyl. Many fall in battle, such is the way of war - and your Prince's throne would be secure."

A smile that was returned. "Praise be to the Seven, then." He rose. "Shall you arrange it or should I?"

"Keep your hands clean," Barth noted. "It'll be easier that way."

"Of course. Your Holiness, your Eminence." With that Wyl was gone, leaving the two of them to their devices.

Barth turned to Hugor with his lips in a thin line. "Shall I send the raven?"

Hugor sighed. "Yes, and add the order for Roxton to advance on Tumbleton." Coughing, Hugor poured himself some watered wine. It would quench his thirst. "Wipe out the gathering army there and be done with it."

"Before a dragon comes?"

"A dragon will come, but before it can be Vhagar and that bitch Queen… let her see the head of her granddaughter or son and that of their mount. It's what she deserves, anyways." With that, the pieces were set. The plans put into place.

Praise be to the Seven.