Chapter 45: Domesticity
"Oooh…" The soft yet powerful hand gripping her arse urged Arianne to sit up slightly - the reward was soon upon her. Hot, succulent kisses peppering her throat, the ruler of Dorne left to whimper at the devotion to her sensitive neck.
Exactly what she most loved. Her lover knew just how to leave her writhing with lust.
She let out a particularly loud moan as teeth nipped at the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, Arianne's hips bucking. Squelching a harder rhythm of her flower against her counterpart's perfect one. "I love your body," the luscious woman gasped against her neck, voice gravelly. A perfect mix of Dornish lilt combined with a deeper, more heady accent. Both hands now gripped her arse and pulled the cheeks apart, leaving only Ari's hold plus their entwined legs to keep them conjoined. "Gods, you're a goddess of lust."
"Oh… cousin…" Arianne bit her lip, thoroughly dominated. Reduced to a vessel for this powerful woman.
She was eased onto her back, her lover's cunt beginning to batter against hers. "I'm gonna fuck you till you're sore."
The erotic words make her head spin with want and desire. "Like… like we did Sans this morning…?" Arianne's voice failed her, her brain so lost in pleasure. The sentence trailed off into a simple, desperate moan.
"So this is what you get up to in my absence."
The confident chuckle contrasted with Ari's breathless moans and pants. "Just preparing your whore for you, husband."
A snort. "You're both whores. My whores." He climbed on the bed, visage blocked as her liver removed herself from between Ari's legs - leaving her defenseless to whatever her beautiful man would do to her. "My Dornish whores."
"Mmmm, yes." She now hugged him from behind, nibbling at his ear. "Fuck her hard. Sire muna's homeland an heir."
"Is that what you want? To be bred?"
His gravelly voice set something off inside her. "Yes!" Arianne spread her legs wide apart - inviting him in. "Fuck me. Give me your child!" As with her woman, her man's reward was quickly and freely given.
"Princess… Arianne… Ari!"
The powerful shove against her shoulder shook the Princess awake. Blinking like mad - thankfully she was under one of the awnings with the sun not directly shining on her eyes - the grogginess of her slumber and gunk in her eyes caused her great discomfort. "What the fuck…"
A throaty chuckle not so silently mocked her. "Having fun, lazing the day away?"
Rubbing her eyes, Arianne finally managed to pick out the form of Nymella Tolland - soon to be Princess Nymella Targaryen - staring down at her. "And what gives you the permission to interrupt my rest?"
Nymella smirked. "You did." Arianne furrowed her brows. "I asked if I could share late-morning tea with you and pick your brain, and you agreed? I mean, it was an honor to whittle away a minute or two of the heir of Sunspear's busy schedule of sleep and self-pleasure."
Her mind still foggy, it took a moment for Arianne to realize not only that she had offered Nymella the time but also that in her sleep her fingers had shifted to her skirts. Playing languidly at first and then rather vigorously with her… "Right." She immediately sat up, smoothening her dress as a bright blush colored her cheeks. "Of course, I remember now."
Her companion giggled, eyes alight with mischief - a welcome break from her usually steely demeanor. Aegon had been such a good influence on her. "Must've been quite the wet dream for you to frig yourself in your sleep."
Most dreams were quickly forgotten after waking. Arianne wished this one had been the case as well - not only was it rather… taboo, but even a single still of it in her mind was quick to moisten her flower all over again. "It was."
"Anyone we know?" She sat aside from Arianne on one of the couches, leaning back with her feet propped up. "You always had the most scrumptious lovers."
"I'd rather not say."
Nymella's smile faded. "Was it Egg?" There was a guarding in her voice.
Arianne shook her head. "No, it wasn't him." A chance to get away from the uncomfortable truth of her desiring her other male cousin and… female cousin as well. "Why? Afraid you wouldn't like that?" Being saucy and suggestive herself, a useful tool to regain the initiative. She was on far firmer ground, judging by her smirk and the uncomfortable expression on Nymella. "I could take your cunt so many places." Arianne blew her a kiss.
Groaning, the Lady of Ghost Hill leaned her head back. "Enough. I have enough nervousness as it is over this."
"Oh?" Arianne sighed. "My apologies, Nymella. I'll be serious now… what's wrong?"
"I may have…" She bit her lip. "Suggested to Egg that I would like to see him… couple with one of his last lovers."
Ari's jaw dropped. "One of my ladies? Or the maid? Or the dancer?"
"He slept with all of them… gods." Nymella looked rather flushed. "By the gods, I'm marrying a Targaryen. I could be stuck married to one of them as well."
"Is it a problem…"
"No, I'll… get used to it." Nym sighed. "Forgive me, Ari… I'd just rather postpone that until after I finally… bed Egg. Convince him that I can provide all he needs by myself." Arianne smiled, understanding. "But I wanted to find a way to get used to the idea that he may need to wed another, so…"
"Ah, his last male lover. Maron."
"Maron, the serving boy? Makes sense now, why he's always giving Egg those lusty looks."
"He's always been a desperate pillow biter, he is." Arianne tapped her bed. "I've dealt with something like that with one of my dalliances. Believe me, you'll love it."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure… just wear something comfortable, cause you'll want to hike up your dress and frig yourself in the middle."
Laughter from the courtyard below drew their attention. "Is that Baelon?"
Arianne hoped that Nymella didn't notice the return of her blush. "Baelon? I wouldn't know." A girlish squeal erupted from below in the gardens. "That's definitely Daenerys." She rose from her couch and made her way to the railing, peering down.
It was Baelon and Daenerys… the two of them and Lady Sansa. The latter stood at the edge of the pool laughing merrily while the still clothed forms of her companions had fallen into the pool. Jon was floating with a grin on his face while Daenerys kicked and thrashed about, gasping for breath. "That…" she sputtered. "Was not funny!"
"I beg to disagree, Dany," Jon replied, pointing to Sansa. "And neither does she… nor our voyeurs." Arianne winced as Jon pointed up to her. "Why don't we settle the matter by asking them?"
Before she could duck in, Sansa noticed Arianne and Nymella as well. "Ah, Ari!"
"What's going on down there?" Nymella asked, smiling herself.
Sansa shook her head and chuckled. "Apparently, Dany thought herself quite the little tease all morning. Pinching my arse and murmuring sultry things in Jon's ear."
"I didn't hear any of you complaining!" Dany shot back, bobbing at the surface with a scowl.
"After she bit Jon's earlobe, he responded by picking her up and falling in the pool."
Covering her lips with her fingers, Arianne bit back her own giggle. "Apologies, Princess Daenerys, but my cousin had the right of it. You brought it on yourself."
Daenerys stuck her tongue out at her. "Jon, your Dornish cousin is a right cunt, she is."
"You have no idea, Princess," Nymella smirked, flipping her red hair over her shoulder as she eyed Ari. "You have no idea."
"Come on, Dany, let me help you up." Sansa reached down at the edge of the pool. "I'll help you strip out of those wet clothes." Sansa was a lot of things, but subtle in her flirting she was not. Arianne might have to help her out in that regard - teach her some tricks.
Daenerys swam to the edge, reaching up. "Only if I do the same."
Arianne caught it before Sansa did, which was why the squeal from the Stark happened only after Daenerys tightly gripped Sansa's hand and yanked her into the water. The splash was loud, Sansa's scream faster. Laughing merrily, all Arianne could think behind her facade was that she wished she could be among them.
However much they cherished being with Baelon, Ari knew it wasn't nearly enough.
"We can still back out of this if you want."
Nymella frowned. "Egg…"
Her betrothed was in many ways a man, but he still retained some youthful features - namely an innate bashfulness that was cute most of the time but now annoyed her. "I've told you many times that you're enough for me." Stopped in the middle of the corridor, he wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. "Say the word and this never happens."
Annoyance evaporating at his sincerity, Nymella kissed him again, this time a deep kiss - their tongues dancing together. Few lords or knights would ever restrict themselves to the woman they married even if faith or propriety indicated they do so. For Egg to pledge that marked him as a good man worthy of her love… but that was not what Nymella desired. "I am not marrying any man, Egg," she said as they broke the kiss. "I am marrying a Targaryen, and I wish to be a Targaryen wife."
"And you think being such means sexual depravity?"
"It means caring not what those who fail to possess dragons or the favor of the gods think," she replied, squeezing his arm. "I want to see this happen, to make you happy." Tempting as it was to just leave, she did not wish to be weak herself. "I want to see you with a man," Nymella told him. "I won't get jealous, and it's better to see this first than another woman."
Egg kissed her softly. "You really want that, my Lady?"
"I want to see what it's like." A final declaration, Nyemlla hoping he didn't drag this out further. That he be as strong and decisive as she had come to know. As such he nodded and guided her into his chambers.
Whereas one day there might've been a scantily-clad woman closer to Egg's age beckoning them to join her on the bed, there was instead a standing servant bowing as the two of them entered. "Your Grace, my Lady." Maron Sand held an impassive demeanor, but nothing could hide the eagerness in his eyes. Aegon was a handsome man, both women and men seeing it.
Nymella tried to push down her jealousy and possessiveness. "I'll leave you two to it. Pretend I am not here."
"That would be impossible, love," Egg murmured, kissing her cheek. "If it ever becomes uncomfortable for you, I'll stop. Alright?"
The sincerity in his voice gave her confidence. Reassured her. "Alright." She made her way to one of the comfortable chairs in the bedchamber, settling upon it and watching Egg approach the servant. Mayhaps she expected them to chat, but Maron proved them wrong by immediately drawing Aegon into a passionate kiss. One her betrothed reciprocated and quickly dominated.
Nymella wasn't sure what to expect at watching this, but her body unintentionally shuddered, leaning towards the display in front of her. Her flower began to twitch and moisten, shocking her a bit.
The pair had retired to the bed. Maron settled on his back, the Prince dominating him. "Your Grace…" he murmured, tilting his head to the side and allowing Egg to bite his shoulder. "How I've missed this."
It pricked at Nymella's mind at just how often they had coupled. She was curious… but clear to her that such curiosity was not out of jealousy. There was no romantic or emotional connection between them - she could tell. He was not gentle or loving with his bites and brutal movements. it was nothing but pure physical lust, for the servant as it was for Egg.
And apparently for her as well. "My Prince," Nymella husked, surprising even herself. "Flip him over." Egg looked up at her, brow arching. "Tear off his clothes and dominate him."
He wasn't about to deny her anything.
This wasn't some wild, frenzied assault. Egg was considerate even as the dragon within him woke. Clothes were stripped off in a hurry but not torn, Maron flipped over and shoved down onto the bed face-first, but care was given to keep his mouth and nose free to breathe. "Everything off…" Nymella demanded, almost purring. She wasn't keen on seeing the servant naked, only Egg.
Her beautiful, powerful Prince. Bared before her as a sculpted god.
"Fuck…" the other man said, arching his hips forward as Egg grasped his cock from behind, squeezing it. Desperately wanting more.
Why did this appeal to her so? "Put yours inside him." Did her mother watch her father with his lover? Or was this just her? Enjoying seeing her dragon husband take what he deserved? Titillate her with the fact that this man chose her. This man picked her to be his woman - one of his women.
That last thought struck a chord. Nymella reached a hand into her own smallclothes and stroked her clit at the sight, it combining with her realizations to fuel a fire inside of her. This must be what Queen Elia feels… Nymella knew that if Egg ept this up, she would come on her fingers in no time.
She wanted to see everything.
"Get to it," Nymella growled, swirling her fingers in a circle. "Take what you want, my dragon. You want to do that, don't you, Egg?" Her betrothed grinned at her, while Maron let out a little whimper at the thought of having Egg inside him. "On your hands and knees," she commanded him. The servant complied.
Grabbing the bottle of oil, Egg slicked himself up and slowly pushed inside the other man, hearing him whimper once more.
Nymella now had two fingers inside herself, seeking out the spot that always brought her pleasure. She increased her strokes as she watched Egg thrust forward and then pick up speed, dreaming of when he would do that to her.
Of when she could see him do that to a handsomer man… or beautiful women. Finally she understood her mother. Queen Elia. Princess Arianne.
Was this how all Valyrian wives of the past felt?
When they did finish, Nymella's fingers were covered in her release. Shuddering, lost in her pleasure and her dreams, she didn't notice Egg looming over her until he threw aside a towel he'd used to clean his cock and picked her up in her arms. "Egg," she squealed weakly.
"Thank you for that," he said, kissing her brow as they fell together in the bed next to the rising Maron. "And thank you, Maron."
The lad looked completely ravished. "The pleasure was mine, your Grace."
"Mmmm… as it was mine," Nym replied, hugging Aegon close. "Next time, I participate."
"There will be a next time?"
"Don't look so eager," Nym giggled. "I do hope no one noticed… Arianne will already give me shit over this, would not want the entire palace to do so."
Chuckling, Nymella leaned into her betrothed as he nipped at her neck. "I'm sure my munas wouldn't have much of an issue with this, but it'll still be easier for the both of us when my kepa leaves."
"Your father is leaving?" Nymella asked, her red hair brushing against his bronzed skin as she peered up at him. "I rather enjoyed meeting your parents, so I'll be sad to see them go."
Aegon kissed her cheek. "You'll see them in a few moons when we depart back for King's Landing." For the wedding, no doubt. Imagining it put a smile on Nymella's face, finally wedding the dragon that swept her off her feet. "Besides, I'm sure the servants here will be glad to see them go, especially Aegerax." He grinned at Maron. "A dragon can eat one out of house and home."
"Aye, a dragon can." Nymella intended on the double meaning, and received a bite on her earlobe in response that made her squeal.
"It is not a problem, your Grace," replied Maron, pulling up his breeches. Wincing from what was clearly a sore arse. "But I am sure some of my comrades will appreciate less work. Can I tell them, or is this some secret?" he asked casually.
Nymella shrugged. "I don't think it's some hush hush matter. Right Egg?"
Aegon shook his head. "Shouldn't be. They'll be leaving either tomorrow afternoon or the morn after that. Same time as my valonqar, aunt, and cousin actually."
"A shame," Maron remarked. "Lady Sansa and Princess Daenerys were always kind to us. Saddened to see them go."
Stroking Egg's chest, Nymella purred into his ear. "Why couldn't they stay a little longer? I'd love to take them to Ghost Hill for a week or so?"
"Jon would love that for sure, but they've been gone a while from home. Kepa and munas - for the life of me I can't understand why - want them to stop off at Storm's End on the way, and Jon wishes to check out Summerhall prior to that." He clicked his tongue. "Sometimes he's so like kepa it's uncanny."
"Well, if he could be anyone you cannot go wrong with King Rhaegar." She smacked his lips. "If only he wasn't wed."
"Hey," Aegon complained, though his eyes twinkled. "You're marrying his son."
"Mmmm… lucky lucky me." Kissing him, as they cuddled, neither noticed Maron slipping out until he was gone. Nymella was simply glad that they had their time alone.
She had gotten everything that she wanted and more.
"... slowly lowering the straps till the dress 'accidentally' slipped off my shoulders," giggled Rensye. "Worked with Prince Oberyn and his wife, worked for Prince Viserys, worked with Robert Baratheon that one time he showed up… but his Grace, nothing." She snorted and knocked back a swig of the bottle, small rivulets of the red spirits dribbling down her chin.
Karles chuckled, swaying in his seat. This wasn't their first bottle of Dornish red. "Renny, you're a pretty little thing, but the King fucks two wet dreams every fuckin' night."
"Please, no man can resist me… or woman."
Maron shared a sideways look with Karles, smirking. "My taste runs towards hard muscles and thick cocks, love, but even I would think about it if Lyanna Stark or Queen Elia asked for a roll in the hay."
Rensye spat on the ground - bad idea, for she nearly toppled from her seat. Would've been hilarious, but that would've meant more wine spilled. To the trio of servants on a well deserved break, that would've been a disaster. "Lyanna Stark is a whore."
"A pretty whore." Rensye's glare could've withered anyone, but not Karles. "Don't give me that. Hard arse, legs that go on forever… tits that could drown me. Fuck the King, but seven hells I get why he fell hard for her."
While the one girl among them rolled her eyes, she shrugged. "Nor the Queen." Rensye sighed. "Mayhaps I'll try for a noblewoman next. Always gentler and more generous."
"That's the spirit." Karles laughed, slapping her on the back. "Never got the appeal of a cock… love mine, but others'? Ick." His eyes shifted to Maron. "How kin' ye' stand them?"
It always got like this. A few swigs of wine, then gulps. Once the bottles started to drain, the forced uptightness and guarded politeness melted away among the servants. The older ones slept or had light fun together, while the youths were far more rowdy. Maron could've had his pick of toughs that trashed taverns and did all sorts of mischief, but the hedonists called to him. He pretty much was one after all. "They have their appeal."
"Specially the Prince's," Rensye giggled.
"The Prince?"
"Yip, Maron's takin' the Prince's dragon cock up his bum."
"Prince Baelon?" Karles shook his head. "He's only got moony eyes for his aunt… and his cousin… Plus Princess Arianne would cut your stones off if you got close."
"Not him," Maron muttered. "I prefer the lighter ones anyway."
Karles' eyes widened. "Prince Aegon? But he's fucked every young cunt in the palace."
"Including mine," the saucy serving girl grinned. "You're not wrong, Maron. His cock is divine." She leaned her head back. "Considering his uncle's… predilections, apparently he likes them too."
Their companion still looked utterly shocked. "I never saw it… I'm usually better at detecting these things." He stroked his chin. "Saw that Lady Sansa liked to munch cunt."
"That's a low hanging fruit… she's always making moony eyes over Princess Daenerys." Rensye rolled her eyes before looking back at Maron. "So how is he? With you, I mean."
Maron was not a shy person. Raised in the more or less open debauchery of a Dornish palace, one couldn't be a prude, but… he blushed nonetheless. "No one's made me spill my seed as hard as him."
"He a sword swallower, or one who always seeks his cock polished?"
Another blush. "He's the… active partner." Maron had lovers of both types, but Aegon… "I could never stick my cock into anything ever again and I'd still die happy with that powerful dragon."
"Ironic." They looked at Karles. "Everyone knew how sickly he was, and now look at him."
Renyse sipped at her wine. "Makes you think that he should be our crown prince, not that half-breed bastard." Maron said nothing, just letting her comment fade away.
Drunk as he was, being a servant gave him the training to appear demure and obedient no matter the situation. It took a large level of concentration, which benefited him as he trudged through the hallways unnoticed.
Unnoticed by all but one. "You're drunk."
Maron averted his gaze, for once a bit ashamed. "I got carried away."
A snort. "No matter, were you followed?"
"No." No one noticed a mere servant unless they wanted their lusts sated. Even the Prince. "How much do you want to know?"
"I can't care less about your sexual dalliances. Do you have anything useful for me?"
Maron nodded. "Summerhall."
"Summerhall?"
"They are going to make a stop at the ruined castle. I wasn't told why."
There was a silence. "Good boy. I'll see you rewarded for this." Before Maron could blink, his companion was gone, leaving him in solitude. Swaying where he stood, the servant hurried back to his quarters, a warm bed and no shift in the morning calling his name.
Largely unaware of what he set in motion.
It was surreal, that it happened. In Dorne of all places, though Elia Martell - Queen of the Seven Kingdoms - had to admit that it wasn't really shocking. The Water Gardens, it had its effect on people. On young and old lovers alike. Love was kindled here, babes seeded… it was where her love for Lyanna was truly born, and now also where the official betrothal between her son Baelon and his aunt Daenerys and cousin Sansa was agreed too.
Mayhaps not completely official - not announced before court and accepted by the various authorities both spiritual and temporal - but agreed to by her, Lyanna, and Rhaegat for sure. The nervous glee in Jon's eyes as he asked for blessings with both Dany and Sansa clutching his arm… it was so sweet. Elia, dress discarded for a simple nightdress that went to her knees and barely covered anything in the equatorial heat, still smiled at the memory of the girls' delighted squeals and Jon's relieved joy when Rhaegar accepted the request.
She couldn't wait to tell Rhaella, Rhaenys, Cersei, Ned, and all the others.
"By the old gods and the new." Sighing in relief, Lyanna plopped down onto the bed, arms out and chestnut hair billowing about her head upon the pillow - Elia watched her breasts bounce. "Thank it all that Jon made his move. I never thought it would happen."
Giggling, Elia shimmied next to her wife. Laying down beside her and cuddling into the crook of her neck. "Regardless of what he says, I am sure that it took many hints from our sweet little niece and goodsister to push him into making his move."
Peeking down at her, Lyanna raised her brow. "Ellaria told me that our son was spending a lot of time with Arianne recently."
"And there you go." Ari… there was a woman that knew much about relationships and lovers. A voracious snake, but also a loving cousin. Where Asha Greyjoy had helped Egg, so too did Arianne help Baelon. Though not as much as Asha did. Even blood and marriage ties wouldn't spare her Daenerys' wrath or Sansa's direwolf if Ari tried to dip her toes in their guarded waters. "If it wasn't for us women, mankind would die out."
"I feel that this involves me, somehow?" They heard Rhaegar ask, the King foregoing his squire or his wives to take off his decorative armor and finery.
Normally Elia would've gladly helped strip their husband, but at that moment she was content to cuddle with Lya and watch the show. "Face it, husband. For all your bravado and skill with blades and dragons, the sight of a pretty lass leaves you craven as a small child in a thunderstorm."
The King scoffed. "Thunderstorms never scared me, and I happened to obtain the fairest maidens in the land." He stripped off his chainmail, draping it over an expensively upholstered chair.
"Please," Lyanna scoffed back, her fingers playing with the gauzy fabric of Elia's nightgown. "Our betrothals were arranged."
"And yet it all worked out, and I made you both fall in love with me." Rhaegar was a good and humble King, but sometimes that cocky dragonrider poked itself out from underneath all the humility.
That smirk made Elia quiver. "You did." She'd never be too proud to admit it. Sighing, she rested her head betwixt Lyanna's ample bosom, staking claim to it before Rhaegar did. Their battles for such valuable land were always heated. "It is done, though. Our son is betrothed, and we need not worry about his Queens."
"My muna and I were grooming Daenerys for the role from the beginning, though not as much as Daenerys herself." Rhaegar let down his hair, finally stripped down to a simple sleep tunic and smallclothes. Making the bed jostle as he sat down at the edge. "Bold and fierce, more than even our son."
"She's gotten some humility since departing with him," Lyanna mused. "As did Sansa, though my niece's bigger lesson was gaining some worldly experience. Cersei coddled her too much."
Elia nodded. "Both will be good influences on Baelon, just as Nymella is for Egg."
"That was a shock for me, to be honest." Their husband didn't jump them, instead practicing his nightly routine by grabbing Blackfyre and polishing the priceless steel - Elia would've been a little disappointed if she wasn't too tired herself. Judging from Lyanna's yawn, so was she. The night would be about sleep… any amorous intentions would be for the wee hours of the morrow. "I expected Aegon to be like your brother, Lya. Have some fun before settling down."
Memories of Brandon Stark were still sorrowful for Lyanna, but enough time had passed to allow a certain whimsey to discussing him. As such, Elia spotted a small smile on her wife's face. "Egg got lucky. Found his love early."
"I dare say I never would've thought of Lady Nymella," Elia added. "For a while I was considering Arianne… or perhaps Margaery Tyrell?"
"Margaery Tyrell is Robb's. Tywin made that very clear in regards to the alliances he was pushing, plus did you see the way they looked at each other?"
"You are one to notice moony eyes, Lya," Elia teased, getting a tongue stuck out at her in response.
Clearing his throat, Rhaegar looked over his shoulder. "I was always considering Arya for Egg."
Elia's eyes widened. "Arya? Our niece Arya?"
"How many Arya's are there?"
"She's a bit young, don't you think?" Lyanna countered.
"Hence why I spoke of him enjoying himself for a bit. By the time I thought he'd settle down and be ready for a wife and keep, Arya would be of age for at least a betrothal." Sheathing Blackfyre and setting it down beside the bed… always in range, just as Lyanna did with Wolfsbane, Rhaegar finally made the climb to the bed. Settling in between the two Queens. Elia accepted his strong embrace with tired gusto. "It can still happen, though. Emulating me, a Dornishwoman on one arm and a Northerner on the other."
"Just like his kepa," Elia murmured, kissing his chest. Sleep began to prick at her eyelids. "Now we just need a husband for Rhaenys." Rhae's letters, all of Rhaella's, and even one of Tywin's spoke of the wildling girl that had come south with their daughter. While the affection was artfully concealed in Rhaenys' mention of her, Rhaella was quite open in her characterization and the depths of love and lust between the two quite apparent.
As content as Rhaenys seemed to be, however, a man was still needed for her.
"Mayhaps we should take up your brother's offer."
Though tired, Elia was not too tired to mistake what Lyanna implied. She rose, balancing herself on Rhaegar's chest. "You mean… Rhaenys and Baelon?"
A shrug. "Why not? The seal's already been broken - from two Queens to three Queens is less shattering than from one Queen to two."
"Even still, Lya," Rhaegar replied, equally as flummoxed. "This isn't some Lord's daughter who would jump at the chance to be a consort even if she must share Baelon. This is Rhaenys."
"Baelon would be a wonderful husband, and they already get along…" Lyanna crossed her arms. "And it would push Rhae to get rid of that savage tart."
Elia giggled. "So that's what this is about? Getting rid of the wildling?" Lyanna liked to style herself a Targaryen warrior Queen, but she was still all Stark deep down.
Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "Not completely… I don't see anyone else that would pass muster to her. There's no spark with Robb, Aegon wouldn't do it, Baelon Velaryon is not a good fit personality-wise, and the Fourteen Flames would erupt before I consider the Baratheon boys." The last was spat out, not that Elia blamed her.
A pregnant pause followed before Rhaegar replied. "The seal has been broken… but I'm not making any hasty judgments. Let us all get back to the Red Keep and we can figure things out from there - Baelon's not marrying for three more years anyway."
"Agreed."
"Mmmm…hmmm…" Settling back down, Elia was out the moment her head hit Rhaegar's firm chest, dreams of weddings filling her happy mind. Plenty of them.