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 Beans, Priapus, Marethyu, Mike God of Lore
The Unbound
Chapter 05: Grandfather
– Margaery Tyrell –
As King's Landing came into view from her carriage window, Margaery looked over the city that would be her home from now on. In truth, it didn't measure up with Highgarden, but she could admit that she was at least a little biased. In the end, the city itself didn't overly matter to her.
It was the man waiting for her inside it that she was here for.
She knew she was beautiful, and she'd long since learnt how to be charming, but she couldn't deny a certain nervousness as their party grew closer to the city. Today, she'd be meeting Orys Baratheon, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms and her betrothed.
She knew he'd been given no real choice in this betrothal, and while rumours said that he was a responsible Prince who understood his duty, she couldn't deny that she was worried he'd see her as an unwanted burden. It was common enough for betrothals to end in unhappy marriages, with both partners only tolerating the other.
That wasn't what she wanted for herself. She was going to be Queen, and she wanted to make sure that nothing interfered with that destiny. She was bound to have rivals who wanted Orys to marry them or one of their family members, people who didn't want her family to benefit from this marriage, and countless other threats and problems. That was simply a part of the game, and her grandmother had prepared her well for dealing with those issues.
But the more unhappy Orys was with their marriage, the easier it would be for her rivals to sway him.
The biggest threat was always going to be Orys himself, followed by the rest of the Baratheon family. As they got closer, she went over everything she knew about Orys in her head. It was disappointingly little.
He had been fostered with Tywin Lannister and was allegedly quite skilled in finance (unlike his father). He had three younger siblings but didn't get along with his younger brother, Joffrey. He did get along with his sister, Myrcella, and she didn't know what his relationship with Tommen was like. As for his interests? She knew he was a very talented hunter, word of his hunt in the North having already reached Highgarden. Apart from that, she had very little to work with.
Getting information from Casterly Rock was difficult, as the old lion ruled the place with an iron fist. Few would dare gossip about his grandson, and even those who did let something slip knew little, as Orys had rarely been seen during his fostering. Orys was said to be hard-working, studious and stern, but she knew little else about his personality. It made choosing the best way to approach this more difficult than she would have liked. She'd have to work out the best way to handle him after meeting him, which wasn't ideal. It wasn't that she didn't have faith in her own social skills, but this was going to decide the rest of her life, and she wanted every advantage.
"Margaery, are you ready?" her grandmother asked, getting her attention. Margaery simply nodded, calming her nerves. She'd been preparing for this all her life.
"I am, grandmother," Margaery agreed, smoothing an imaginary crease in her dress. The city was so close now, and the Red Keep drew her attention. Orys was probably inside there right now. She'd heard he was a handsome young man, and she believed it. King Robert was said to have been very good-looking in his youth, and Renly was equally handsome. Her grandmother went over the details they knew about Orys again, but she'd already committed them all to memory.
If all went well, she'd be Margaery Baratheon soon. Queen Margaery, once King Robert passed away, and that wasn't likely to be too long, given his love of feasting and the resulting corpulent figure. If things went very well, Loras would be Orys' sworn shield as well. She knew her grandmother and father were scheming to surround the next King with Tyrells, but she was just looking forward to having her brother in King's Landing with her.
Of course, there was also the possibility that Orys took after his uncle Renly a little too much, having more unconventional tastes in lovers. She didn't want that to be the case, but if he preferred the male form, having Loras around would still help.
"I can smell the place from here. By the gods, I haven't missed this place," Olenna grumbled, looking out of the carriage window with a small frown. Her grandmother wasn't wrong. King's Landing was known for its scent and already it tickled her nose in a most unpleasant way.
She definitely preferred Highgarden, but she wasn't here for the sights, much less the scents.
They were ahead of schedule, no doubt planned by her grandmother to keep their hosts off-guard, so the welcoming party was clearly hastily gathered. Even still, they got a royal greeting as Queen Cersei watched them leave their carriage with judging eyes. In an instant, she understood that Cersei was asking, 'Is this girl good enough for my Orys?'
Margaery was fairly certain she'd already failed by whatever criteria Cersei was judging. Cersei hadn't approved of the betrothal if she recalled correctly. The judgment faded before they even got close, a smile taking its place.
"Lady Olenna, it's a pleasure to see you again. I hadn't expected you to come all this way yourself," Cersei replied, her tone making it clear just how much of a pleasure it truly was.
"I wasn't going to miss my favourite granddaughter's wedding, was I? I might as well see where all my coin is going," Olenna retorted, far too blunt for most, as Cersei's eyes narrowed faintly.
"My father said almost the exact same thing when he arrived," Cersei said simply. Olenna made a dismissive sound at the reminder of the current pissing match between the two great houses. More gold was being tossed into this event than some wars. "And you must be Margaery. It's a pleasure to finally meet the girl betrothed to my eldest."
"The pleasure is mine, your Majesty," Margaery replied demurely. Cersei was known for being arrogant and narcissistic, and she was certainly another potential obstacle. The disapproval of his mother could make her relationship far rockier. "Is Prince Orys here? I can't deny that I am excited to finally meet him."
"Your group arrived earlier than your father's message implied. How clear the roads must have been. Orys is out on a hunt with his grandfather and isn't due to return until tonight," Cersei replied. "He will be at the banquet tonight, but you've waited this long. What is a few more hours?"
Everything about Cersei put her on edge. The way the Queen looked at her told Margaery that Cersei was looking at her not as a future daughter-in-law but as a rival. But why? Was the royal family that worried about the Tyrells? Or was it her Lannister loyalties that were causing the suspicion and disapproval?
As they headed into the keep, she found somewhat warmer welcomes within. King Robert seemed a jolly sort, even if his gaze had briefly wandered over her form. Renly was eager to introduce his family to the Tyrells. Loras' relationship with Renly was certainly making their arrival easier.
As she expected, Joffrey was another problem. He couldn't be more bitter over the grand spectacle that was being made over his older brother. Still, she didn't expect him to be an actual problem since Orys was said not to get along with him already. Word of their argument over the Stark girl had already reached Highgarden. Tommen was shy and quiet and unlikely to be a problem.
Finally, Myrcella.
"It was a monster. I've never seen a beast so big," Myrcella admitted in a hushed tone, making Margaery smile at the clear pride Myrcella had in her older brother. "Father had it brought all the way down to King's Landing to be properly taxidermied. I don't like it, personally. Even dead, it's scary."
"And Orys took it down alone?" Margaery asked, making Myrcella nod.
"That's what Uncle Jaime said, and Orys agreed even if he said it was partially luck. Orys doesn't really talk about himself much, but Uncle Jaime wouldn't lie about something like this," Myrcella said with surety. "Orys is really good with a bow. I've watched him practising, and it seems like nobody can come close to matching him, except maybe Arya. I think he goes easy on her, and he still always wins," Myrcella giggled.
"That's Arya Stark, right?" Margaery asked, getting a nod. Myrcella adored her older brother and was a reliable source of information on him. "It sounds like she's close to Orys."
"They get along really well. He did save her and helped her friend out, and they both like hunting and archery," Myrcella explained, dancing around the subject of just what Orys had saved her from. Was Arya infatuated with Orys?
Maybe, but she was a little young to be a romantic rival. It would be troublesome if he preferred younger girls, but she'd hold her judgement on that until she saw them interact.
"Does Orys go hunting a lot? I've heard a lot about his skills, and I wouldn't blame him for wanting to get out into the forests if he's as good as they say," Margaery asked, but Myrcella shook her head.
"He's only been hunting once since we got back, and that's today. Grandfather claimed he wanted to see Orys' talents for himself," Myrcella explained, and Margaery paused. So Tywin hadn't been the one to have Orys trained in archery? He hadn't been back from Casterly Rock long enough to get as good as people said he was.
Had Tywin deliberately timed the hunt so that Orys would be missing the day they arrived? If so, how had he known when they were due?
The two girls quickly became three as Myrcella introduced her to Sansa Stark, and almost instantly, she marked the redhead as a rival, betrothal to Joffrey be damned. It was the way Sansa talked about Orys that sent alarm bells ringing through her head, the look on her face.
In truth, it wasn't even that she was a jealous girl, but this was a dangerous place and she wanted to know who she needed to worry about. What did it mean that the most worrying of all was her future mother-in-law?
– Arya Stark –
As they moved through the Kingswood, Arya tried not to beam too much as she followed behind Orys. It hadn't been easy to convince her father to let her go along on this newest hunt, but Orys had supported her. Of course, she didn't even have a bow of her own since she was coming along as Orys' 'squire'. It wasn't anything official, but she was carrying his arrows for him.
She was just glad to get out of the city and away from the Septa's lessons. Nymeria followed behind, quiet as a mouse despite her size. Her father probably wouldn't have been convinced if they hadn't put strict rules on her attendance, and Orys pointed out that if she broke them, he'd never let her out again. It was actually King Robert that had finally convinced her father to allow this, pointing out that she'd probably run off and try to join them if left behind (something she had admittedly done several times in Winterfell) and that it'd be safer to have her stick with the group. She wasn't allowed to stray from the knights or Orys himself, and Jaime Lannister was sticking close to his nephew. They didn't want to risk another Moose incident.
Her amulet sang to her as she breathed in the fresh air of the forest, her nose twitching as she picked up a scent. Her eyes narrowed, darting around the forest for the source, and she noticed that Orys had stopped as well, holding one hand up to signal for the group to stop.
"A rabbit in those bushes ahead of us," Orys said, his tone quiet as the bush rustled ever so slightly. "I'm here for bigger prey… what do you think, Arya? Can you make the shot?"
Some of her father's men who had joined the hunt looked nervous as Orys offered her his bow, which was bigger than she was used to, but Orys had a carefree smile on his lips as she nodded with narrowed eyes. Tywin Lannister just watched, a cold look in his eyes as she lined up the shot.
She whistled, and Nymeria moved like lightning, darting forward as she moved to startle and flush out the rabbit. It was a trick they'd practised in their dreams, and it worked like a charm as the rabbit came darting out of the bushes to get away, right into the spot where she'd have the clearest shot. Time seemed to slow, the hare mid-jump, as she let her arrow fly. She didn't want to look like a fool if she missed in front of all these adults who already thought she couldn't do it, but above all else… she didn't want to let Orys down.
Even as her arrow moved, her eyes flickered to him, but he stood in such a relaxed stance, with a calm, proud smile on his lips, that it made her relax as well. Her eyes locked back onto her prey as she heard that perfect sound of an arrow hitting flesh.
It wasn't as clean a kill as she'd have preferred as the badly wounded rabbit tried to flee. It didn't get far, but she was sure that Orys would have downed it instantly. As Nymeria brought back the rabbit, holding its body gently in her mouth, Arya felt a wave of approval hit her.
Even as the adults praised her and even old Tywin gave her a small nod of approval, she knew it was more than just their hollow praise. Hunting was a form of worship; she could see that now. This moment felt more spiritual than any amount of time spent in the sept.
"Nice shot," Orys praised, his words simple but their impact supreme as she beamed up at him. He didn't sound surprised at all. It was as if there was no other possible outcome for him. He knew she'd land the shot before he'd even handed her the bow.
"It was indeed, but we aren't here to see the young Stark hunt, Orys," Tywin finally spoke, making Orys nod.
"I have no interest in such small game," Orys admitted, taking his bow back. "But look there. Deer tracks. Somewhat fresh, by the look of it. That'll make a better quarry for me."
His grandfather just hummed noncommittally as they began to track Orys' prey.
– Tywin Lannister –
He had received some praise for teaching Orys so well after rumours of his deeds in Winterfell reached Casterly Rock. He accepted it, of course, but not without a suspicious frown.
He had taken Orys hunting, usually as a reward for his hard work, but Orys had been merely an adequate marksman. He was no legendary archer like people were claiming, and yet…
Orys loosed the arrow with a grim frown, and Tywin watched as it flew through the dense trees and in the distance, a deer let out a cry of pain. Orys hadn't even slowed his pace as he'd pulled out his bow and taken the shot before most of the party had even noticed the animal.
The deer ran, but only for a few steps before it fell to the ground, and all movement stopped. He knew Orys had struck its lung, a decidedly fatal blow.
Orys had not been this good a year ago. The increase in skill was too much for such a short amount of time, especially when Orys should barely have had time to practise. He had seen prodigies before, with his own son having learnt the sword in record time. Jaime was besting his tutors in no time, but Orys had shown no exceptional talent for archery during his fostering. If he was a prodigy, he should have picked it up faster in Casterly Rock, not had a sudden and inexplicable jump in skill.
"Well shot," Tywin praised. He didn't bother with flowery language or excessive praise, but Orys straightened up all the same. Orys knew that he did not waste words, and he was truly impressed. Had Orys been hiding his skills before? No, he didn't believe so. He'd raised Orys from when he'd been merely a boy; he knew when Orys was hiding something.
"Thank you, Grandfather," Orys replied softly as he swiftly finished off the barely-alive deer with a single stab from his dagger, clean into its heart. There was no hesitation in his strike, but Orys had lost his hesitation to take a life a long time ago. Tywin had made sure of that.
"Orys, look!" Arya said, getting his attention as she gestured to the ground. Tywin was an experienced hunter himself, and yet he saw nothing as Orys frowned.
"Bear tracks. Large ones at that. They're not fresh. Hmm, bears are rare in the Kingswood," Orys said, a conflicted expression on his face. Why had Orys fought to bring the Stark girl along with him? This went beyond merely trying to forge a close bond with his future Wardens of the North.
He was right to have faith in her eyes and skills, but much like Orys, Arya shouldn't be this good. Orys' bow was not the largest, nor did it have the highest draw weight, but it was made for an adult man, not a little girl. She wielded it with only a little struggle all the same. Arya's skill was as unnatural as Orys' and he knew they were hiding something.
"Make the call," Tywin ordered, making Orys stiffen. Robert would hunt the bear, and he could see Orys sharing that same eagerness as his eyes glanced over to the direction the barely noticeable tracks were leading. Then, Orys sighed.
"We're heading back. I've no desire to tangle with a bear when I'm so ill-equipped. An overly ambitious hunter just becomes the prey," Orys decided, putting away his bow with some slight regret.
They had a small hunting party, by most standards, and while they could theoretically take down a bear, it would not be easy. He didn't miss that Orys' eyes moved to Arya for just a moment, and while Arya looked disappointed, she surprisingly didn't argue.
Tywin nodded, a hint of pride on his face. Orys was not reckless. It would have been disappointing if his teachings had been lost so soon after Orys had left Casterly Rock.
Their trip back was remarkably smooth, with Orys seemingly having a supernatural awareness of the forest around him, as though he had a sixth sense. He joked with Arya as they moved through the forest with barely a footstep heard. Arya seemed to share this perception, sidestepping a branch that would have audibly cracked without even looking down, focused on Orys himself.
Arya's affection for Orys was apparent, though it was hard to tell if Orys returned it in any way beyond mere friendship. Arya was on the younger side, but perhaps Orys shared his father's love for wilder girls. In truth, he'd prefer that Arya catch Orys' affections as the Starks growing stronger was no real danger to him or any other Southern house.
As they reached the Red Keep, the sight of the Tyrell carriages made his frown grow just a touch deeper. This betrothal had been designed to weaken his influence over the crown, an uncharacteristically smart move by Robert. He'd already spent far too much on this tourney, but he wouldn't be outshone by Olenna Tyrell. Extravagance had its uses.
Officially, it was all from Mace, of course, but Mace had forever been his mother's mouthpiece. If he opened his mouth, you could practically see Olenna's fingers as she used him as her puppet.
Orys stopped in place for just a moment as he spotted the carriages, each bearing a golden rose before he continued his walk at a casual, deliberate pace. His conversational skills took a noticeable dip as his mind was drawn elsewhere.
He'd never met his betrothed before, so his concern was clear. Whether they got along or not, he was stuck with the Tyrell girl for the rest of his life. Mace had suggested that Tywin send Orys to Highgarden for a summer when the engagement had been decided, but Tywin had shot that down, along with the opposite suggestion of Margaery coming to Casterly Rock.
This was nothing more than an attempt for the Tyrells to dethrone the Lannisters as the most influential family in the Seven Kingdoms. He wasn't going to aid their schemes against him by sending a younger and more easily influenced Orys to Highgarden, where they could bury him in pretty roses.
"Another successful hunt, Orys?" Prince Renly asked, a proud grin on his face as Orys nodded. "Your father had better watch out. He goes on more hunts than you but brings back far less. Certainly less that he took down himself, at any rate."
Renly was acting carefree, but there was a certain tension around him which made Tywin hide a secret satisfied smile. Renly's affections for Loras Tyrell were no real secret in Highgarden, but it was an open secret that few would openly discuss as it involved a Prince and the son of the powerful Tyrells.
Pycelle had done his part in making that secret far more damning. Loras had come here to present himself as Orys' sworn shield, and that would be another win he would not tolerate the Tyrells getting without a fight.
Robert was a simple man, and neither he nor the Faith would tolerate such a deviant getting close to his son and the crown prince. He wasn't sure how much of a part Renly had played in Orys' betrothal, but someone had to have been the one to put the idea in Robert's head.
Painting Loras as a sexual deviant would not be difficult, even with his 'Knight of the Flowers' reputation. It may not stop the Tyrells entirely, but it would certainly make getting Loras close to Orys all the more complicated.
Still, he prepared himself. Olenna was unlikely to take such an act lying down, and her reprisal was almost guaranteed.
– Orys Baratheon –
"Why don't you go and show your father your trophy, Arya?" I suggest making her beam and reach down to touch the rabbit attached to her hip.
"Thanks, Orys," Arya says, giving me a small hug as I ruffle her hair with a grin. She swipes at my hand but is too slow to catch it as it slips away. I can feel Hircine's approval as I watch her run away, followed by the haggard Stark men. Despite her wildness, she stuck to the rules her father laid out for her to the letter. Convincing her that playing nice would make him more willing to let her out again was easy enough, and I had sworn on my honour that she'd come back unharmed.
I think he knows that she feels out of place in King's Landing. He's a stern man, but he seems like a good father from what I've seen and heard.
Renly is stressed. He's hiding it well, but I can tell from the way he's holding himself. His fist clenched when he saw Tywin, eyes twitching in anger for just a moment. It doesn't take me long to learn why as I send the deer to be harvested and head to get changed. I can hardly meet Margaery in dirty leathers.
The castle is alive with whispers about the sinful relationship between Renly and Loras, two popular figures caught up in such a scandal. I've heard the rumours before, but never have they been so openly discussed. The Faith of the Seven sees homosexuality as a sinful and unnatural act, and it takes me mere moments to puzzle out what is going on.
Grandfather doesn't want Loras to become my sworn shield, and how better to dampen his chances than to embroil him in a scandal the very day we would have met? The Faith Militant may be long gone, but the Faith of the Seven remains powerful within the Seven Kingdoms. Taking Loras as my sworn shield now would appear as if I was accepting his alleged relationship.
Reaching my chambers, I pause as I spot my mother already waiting for me with several maids.
"Of all the days to go on a hunt," Cersei says with a sigh as if Grandfather didn't pick today on purpose. "You can't meet your future wife with twigs in your hair and dirt on your face."
"I know. I planned to butcher the deer myself but left it to the servants so I could get ready," I agree, making her clap her hands as the maids move. I prefer to dress and undress myself, but today, I accept the help as I find myself practically dragged into the bath and scrubbed clean.
I have to admit that I find it somewhat unnerving that Mother remains in the room, lecturing me on the history of the Tyrells and everything I need to know about Margaery herself before we meet. She remains professional, her gaze never moving from my eyes, but my mind can't help but go back to that night. She was trying to seduce me, and I still don't quite know why. I'm not sure she does either.
"Are you nervous?" Cersei asks, making me nod.
"Of course. This is the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with. Were you nervous when you found out you were going to marry Father?" I ask, and Mother pauses for a moment.
"No, not really. I was enamoured with the idea, sure that everything would go perfectly," Cersei admits as I'm dressed in the outfit she picked for me. I'm surprised she knows my own preferences for more earthy tones and colours, the dark brown outfit being brand new. I was expecting to be put in far more colourful clothing. "Leave us."
The maids bow and swiftly make themselves scarce, knowing not to linger when Mother speaks in that tone.
Moving forward, she fusses with my hair to get it into place. It's always been disobedient, a mixture of Mother's perfectly straight, fine hair and my father's own more heavy, somewhat messy locks.
"You have no reason to be nervous, Orys. Margaery is nothing compared to you, just some pretty Highgarden rose begging to be plucked," Cersei reassures me. "You're an intelligent, handsome young man and the Crown Prince. Soon enough, the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms will be beneath you. Don't let a pretty face with barely any curves make you forget that."
"I will be King, and yet she'll be beside me as my Queen, won't she? I've seen too many couples that married for politics that can barely stand one another, and that's not what I want for me. I don't want a lifetime of arguing with her behind closed doors, merely tolerating each other at events," I counter, making her nod in agreement.
"And yet, you know the Tyrells want to see you wrapped around her finger. She was raised and trained by Olenna Tyrell. Never forget that. Margaery is likely better at this game than you, as I doubt Olenna left her ill-prepared for this, and Olenna has ruled Highgarden with an iron fist wrapped tightly around her family's necks for many years," Cersei replies. "If you let her, Margaery will do very much the same to you. The Tyrells want your reign to be very much the same as Mace's reign of Highgarden has been, as nothing more than a puppet for their family as 'Lord' Tyrell has been for Olenna."
Her tone has a certain desperation to it that I wouldn't have been able to pick up without Lady Mephala's guidance. She's scared of Margaery.
"I know. Grandfather has made sure I'm well aware of what kind of woman Olenna Tyrell is. I don't plan to be wrapped up in her thorns. I am nobody's puppet," I say, a sliver of anger and pride leaking into my tone as she strokes my cheek.
"Of course not," Cersei reassures me, placing a kiss on my forehead. "I just don't want to see you entangled in roses or blinded by a pretty face."
"Is that why you asked me about my experience before?" I ask, and I watch as she hesitates before she nods.
"You are a man now, Orys, but in many ways, you are still just a boy. You'd hardly be the first teenage boy to be wrapped around the finger of their first lover. In many ways, it would be better if Tyrion had snuck you away to a brothel or two," Cersei admits with a frown. "You've never been with a woman, and I doubt Margaery is as innocent as she acts. Oh, I'm sure she's still a virgin maiden, but sex is a weapon, Orys, and I suspect she's been taught to use her sexuality against you. More experienced men than you have been led around by their second head by less alluring women than this little rose of Highgarden."
"Do you have so little faith in me that you think I can be led around by the first pair of breasts I see?" I ask, making her frown slightly at the annoyance in my tone.
"You know that's not what I mean, Orys. I have more faith in you than you'll ever know, but this is still a type of battle you are ill-prepared for," Cersei reassures me, placing her hand on my chest.
"Maybe. Still, it's too late to prepare for it now. Maybe I should have taken your offer to arrange something, but we can hardly do that with the Tyrells already here. It'd be less insulting to walk up and slap Olenna across the face," I point out, getting a nod from her.
"Perhaps," Cersei agrees quietly, her hand stroking my chest gently. "But perhaps not. I've told you before, Orys, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. If you ever desire anything from me, you need only say the word, and I will give it to you eagerly."
Her attempts at subtlety have long since passed, and we both know exactly what she is offering. My response catches in my throat as she reaches up and, with slow, careful movements, pulls her dress down and lets it pool at her waist. Her bare breasts are left on display, bouncing slightly as they are freed from their confines. Her breasts, full and round, hang tantalisingly in the air as she pushes her chest out, head held high. Her pink nipples are hardened from either the cold air or the charged situation, and without pausing, she takes my hand and raises it up to her right breast, pulling it against her soft, tender flesh.
"I-" I start, trailing off as she smiles at me. "You're my mother, and what about father?"
"Your father has his favourite whores. I do love him, but I love you far more," Cersei admits with a tender smile, seeming almost wrong in our current situation. "You are going to be King, Orys, and a King can have whatever he wants. You should meet your betrothed with a clear mind, and your… desires will distract you and make you an easier prey. Say the word, and I'll ensure that you meet Margaery with a clear mind and your needs fully satisfied."
Her words are dripping with honey as her hand reaches down and rubs against the front of my pants, feeling my erect shaft through the thin material. I should stop her, but my words fail me as she rubs her palm along the outline of my shaft with a sly smirk.
"Your body betrays your interest, Orys. Do you think Margaery won't notice how easy it is to get you to respond?" Cersei scolds, her hand slipping into my pants to grasp my cock directly. Slender fingers wrap around my shaft, stroking it at a languid, teasing pace. "I would do anything for you, Orys. You need only ask. Say the word, and you can have me any way you desire. On my knees, servicing this fat cock… on my back, begging for more until you spill your royal seed inside of me. My body is yours, to use however you desire. Or maybe you'd prefer that I call the Stark girls up here instead. Sansa wouldn't put up a fight, and I suspect Arya would be downright eager to help."
My words go silent at that, hearing the smugness in her voice. Despite myself, I can't help but feel a sliver of disappointment as she pulls back and fixes her dress. My cock throbs with need, disappointed to lose her warmth.
"You don't have to decide right now, Orys. I won't make this offer again now that you know it is on the table. If you think this is wrong, if you don't wish for this, you need only forget this happened, and I will never mention it again. If all you want from me is a devoted mother, then that is what I will be," Cersei promises. "But if you decide otherwise, if you want more from me, in any way, you need only say the word. Think about it during the feast, and if you decide that you want this, you need only hint at it before you leave, and I will join you tonight. Whatever you want, Orys, whether it is me, a whore, a maid that has caught your eye or even a noblewoman. You only need to ask, and I will provide. This isn't a one-time offer. I don't care if it is tonight or in a decade when you have children of your own. There is nothing I would not do for you, Orys. Never forget that."
She goes to leave before she pauses and, with a sly smirk, reaches down and lifts her dress up. Her long, pale legs are displayed, but my gaze is elsewhere as she reaches under her dress and pulls down something red and lacy, steps out of it, and bunching it up in her hand.
"Something to remember my promise by," Cersei teases, tossing them to me. I catch the red lace, but not before it strikes my face, and I get a deep whiff of her scent, my cock erect as she starts to leave. "If you decide not to take me up on my offer tonight, then the lace can keep you company instead. It won't feel as good as my body, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it all the same."
With her piece said, she departs, leaving me with emotions I can best describe as conflicted. It almost felt like a fever dream, but the damp lace in my hand proves that it was all too real.
— Bonus Scene — Oberyn Martell
As he travelled to King's Landing for the festivities, his easy smile hid the rage boiling beneath the surface. Already, word that the Lannisters were in the city in full force had spread. As predicted, Tywin wouldn't attend such a grand tourney without the presence of his pet monster.
Gregor Clegane was almost certainly the one who had been responsible for the rape and murder of his sister. It had never been completely confirmed, nor had it been proven that the bastard lion was the one who'd ordered their deaths, but in his heart, Oberyn had always known it to be true.
He sent a silent apology to the Crown Prince as they got closer to the city, his smile growing from easy and relaxed to bloodthirsty. Elia would have justice, and he would have his vengeance. He held no ill will to Prince Orys despite the boy's Lannister blood, but he feared he was going to rather spoil the festivities.
Of course, the Tyrells were unlikely to be pleased to see him attending either way. Their houses were feuding after Oberyn had crippled their heir, Willas, in a tourney. It was ironic; he actually liked and got along with Willas, who held no ill will for the accident, but that wouldn't stop the two families from fighting over it. His lance blow had been clean; it had been bad luck or fate that had caused Willas' foot to get caught up in his horse's stirrup. What should have been a clean dismount had caused Willas' horse to fall atop him and crush his leg, and the Tyrells hated him for it.
He doubted anyone in King's Landing would be thrilled to see him arrive for the tourney, but with such a grand event, they could not turn him away. He'd come all this way to pay respects to the next King of the Andals and the First Men, after all.
Ellaria gave him a concerned look, catching the fury on his face, but he wiped it clean with an easy smile. Ordinarily, he'd already have been making love to her to pass the time of their lengthy journey, but even he had some decorum as his eyes flickered to his niece. Arianne's request to join them had come as a surprise, and Doran wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he was happy to oblige.