Chapter 44: Domesticity

Mouth open in a silent scream, Lyanna clenched the slender arse with her sharp nails, drawing a mewl from her beautiful wife. Elia breathed into the skin of her neck, adding her own erogenous ministrations to the feeling of their King's seed spilling deep in her channel. A feeling Elia had already experienced and Lyanna was witness to.

It was as wonderful as the day they had first laid together, all three of them. Better even.

Feeling her cunt ripple as Rhaegar pulled out and collapsed beside them, Lyanna held Elia fast to her. Drawing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. "The most wondrous a sight, for sure." Rhaegar hurled the light quilt over their trembling bodies. It was Dorne, but the sea wind was rather chilly at night. "Equally as wonderful as a dragonride."

Lyanna snorted. "Hear that, love? He places his wives and their love for him on par with flying." She tilted her head, scowling at Rhaegar. "The audacity of him."

"A lesser woman would seek an annulment, for sure."

Rhaegar rolled his eyes. "Come now, be serious."

"We're as serious as a Valyrian steel blade, husband." Enjoying his cross expression, she leaned underneath to work at Elia's teat. Taking the dusky tip in her mouth to a moan from the Dornish Queen. "How can any sight…" she husked against the smooth olive skin, "compare to this?" Elia shifted, the mix of her own juices and Rhaegar's seed squelching against Lyanna's leg.

Groaning, Rhaegar tossed his head back on the pillow. "Fine, there is no greater sight. My wives are the most precious gems in my life."

She knew he meant it, just as she meant her words only as a gentle tease - as such, her scowl became a bright smile. "Elia, we have an amazing husband."

"We do… though my wife is a cruel woman." Elia shook her head. "Starting something with my teats as a canvas only to stop since all she wanted… ow! Hey!"

With a nice, reddening bite mark on the underside of her breast, Lyanna's grey eyes twinked at Elia's brown ones. "I make no qualms about using you, love, and you shall have permission to punish me later." Brow risen, Elia smirked. "For now, let us rest… our husband wore us out."

"Hmph, I'm not some old codger yet as the court seems to think I am." Paranoid Rhaegar seemed to be… a jest about a nonexistent 'receding hairline' sent him to one of Lyanna's silver mirrors once. "Get your sexy arses over 'ere, now," he growled.

The Queens made haste to comply, though they drew it out with sensual movements designed to please the eyes - for each other as much as for Rhaegar, at least for Lyanna's sake, climbing over her husband and noticing Elia's eyes boring in on her arse. It was simply… quite a joy. The love of the two most beautiful in the Realm. Snuggled under the quilts, using Rhaegar's chest for a pillow while her long, slender arm could find the curve of Elia's hip was simply perfect. "I spoke to Lady Nymella about our son today."

"Only good things I hope," Elia replied. "For his betrothed to badmouth him is not a good sign."

"Nothing like that… I asked her the truth of all the tales we've heard of the Fyrefist from the servants." All of Dorne rejoiced in the brave, decisive Prince fighting off the Ironborn while literally doused in fire.

"Let me guess, the servants and smallfolk exaggerate?" Rhaegar asked."

Lyanna shook her head, hair brushing on his chest. "As Nymella tells it, he was braver and stronger than the tales. She… has fallen hard for him. He's her whole world."

Rhaegar smiled. "That's good to hear… is Egg fine with being a stepfather at his age?"

"Nymella's girls are little darlings. He's already great with Teora, and she with him… Valena's a bit older so a little more standoffish but I have no doubt he'll win her over." She hummed in happiness. "This might just be what we need to finish off the tension with Dorne that I caused."

"No one blames you for that, Lya."

Don't lie to me, husband. She wouldn't say that outloud, though, appreciating Rhaegar's steadfast support too much.

Elia cleared her throat. "My brother actually spoke to me about that earlier this evening." She poked her head up, leaning on Rhaegar's chest. "Doran is aware of the situation creating tension in Dorne…"

"Cause he started the tension," Lyanna interrupted, voice slightly bitter. "Just try and deny it."

"I don't deny it," Elia said sympathetically, reaching out to stroke Lya's skin. Lyanna wanted to turn away, but refrained. Elia was not the target of her ire… her wife represented all that was lovely about Dorne. "But Doran seemed as if eager to repair the division, and he suggested how best to do it."

"I take it that I won't like what he proposes?"

Shrugging at Rhaegar's comment, Elia took a deep breath. "He wants to betroth Jon to Rhaenys."

Lyanna's eyes widened, almost choking on her spit as she sat bolt upright. Her entire nude chest was exposed, but the discussion so serious that it elicited no arousal in her loves. "What? Baelon and Rhaenys?"

"He just came out and said this?" Rhaegar sat up to, crossing his arms. "Without any finessing? Explicitly?"

"Yes, Rhaegar," Elia nodded. "He said it to me directly… as directly as Doran is capable of, which was as surprising to me as it is to you."

"Did you tell him no?" Lyanna shook her head. "They're brother and sister… not Targaryen brother and sister but brother and sister." The times that Daenerys and Jon had flirted together were too many to count. Lyanna couldn't remember once where he and Rhaenys did. "I could never see them being happily married."

"I didn't say no…" Before Lyanna could speak again, Elia cut her off. "But is it really so shocking a betrothal to make? Rhaenys adores Baelon and he her… they'd get along well together."

Clearing her throat, Lyanna tilted her head back. "Of course they would, but…"

"It's not as simple as that." They both looked to Rhaegar, whose face was hard. "I went see if Jon would like to share a drink with me before bed, talk about his journey and his upcoming fostering… he wasn't in his chamber. He was in Sansa and Daenerys' chamber." He let it hang.

Oh… ohhhh… "Nothing… happened did it?"

"It was perfectly innocent, yet not at all platonic, Lya."

Elia winced. "They could… have a marriage anyway. The four of them."

"Even if it could work out between them personally, let alone be accepted by the High Septon, your brother would be insulted. Especially if Rhaenys' child wasn't made heir." Lyanna hoped she read the situation correctly, and by the look on Elia and Rhaegar's faces, she did. "We'll just have to decline."

"This sort of suggestion is not one you can decline politely," Rhaegar mused. "He went out on a limb to make it, and it will be insulting if we don't accept." He wrapped his arms around their shoulders. "We'll have to discuss this in King's Landing with Rhaenys." It was getting to be time for them to leave anyway, in the next few weeks. Most of their household had already left for the capital, including Lady Missandei, Sansa and Daenerys' freed slave and friend. "She's the oldest of our children and might know more than we do about what Dany and Jon feel."

"She's in love herself with the wildling girl," Elia pointed out, making Lyanna bite her lip in distaste. "She'll have to be cast aside, which'll break her heart."

"Sometimes there are no good options. We were luckier than most, and look how it started with us." As he guided her to lay back down together, Lyanna cast all aside and melded herself close. Love had brought her to the Targaryen King, the most powerful King in generations… for her love, her children would be faced with duty over love, a fate Lyanna couldn't face herself.

Gods, she hoped they had the strength she hadn't needed.

"Wait, you're saying the fire maeges could manipulate dragonfire?!"

"Why not? Flame is flame, even if dragonfire is more powerful." Althor waved his arms, allowing some smoke to emerge from them - he was still too young to properly manipulate fire, but smoke was enough for his purposes. "My kepa told me that there needed to be many maeges on the ground with the armies, or at least a few masters. When the dragons blazed away at the Rhoynish… the maeges would clear a path for the army to advance." The smoke divided into several lanes.

Prince Rickon gaped. "Gods… so the fire would only rage where the Valyrian commanders wished it to." He slapped Althor on the back. "Imagine it, me on my future dragon and you on the ground. We'll make the best team!"

"What about me?!" cried Baelgora, hands on her hips. "I'm a maege too!"

"Girls can stay in the keep and knit," Rickon rolled his eyes.

"Say that to my face," shouted Princess Visenya, leaping from where she had been watching Althor's demonstration with Baelgora and charging her twin brother. They were soon wrestling on the ground, quite the amusing sight.

"Children will be children," Queen Rhaella chuckled, sipping some mulled wine. "My eldest grandchildren were exactly like this with Daenerys."

"Prince Baelon especially I assume?" Sheinna Aekylosh asked, pretty certain in her statement.

Rhaella smirked. "Daenerys very much enjoyed tackling him more than any other. They were very close."

"I saw that most certainly. Lady Sansa only enhanced it… are you sure they're not already betrothed?"

A shrug. "A formality, but Rhaegar wants them to figure it out for themselves. Myself and my gooddaughters are certain it'll happen however, and soon."

As they chuckled, something caught Sheinna's eye to her left, behind Rhaella. A young man in the colors of a landed knight - likely having just gotten his spurs by the looks of it - rounded the corner and entered the peristyle. "Lady Shei…" He stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. "Your Grace." The knight bent the knee to the Queen Mother.

Rhaella rolled her eyes, gaze not a little frustrated to which she shared with Sheinna. "Get up, lad," she commanded, to which the knight did. "You were here for Lady Sheinna, not I. State your piece."

The knight cleared his throat and approached her, bowing his head - not as deferent as he was with Rhaella but Sheinna knew it was merely due to her rank. "My Lady." He drew out a strip of cloth, more like a courtly favor than a rag, neatly embroidered with what looked like expensive thread… was that cloth of gold in the stitching. "His Excellency, Lord Hand Tywin of House Lannister, sends his regards and affections to you as the current head of House Aekylosh."

Sheinna, blinking in confusion, took the folded favor and nodded. "Please give him my thanks for the gift," she said, without even knowing what it was. The knight bowed again, bowing even deeper to Rhaella, and then departed with nary another word.

"He's going to need to get used to those of high rank around him if he'll be in Tywin's retainer," Rhaella shook her head before turning her attention towards Sheinna. "So what did the Old Lion give you?" Her gaze now looked rather eager and curious. " Is he trying to butter you up for a betrothal or alliance?"

"I haven't anything to offer for the latter," she murmured, starting to unfold the cloth. "And my children are far too young for me to consider… oh my…"

Sheinna had grown up both in the legacy of an august, ancient house and in abject squalor. The former led her to appreciate the heirlooms that represented legacy while the latter led her to understand how truly useless the other trappings of luxury and finery were. But deep within was the feminine desire to be glamorous and radiant. And the gift in her hands tugged on that desire.

Suspended between her fingers was a glittering necklace. The chain was pure gold, interspersed with little oval diamonds - at least a dozen of them. In the center was a pendant with more diamonds and an immense emerald the size of her thumbnail. It glittered in the light, utterly beautiful. Sheinna stared at it, entranced.

The trance was broken by the merry giggles of Rhaella. "What is it, your Grace?" Confusion hit her. "Is something the matter? Why would Lord Tywin give me this gift?" This was not something to seal any sort of arrangement… unless she could supply a dragon or fifteen thousand soldiers.

Biting her lip, Rhaella seemed to compose herself. "Simply, my dear, Tywin is courting you."

Sheinna stared at the Queen Mother as if she had sported the wings of her bonded dragon. "C… courting?"

Rhaella leaned against one of the columns, smirking. Looking more like a gossiping mother or aunt than the dragonriding Dowager Queen that had taken over as the guardian of Sheinna while the Queens were away. "I remember when it was my best friend Joanna that was the recipient of Lord Tywin's advances. He loved her, but as the proud lion of House Lannister he couldn't afford to blatantly show his affections in public… so it is through gifts that he makes himself known." She peered at the necklace. "Kessa, he's fallen hard."

Gaping, Sheinna looked at the emerald. Again marveling at its beauty. How it… seemed to glow when pressed against her pale skin. Oddly complimenting her moon-silver hair. "Tywin is very rich…"

"One of the wealthiest in the Seven Kingdoms, but incredibly tight-fisted when it comes to his gold. For him to actually pay for something like this to be made when it could equip ten score soldiers for a year? Oh, he must be quite desperate to charm you." Rhaella's brow rose. "Are you charmed by Lord Tywin?"

"I… I've never thought…"

"That's as close to a yes as can be made." Rhaella chuckled and patted Sheinna on the shoulder. "You have some time to decide what you wish, my Lady. Those children need you to be smart, but having a stepfather as a champion might greatly help them be assimilated as a great House of Westeros." Sheinna bit her lip and looked down at her darlings, still playing with the royals. "Neither of you are maids anymore, so if you hop into bed with him then few would bat an eye."

"Your Grace…" Sheinna blushed madly, half from the scandal and half from… Lord Tywin was handsome in the distinguished older gentleman sort of way.

Baelgor had been five years older than her, and when they married and she was mere four and ten, the age gap mattered more.

"Think about it then, and from what Joanna told me, he's only cold to those who he won't allow to warm him up." Rhaella's delightful laugh echoed through the hall as Sheinna stared ahead. Still blushing, though her expression morphed into the most serene of smiles when she affixed the emerald to her neck.

Feeling much as a proper highborn Valyrian as she glided through the palace halls while wearing it.

Shave his head and give him some ritualistic scars and Alliser Thorne would make a perfect Thenn - least that was what Ygritte figured one minute after meeting the Lord and commander of the Targaryen Household Guard. Without even hearing him speak, though the words out of his mouth reinforced her position. "Tell me then, wildling, if the Princess didn't order me to find a place for you here… why shouldn't I gut you like a fish where you stand?"

Part of her screamed that this was a bad idea, but most of Ygritte was willing and ready to rise up to the challenge. "Doubt ye' could even get a glove on me."

Thorne whipped his head around to scowl at her, only for the lips to curl upward in a ghost of a smirk. "Would be my sword that gets you, wildling." She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I train the Household Guard to be the best soldiers in the entire Realm. One thousand of them could fight five thousand of Tywin's men, twenty thousand Reach tourney knights, or a hundred thousand wildlings. They are the elite, and what are you but some scrawny girl that the Princess happens to fuck?"

Her fists clenched, but Ygritte forced herself to remain calm. "I'm an archer."

"An archer? Bugger me," he laughed. "My archers are trained from near the cradle. How about you?"

"Ye' learn quickly when a miss means no dinner."

"That a fact?" Thorne motioned to several of his men, who quickly began to assemble an archery range while another handed him a longbow and quiver. "Show me."

Allowing herself the smallest of smiles, eyes narrowed in defiance, Ygritte took the bow and quiver. Slinging the latter over her shoulder, it took a minute or two to familiarize herself with the standard issue bow rather than her trusty shorter weapon. Heavier, but she could feel the force behind each bowstring…

"Not waitin' all day for you, wildling."

Brushing a strand of coppery hair from her face, she quickly assumed her stance, knocked an arrow, and let it fly. It hit dead center on the target - the chuckles and gawks from the common soldiers ceased. Turning to slack-jawed awe when she repeated the feat several times.

Thorne, arms crossed, was not impressed. "A hunter, I see. Good for you, but does that make you a soldier?"

"I think it does better than those fucks," Ygritte smirked, pointing to the others.

Laughing, Thorne made more gestures to his men. "You can loose an arrow, I'll give you that, but let's see if you can handle the other tasks of being in the Household Guard, let alone an officer as the Princess wishes."

What followed was the most agonizing day of Ygritte's life. Climbing rocks and running over miles of frozen ground in the True North thought it brought her stamina, but doing so in mail armor while carrying packs of - there had to be rocks filling them - shoved her into an uncomfortable reality. How she endured it without just dying on the spot surprised her, but by the end even Thorne had some sort of grudging acknowledgement that she could be trained.

Could.

Proud of her hardiness and ability to tolerate the most grievous of conditions, Ygritte should've hated herself for using her connection to the crown to forgo the officer's barracks in favor of the dry sheets and soft mattress of Rhaenys' quarters in the Red Keep. With how her muscles ached and gait shuffled with sheer agony at the torment Thorne had subjected her to, she couldn't care less. "Would you like a hot bath, Lady Ygritte?"

She tiredly shot a lidded glance to Missandei of Naath. A demure girl, eager to please - young and only just starting to flower into womanhood, but one promising to be a great beauty once she was the same age as Ygritte or Rhaenys. "Didn't Rhaenys tell you that yer' not a servant?"

Missandei averted her gaze. "Yes, my Lady."

Alright, that came out harsher than she intended. "Tis fine… just let the servants know to draw one up later. Before dinner. Just wanna' sleep now." Missandei nodded and scurried off. Ygritte barely managed to strip to her undertunic and smallclothes before she fell upon the bed and passed out into a fitless slumber.

Consciousness only returned at a wet tongue licking all over her face. "Oh… ugh…" she groaned once she realized it wasn't her love, but rather her love's wolf.

"Nysar, heel." The wolf obeyed, trotting to near the hearth and sitting on her haunches. "Well, you're alive. Was worried for a moment."

The soreness returned. "At this point, Princess, I wish I were dead."

"You don't mean that… I would be so sad." Ygritte turned her head - wincing as she did - to see Rhaenys. Gods, she looked so different in a quite expensive silk dress in the Targaryen colors, covered in glittering gold and jewels that she slowly removed. A cheeky pout adorned her face.

Ygritte managed a tired grin. "Knew ye' couldn't live without me, Princess." She watched Rhaenys remove her pearl necklace, exposing her delicious neck. "The new girl was 'ere… actin' like a servant."

"She's a companion, not a servant, but poor dear likely doesn't want to risk earning our displeasure." Rhaenys sighed. "Do you have slaves north of the Wall?"

"Captives from rival clans sometimes, but not the way ye' think of slavery."

"What I thought." Rhaenys let down her hair. "I'm not sure what exactly Daenerys wants to do with her when she returns, but I think some sort of Lady in Waiting type of training would do Missandei well. Teach her the ways of court."

Ygritte chuckled. "The dragons turnin' a freed slave and Free Folk spearwife into southern ladies…" Another groan, just the slightest of movements causing her pain. "Sorry… overworked."

"You, overworked?" Rhaenys placed her hands on her hips. "Need I speak to Thorne?"

"No, please don't." Ygritte frowned. "I's already looked down on cause I'm Free Folk… Some might be fine bein' seen only as a fuckin' kept girl, but I's a strong spearwife. Let me earn my keep."

Rhaenys sighed. "I understand. Still don't like seeing you in pain." Ygritte took the moment to truly look over her Princess in her element. Stripped of her finery she still gave off a strong beauty, yet far different from the warrior dragon she had fallen for north of the Wall - a far gentler type of strength, 'feminine' as they said in the south. Her mouth watered at it, simply beautiful.

Didn't help that the fancy braids and ties of Rhaenys' jet-black hair made her slick in spite of her tiredness. It was just… so different. Alluring.

Noticing this, Rhaenys smiled at her. "I know how to help." Without warning she pushed off the straps of her dress, revealing that gorgeous body beneath - encumbered by nothing else. Ygritte bit her lip at the sight. "Down girl… though that's coming."

"Tis what comin' first?" An impish smirk followed, Rhaenys' fingers going to her hair… "No." Rhaenys stopped. "Leave it… looks… fuckable."

That husky Dornish accent made her chuckle go straight to her core. "Ah, the tough spearwife likes being the kept girl of a fancy southern Princess." Rhaenys complied much to Ygritte's tired delight, helping to peel off her undertunic and then her smallclothes. "Just relax and enjoy," she murmured, straddling Ygritte's back, her olive skin undoubtedly contrasting deliciously with her own pale hue.

"Oooh," Ygritte cooed as Rhaenys' palms dug in the skin of her shoulders. "That's good…"

"An acquired skill, my love," Rhaenys replied in a pleasant tone. "My cousin taught me everything I need to know."

"Fucked yer' cousin? Naughty Princess."

Rhae chuckled. "No, Ari and I never had the pleasure. Sexy girl though… you'd salivate over her."

Muscles loosening under the soft yet powerful touch of Rhae's kneading hands. Working out the knots and kinks in her tired body, playing her like a fiddle. "Prefer… you… no one… fuckin' same…"

"Flatterer." Ygritte yipped when Rhae gently bit the back of her neck. "Do continue, I love it."

"Just keep doin' whichever yer' doin' that makes me purr… ah, yes…" Her hands shifted further down from the shoulders to the lower back. Ygritte's arms folded under her cheek, her breasts were open to be brushed against and Rhaenys took advantage. Brushing the sides of them, teasing as she massaged the tired flesh. "Love you…"

"Mmmm… I love you too." The lower back became the tops of her arse, though Rhaenys never allowed any strip of flesh to not draw her glorious attention. "Do you miss a man's cock, Ygritte?"

Her tone was teasing, but Ygritte was just too tired to match her banter. "Sometimes… but yer' plenty for me."

"Even if I don't have… all the parts?"

"Mmmm… ye' have other parts I like."

Rhaenys chuckled. Settling down behind her, the Princess leaned over the wildling spearwife, scraping her breasts over Ygritte's back. She reached over to wedge underneath to cup her breasts, tweaking Ygritte's teats and making her moan. "Delicious." Rhae ran a hand down the side of her stomach and over the rise of her hip. Ygritte felt her hip being raised till she poked her arse up with bended knee. "Lucky, lucky me." Her hand brushed slowly against the damp, dewy curls.

Ygritte moaned, thrusting back into Rhaenys' embrace, eager to be touched. Enjoying how she kissed the side of the redhead's neck as she curled two fingers down, swiping over her clit, then into the heated pool of wetness below. "Ah… yes, Princess." Exhausted, all Ygritte could do was let her cheeks bury into the pillow while her arse was defiled without resistance by Rhaenys.

Not that she'd give any resistance if she was able.

"Look at you," Rhaenys chuckled next to her ear, thrusting her fingers better than any of her past male lovers wielded their cocks. "So fucking wet."

"Fuck me…" Ygritte breathed, tired but desperate.

What had started as a sensual massage completely morphed into something totally different as Ygritte shifted and moaned like a whore, Rhaenys noisily finger-fucking her with all her strength. The desperate, quivering wildling silently begged for more. Attempting to widen her stance and expose more of her arse but she was just too tired. Rhaenys didn't need help, though, fucking her so deliciously.

It was perfect, and surprisingly sexy. Not looking each other directly in the eye, yet Ygritte still felt so close to her love. It made everything feel even better.

Rhaenys leaned forward again, curling her fingers deep inside Ygritte. "Cum for me, lover," she husked against the curve of her burning ear. "Fuckin' do it."

The raspy command, the sound of Rhae's fingers fucking her pussy… Ygritte's wailing orgasm started so deep it sent a thrill of nerves through her. She bit her lip, smothering the scream she knew would escape otherwise. Collapsing completely on the bed and ending up taking Rhaenys with her.

Heaving breaths steadied her, covered with the protective, loving weight of her lover. "Ahhh… yer' fuckin' good at that." She tilted her head and met Rhaenys' lips in a kiss, one that turned sloppy. "Kin' ye' do that all the time, fer' me?"

Yanking back the quilts to cover them, Rhaenys flipped Ygritte onto her back and draped the covers over them. "Always." Their arms wrapped around each other, resuming their slow, languid kisses and touches.

Did it speak poorly of Nymella that she were closer in age to her prospective goodmother than the man she loved and wished to marry? Mayhaps not, for anyone that caught glimpse of Queen Elia was struck by both her beauty and the youthful grace she exuded even after fifteen years as the wife of Rhaegar and five children from her womb. A woman who was said to look younger and brighter now than she had when leaving Dorne in the first place - a gift of health and youth from the gods.

Towel wrapped around her hips as the masseuse worked at her back, the rumors did not lie about Queen Elia. It eased Nymella's worries… mostly at least.

"Oooh…" she groaned. "Careful with the feet, Allia. My toes are very delicate."

"Forgive me, mi'Lady," the attendant replied, working on her nails as Nymella laid on her back, a towel covering her torso and pelvis.

Nymella wasn't cruel like some, so accepted the apology and allowed her to go about her work. As expected, her touch was gentler now. "Tell me, is the weather in King's Landing as horrible as people say it is?"

"Yes," Elia replied, chuckling. "Here it's dry, while the Crownlands gets the same rainy rot as the Stormlands does… at least the new sewers no longer make it smell of piss and shit. Very much makes the summers tolerable."

"Gods, I couldn't imagine." She shuddered. "Does the royal family spend a lot of time on Dragonstone? I've heard it's beautiful there."

"Oh, it is, but we don't spend as much time as we'd like. Rhaegar is a… noted workaholic." The Queen sighed. "Not enough time with us or playing his harp as he used to do, given the hard duties of running the Realm." She turned her head, cheek resting on the bed of the massage table as she met Nymella's eyes. "But he's not so petty or egotistical that he doesn't allow Lya or I to help out with the work of administration… or in Lyanna's case the military administration."

A grin. "I've seen the Queen with a sword. Few would trifle with her."

"She's taught Daenerys personally, and Rhaenys in conjunction with my brother. House Targaryen's tradition of warrior women is being resurrected and I can't help but feel that it's overdue."

"What could be more equalizing than a dragon?" The two Dornishwomen laughed. "I hope Aegon will allow me to assist him, and the Realm. I've had to run Ghost Hill since my father died and it is the best-maintained keep and lands in Dorne if I do say so myself."

Elia sighed as the masseuse worked at her lower back. "I don't deny that… and my children are like their father. Strong and chivalrous while respectful of their women. Much like Aegon the Conqueror, or Jaehaerys I, or Daemon the Rogue Prince."

"Female dragonriders outnumber males five to four I believe, so I should hope so." A partnership between herself and Aegon… oh it was better than she could ever have imagined for herself. "If my late husband wasn't such an idiot, he'd likely have stripped me of my rights to rule Ghost Hill for himself. He gave me my two beloved daughters but otherwise I'm glad he's dead and that I'm betrothed to your son." Toes finished, Allia began to pumice the soles of her feet. It felt good.

"If you weren't glad to be betrothed to my son I'd be worried," Elia replied. "I see you have noble expectations of any man, which is rare." Most were accustomed to the traditional division, Nymella could tell, even in Dorne. "Your father was good to your mother?"

A nod, a bit of sadness coming to Nymella in thinking of her late father. "Very, trusted her implicitly and shared in the burdens of administration with her… though it was the least he could do." She sighed. "She was a better wife than he likely deserved."

Elia's brow rose. "You sound like you love your father. Why do you say that?"

Another sigh. "I love him, but he… took a paramour."

"Oh." Elia's eyes were understanding. "Not all women are as… contributory in another woman as I am. Did your father love her more than your mother."

"He loved him more than my mother."

"Ah. I see." Nymella didn't talk about it much, hating gossip, but it was the truth. Her mother told her this long ago, that her father enjoyed both men and women but men more. Nymella even met his male lover, a young clerk who looking back to the memories of childhood was quite effeminate in nature. They never interacted, but he was generally around her father. "How did your mother accept it?"

A shrug. "Duty, I suppose. Love for my father, since he never ceased visiting her bed… but his lover was repulsed by women so each kept to themselves." Nymella turned on her front, Allia replaced by her own masseuse. "Been thinking about it more and more now that I'm with Aegon - seeing if I can tolerate him taking another wife."

"Are you attracted to the fairer sex?"

"Not really."

Elia laughed. "I said the same till I met Lyanna… but would you be disgusted if Aegon enjoyed men as well?"

Nymella blinked. "Because of his uncle?" Unlike most, Prince Oberyn flaunted his debauchery, and it was clear that his wife was quite the enthusiastic participant alongside him.

"Oh dear, you don't know?" Covering her lips with two fingers, Elia's gaze averted. "I can't betray his confidence, but as a woman I must advise that you speak to him about it."

The Queen's words echoed in Nymella's head long after their day together had ceased, Elia going back to her duties and Nymella called away to the rookery to reply to ravens dispatched from Ghost Hill. Attending to her own duties, eating a mild lunch, playing with her daughters when they finished their lessons, all passed by while her mind was whirring. 'You don't know?' Aegon was a known womanizer when he arrived in Dorne, though he assured her that this was just his first taste of female flesh - Nymella had considered it a blessing of the gods that he had come into her life quite early, that the man she loved would pretty much only know the touch of a woman that adored him in return. Nothing of the sort had filtered to her about a male lover, and such gossip was what the Dornish court loved to partake in.

Thinking on it, one incident stood out to her. One evening where she was wandering the halls to fetch a snack for Teora - she wasn't some dainty flower that needed servants to do everything - Nymella had heard the sounds of passionate kissing from a dark hallway… only for harsh words to follow and a servant boy to scurry away, tears down his cheeks. Nymella had dismissed it at the time as nothing, but the angry voice had sounded a lot like Aegon's.

Looking back, it had to be Aegon's. Was that what Elia had spoken of?

So when Aegon returned to their quarters after his latest training session, Nymella wasn't waiting for him with a smile, refreshments, and a skimpy outfit for them to enjoy their usual afternoon together and perhaps some naughty fun, but rather she sat cross-legged on the bed with a neutral expression. He caught on quickly. "Love, is there something I've done to upset you?"

The worry and fear on his face sobered her a bit, and Nymella shook her head - opening her arms to beckon him closer. "Not upset, Egg." They embraced, and she kissed his chin. "I love you… but there is something we must discuss."

He relaxed in her arms. "Alright." Gods, he was beautiful. Enough of the Dornish features to bring a bit of normalcy to his near divine Valyrian features… When the last of his boyish charm faded and he grew to full manhood, he'd only ripen with age. His wonderful heart filled Nymella with a desire to keep what she had obtained, but they needed to discuss this. "Aegon, have you slept with anyone else since I accepted your betrothal?"

His eyes widened. "No! Never, I would never…"

"I believe you." Nymella knew how to read men, and Aegon even moreso. She knew her future husband, and this was an honest reaction. "You told me about Asha Greyjoy, and Princess Arianne's ladies in waiting. Forgive me if I… watched her a bit more closely to see if there was anything new going on between the two of you." Nymella gently tugged Egg to sit beside her and took his hands in hers. "She's longing for you, but I could tell you show no interest in her anymore."

"My only interest is you, Nym."

Her heart soared. "I am glad… but what if your father seeks to betroth you to another as he is."

Aegon frowned. "He'd not select anyone if it isn't my choosing, and I'd choose no option to hurt you, I promise." He loved her, but the possibility still existed, especially given he was raised by two mothers. "Would you ever be amenable to the idea… if it comes to pass?"

Nymella sighed. "I'm not sure. It was always a possibility when I fell in love with you, so I'll have to make peace with it and see what I feel if it happens." If it did, she'd endure it to be with Aegon. "I won't tolerate a cunt though. No one who would disrespect me, my daughters, or any child of ours."

"I'd sooner throw someone like that off Aegon's High Hill, or feed her to Tess."

Chuckling, she kissed his cheek. "I know." Now the big question. "But it isn't just women you desire, isn't it Egg?"

Several different expressions crossed his face before he settled on resignation. "Who told you."

"You, just now." Her love groaned, to which she brushed his hand with her thumb. "It was one of the servants of the palace?"

"Yes," he murmured. "I talked to my uncle and he told me it was fine as long as I was careful… I haven't seen him since you accepted my betrothal, I promise." Aegon was quiet. "You're disgusted with me?"

"If I were then I'd need to be disgusted with my own father." His brow rose. "Egg… You are not any ordinary man, nor is your house an ordinary house. I cannot hold you to the same standard as the Targaryens bow to neither man nor god." She smiled. "It's one of the reasons I am so enraptured by you, and condemn me if I ask you to change for it would take away much of what I love about you."

"This… is encouraging."

She giggled, leaning in to nuzzle his neck while they hugged. "I never judged your Aunt Ellaria or your mothers for the life they live, and mayhaps once we're married we can… see what I am comfortable with. If it pleases you."

He cleared his throat. "It would… imagining you…" She could feel him start to harden, and it made her shudder.

"But be warned." She cupped his cock, applying just a hint over acceptable amount of pressure. "If you sleep with a woman or man without my permission, I will not be happy."

"Duly noted." He pulled back, cupping her cheek. "You're already becoming a dragon."

Her gaze grew hungry. "Try to devour me then." Soon she was flat on her back, mouth deliciously plundered.