Leroya

Leroya had long ago forgotten how to feel intimidated by men, even one such as Aenys Blackfyre.

She could sense when men were about to treat her in a manner which made them feel comfortable and in control. Leroya had also learned that a man's true character was revealed when that privilege was denied them, and they were not permitted to dictate things as they saw fit.

Thus, she had chosen to step forward and offer her hand to him, as an equal. She could well imagine how most men of Westeros would respond to such a gesture, and many Essosi to boot. Although Aenys was surprised at first, his smile was neither forced nor feigned as he shook her hand. Nor was hers in reply.

From what she had learned of him before the voyage, he was past forty years of age. Despite his silver hair, though, she would have thought Aenys was ten years younger than that. He was still lean and fit, bearing a scar across one cheek. All of it suited him well, and she was especially intrigued by his Valyrian features.

Even on an island which was half the size of Dragonstone, there were a number of taverns where they could have their meeting. For Leroya, however, there was only one choice. The Sea Cockle was not only a tavern; it was also an inn and a brothel. Constructed out of crude stone and the remains of a ship that had run aground, it was an old establishment on the isle. When she'd first come to the Scatterlings as a cabin girl, Ollo and his crew had spent their nights beneath its roof. Over the years since her first visit, Leroya had befriended those who worked in the Sea Cockle, especially the prostitutes who plied their trade within its walls. She taught them the arts of pleasure which she'd learned in the Summer Isles, as well as lessons in defending themselves from unruly customers. When it came to either set of skills, she was always happy to provide demonstrations.

Now she sat beside her father, observing Aenys as he sat straight-backed and solemn.

"Let us begin," Papa suggested. "So tell me, ser: by what right do you claim the Iron Throne?"

"The right which was granted to my father by his own father," Aenys answered readily. He spoke as if he'd rehearsed these words like a mummer in a play. "Daemon was a full blooded Targaryen. He was the grandson of two kings and the son of a third."

"Very true," Papa concurred, "and utterly irrelevant."

The abrupt dismissal did not surprise Leroya. She sensed that her father was doing much the same as she'd done when she'd offered him her hand to shake.

Aenys, meanwhile, was visibly thunderstruck and affronted at Papa's rejection. However, his voice remained calm. "Have the customs changed in the Seven Kingdoms? Is blood no longer followed to determine who sits on the Iron Throne?"

"It still is, I assure you."

"Good. Then you might recall that my father was the favoured son."

"Favoured by a king so corrupt and so despised," Papa pointed out, "that he is known as the Unworthy."

Aenys' brow was furrowed, and his arms were folded. "Unworthy or not, he was still the king, and his word was never undone. And that's before even mentioning which of his sons inherited the sword Blackfyre."

"You forget yourself, Aenys." Papa's riposte was gently spoken, but firm in its message. "That sword was restored to House Targaryen several years ago. Your house lost ownership of it when Haegon was defeated."

"That does not change my lineage," Aenys protested. "I am the heir to dragons."

"That may be, but you are not the heir to House Targaryen. And for that matter, you are not even the heir to House Blackfyre. Bittersteel crowned your nephew as Haegon's successor, did he not?"

Once again, Aenys was visibly stung by this blunt rejection, but he kept his temper. "Is there a purpose to this that I'm not seeing?"

"You are using old arguments," Papa replied. "I heard them years before your father ever made his bid for the throne."

"Many were swayed by those arguments, if I recall," Aenys observed.

"Many, but not enough. Your father lost his war, just as your brothers lost."

Aenys' jaw clenched. Leroya wondered if that would be his breaking point.

Instead, he gave a long sigh and shook his head. "Daemon always put too much faith in those dreams of his," he murmured. "Father and Haegon might have won if only-" He seemed to realise what he was doing, for he waved a hand dismissively and went quiet again.

"There have been three rebellions," Papa declared. "All of them ended in failure. I'll grant you that treachery played its part in that, but what's more important is that the the realm rejected your claim in favour of House Targaryen. And now you wish to present yourself as a candidate for the Iron Throne. So, why should the realm choose you now? They know these arguments as well as I do, and they did not work. Perhaps you can make new arguments? Did it never occur to you that they might choose their king for his character rather than the sigil he wears?"

A look of comprehension came over Aenys as he met her father's eyes once more. "I begin to see it, I think. But before I answer that, Lord Titus, I'm curious. Why are you so invested in my bid for kingship? It has been three rebellions as you say, and you fought in one of them. So why now?"

"We share a common enemy," Papa replied. "Brynden Rivers is a monster, and his power is a blight over the Seven Kingdoms. His hands are no less bloody than Bittersteel's, and the realm will never heal so long as either man still holds power within it."

Aenys frowned. "I am not fond of Bittersteel," he remarked, "but he protected my family for a long time. He is married to my sister. No man has ever done more for House Blackfyre than he."

"Maybe so, but I will not support a man who would welcome Bittersteel back to the Seven Kingdoms. I'm not interested in trading one monster for another. He will want to take his revenge upon those who wronged him, and the realm will bleed afresh. If you wish to be king of a united realm, you will have to stand against Bloodraven and Bittersteel both."

Aenys' jaw clenched again before he answered. "Only a fool would make enemies of either man, let alone both of them."

"True," Papa allowed. "If it comforts you, though, they could never hate you as much as they hate each other."

"Their feud is as old as time itself," Aenys agreed. "You speak of binding up old wounds, but have the Blackwoods and Brackens stopped feuding?"

"No, but neither would any lord or king allow the Blackwoods and Brackens to carry on their feud uninterrupted."

"As if that would stop the feud from existing," Aenys observed sardonically.

"Very well, then," Papa said resignedly. Suddenly, he arose from his seat. "I thank you for your time, ser, and also for your mother's message."

Instinctively, Leroya stood up with her father, but she was bowled over by how quickly he'd decided to reject Aenys.

Aenys paused, blinking in surprise. Then, slowly, he also rose to his feet, even as his countenance became despondent. "Are we at an end, then?"

"It seems so," Papa answered.

Despondent as he looked in that moment, Aenys still held out his hand towards her father. Then he offered it to Leroya as well.

As she took his hand in her own, Leroya looked into his eyes. They were a magnificent and vibrant shade of purple, glittering in the fire-light. He was clearly disappointed, but he was accepting his defeat with great dignity.

Papa might have said the matter was concluded, but Leroya was not finished with Aenys Blackfyre. As her father turned away, she held onto Aenys' hand when he tried to take it back. "Will you be leaving soon?"

"I see no reason to linger," Aenys replied warily.

"You should look harder, then," Leroya quipped, even as she winked at him. "Wait here."

She released Aenys' hand and went after Papa. He had halted by the door and looked back to Leroya. There was a knowing look in his eyes as she drew near.

"You never liked sleeping on the water, did you, Papa?" Leroya hinted.

"Would it matter if I did?" He shook his head in exasperation. "I assume that you have a place in mind for me to rest my head?"

"Of course," Leroya assured him. "You're standing in it." She turned back to the man behind the bar.

"A room for my father, Harach," Leroya told him. "Make sure he feels welcome."

"As you say, Roya," Harach grunted. He shot a glance at a nearby table, where three prostitutes were sitting together. "How many?"

Leroya dropped a handful of coppers into Harach's hand. "Just one. He's in his autumn years."

As the squat barman approached the prostitutes and pointed out Papa to them, Leroya led Aenys back to her ship. The crew were busy bartering with a number of buyers, whilst Xalonyay and her archers were on hand in case there was trouble.

Leroya waved to her captain of archers and beckoned her over. "Would you like to help me entertain a royal guest?" she asked in the Summer Tongue.

Xalonyay frowned at first, then her eyes widened as Aenys came into her line of sight. Leroya grinned as she introduced them.

"Shall we go below for something to eat?" Leroya proffered. "It's been a long day of sailing for us."

"No doubt," Aenys replied wryly.

"*"* "*" "* "*"* "* "* " *" *" *" *" *" *"* "*"* "*" *"* "* "* "* " * "* "* " *"* "

For all his courtesies and mild temperament, Aenys Blackfyre proved a vigorous and imaginative lover.

Leroya had always enjoyed exploring, be it with a ship or with her body. So many men lacked creativity, and fell back on the same two or three positions; it pleased her when she met someone who knew of a fourth, a fifth, and especially a sixth.

It was not the first time that she and Xalonyay had shared a lover between them, and Aenys was more than up to the challenge of pleasuring them both. After a hasty meal of salted pork, turnips, and lemon water, Leroya brought out some of her personal toys. These had been crafted by men and women who served the Temples of Love on the Summer Isles. When she asked Aenys what role he wished to play, he quickly made it clear that he would take charge.

Soon, he had bound her and Xalonyay to the bed, their limbs tightly secured with rope. Leroya tested his skill with knots, refusing to be coy about it. If she was going to play a submissive role, she wanted it to feel earned. She could tell that Xalonyay was doing the same.

Aenys had been only too happy to oblige. He had gagged them both with bits between their teeth, positioned them so they faced each other, then he took his time with them. One at a time, he lashed their rumps with his hand and a thin rod, then penetrated them from behind as they could only squirm, moan, and stare at each other's bliss. Leroya growled frustratedly, wishing she could touch herself as Aenys pushed Xalonyay into one climax, then a second.

Her own growls swiftly turned into shrieks when Aenys focused on her. She shuddered as he held her braid in one hand like a leash, and gripped her muscular thigh with the other, even as he thrust his oiled cock into one entrance, then the other. When he finally gave in and climaxed inside her, she gave a muffled shriek of joy as Xalonyay pouted jealously.

Leroya had ample experience with sex, be it in a dominant, submissive, or equal position to her lovers. Fools placed value on which part was played, passing judgment on the characters of all involved. She'd long ago learned what nonsense such thinking was, but she did agree that much could be learned of someone's character when the doors were locked and passion was roused.

She did not fail to notice that Aenys was rough, but not cruel. He did not act tempestuously, but methodically. He did not allow his emotions to run completely wild, nor was he inconsiderate. Before they had begun, he had listened attentively to Leroya and Xalonyay's rules and accepted them without hesitation. After he was spent, he released them from their bonds and allowed them to bind him in return.

Xalonyay relished this, straddling Aenys' face so that all he could do was furiously lick her cunt. For her part, Leroya played with his spent cock, teasing it until he finally grew stiff again, only to secure the base of his manhood with a specially designed ring so that he could not finish a second time. That way, she rode him to her heart's delight, before switching places with Xalonyay. Only after each was satisfied did they remove the ring and grant him the relief which he was desperate to feel.

When all three of them were finally spent, they shared several glasses of rum together. Xalonyay left soon after that for her own quarters, whilst Aenys and Leroya lay together on her bed, moving rhythmically as the ship bobbed in the water.

"This certainly takes the sting out of my day," Aenys murmured. The rum had clearly gone to his head, but he was not fully drunk yet.

"You drink like a Summer Islander," Leroya complimented him cheerfully, even as he refilled his horn. For her part, she lay on her stomach, with her own drinking horn in both hands.

"I've had years of practice," Aenys admitted. After he took another sip, he leaned his head against the wooden wall. "Father had a taste for your rum too. I used to see him drinking with his knights after a good training session."

"Did you also see them having their way with the traders who sold them the rum?" Leroya teased.

"Steady on," Aenys objected. "I never saw such a thing. Far as I know, he lay with no woman but my mother."

Leroya couldn't help but laugh at such naivete. The rum was warm inside her, just as Aenys' seed had been. She wiggled her hips playfully. "I wonder if I could have tempted him."

She squealed as Aenys' hand slammed against her sore buttocks with a ringing slap.

"Mind yourself," Aenys warned, though only in jest. "You naughty minx."

Leroya snorted with laughter as she stuck her tongue out at Aenys. "Grand Maester Piato said much the same when he spanked me."

That checked Aenys. He stared down at her in astonishment. "You and Piato?"

"Why not?" Leroya giggled. "Are you going to ask me which of you was better?"

Aenys gave her rear another hard slap.

"Gods be damned," he exclaimed. "You are insatiable."

"You can do it again," Leroya encouraged him. "All you need is a little more time."

When she received no response, she turned to look up at him again. Aenys was staring blankly, as if he were pondering some weighty matter that took up all his concentration. Finally, he spoke in a bitter tone.

"You almost sounded like Bittersteel," he observed. "No matter how many times we were frustrated by failure, he would never hear of us abandoning the cause. Even when he was newly back from capture, he urged us to bide our time for the next rebellion."

He was speaking more freely than ever before, and his voice was becoming slightly slurred. Leroya was only too happy to make use of such an opportunity. She turned her body so that she was lying on her back. "So, what will you do now?"

"There is nothing else to do," Aenys remarked. "Your father was the only man who answered my letter. If he will not vouch for me, who will?" He shook his head. "It was a foolish thought, but I hoped Lord Titus might have given me a chance."

"He did," Leroya retorted as she sat up, instantly serious. "A fair one, too."

"Very well," Aenys yielded, raising a hand in token of apology. "All the same, his demand was a steep one."

"Was it?"

Aenys frowned. "He was asking me to renounce my family! Would any sane man be so ready to turn against his kin?"

"Papa did," Leroya replied. "He slew his own father."

Aenys stared at her in astonishment. "Why?"

"Because his father was a monster," Leroya explained. "A man who beat his wife and children alike. He also slew my grandmother when he was in one of his drunken rages. If any man knows what it means to fight one's kin, it's Papa."

"Gods…" Aenys sat upright, still gaping at Leroya. "How do you know about this?"

"He told me," Leroya answered, smirking at such a question. "He told the king, too, as it happens. Why do you think he served with the Stormbreakers? He was exiled for years because of his confession."

Aenys shook his head. "Do you always speak so openly?"

"I speak that way so you know I'm speaking truthfully to you," Leroya countered. "So be truthful with me. Why do you want to become king?"

Aenys pondered her question, as if he was seeking some trap in her words. Evidently, he found none, for he answered her in a quiet voice.

"Truth be told, I never thought I would have a chance to be king," he admitted. "I was the fifth son. I still recall the envy I had for my older brothers, before they died. And when I heard that Aemon and Aegon were slain... I felt so wretched. I thought the gods would punish me for my jealousy, and I deserved it too. After that, I swore to uphold my brothers' claims. I would have gone to Whitewalls with Daemon if he'd asked me. And Haegon..." He scowled, though it wasn't clear whether that was due to the painful memories or the realisation that he was rambling.

Leroya said nothing. She simply waited for him to continue.

"Your aunt," Aenys began anew, "and my mother, their friendship bound the realm together for six years. I was very young, of course, but I do remember a bit of that time. The visit to Dragonstone, for one thing. I thought it so marvelous to be in that castle, see Father with the Prince of Dragonstone, speaking like they were friends…" He trailed off, possibly because of the rum's effect on him. A nostalgic look was in his eyes as he stared at a corner of the room.

"D'you know," he began again, "the older I get, the more I realise that the best years of my life were those early ones, before that first war. We were all alive, and we were all happy."

Leroya was intrigued, especially as Aenys' mood became melancholic.

"Mother never recovered from it," Aenys went on. "First she lost Father and my eldest brothers. I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but she was broken by her grief. Then Daemon died as a prisoner in the Red Keep. And then that third rebellion… Bittersteel told me what Aerion and Bloodraven did with Haegon and Aethar's heads, but I made sure Mother never heard..."

He paused to cuff at his eyes, looking shamefacedly away from Leroya. She pretended not to notice, tidying up the toys from their fierce tryst.

"I do not want such a fate," Aenys declared in a louder, angrier tone. "I want my children to grow up in safety and peace. If I die, then Bittersteel will use them as he sees fit. My sons will meet their ends on some nameless battlefield, and my daughters will die birthing more rebels. Not even victory would be worth the price of all that blood."

He seemed surprised by his own words, or perhaps it was his heightened emotions which unnerved him.

Leroya smiled at him as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "You are a fool."

Aenys gave a start. Before he could speak again, Leroya continued. "You would have won my father's approval if you had spoken those words to him."

"Bully for me," Aenys remarked sourly as he lay flat on the bed.

"It is not too late," Leroya suggested. "He'll be here tomorrow morning."

Her words did nothing to assure Aenys. He simply sighed as he made a dismissive gesture. "Nay. He will not trust these words now. Why should he? I had my chance, and it has passed me by." He snorted with laughter. "Those could be the words of my house!"

Leroya made a tut-tutting noise. "I find it hard to believe that a Blackfyre would give up so easily."

Instead of showing amusement, Aenys gave her a shrewd glance as he sat upright again. "That is not all that he wants to hear, is it?"

Leroya shrugged, waiting to see what he would say.

Aenys seemed to understand her intent, for he nodded then gave a slow sigh. They remained where they were for a long moment before he looked at her and spoke again.

"I will never have Bloodraven or Bittersteel on my small council," Aenys vowed, "but nor will I prevent Bittersteel's return to the Seven Kingdoms. I must pardon those who were exiled for supporting my family, else they will continue to shed blood. If they commit new treasons and new violence, I will do what I must to prevent another war. But I would give them the same chance that your father got. The same chance that he offered me."

Leroya pondered that reply before she spoke again. "I'm sure that will be fair enough for Papa. Be sure to tell him that as well."

Aenys was giving her a level look. "If I could get another honest answer from you?"

"Go on," Leroya urged.

"Was this another of your father's ploys?"

"No," Leroya answered with a grin. "It was my own ploy. Xalonyay and I have always wanted to fuck a true Valyrian." With that, she placed a hand on Aenys' pale pink dragon again and gripped it tightly, eager to see how much more fire could be coaxed out of it.

It was the hour of the wolf when they finally collapsed into a well-earned sleep. The sun had climbed to the top of Mavuso's Peak by the time they arose from their slumber.

Leroya got up and leaned against the window of her cabin, breathing in the sea air. She lived for that smell, just as much as she lived for the musky stench which still hung about her within the cabin. She shuddered as the cool air stiffened her nipples. Goosebumps broke out across her breasts, neck, and arms.

Behind her, she heard Aenys dressing himself. "Leaving so soon?" she asked whilst glancing over her shoulder.

She grinned sardonically at the ridiculous sight of him half-dressed, fumbling with his clothes. "Your father is waiting for us," Aenys reminded her. "He may suspect-"

Leroya laughed at that, even as she turned her body to face her lover. "Suspect? He does not need to suspect. He knows!" She shook her head at the absurdity. "What do you think he will do? Scold you? Challenge you to a duel? Do you imagine that he slept alone tonight like a bloody septon?"

Aenys was clearly embarrassed by her mockery. "Where I come from, and where I grew up, men do not look kindly on those who fuck their daughters."

Leroya rolled her eyes. "You did not grow up in the Summer Isles. And you are poorer for it."

Papa was waiting for them when they emerged on deck, sitting casually in a chair as he took in the sun. "It's a warm day for winter," he remarked as Leroya approached him.

"Good morning, Papa," she greeted him.

"And to you." Papa smiled at a sheepish-looking Aenys. "Hello again, ser."

"Lord Titus," Aenys answered awkwardly.

Papa's eyes flickered from Aenys to Leroya and back again. Then he chuckled as he shook his head. "If only Aegon the Unworthy could see his descendants now."

It took Aenys a moment to recognise what Papa meant. Then he did a double take, staring at Leroya in surprise. "Is that true? Are we kin?"

"Distantly," Leroya assured him with a grin.

Aenys shook his head. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"That reminds me," Titus interjected. "I wonder how your brother fared yesterday."

Leroya giggled, recalling their plan to stall the Great Council. "If all goes as I hoped, Matthias will rise to the challenge."

Then she glanced at Aenys' anxious expression and she stifled her mirth. "By the by, Papa, Ser Aenys made a very persuasive argument the other night. I suggest you hear him out one more time."