Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Malcolm Tent, Mike God of Lore, Marethyu, Beans
The Unbound
Chapter 23: Blessings
— Catelyn Stark —
Her plans almost immediately hit a snag, her face burning red as no less than three members of the Kingsguard watched her with varying expressions.
In truth, with all that was going on of late, she hadn't quite registered that Orys was the true King now. She'd heard of Robert's abdication and Orys' coronation, but with Robert still around, she'd assumed Orys was the King in name only. Her only experience with him had been during their visit to Winterfell, and Orys had been absent for much of it due to his sickness.
But he was the King now, and that came with the constant watch of the Kingsguard who were all no doubt wondering why the Hand's wife was asking to meet with him in nothing but her nightgown.
Still, Barristan returned from the forge in short order and told her that Orys was willing to meet with her, despite the late hour and lack of appointment. She didn't miss the unsubtle hint that she should have waited until he was holding court, but begging for her sister's life with the entire court watching was not something she was eager to do.
As she entered, she realised her second mistake. Despite the rumours of his blessing by the Smith, she'd assumed that the King's personal forge would be a small thing, not a real forge.
The heat that blasted her as she entered the room proved how foolish that had been as she watched Orys hammer away at something, wearing a thick leather apron over his clothes. The Royal Forge was a massive thing, bigger than the forges of Winterfell by far, and she couldn't begin to guess what all the different pieces and pipes did.
Orys's sleeves were rolled up, exposing his muscular arms as he brought the hammer down onto the strange metal he was working on. It was not Valyrian steel, to her inexperienced eyes, but it was clearly not common metal either.
"Just a moment, Lady Stark. This requires my attention," Orys called out over the roar of the forge. Her answer was likely lost over the noise of hammering and roaring flames, which held an almost… golden glow to them.
It made Orys seem as divine as his reputation suggested as he was backlit by the golden light, almost forming a halo around him as he finished what he was doing and turned to face her.
Sitting on the edge of his forge, unafraid of the flames behind him, he gave her a curious look. It was less proper than a King should be, but she had been the one to throw propriety out of the window by approaching him like this.
"I have to say, your request for an audience came as a surprise, Lady Stark," Orys started, watching as she curtsied as best as she could. Her next problem was all too apparent. She was sweating from the heat of the forge, and her nightgown was white. His eyes, despite his best efforts, flickered down to the swell of her breasts as the gown clung to them, becoming more translucent by the moment. "Is there an issue that couldn't wait until the Small Council tomorrow morning?"
His mention of the Small Council once again was a reminder of how much she was breaking protocol. Her husband was his Hand and any issue that needed raising could be done by Ned.
"My apologies for the impropriety, Your Grace, but I could not bring myself to wait when it came to matters of my family," Catelyn started, putting the right amount of chagrin and desperation in her tone.
"Family, duty, honour, right?" Orys quipped, using the words of House Tully. "Is this about your son, your father or your sister?"
"My father, Your Grace?" Catelyn asked, caught off guard.
"Ah, you haven't heard? I would have thought Edmure would have mentioned it. Lord Hoster is currently en route to Kings Landing, by ship, in the hopes that the Chalice of the Mother can cure his illness," Orys explained. "Of course, as he is one of my Lords Paramount, I wish him the best and he is welcome to the healing waters."
"I- I am grateful for your benevolence, Your Grace. In truth, Edmure did not mention that, but my father has been bedridden for many years. I only hope the trip is not too rough on him," Catelyn replied, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. She should have waited before doing this, because there was just so much she didn't know. Healing waters? Chalice of the Mother? What had she missed? "But he is not the reason I wished to speak with you."
"And I doubt this is about your husband's position, as he himself wishes to return North. So, is this about your son or your sister?" Orys continued, his tone knowing. It was becoming clear that she'd underestimated the soft-spoken King.
The only thing she'd personally seen him do was feast and hunt in Winterfell, so it was all too easy to imagine him as a second Robert. Especially as she'd seen the lust in his gaze during his brief visit, the way he would grow distracted mid-conversation, his eyes wandering the bodies of the women around him. For all the chaos in the south, her only focus had been surviving the chaos the Boltons had unleashed and she was very much out of touch with the recent events and gossip.
"No, this isn't about Eddard. The North needs him back, and it is where he belongs," Catelyn agreed. "But I wished to speak to you about both my son and sister, Your Grace. I understand that you are a follower of the Seven, and that my sons-"
"Allow me to interrupt, Lady Catelyn. I am aware that Robb has been blessed by Hircine, one of the Old Gods that has become active, and I meant it when I said that I have no intentions of acting against him for it," Orys explained softly, his tone calm and reassuring. "The North are my subjects, and I do not intend to restrict their religious practices as long as it does not defy the laws of my Kingdom. Robb and Lady Dacey's… blessings do not, as long as they do not use them against my loyal subjects. You and I may follow the Seven, but the North has always followed the Old Gods, and while some of the more zealous Septons may wish to put an end to that, I have no desire to wage a religious war on my own people. Nor is that the desire of the Seven, to begin with."
As he spoke, she could have sworn his eyes flashed golden but perhaps it was a trick of the light coming from the forge. Even still, he spoke of the Seven's desires with such confidence and assurance.
Whether he was mad or truly blessed, she couldn't deny that she let out a sigh of relief at his words. She was sure that the Faith would be whispering in his ear, and as much as she was a follower of the Seven, she could only hope that their words fell on deaf ears. She was going to be staying in King's Landing herself, so she'd have a chance to find out what the faithful were thinking and maybe keep Orys from changing his mind.
"Thank you, Your Grace. I have to confess to being conflicted on the matter myself, being a follower of the Seven, but Robb will always be my son first, and a follower of this… Hircine second, in my mind," Catelyn admitted. She couldn't deny that she was grateful to Hircine as his gift had saved Robb's life, but it still disturbed her.
"Your sister, however, is a different matter," Orys continued, his small smile fading slightly. "I understand that she is not of sound mind, but she's acting as the Warden of the East in her son's stead, and she's using that power to call for one of my Kingdoms to rise against me."
Catelyn flinched at his blunt words, well aware of how much trouble Lysa was causing. It had been too long since she had seen her little sister, but she felt some responsibility for not doing more to drive Littlefinger away after he had challenged Brandon for her hand. He'd taken his defeat poorly, far worse than she'd realised at the time. She should have done more to get rid of him before he became the stain on the realms that he grew up to be. Now, her sister had lost her mind thanks to his poisonous words.
"I understand the severity of her crimes, Your Grace, but she is not of her right mind. Losing her husband and then friend, and godsforbid, lover in such a short time has left her vulnerable to Petyr's lies," Catelyn argued.
If her sister, her children's aunt, was executed for treason, her entire family and their future would be painted with the same tarred brush. She didn't want that hanging over Sansa and Arya, or the humiliation of House Tully. Reputation was everything, and years of loyal service could be destroyed by a single scandal.
"Littlefinger, at least, believed Robert Arryn to be his. If this is true, and I intend the Maesters to investigate the rumours, then Lysa is trying to commit line theft against House Arryn by passing off a Tully bastard as their rightful heir," Orys explained, as she mentally cursed Littlefinger's existence. "We suspect it is part of why Jon Arryn was murdered, as beyond Petyr's corruption he was also investigating genealogy, which we believe is due to his concern that Robert was not his child."
Lysa truly had lost her mind. She knew that the repeated stillbirths had taken their toll on her sister's mind, but to take on a lover and even try to pass off a bastard as the heir to one of the Great Houses was… if it wasn't for the way it would stain the honour of House Tully and her children by extension, she'd almost be willing to let Lysa hang with the rope she'd so carelessly made for herself.
Lysa had lost herself to paranoia and madness, and Littlefinger had slid right in and abused Lysa's old adoration for him to the worst result. In the back of her mind, she remembered that it had been Lysa who'd gotten Petyr brought to court and she wondered just how long this affair had been ongoing.
"I am not denying that she needs to be stopped and removed from power, Your Grace," Catelyn started, well aware that Orys's very posture was unwelcoming at the moment as he crossed his arms over his chest. It was a far cry from the relaxed posture when they discussed her son.
In her mind, she remembered the current gossip of how Orys had crushed the Ironborn and sentenced so many to death or the wall.
"And if Robert is a bastard, he must be removed and this travesty corrected," Catelyn continued, her mind flashing to Jon. She almost wanted to bring up Jon but knew better. What was done was done, and Jon would be buried as a true Stark despite her disdain for the idea. Assuming they could even find his body. "But surely you must see the difference between maliciousness and madness. Lysa's mind never recovered from her repeated stillbirths, and Jon was often too busy with King's Landing to be there for her. It let Littlefinger slip in and take advantage of her waning sanity. The sin lies with him, for which he was already justly punished. Lysa must be punished as well, of course, but she acts out of grief and insanity, not true treason."
As she spoke, she took a step or two closer. Orys was tall for his age, similar in height to her Robb and even as he leaned against the forge, he was taller than her, looking down at her. Her hands stressed her nightgown, and she was well aware that she was pulling the cloth even tighter against her figure, her sweat causing it to become all too see-through. Again, despite his best efforts, his eyes flickered down and lingered on her body for a moment. He had the same brilliant blue eyes as his father, but she was wrong to assume he'd be as crude as Robert as Orys got his lapse under control again. If she was dressed like this in front of his father, she wasn't sure Robert would be able to control himself from grabbing her, let alone just staring. For a moment, once again, his eyes flashed golden, and he grimaced. Sansa had mentioned that people believed the golden gaze meant he was receiving messages from the Gods themselves. Her shame only grew deeper at the idea of the Seven witnessing her improper actions.
She could only dread to think what had caused Orys to tilt his head, seemingly listening to something she couldn't hear. His eyes reacting to something she couldn't see.
"I will take your words into consideration, when the time comes," Orys said with a note of finality, clearly intending to dismiss her as her eyes widened in panic. To her ears, it very much sounded like he had already made up his mind and was simply too polite to say that Lysa's fate was already sealed.
He turned, intending to go back to whatever he was working on before she interrupted him and the clear dismissal caused her to rush forward, placing her hand on his arm. She realised her mistake all too quickly, moving from improper to downright dangerous as she held onto the King's wrist, her breasts pressing against his arm as it nestled between them. Orys himself seemed surprised by her boldness, his eyes briefly widening.
Forget Lysa, she might have gotten herself into a mountain of trouble as the moment dragged between them, her breasts still pressing against him as she froze in shock at her own audacity.
"Care to explain yourself, Lady Catelyn?" Orys asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through her body and his eyes narrowed. Despite his words, he didn't pull his arm away or push her back as she tried to gather her thoughts.
"I- I'm sorry, Your Grace, I wasn't-" Catelyn started, her words coming out in an ungraceful stutter that she told herself was purely out of fear. "I know I have no right to ask anything of you, especially when you've already done so much for my family, but please. If Lysa is beheaded for treason, her insanity will mar the reputation of everyone connected to her. House Stark and Tully don't deserve to suffer for her stupidity, my girls shouldn't have to grow up with their reputation forever marred by their treasonous aunt. I'm not begging for her sake, only for the sakes of everyone who will suffer for her insanity."
Orys went silent at her plea, and she hoped he was thinking of his friendship with Arya and Sansa. Both girls spoke so highly of him, and she could only pray that their affection was returned.
"You said it yourself, my King. Family, Duty, Honour. My family and duty come before my honour, and if there is anything I can do to spare my family from my sister's failures, I have to try it," Catelyn continued, pushing on despite the risks. She was just glad that none of his Kingsguard felt the need to be in the room with them, no doubt seeing her as no threat to the King. Or Orys had ordered them to give them some privacy.
As she mentioned doing anything, his eyes once again flickered down to her breasts, now pushed together with her cleavage on full display. He was more proper than Robert, but he was still a young man with the same desires. She'd never intended to actually seduce him, merely hoping that a vulnerable look would aid her position and, at most, he'd be more distracted with what her nightgown was hinting at and more eager to listen with such a show. His deep blue eyes darkened with lust as the silence dragged on.
"I… understand your concern, Catelyn," Orys finally said, his voice a little lower than before and the honorifics dropped entirely. "But treason is one crime I cannot treat softly, surely you understand that? Regardless of her reasons, she's trying to rally The Vale to rebel against the Iron Throne, and your uncle claims she's executed innocent knights and highborn for opposing her insanity."
As he spoke, he fully turned to face her again, now face to face with so very little space between them. His gaze was not as fixed as before, wandering with far more frequency.
"I know, and I am not suggesting that she be forgiven for her madness. She needs to be punished, everyone with sense left in their heads understands that," Catelyn agreed, making her decision as she took the last step forward and pushed her breasts against his chest. She was so far beyond the lines of propriety that it wasn't even funny, squishing her breasts against the chest of the teenage King in the hopes of it helping her cause. With her body so close, she could feel a certain hardness pressing against her stomach but she didn't let it deter her. At this point, she was in too deep to back down without making her situation far worse.
Family. Duty. Honour. She repeated the words in her head as a reminder of what mattered most.
"Depending on the situation, I may be able to find an alternative punishment for her," Orys said slowly, not commenting on her closeness. "But much will depend on the situation in The Vale and Lysa herself. It sounded bad when Ser Blackfish left, and I can't imagine that Lysa took their 'betrayal' well."
Gods, she hoped Lysa had clung to some semblance of sanity and hadn't gone full Mad King over in the Vale. If she did all this only to find that Lysa had committed crimes that could only be answered with the headman's block then she might just strangle Lysa herself.
"House Tully, Stark and Arryn would be in your debt, Your Grace. I would be in your debt," Catelyn promised, looking up at him through her lashes. As sinful as her actions had been so far, nothing she had said or done couldn't be explained by a desperate mother and sister's plea. Until this, as she stepped back slightly and reached up. Orys watched, eyebrows raising as she pulled her nightgown down and exposed her chest entirely, the large, milky-white breasts on full display for Orys' entertainment as her nightgown pooled around her hips.
She had always been gifted with good curves, and multiple pregnancies had caused her breasts to grow even fuller, not fading after Rickon had stopped breastfeeding.
"Thank you for not sending me away, Your Grace, and for listening to my many concerns," Catelyn said gratefully, his eyes devouring her breasts. "If there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, you need only say the word. I am at your disposal."
She was impressed, in truth. If she'd bared her breasts to Robert, he'd have had her bent over with her nightgown tossed aside before she got a word out, friendship with Eddard be damned. Orys, despite his clear desire, kept his composure beyond the way his eyes remained locked to her bare breasts.
"I can see where Sansa gets her beauty, Lady Stark," Orys spoke, one hand reaching out to touch her right breast, his fingers squeezing it lightly. "You are remaining in King's Landing, are you not?"
"I am," Catelyn admitted, well aware of what he was implying as his thumb brushed against her nipple.
"Then we'll have to have more… discussions, later. But I believe you should leave, before you are missed," Orys said, his tone holding a great deal of reluctance. Despite herself, she let out a sigh of relief as he stepped back and stopped touching her. Instead, he reached down and pulled her nightgown back up himself, straightening it.
"I'm at your call, Your Grace," Catelyn agreed, a mixture of shame and sinful excitement flooding her veins. "Again, thank you for listening to a mother's concerns. I won't take up any more of your time, but I am in your debt."
"You are," Orys repeated, his voice deep and low.
As she turned to leave, she jumped at the feeling of him swatting her buttocks lightly, his arms crossed playfully as he watched her leave.
She could only wonder what the Kingsguard thought as they watched her leave, and she could only thank the Gods for Eddard's workaholic nature as she returned to an empty bed.
As she changed out of the sweat-coated nightgown, she paused as she realised that it wasn't sweat that was causing her undergarments to stick to her womanhood, her mind on Orys as she laid in bed, her hands wandering south.
— King Orys Baratheon —
"You were right," I admit as the door closes, turning to the stack of crates in the corner of my forge as Margaery steps out from behind them with a triumphant smirk. "I didn't think she'd go that far."
"She's desperate to save her sister, and avoid the shame of a traitor in the family, and with no other leverage, she used the one weapon all women have," Margaery explains, giving me a kiss. "If she planned for this to be more innocent, she'd have waited until daytime and would be far more suitably dressed."
Margaery hiding was her idea, because despite everything, I'd assumed that Lord Stark's wife would be as proper and serious as her husband. As for why she's here? She likes watching me hit metal with a hammer. It's why my sleeves are rolled up.
"You enjoyed it," Margaery accuses, but her tone isn't angry as she simply sounds curious.
"She's a beautiful woman, I won't deny it. I didn't plan for things to go that far. I don't think she did either," I muse, grunting as Margaery's hands work their way into my pants, finding my erection.
"Please, you were one word away from having her anyway you wanted," Margaery points out, kissing my neck. "She may have told herself that she didn't plan for things to go that far, but she knew the direction this could, would, go the moment she came in here in nothing but a nightgown. She was surprised that you didn't want… payment up front."
"What the hell am I supposed to do about this? Lord Stark is the Warden of the North, and my father's best friend. Revealing this would cause bad blood between House Tully and Stark at the very least," I groan, mostly out of annoyance but also out of the way her slender hands are working on my cock.
"Then don't reveal it," Margaery suggests. "She said it herself, she's in your debt. That could be useful."
"You seem oddly at ease about another woman trying to seduce your betrothed, during your wedding," I admit, getting a giggle from her and a strange expression.
"You know, I expected you to have bedded every girl in the castle when I arrived. Your father's reputation spoke for itself, even if he'd gotten his lusts more under control in recent years. When he was your age, and for quite a bit longer, King Robert was known for his lascivious behaviour… and your Uncle Tyrion still is. I was warned by my grandmother to expect the same from you," Margaery admits, kissing my chin. "And I know you have the same urges. You're a man, an incredible one, but a man all the same. I've seen your eyes wandering when Arianne is showing off her Dornish curves or when other women are flaunting themselves around you."
"As I told you, Grandfather dislikes how my father dishonoured my mother in the early years of their marriage, and he despises Tyrion," I explain.
"So, when I met you and you were so proper, a true gallant prince, I knew I'd won something that every girl in the Seven Kingdoms would kill for a chance at," Margaery continues, her hands moving faster. "But I've gotten to see more of your wild side, that side you try to suppress, and I've grown to love it just as much as your chivalry. You're the King, Orys. You deserve the world for all the good you're doing for the realm, for my family. If you wanted Catelyn, I'd not have held it against you if you took her."
Through my aura sensing, both Mephala and Dibella, I can tell she genuinely means it. I can see her true affection for me, but I can also see my own affection for her.
"If I want a lover, I'd rather she be less problematic than the wife of one of my Wardens," I joke, getting a giggle of acknowledgement from her. "Besides, I want you to be my first."
"And you will be mine, but first doesn't have to mean only," Margaery points out. "I only have two requests. Don't hide any liaisons from me and try not to produce bastards."
"What brought this on?" I ask, tilting my head as she sighs a little.
"You. You're too damn desirable. It feels like every girl and woman in the Seven Kingdoms wants a piece of you, married or otherwise, and nobody is perfect. Grandmother keeps warning me that it's only a matter of time until you lose control and end up burying your blessed cock in Arianne's sandy cunt. Her exact words," Margaery jokes. "And I refuse to let anyone, let alone Arianne take you from me. But- in truth? That's only a part of it. I, well grandmother, hired a Braavosi courtesan to teach me how to handle… this beast," Margaery teases, squeezing gently on my cock. "And she made an off-hand suggestion about joining us in bed to teach me firsthand, and I won't deny that I find the idea of you demonstrating just how blessed you are to Moonshadow… arousing."
"Minx," I whisper, kissing her roughly as she giggles. "Nobody is taking me from you, and I dare anyone to try and take you from me."
"Good," Margaery agrees, returning the kiss as I make a decision. I pull back, causing her to pout momentarily until she sees the look on my face and realises that this is probably at least a little serious.
"Margaery, I love you. More than that, I want to share something with you," I admit, stroking her hair. "Something that will prove to you that nobody will ever take me from you."
Margaery tilts her head at that, but seeing me go in for another kiss, lifts her chin to accept it before she gasps as a golden light engulfs us. She doesn't pull back, deepening the kiss as I share my blessing of Dibella with her.
As we separate, I can see her eyes admiring the bond between us, her hand trying to touch it.
"Dibella's blessing allows me to see the ties of love between people, and now so can you," I explain, her eyes widening as they gleam golden for just a moment. So that's what that looks like.
Dibella, play nice.
"I'd say I love you back, but I guess you've already seen the proof of that, haven't you?" Margaery asks with an airy giggle, a beaming smile on her face. "I love you, Orys. And I won't let you down, or misuse this gift."
Mara is going to bless our wedding, and share her healing gift with Margaery publicly as we exchange our vows to fully establish that this royal union is loved by the Gods themselves.
"I know you won't," I agree, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"You've still got work to do, haven't you?" Margaery asks woefully, as I sigh.
"I will not risk a bloodsucking abomination getting loose in the same keep as my family because I let myself get distracted," I say, cursing my workaholic nature.
"Then I should stop distracting you… but I'll be waiting for you, in your chambers. Fuck waiting six more days, I want you tonight," Margaery admits with a hungry look.
"It is our wedding night, the first of seven," I agree, equally impatient. "I won't be too long."
Margaery gives me a brilliant smile as she turns and walks away, her hips swaying with each step. It's all I can do not to rush her and take her here and now.
As she leaves me alone with the forge, I can only think one thing.
I fucking hate vampires.
I am going to murder the Boltons for the inconvenience that is briefly delaying me.
— Later —
"Your Grace, what type of metal is this?" Pycelle mutters, touching the almost golden bars that now make up the cell for Myranda. It looks similar to Valyrian steel, only it is silver with golden ripples.
"For now, I'm calling it Blessed Steel for lack of a better name. Maybe I'll rename it to something more impressive when I'm less tired and cranky," I joke, running my hands along the bars as I look inside.
Myranda could not be more secure if we tried. Her arms and legs are bound by Valyrian steel shackles, pinned to the strong, reinforced wall of her underground prison and the only entrance is covered by my new bars.
The metal is blessed by Stendarr who it seems has plenty of experience with these undead creatures, and forged by Zenithar. Myranda cannot even touch it without her skin burning to a crisp.
Myranda herself glowers at us, her wounds healing. Getting her into the cell was not easy, given her seeming lack of self-preservation.
"I want a watch on her at all hours of the day, no less than five men armed with spears and crossbows. I'll supply the bolts and spearheads myself, of the same material. I won't risk an escape. If she tries, she will be slain," I say sternly, getting agreements from the gathered men. "Grand Maester, I want the Maesters researching this… 'Molag Bal' that has 'blessed' the Boltons, and studying this creature. There are only two keys to her lock, one will remain with me and the other with the Hand of the King. Nobody is to enter without my express permission."
"I've sent the ravens already, and the Citadel is eager to assist," Pycelle agrees, eager to show how useful he is and why I shouldn't kick him out. "How should we feed the… creature?"
"We'll try live animals first, to see if animal blood can feed these abominations. We don't want our only subject to starve," I explain, looking at the woman. If she hadn't been starved on the road south, I suspect we'd have had even more trouble. "Lord Stark, I'd like some of your men to assist with watching her. Or to be more precise, your family's direwolves. They were instrumental in capturing her, and should serve as a deterrent for any escape attempts."
"I'll watch her myself, Your Grace," Robb Stark says, getting a nod from his father. I try very hard to not let the fact that I'm thinking about how Catelyn's tits felt show on my face as Eddard turns to me.
"I'll have some men who the direwolves trust arranged for when Robb needs rest or is needed elsewhere," Eddard agrees grimly. "We can't risk this thing getting free."
"Lord Ramsay is going to slaughter you all!" Myranda shouts petulantly.
"Ramsay Snow is a bastard, not a Lord," Stannis adds, almost as an afterthought as he stares at the vampire with a scowl on his face. She doesn't seem to take his correction well but I swear I see Stannis smile briefly at her raging and screeching. "Your Grace, I've received a raven from Dragonstone. My wife and daughter are heading to King's Landing, and should arrive shortly. I've taken the liberty of arranging an out of the way set of rooms for Shireen until you are ready to examine her."
"I'll be examining her the moment she's in the keep. My cousin has suffered enough," I say with a small smile. "It will be nice to finally meet her. Now, unless there is anything else, gentlemen… my bed is calling to me."
There's a smattering of laughter and some smiles at that, well aware that I worked my ass off to make the cell for our guest. I leave out the fact that it is what is currently in my bed that I'm more interested in than the bed itself. Sleep? No, thank you. I have previous engagements.
First though, I have one last stop to make as I say goodnight to the group.
"And you called me a workaholic," I tease as I enter the office which has become my target's new home. Mother looks up in surprise from her documents, hard at work as my Court Chronicler. "Leave us."
The single assistant still around disappears instantly, closing the door behind them.
"Is there something I can do for you, Orys?" Mother asks, almost purrs really. Maybe it's how horny I am, but it sounds incredibly suggestive and her eyes widen in surprise as I move around her desk, leaning against it right next to her.
"I've shared my blessing of the 'Maiden' with Margaery, but she doesn't know the whole truth yet," I start, seeing the hint of jealousy cross her face before I hold up my hand. "Which is why I want to share one of my blessings with you. I can't be everywhere, and I need someone to serve as my eyes and ears when people think they're out of my sight and hearing."
Instantly, her jealousy fades but before she can respond, I place one hand on the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss. She practically moulds herself against my body as she initiates it before I can, deepening it instantly as I call on Mephala.
When I pull back, it's because if I don't I'm going to end up fucking her against this desk, and we're both a little breathless.
"Mephala lets me see the webs that connect people, seeing their schemes and alliances. Now, I share that gift with you. Don't act on any major things you discover without speaking to me, but I trust you to weave your own webs and entangle those who would hurt our family," I explain.
"Of course, Orys. I won't allow anyone to harm your rule," Mother promises, still a little breathless as I step back. It causes her to frown slightly, but she doesn't comment on it.
"When they go North to deal with Vale and the Boltons, I'm going with them. My gifts could be useful up there and I won't be a ruler that hides within his castle. Already I've heard whispers about me sitting out the Ironborn war," I explain, seeing her scowl.
"As have I. I've identified the prime sources and have been using the bards and poets to battle them. Most have fallen on deaf ears thanks to your renown, but you're right. If you sit this out, they'll call you a coward," Mother spits, venom on her tongue. "Be careful. We can't afford to lose you."
"I don't intend to die, I can assure you of that, but that's not why I mentioned it. When I go North, you'll be my Hand in the South," I explain, her eyes widening. "Don't look so surprised, who else could I trust with it? Stannis? I respect him but he's too blunt and inflexible for the role. He'd just be another Eddard. Renly? Please. Mace? I've given the Tyrells much as of late, and that would be a step too far. At that point, I might as well make Olenna the Hand. I could pick someone from one of the Great Houses, but I won't have anyone but someone I trust implicitly in the position."
"I won't let you down, Orys. As much as it pains me to admit it, the men of the Great Houses will resist me keeping the position for long," Mother sighs, a scowl crossing her lips.
"I know, but we'll use the fact that I'm going to be restructuring the Small Council upon my return to keep them busy. With more positions opening, they won't want to make fools of themselves and deny themselves a position," I say with a snort. "They won't argue as long as it is just while the Bolton rebellion is ongoing. We can handle what comes after when I'm back."
"Using their ambitions against them? Wise," Mother praises, stroking my hair. "As much as I don't want to consider it, you should ensure that Margaery is carrying your heir before you leave."
"Funnily enough, that's my next stop. I'm not waiting for the Day of the Mother to make love to my wife. Tonight is my wedding night, after all," I say with a grin. "Trust me, Margaery will be pregnant before I go anywhere."
I see that hint of jealousy again, but with my gift shared, it is gone as fast as it appears.
"Then why are you still here? Go and show her what a Baratheon man can do, Orys the Very Blessed," Mother teases, as I make a note to kick Arya for that nickname.
Giving her one last smile, I head off to my chambers. As she spots me, Bella gives me a knowing grin and a slap on the ass as I walk into my suite and toward my room. Recalling my conversation with Margaery, I pause midstep and see her freeze, worried she's overstepped her boundaries.
"Spanking the King?" I ask, my voice playfully angry. "Maybe you need more discipline, maid."
"Terribly sorry, milord," Bella says, putting on the smallfolk voice when she's long since learnt the correct terminology. "I'm just an uneducated girl, all this proper stuff confuses me."
"Not good enough. Bend over the table, Bella," I scold, getting a gasp of surprise as I flip her skirt up and over her ass, pulling my hand back and giving her a solid spank on her buttocks, watching the plump cheeks jiggle. Resting my hand on the same buttock, I give it a firm squeeze before fixing her dress. "That will have to do for now, maid. Next time, I'll have to discipline you properly."
"Yessir," Bella agrees meekly, looking down with a shamed expression on her face before it vanishes with a snort. "Someone's in a good mood, but given what's in your bed I can't say I'm surprised. Have fun! I'll bring you some water and juice later, you're gonna need the hydration."
"Thanks, Bella," I agree with a grin, heading to my bedchambers with an excited smile. As I walk past, she once again spanks me with a smirk.
A smile that goes from excited to shocked as I step inside and realise what Bella meant, spotting Margaery's naked body illuminated by the moonlight… pressed against an equally naked woman with Yi Ti ancestry from her features. She has long flowing black hair and a body as slim as Margaery's, with perky breasts and a toned backside.
"Orys, I believe I mentioned my friend Moonshadow?" Margaery purrs, rising from the bed as the courtesan does the same.
By the Gods, it's good to be me.
— Bonus Scene — Missandei
Freedom.
The world felt alien to her tongue as she sat on her bed in Lady Margaery's suite. She was a free woman. Her mind went back to her days on Namath, climbing trees with her brother, unaware of the dangers that would soon consume their peaceful life.
She was truly grateful to Lady Margaery and King Orys, of course, but the idea of freedom felt wrong to her mind after her… training. Margaery had encouraged her to stop referring to herself as 'this one', something Missandei was struggling with.
But, while she was free by law, she knew things were not that simple. She had tried to warn Margaery of the warlocks of Qohor and the magic they had used on her, and nothing came out, instead her throat had constricted and Margaery had feared that she was choking on some fruit.
Her maste- no, Kraznys- had only bet her because he had been sure that she could not be freed. As much as it hurt her, Missandei had begun to believe him. She had tried her best to warn Margaery of the dangers that Missandei represented and had failed entirely. She had even considered taking her own life to end the threat to a pair that had taken a great risk to free her from a life of servitude, but while she'd managed to get a knife, her body refused to obey her.
Instead, she felt a… pull, demanding that she seduce Lady Margaery and King Orys. She did not know what their foul magic was meant to do, only that it would take effect when she was bedded. She'd even tried to seduce a servant to pass it on to someone other than the King, and once more failed. She could feel the Black Goat's ever watchful eyes in her every waking moment, the pressure on her shoulders and spirit.
So, here she sat, a dagger pointed at the back of the first person to see her as a human being instead of a piece of property, cursing her weakness.