A Life in Westeros Ch.12 [Game of Thrones] (Patreon)

A Life in Westeros

Chapter 12

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The birthing room in the new tower at Greywater View was thick with the smell of peat smoke from the brazier, the metallic tang of hot iron tools, sharp sweat, and the unmistakable coppery bite of blood. No septa stood in the corner muttering prayers to the Mother. No one had lit sweet herbs or sung any hymns. This was a Frey birth—practical, ugly, and efficient. Just the maester with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his steady, blood-streaked hands, three crannogmen midwives who between them had dragged dozens of babies out of bog women, and Adian Frey leaning against the far stone wall with his arms crossed, watching every single thing that happened.

Barbrey had been at it since before dawn. She sat on the low birthing stool, legs spread wide, feet planted flat on the rushes. Sweat poured down her neck and between her heavy tits, soaking the thin shift that clung to her skin. Her belly was massive now, skin stretched so tight it looked shiny in the firelight, the dark line running straight down the middle like a seam ready to split. Every few minutes another contraction rolled through her and she gripped the stool’s wooden handles until her knuckles went bone-white.

“Fuck,” she grunted through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut. “This one’s worse than the last. Feels like he’s trying to kick his way out.”

The oldest midwife, Nella, a small, wiry woman with mud-streaked braids and hands like old leather, wiped Barbrey’s flushed face with a cool, damp rag. “Head’s right there, my lady. You’re doing it right. Don’t fight it. Breathe through the top of it, then push when it peaks.”

Barbrey didn’t breathe pretty. She sucked in a harsh breath, then bore down hard with a low, guttural animal sound that tore out of her throat. Her whole body tensed, thighs trembling, belly tightening like a drum.

The maester crouched between her spread legs, two fingers carefully checking. “Crowning,” he said, calm as if he were reading a routine ledger entry. “I can see the head. Dark hair. One more good push, my lady.”

Barbrey pushed. Her face went deep red, veins standing out thick on her neck and forehead. A raw, wet, fleshy sound filled the room as the baby’s head stretched her open. She let out a string of curses under her breath—“Seven fucking hells… come on, you little shit…”

“Good,” the maester said. “Shoulders now. Push again when you feel it.”

Another contraction slammed into her. Barbrey growled and pushed harder, teeth bared, sweat flying off her brow. The baby slid free all at once into Nella’s waiting hands with a wet, slippery rush. He squalled immediately—loud, furious, lungs working like a blacksmith’s bellows as he announced his arrival to the whole tower.

The midwives moved fast and without fuss. Nella clamped and cut the cord clean with a hot knife. Another woman wiped the slick, bloody newborn down with clean linen while the third checked Barbrey quickly for tearing. They wrapped the boy in soft, warm linen and laid him straight onto Barbrey’s chest.

She looked down at him, still breathing hard, chest heaving. One hand came up automatically to cup the back of his tiny head, holding him close against her sweat-damp skin. The baby rooted instinctively, small mouth already searching.

“Walder,” she said, voice raw and rough but completely sure. “His name is Walder Frey.”

Adian pushed off the wall and stepped closer. He rested a broad hand on Barbrey’s shoulder, thumb brushing slowly over the damp, overheated skin there. He didn’t speak. He just looked down at the newborn—his son—then at Barbrey’s exhausted but steady face.

The maester and midwives finished their work without ceremony. They cleaned her up efficiently, checked the afterbirth, and stitched where it needed stitching. No one suggested Adian should leave the room. They all knew the man who owned this tower, these lands, and this woman didn’t take orders in his own hall.

When the last of them finally filed out and the heavy door clicked shut behind them, the room went quieter. Only the low crackle of the hearth and the wet, rhythmic sucking sounds of Walder nursing remained. Barbrey leaned back against the piled furs with a long, tired exhale. She was exhausted, body aching, but there was a solid, grounded strength in her posture.

Milk was already leaking freely from both of Barbrey’s tits. Thin white trails ran down the heavy, swollen curves and soaked into the linen beneath her. Walder had latched onto the right one and was suckling greedily, making small, wet, rhythmic noises that filled the quiet room. The left breast continued to drip steadily on its own, warm drops rolling down the underside, over her ribs, and onto the furs.

Adian sat on the edge of the wide bed, eyes locked straight on her chest. They were bigger than before the birth, fuller, the pale skin stretched tight and faintly veined under the surface. He reached out without asking, cupped the free breast in his broad hand, and squeezed.

Barbrey hissed sharply, half pain, half relief. A thick spurt of warm milk shot across his palm and splattered onto her belly.

“Still so fucking full,” Adian said, voice low and rough. He kneaded the soft, heavy flesh, fingers sinking deep into it, watching the way it bulged and rippled between his grip. More milk leaked steadily, dripping over his knuckles and running down her side in shiny streaks.

“Gods, they ache,” Barbrey muttered, breath already catching. She shifted her hips on the furs, wincing a little from the fresh stitches but spreading her thighs wider anyway. “Don’t be gentle with them tonight. Squeeze harder. They need it.”

Adian didn’t hesitate. He rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugging it firmly, then squeezed the whole tit again with real pressure. Milk jetted out in stronger streams, soaking his hand and splashing across her stomach. He switched to the other breast, lifting its heavy weight, mauling it roughly while Walder kept nursing noisily on the first. The small wet sucking sounds from the baby mixed with the slick, rhythmic noises of Adian’s hand working the second tit.

Barbrey’s breathing grew faster, chest rising and falling. “You’re not waiting even a day, are you?”

“No,” Adian answered simply. He lowered his head and took the leaking nipple into his mouth, sucking deep and steady. The milk was thin, sweet, and warm on his tongue. He groaned against her soft skin and sucked harder, pulling long, rhythmic draws while his hand kept mauling the other tit. Milk ran down his chin and dripped onto her chest in warm little splats.

Barbrey groaned low in her throat, her free hand sliding into his hair and gripping tight. “Fuck… that feels good. Suck them dry. They’ve been so heavy all day, aching like this. Keep going.”

Adian kept at it, switching from one nipple to the other, drinking from her while his hand never stopped squeezing and tugging. Milk leaked constantly now, running in shiny trails down the curves of her tits, over her belly, and soaking into the furs. The smell of it—warm, slightly sweet—mixed with the lingering copper of blood and her own musk in the air. His other hand slid lower, careful around the fresh stitches but not gentle anywhere else. He cupped the soft, still-swollen flesh of her ass, fingers digging into the fuller curve there, kneading it possessively and pulling her hips toward him.

Barbrey’s cunt was already wet again, slick and ready. She rocked slowly against his thigh, careful but needy. “Get inside me. I want to feel that thick cock while I’m still leaking like this for you.”

Adian stood just long enough to shove his breeches down. His cock sprang out, thick and hard, the head already glistening. He moved between her spread legs, rubbed the fat head up and down along her slick folds a few times, coating himself in her wetness, then pushed in slow and deep.

Barbrey let out a long, shaky moan as he filled her. The stretch was intense after the birth—borderline too much—but she took every inch, her walls fluttering and squeezing around his thickness.

“Still so tight,” Adian grunted, bottoming out with a low groan. He stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling her pulse around him.

He started fucking her with long, steady strokes. Each thrust made her heavy tits bounce and sway heavily on her chest. Milk kept leaking from both nipples in time with his movements, running down the soft curves and dripping onto her belly and his chest wherever their bodies met. Adian kept one hand on her tit the whole time, squeezing hard, mauling the swollen flesh, tugging the nipple so fresh milk sprayed out with every deep thrust.

Barbrey’s first orgasm hit fast and hard. Her walls clamped down around his cock, pulsing and rippling, and she cried out sharply, thighs trembling on either side of him. Her free tit jiggled wildly, sending more milk flying.

Adian didn’t slow down. He kept fucking her through it, hips rolling steady and deep, his thumb finding her swollen clit and rubbing firm, tight circles while his other hand continued working her leaking tit—squeezing, pulling, milking it.

“Give me another,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Cum on my cock again while your tits are still dripping for me. Let me feel it.”

She did. The second orgasm rolled through her right after the first, even stronger. Her whole body shook, cunt squeezing him like a fist, fresh slick gushing around his shaft and soaking his balls. She moaned loud and broken, back arching off the furs.

Adian groaned deep in his chest. He buried himself to the hilt and pumped his first thick load into her with heavy, pulsing spurts. Hot cum flooded her, filling her up as he ground slow and deep, still sucking and milking her tits with his mouth and hand, drawing out every drop he could while she panted and leaked around him.

They stayed locked together like that for a long time—his cock still hard and buried deep inside her, her milk still running down his chin in warm streams, Walder sleeping peacefully between them on the furs. The room was quiet except for the low crackle of the hearth and their slowing breaths. Adian kept one hand on her heavy tit, gently kneading it now and then, drawing out a few more lazy drops of milk that he licked up without hurry. Barbrey’s fingers stayed tangled in his hair, not pulling him away. Every so often she let out a soft, tired sound when he shifted inside her or squeezed a little too firmly.

“Still leaking everywhere,” she murmured after a while, voice husky and amused. “You’re going to make me soak the whole bed before the week’s out.”

Adian lifted his head, lips shiny with her milk. “Good. Means you’re doing what you’re supposed to.” He gave her tit one last firm squeeze, watching the milk bead at the nipple, then leaned down and sucked it clean again. Barbrey sighed, relaxing back into the furs as Walder made a small contented noise in his sleep.

They didn’t move for nearly an hour. Adian stayed inside her, soft now but still thick, enjoying the warmth while she recovered. When he finally pulled out, a slow trickle of his cum mixed with her wetness leaked onto the linen. He cleaned her carefully with a damp cloth, then helped her settle more comfortably with Walder tucked against her side.

Two weeks after Walder’s birth, the lords and captains rode into Greywater View under a grey, spitting sky.

The journey through the Neck had been miserable for most of them—narrow causeways, sucking mud that tried to swallow horses whole, and the constant feeling of being watched by unseen eyes in the reeds. But as they approached the tower, the changes hit them one after another.

Harwood Dustin rode at the front beside Roger Ryswell, both men quiet as they took it in. What had once been little more than a squat, half-ruined watchtower surrounded by bog and mist was now something else entirely. New dark granite walls rose two full stories higher than before, fresh mortar still pale between the blocks. Scaffolding still clung to one side where masons were working. Thick golden thatch capped the roofs, sealed with bog-moss and tar. New wooden docks jutted out into the sluggish channel—sturdy, iron-banded, with three flat-bottomed barges already tied up and being loaded. Crates of salted pike, barrels of peat, bundles of cured pelts. Smaller black skiffs bobbed low in the reeds, almost invisible unless you knew where to look.

“Seven hells,” Roger Ryswell muttered, reining in his horse. “Last time I was here this place looked ready to sink into the mud. Now it’s… growing.”

One of the Ryswell captains behind him grunted. “Smells like coin. And trouble.”

Lord Wyman Manderly’s massive litter—carried by four sturdy mules—creaked to a halt. The big man leaned out, small eyes scanning the new sawmills, the peat ricks, the busy stevedores shouting in the accents of the Neck and the Twins. Crannogmen watched from hidden platforms in the reeds, bows half-drawn out of habit before lowering them at the sight of the banners.

“They’ve been busy,” Wyman rumbled. “Very busy.”

They dismounted in the yard. Stableboys took their horses while workers hauled crates nearby. The air smelled of wet earth, fresh-cut timber, smoke, tar, and the faint metallic ring of a forge. Greywater View no longer felt like a forgotten Frey outpost. It felt like the beginning of something.

Inside the great hall, the long oak table had been laid out properly. Platters of smoked eel glistened beside thick slices of black bread, wheels of sharp cheese, and several pitchers of strong ale. A big fire roared in the hearth, driving back the damp chill that always clung to the stone. Banners of grey towers circled by reeds hung proudly beside the older Dustin and Ryswell standards—a clear statement.

Barbrey sat at Adian’s right hand, posture straight despite the lingering soreness from the birth. Walder was cradled against her chest, the front of her grey wool gown unlaced just enough for easy access. The baby nursed openly while everyone settled in, loud wet sucking noises cutting clearly through the low murmur of conversation about tolls and river traffic. Milk occasionally beaded at the corner of his mouth and dripped onto the linen covering her lap.

Lord Wyman Manderly’s small eyes kept flicking to the scene, his massive frame shifting uncomfortably in the reinforced chair brought out specially for him. He kept his mouth shut for now, but the fascination—and mild discomfort—was obvious on his broad face. Harwood Dustin, Barbrey’s uncle, leaned back with a faint smirk, tankard already in hand, looking proud as a rooster. Roger Ryswell sat with his arms crossed tightly, half impressed and half like he’d swallowed something sour.

The room settled. Servants poured more ale. The fire crackled.

Adian spoke first, voice calm and flat, cutting straight to business.

“New toll rates on the eastern fork stand,” he said. “Merchants pay at the Twins or they pay double here. No exceptions. No haggling. No special friends.”

One of the Ryswell captains, a burly man with a scarred cheek, shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “And those black skiffs slipping through the reeds at night? The ones carrying the fancy shit from Braavos—silks, glass, dreamwine. What’s the cut on those?”

“Same as before,” Adian said without hesitation. “You move your wool south through our routes, we move the silk and glass north. Everyone eats fatter. Simple arrangement. You already know the numbers.”

Barbrey adjusted Walder to the other breast without missing a beat. As she did, milk beaded at the first nipple and a thin white drop rolled slowly down the heavy curve of her tit before soaking into her gown. She didn’t bother covering up. “The Bolton scout boat last month,” she said, voice even and strong. “That was their mistake. Roose sent a letter.” She nodded toward the parchment lying on the table near Adian. “Polite words on the surface. Cold as a grave underneath. Wants assurances we won’t step on his toes again.”

Adian picked up the letter, glanced at it once more, then tossed it back down casually. “We gift him ten percent of the dreamwine route through the Neck. No questions from him, no interference from us. He stays quiet, we all stay rich. He knows exactly how this works. Greed over old grudges.”

Harwood snorted into his ale, smirking wider. “Roose Bolton taking a cut from a Frey? That’s something I never thought I’d see. The man’s prouder than a rooster on a dung heap.”

“He’ll take it,” Barbrey said firmly. She stroked Walder’s back with slow circles while the baby nursed louder, making wet smacking sounds. “He counts every coin before he counts bodies. Greed beats grudges every single time up here. We offer him easy silver with no risk to his precious Dreadfort name. He’d be a fool to refuse.”

Roger Ryswell leaned forward, forearms planted heavily on the table. His eyes flicked to the nursing baby again before returning to Adian. “And the Starks? They hear whispers about extra barges and hidden cargoes moving through the Neck. What then? Eddard’s not blind, and the young wolves have sharp ears.”

Adian shrugged, completely unbothered. “They hear what we let them hear. Winter is coming. Their granaries are already running low—we all know it. We can move extra grain north cheaper and faster than anyone else. They get fed through the cold months, we get paid, and nobody needs to know the full cargo list on every skiff. Honor keeps them warm at night, but it doesn’t fill bellies.”

Wyman Manderly finally spoke up, his deep voice a low rumble that carried easily over the fire. He wiped grease from his fingers on his tunic. “You’re asking us to trust a Frey with half our hidden trade. That’s no small thing, lad. Freys have a reputation for… flexible loyalties.”

Adian met his gaze steadily. “I’m not asking, Lord Manderly. I’m offering. Your wool gets south faster and safer than it ever has. Your daughters get Myrish silk for their weddings instead of roughspun. Your purses get heavier every season. The only thing I want in return is quiet. No Bolton raids on my skiffs. No Stark questions about extra tolls or mysterious cargoes. Everyone wins. Everyone eats. Everyone gets rich.”

Barbrey looked slowly around the table, Walder still latched on tight, making steady wet sucking noises. Milk occasionally dripped from her exposed nipple onto the linen. “This child makes it blood,” she said, voice carrying clear authority. “Dustin blood mixed with Frey routes and coin. You want to keep bleeding for honor while your stores run empty and your children go hungry through winter? Or do you want to eat well, keep your halls warm, and build something that lasts?”

The room went quiet except for the wet, rhythmic nursing sounds from Walder and the steady crackle of the fire. For a long moment, no one spoke. The lords exchanged glances across the long oak table—some thoughtful, some wary, a few already counting coins in their heads.

Lord Wyman Manderly stroked his chins slowly, small eyes flicking once more to Barbrey’s openly nursing breast before settling on Adian. “You’ve built something here,” he rumbled at last. “Something real. I’ve seen the new docks, the barges, the skiffs hidden in the reeds. Not many men could turn a bog tower into a proper hub in two years.”

Harwood Dustin grinned openly now, raising his tankard. “My niece didn’t marry a weakling, that’s plain. Dustin blood and Frey routes. I like the sound of it. My men will ride with the new terms.”

Roger Ryswell uncrossed his arms, still looking like he’d bitten into something sour but nodding anyway. “Ten percent to Bolton to keep him quiet is a small price. My captains will spread the word along the Ryswell lands. Wool goes south clean. No questions asked. But if the Starks come sniffing…”

“They won’t get answers,” Barbrey said calmly. She stroked Walder’s back with slow circles while the baby continued suckling loudly. A thin drop of milk rolled down her exposed tit and disappeared into the folds of her gown. “We feed them grain through winter. They stay warm and fed. That’s all they need to know.”

One by one the lords gave short nods or low grunts of agreement. Garret, the scarred Ryswell captain, lifted his tankard. “To full bellies and heavier purses, then.” The others echoed the toast. Ale flowed again. The deal was done over tankards and the open, unashamed sight of the Frey-Dustin heir feeding at his mother’s tit while his parents laid out the future of the Neck’s trade.

That same afternoon a heavy barge tied up at the new stone piers.

Genna Lannister stepped off the deck with the confidence of a woman who had traveled half the realm and still expected the world to bend for her. She wore a deep wine-colored traveling cloak lined with fur, the hood thrown back so her golden hair caught the weak northern light. A small locked chest rested under one arm—thirty thousand dragons disguised as winter wheat payments from Casterly Rock. A sealed letter from Cersei lay tucked warm against the skin of her cleavage.

The journey up the Trident and through the Neck had been an education. Genna had watched the changes with sharp, appreciative eyes. What she remembered as little more than a damp ruin was now a thriving hub. New granite walls rose strong and straight. Fresh thatch gleamed on the roofs. Busy docks jutted into the water, stevedores shouting as they loaded barges with salted fish, peat bricks, and sealed crates. Black skiffs lurked low in the reeds like predators. Crannogmen watched silently from hidden platforms. The air smelled of smoke, tar, wet timber, and coin.

Not bad, river rat, she thought with a private smile. Not bad at all.

She found Adian and Barbrey in the solar. Barbrey was just finishing feeding Walder, the baby making soft contented noises against her breast. Adian sat nearby, going over the latest ledger numbers by the light of a narrow window. Genna didn’t waste time on pretty greetings. She crossed the room and dropped the heavy chest onto the table with a solid clink of gold.

“Thirty thousand dragons,” she announced, voice rich with satisfaction. “Disguised as winter wheat shipments from Casterly Rock, just like Cersei promised. She’s showing now—six months along. Looks fucking good on her, all round and glowing. The queen’s tits are getting heavier by the day too.” Genna’s eyes moved slowly and deliberately over Barbrey’s still-full breasts and the way her gown hung open. “And I can see you’ve been busy as well, Lady Frey. That boy looks strong. And those tits… still leaking like a proper broodmare, I see.”

Barbrey gave a short, tired but genuine laugh. She gently detached Walder from her nipple and handed him to a waiting maid who slipped out quietly. “Busy enough. The birth went clean. The boy’s healthy and loud. The North is finally starting to listen instead of just grumbling. You bring any news besides gold and compliments on my leaking tits?”

Genna pulled Cersei’s sealed letter free from inside her bodice and tossed it onto the table with a smirk. “She wrote it herself. Very explicit. Wants you both to know the stag is still completely useless in bed—can’t even get it up half the time—and she’s been fingering herself raw every night remembering exactly how Adian bred her while Robert snored two rooms away like the drunken boar he is.”

Adian stood up slowly, closed the ledger with a soft thud, and looked between the two women. The air in the solar changed instantly—thick, hot, charged.

“Lock the door,” he told Genna, voice low.

She turned the heavy iron key with a soft, final click. The sound seemed to echo.

The three of them moved to the wide bed without another word. Adian sat on the edge first, legs spread wide. Barbrey came forward and knelt between his thighs, her grey gown still hanging open, heavy tits swaying as she settled. Genna knelt right beside her a moment later, shoulder brushing Barbrey’s. Both women looked up at him, eyes already dark with heat and hunger.

Adian pulled Cersei’s letter from Genna’s hand and unfolded it. “Read it out loud,” he said, voice low and commanding. “While you two work.”

Barbrey leaned in first. She brushed her soft lips against the thick head of his cock, kissing it reverently, then took him into her mouth with a low, hungry hum. Her tongue slid slow and flat along the underside as she sucked him deeper, cheeks hollowing. Genna moved lower, licking a long, wet stripe up the shaft until her mouth met Barbrey’s at the head. They kissed sloppily around his cock, tongues sliding together over the sensitive head, spit already dripping down his length in shiny strands.

Adian started reading, keeping his voice steady at first. “My dear aunt… the stag grows more useless by the day. I wake up leaking his child every morning while he snores off last night’s wine…”

Barbrey took him deeper, throat working around his thickness with wet, eager sounds. Genna sucked one of his heavy balls into her mouth, moaning softly around it, tongue swirling. Their hands moved together—Barbrey stroking the thick base with firm twists, Genna cupping and rolling his sack gently. The wet, filthy sounds filled the solar: loud slurps, soft gagging glucks when Barbrey pushed him to the back of her throat, the wet pop when one of them pulled off for air. Thick strings of spit ran down their chins and dripped onto their tits, making the soft flesh glisten.

Adian’s voice grew rougher as he continued. “I finger myself every night remembering how you bred me while Robert pawed uselessly at my thigh…”

They switched smoothly. Genna took his cock down her throat in one smooth motion, nose pressing against his belly, throat fluttering around him. Barbrey licked along the side of the shaft, then dropped lower to suck on his balls, tongue bathing them thoroughly. The noises got louder—wet choking sounds from Genna, messy slurping from Barbrey, both women moaning around his cock and balls like they couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Adian grunted, free hand resting on Barbrey’s head. “Keep sucking just like that. Nice and sloppy for me.”

Barbrey pulled off his balls with a wet pop and looked up, lips shiny. “You like hearing how Cersei fingers her pregnant cunt thinking about you? While her useless husband snores beside her?”

Genna came up for air, gasping, a thick strand of spit connecting her lips to his cock. “She says she cums harder now just remembering your cock stretching her. Says her tits are getting so sensitive she can barely stand her own shift brushing them.”

Adian’s grip tightened in Barbrey’s hair. “Keep going. Both of you.”

They dove back in, mouths working together—kissing, licking, sucking, tongues sliding over every inch of his thick cock. Spit dripped freely onto their chins, necks, and heaving tits. Barbrey’s milk was still leaking, mixing with the mess and running down her body in warm, sticky trails.

Adian stood up, pulling Barbrey onto the bed first. He laid her on her back in the center, spreading her legs wide. He pushed into her cunt in one slow, deep stroke, groaning as her walls clenched around him.

Barbrey moaned loud, back arching off the furs. “Gods… still so full from earlier… fuck, you feel huge.”

Genna swung a leg over Barbrey’s face and lowered her wet pussy onto her mouth. “Eat me while he fucks you,” she breathed, grinding down slowly. “Let me feel that tongue.”

Adian started thrusting, hips slapping steadily against Barbrey’s ass. Her heavy tits bounced with every stroke, milk still leaking in thin white streams that ran down the soft curves and pooled on her belly. Genna ground her cunt against Barbrey’s eager tongue, moaning and pinching her own stiff nipples.

Barbrey’s tongue worked fast and hungry, licking broad stripes through Genna’s folds before sucking hard on her clit. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room—Adian’s cock pumping into Barbrey’s slick cunt, Genna’s moans, Barbrey’s muffled licks and slurps.

Genna came first. Her thighs shook hard, grinding down against Barbrey’s face with a choked cry. “Fuck—yes—right there—don’t stop licking—”

Adian kept fucking Barbrey through it, his thumb rubbing firm, relentless circles on her swollen clit while his other hand mauled one of her leaking tits. He squeezed hard, fingers sinking deep into the soft, heavy flesh, forcing fresh warm milk to spurt out in messy streams that ran down her ribs and soaked the furs. Barbrey came right after, her cunt squeezing tight around his thick cock in powerful, rhythmic pulses. She moaned loudly into Genna’s pussy, the sound vibrating through the other woman as her whole body shuddered and fresh slick gushed out around Adian’s shaft.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” Adian growled, hips snapping forward. “Milk my cock with that greedy cunt while you’re still dripping everywhere.”

Genna was grinding down harder on Barbrey’s face, riding her tongue with wet, needy rolls of her hips. “She’s so good at this… tongue so deep—gods, I’m going to soak her face.”

Adian buried himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan and pumped his first thick load into Barbrey. Heavy spurts of hot cum flooded her cunt as he ground slow and hard against her, filling her completely. Barbrey whimpered into Genna’s pussy, her walls fluttering and milking every drop while milk continued to leak from her tits in warm rivulets.

Genna was still panting, thighs trembling, when Adian pulled out of Barbrey with a wet, obscene sound. Cum immediately leaked from her well-fucked cunt onto the furs. He grabbed Genna by the hips and bent her over the edge of the bed, ass up, her full cheeks spread and presented.

He slammed into her from behind in one hard, deep thrust. Genna cried out sharply, her cunt stretching around his thickness. Her full ass rippled and jiggled with every powerful impact, loud wet slaps echoing through the solar as his hips met her soft flesh.

Barbrey knelt beside them on the floor, still breathing hard. She leaned in and caught one of Genna’s swinging tits in her mouth, sucking hard on the stiff nipple while her hand squeezed the other heavy mound. “She’s so fucking wet,” Barbrey murmured, voice muffled against the soft, jiggling flesh. “Listen to how sloppy her cunt is taking you. You like getting fucked like this while I watch and suck on these fat tits?”

“Gods yes,” Genna gasped, pushing back against Adian’s thrusts. “Harder—fuck me harder, Adian. Pound that cunt. I want to feel it for days.”

Adian gave it to her, hips snapping fast and brutal. One hand gripped her hip tightly while the other mauled her ass, fingers digging deep into the soft, yielding flesh so it bulged between them. The wet slapping sounds grew louder, mixed with Genna’s broken moans and the lewd squelch of his cock driving into her soaked pussy.

Genna came the first time with a sharp, surprised cry, her cunt clamping down hard around him, thighs shaking. “Fuck—I’m cumming—don’t stop—”

Adian didn’t slow. He kept pounding her through it until she came again right after, legs nearly giving out, a second, stronger orgasm ripping through her as she moaned loud and filthy. “Yes—again—filling me so deep—”

Adian pulled out at the last second, cock glistening with her juices. Barbrey was right there, mouth open and eager. He fed his second thick load straight onto her tongue. Barbrey swallowed every drop greedily, licking her lips afterward with a satisfied hum, a few stray ropes of cum dripping down her chin onto her still-leaking tits.

Adian sat in the heavy wooden chair by the fire, legs spread. Barbrey straddled him reverse, facing away. She reached between her legs, guided his slick cock to her entrance, and sank down onto him with a long, throaty moan. Her ass bounced as she started riding, taking him deep on every drop.

Her heavy tits swayed and bounced wildly with the motion, milk still leaking steadily and dripping onto his thighs in warm drops. The wet sounds were obscene—her soaked cunt sliding up and down his thick shaft, her ass slapping against his lap with every bounce.

Genna knelt between their spread legs, leaning in close. Her tongue slid over Barbrey’s clit and along Adian’s shaft every time Barbrey lifted up, licking and sucking wherever she could reach. The filthy, wet noises filled the room as she worked them both.

“Ride it,” Adian growled, his hands gripping Barbrey’s hips tightly, fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pulled her down harder. “Bounce that fat ass on my cock. Show me how much you need it.”

Barbrey slammed down faster, moaning loudly. “It’s so deep like this… hitting everything. Fuck—your cock feels even bigger after you just filled me.”

Genna licked faster, tongue flicking Barbrey’s clit while she watched the thick shaft disappear into her cunt. “You’re dripping down his balls,” she murmured hotly. “So messy and wet. Look at these tits bouncing and leaking everywhere.”

Barbrey came hard, cunt squeezing tight around him as her body shuddered. Milk sprayed from her nipples with the force of it, splattering onto Adian’s thighs and the floor. She kept bouncing through her orgasm, ass rippling, moaning brokenly.

Adian groaned deep in his chest and filled her again, pumping thick ropes of cum deep inside Barbrey while Genna licked up everything that leaked out around his shaft, moaning softly at the taste. He stayed buried for a long moment, grinding slow circles, making sure every drop stayed inside her before finally pulling out with a wet, filthy sound. Cum immediately began to trickle from Barbrey’s well-used cunt, running down her thighs in creamy white trails.

They moved back to the bed. Genna lay on her back in the center, breathing hard, legs already spreading. Adian hooked her thighs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half, and pushed back into her soaked cunt in one smooth, deep thrust. Genna moaned loudly, back arching off the furs as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you’re still so hard,” she gasped, eyes half-lidded. “Keep going—stretch me open.”

Adian started fucking her deep and steady, hips rolling with powerful, controlled strokes that made her full tits bounce heavily on her chest. Barbrey swung a leg over Genna’s face and lowered her dripping cunt onto her mouth, grinding slowly at first.

“Eat her good,” Adian said, thrusting harder, the wet slap of his hips against Genna’s ass growing louder. “Tongue deep in that messy cunt while I pound you.”

Genna’s tongue pushed inside Barbrey immediately, licking and sucking eagerly through the mix of Barbrey’s juices and Adian’s cum. Barbrey moaned, grinding down harder, her heavy tits swaying above Genna’s face as milk continued to leak in thin streams. The room filled with obscene sounds—Adian’s cock slamming into Genna’s soaked pussy, Genna’s muffled moans vibrating into Barbrey, and the wet squelch of tongues and flesh.

Both women came together. Genna cried out into Barbrey’s cunt, her walls clamping down hard around Adian’s cock as her thighs shook violently. Barbrey shuddered and ground down, moaning loud and broken as her own orgasm ripped through her, fresh slick flooding Genna’s mouth. Adian kept thrusting through it all, hips snapping harder, until he flooded Genna with another thick load. Hot cum pumped deep into her, leaking out around his shaft as he slowly pulled free, leaving her cunt gaping and messy.

Barbrey got on all fours on the bed, ass up, back arched. Adian moved behind her and pushed back into her cunt with a deep groan. He fucked her hard, one hand reaching underneath to maul her heavy, leaking tits. He squeezed and tugged roughly, sending fresh milk dripping onto the sheets with every powerful thrust. Genna lay underneath them on her back, head between Barbrey’s thighs, licking Barbrey’s swollen clit and sucking Adian’s balls every time he pulled back.

“Gods, look at you two,” Genna moaned between licks, voice thick. “Her cunt is creaming all over your cock. So fucking sloppy and perfect.”

Barbrey’s arms started shaking. “Harder—fuck me harder, Adian. I can feel you so deep.” She pushed back against him desperately, ass rippling with every impact.

Adian slammed into her faster, mauling her tit until milk sprayed in thin arcs. Barbrey came so hard her arms gave out. She collapsed forward onto the furs, moaning loudly into the bedding while Adian kept fucking her through the orgasm, hips never slowing. He finally pulled out, stroking his cock furiously, and came across both their faces—thick ropes of cum painting Barbrey’s tongue and lips, then Genna’s as she leaned in eagerly. Heavy strands landed on their tits and chins. Barbrey and Genna turned to each other, licking each other clean with soft, hungry moans, tongues sliding over cum-smeared skin and leaking nipples.

They finished on the bed again. Both women got on their knees side by side, asses up high, faces pressed to the furs. Adian took turns—thrusting deep into Barbrey’s cunt first, then switching to Genna’s, slapping their full asses as he went. Their asses rippled and jiggled beautifully with every hard thrust, red handprints starting to show on the soft flesh.

“Fuck—your cunts feel so good,” Adian groaned, switching again, slamming deep into Genna. “So wet and greedy, both of you still dripping my cum.”

Barbrey moaned into the furs, pushing back hard. “Don’t stop—keep using us. Fill us up again.”

Genna gasped, ass bouncing back against him. “Yes—switch between us. Fuck, I love feeling how hard you are after you just came inside her.”

Both women were moaning nonstop, bodies rocking forward with every powerful thrust. Barbrey came first, pushing back hard, her cunt clenching and fluttering around him as she cried out. Genna followed right after, cunt squeezing tight, legs trembling. Adian finally couldn’t hold back. He slammed deep into Genna and pumped a heavy load into her, groaning as thick spurts flooded her. Then he pulled out and finished the last thick spurts into Barbrey, filling her again. Cum leaked from both of them in messy white trails down their thighs, dripping onto the ruined furs.

They collapsed together on the bed—sweaty, breathing hard, bodies sticky with milk, cum, and spit. Barbrey laughed breathlessly, leaning over to lick a stray drop of cum from Genna’s cheek.

“Cersei’s going to love hearing about this,” she said, voice hoarse and satisfied.

Genna grinned, still panting, one hand lazily cupping her own leaking, cum-filled cunt. Thick white strands of Adian’s seed oozed slowly between her fingers as she idly rubbed it into her swollen folds, savoring the warm, sticky mess. “I’ll write her every filthy detail,” she said, voice hoarse and satisfied. “How Barbrey’s tits were spraying milk while you fucked her. How I came so hard on her face I nearly drowned her. How you switched between our cunts like we were made for it. Cersei’s going to be fingering herself raw for weeks reading it. She’ll be soaked through her gowns just thinking about it.”

Barbrey laughed breathlessly beside her, still on her back with her legs slightly spread. Cum leaked steadily from her own well-fucked cunt, mixing with the milk that continued to drip from her heavy tits onto the ruined sheets. “Good. Let her remember who keeps her secret husband hard and ready. Tell her the northern lioness is doing her part—keeping this cock busy and happy while she sits on that iron chair.”

Adian lay between them for a while, one arm draped lazily over Barbrey’s waist, the other hand idly stroking Genna’s thigh. The room smelled strongly of sex—sweat, milk, cum, and the faint musk of three spent bodies. None of them moved to clean up right away. They simply breathed together, enjoying the heavy, sated silence.

Later that night, after they had finally dragged themselves up, washed with warm water from the basin, and changed the ruined linens, Walder woke again demanding food. Barbrey settled into the big chair by the hearth, gown open, and let him nurse while Adian poured them all cups of watered wine. The baby suckled noisily, tiny fists kneading her breast, milk occasionally dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Genna watched with a soft, almost fond smirk, one hand still absently resting on her own belly as if imagining what it might feel like.

They were just settling into a comfortable quiet when a raven tapped sharply at the solar window.

Adian rose without hurry, crossed the room, and took the small scroll. He broke the seal, unrolled the coded message, and read it twice in complete silence. His face remained calm and unreadable, but something subtle shifted behind his eyes—a quiet calculation, a decision locking into place. He folded the parchment carefully and tucked it away inside his tunic.

Only then did he call both women back over.

Barbrey had just handed the now-sleeping Walder to the waiting maid. She returned and sat on the edge of the heavy oak table, one leg swinging lazily. Genna leaned against the back of a chair, arms crossed under her tits, still flushed from earlier.

Adian looked at them both for a moment before speaking.

“I’ll be leaving for a while,” he said simply. “Trade business across the Narrow Sea. Two months, maybe a little longer. You two keep everything running here—the routes, the tolls, the North, the new deals we just made with the lords. All of it. No mistakes while I’m gone.”

Barbrey’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying his face with that sharp, knowing look she had perfected. She rested a hand on her stomach out of long habit, even though it was flat again. “Trade business,” she repeated, tone even but probing. “You’ve been handling most of that through ravens and factors for years. Why go yourself now?”

Genna tilted her head, curious but careful, her golden hair catching the firelight. “Something more important than just silks and dreamwine? Or are you finally tired of us wearing you out every night?” She smiled, but her eyes stayed sharp, watching him closely.

Adian met their gazes evenly, giving nothing away. “Two months. That’s all. Keep the North steady, keep the skiffs moving, keep the coin flowing. Walder needs his mother strong. The routes need both of you watching them. I’ll be back before the worst of winter sets in.”

The air in the solar grew heavier with unspoken questions. Barbrey’s fingers tightened briefly on the table’s edge. Genna’s arms remained crossed, but her knuckles whitened for a moment on her own arms. They both sensed there was far more to it—something bigger, something he wasn’t ready to share yet. But neither woman pressed him. They knew Adian well enough by now. Some things he carried alone until he decided the time was right.

“Two months,” Barbrey repeated quietly, her voice steady and warm. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm, squeezing once. “We’ll be here when you get back. Stronger than when you left. The routes will be smoother, the North quieter, and Walder will be even bigger and louder. Just… come back in one piece. We’ve got plans that need you breathing.”

Genna smiled, slow and knowing, though her eyes stayed sharp with that Lannister edge. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, river rat. We still have plenty of use for you. Cersei would be furious if you left her waiting with a swollen belly and no one to fill it again when the time comes. And I’d be very annoyed too. Extremely annoyed.” She stepped closer, trailing her fingers lightly down his chest. “Try not to forget how good we feel while you’re gone.”

Adian nodded once. That was enough.

He stood there for a moment longer, letting the weight of the decision settle. Barbrey watched him with that steady, unblinking Northern gaze, her hand still resting on his arm. Genna’s smile lingered, but her eyes were sharp, reading him like one of her brother’s ledgers.

Barbrey spoke first, voice low. “You’re really leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Adian said. “The skiff’s already loaded. Tide’s right before dawn.”

Genna stepped closer, trailing her fingers down his chest one last time. “Two months is a long time to go without this,” she murmured, pressing her body against his side. “Make sure you remember how we taste. How Barbrey’s milk feels on your tongue. How tight we both get when you fill us.”

Barbrey gave a soft laugh, leaning in to kiss the corner of his jaw. “Don’t forget us while you’re playing merchant across the sea. Walder will be crawling by the time you’re back. And I’ll still be leaking if you take too long.”

Adian pulled them both close for a moment, one arm around each woman, breathing in the mixed scent of sex, milk, and their skin. “I won’t forget,” he said simply. Then he kissed Barbrey slow and deep, then Genna just as thoroughly, before stepping back. “Keep the tower strong. Keep the coin moving.”

They let him go.

Later that night, after the women had gone to bed, Adian sat alone in the solar with the raven’s message. He broke the seal and read the coded report slowly, letting every line sink in.

The household in Braavos was secure. Rhaella kept the children to a strict but gentle routine. Lessons every morning with the tutor—High Valyrian, sums, history without the Targaryen gloss. She turned painful memories into careful stories instead of nightmares. Viserys, twelve now, was growing sharper and angrier by the month. He practiced sword forms in the small courtyard every day, swinging a wooden blade with furious determination even though he was still small. He spoke constantly of dragons returning and thrones that were his by right, voice cracking with youth and pride. Rhaenys was the bright one—curious about everything. She named the gulls that wheeled over the canal and built little castles out of pebbles and shells, pretending they were the towers of Old Valyria. She asked too many questions but listened when told to be quiet. The little one, Daenerys, was walking everywhere now. She toddled after her brother and sister on chubby legs, laughing wildly when they chased her around the lemon tree in the courtyard. Healthy. Loud. Already full of fire.

Adian read the report twice, then burned it in the hearth. He sat for a long time watching the ashes, thinking.

The night before he sailed, Adian stood alone on the deck of one of the black-painted smuggling skiffs. The Narrow Sea stretched out east, black water glittering coldly under the moon. Salt wind tugged at his cloak and whipped his dark hair across his face. Behind him the lights of Greywater View flickered low and steady—his tower rising solid against the night sky, the new docks quiet except for the gentle lap of water against hulls and the faint glow from the watchfires along the walls.

He thought about the day’s events. About Walder sleeping upstairs, small and fierce, already nursing like he owned the world. About Barbrey’s heavy tits still leaking warm milk when she fed him earlier that evening, the way she had moaned when Adian sucked them dry right after. About Genna’s throaty laugh and the filthy way she had swallowed every drop when he’d finished in her mouth during their long evening together. He remembered Barbrey on her back, legs spread wide, tits bouncing and spraying milk while he fucked her deep. Genna riding her face, grinding down with desperate moans. The way both women had knelt side by side, asses up, begging him to switch between their dripping cunts. The wet slaps of flesh, the obscene sounds of his cock plunging into one then the other, the way their full asses rippled when he slapped them. How they had licked each other clean afterward, moaning softly, covered in his cum and each other’s milk.

He thought about Cersei’s belly growing round and heavy back in King’s Landing, carrying his child right under Robert’s drunken nose. The way she would read Genna’s letter tonight and finger herself raw remembering everything.

And he thought about the three silver-haired children waiting in a quiet house on a Braavosi canal. Rhaella keeping them safe with strict routines and gentle stories. Viserys practicing sword forms with furious little swings. Rhaenys building pebble castles and naming gulls. Daenerys toddling after them, laughing with pure fire in her blood.

He didn’t smile. He just looked east across the dark water, feeling the long game turn another slow, deliberate notch.

***

In King’s Landing the royal bedchamber reeked of sour wine, old sweat, and the faint, stale stink of the king’s last whore. The air was thick and heavy, the kind that clung to the back of your throat. Robert Baratheon lay sprawled on his back like a beached whale, snoring loud enough to rattle the tapestries on the walls. His thick chest rose and fell in heavy, rumbling breaths. His mouth hung wide open, a thin line of drool trailing down into his beard. One meaty hand still loosely gripped Cersei’s thigh even in sleep, fingers twitching occasionally like he was dreaming of holding down some serving girl. His cock lay soft and useless against his hairy belly, shriveled and red, never even close to getting hard.

Cersei lay beside him, six months pregnant now. Her belly was a smooth, heavy swell under the thin silk sheet, round and firm, the skin stretched tight. Her tits had grown noticeably fuller and heavier, the pale flesh swollen and sensitive, nipples darker and larger than before. She let Robert’s hand stay where it was, the weight of it almost comforting in its uselessness. With her own hand she reached between her thighs, fingers sliding through the slick, eager heat already waiting there.

She closed her eyes and remembered Adian—thick, hard, relentless. The way he had fucked her right here in this very bed while Robert snored two rooms away. The way he had pinned her down and filled her until his cum leaked down her thighs for days afterward, warm and sticky every time she moved. Her fingers moved faster, circling her swollen clit with firm pressure before dipping inside, two fingers pushing deep.

A soft knock sounded at the side door. Cersei didn’t stop. A trusted Lannister courier slipped inside, bowed low without looking directly at her, and held out a sealed letter.

“From Lady Genna, Your Grace. Delivered this afternoon by fast rider.”

Cersei took it without stopping what her fingers were doing. She cracked the seal with her teeth, unfolded the parchment, and began reading by the light of a single candle while her other hand kept working between her legs—slow, steady strokes that made wet little sounds under the sheet.

Genna’s words were blunt and filthy, written in her elegant hand but with no restraint:

The boy was born healthy. They named him Walder. Barbrey looked like a proper broodmare on the birthing bed, tits already leaking everywhere, screaming and cursing through every push. Two weeks later she sat through a full council meeting with the babe nursing openly at her tit while we talked tolls and smuggling routes. The Northern lords couldn’t stop staring at her fat, dripping tits and the way the baby sucked so greedily. Adian fucked her right after the birth—sucked her milk straight from those heavy udders while he pumped her full again, slow and deep, making her leak even more.

Cersei’s breath hitched. Her fingers moved quicker, sliding in and out of her soaked cunt, thumb rubbing tight, fast circles on her swollen clit. The silk sheet shifted with the motion of her hand. She kept reading, lips parted.

Then I arrived. Dropped thirty thousand dragons on the table and told them how good you look round with his child. The air got thick in seconds. He made me lock the door. We spent the whole evening on him—six different ways, no mercy. I rode his face while Barbrey bounced on his thick cock, her tits spraying milk everywhere. He bent me over the edge of the bed and fucked me stupid from behind while she sucked on my swinging tits and told me how wet my cunt sounded taking him. Then both of us on our knees like good whores, mouths working his cock together while he read your letter out loud. Spit and milk everywhere. He came in me twice and in her twice more. We were dripping—milk running down our tits, cum leaking down our thighs, spit all over our chins. Barbrey’s still leaking like a good cow even days later. She says the northern lioness is doing her part—keeping his cock happy and busy while you sit pretty on the Iron Throne.

Cersei’s hips jerked hard. She bit her lip to stay quiet as the first orgasm hit—sharp, hot, rolling through her in powerful waves. Her cunt clenched tight around her fingers, fresh slick gushing out and soaking her hand and the sheets. Robert snored on beside her, completely oblivious, his hand still heavy on her thigh.

She didn’t stop. Her fingers kept moving through the aftershocks, slower now but still hungry. She read the letter again, slower this time, savoring every filthy word. Her free hand moved up to cup one heavy, sensitive breast, pinching the dark nipple until a thin bead of early milk appeared. The sensation sent another spark straight to her clit.

When the second, slower wave built and crashed over her, Cersei let out a shaky breath and smiled—cold, satisfied, triumphant. One hand rested possessively on the swell of her belly where Adian’s child grew strong and secret, hidden right under Robert’s drunken nose.

“Good,” she whispered into the dark room, voice low and venomous with pleasure. “Keep him busy up there, aunt. Keep that northern whore dripping and leaking for him. Ride his cock until he forgets everything but filling cunts. I’ll keep him rich down here. I’ll keep feeding him gold and power until he can’t live without either of us.”

She folded Genna’s letter carefully, kissed the parchment once like a lover, and tucked it away with the growing stack of others in the hidden compartment of her bedside chest. Then she wiped her slick fingers on the edge of the silk sheet, not caring if it stained.

Robert grunted in his sleep and rolled over, still clutching clumsily at her thigh like it belonged to him.

Cersei closed her eyes again, fingers drifting back between her legs for another slow, luxurious round. She pictured Adian’s thick cock stretching Barbrey open while milk sprayed from those heavy tits. She pictured Genna on her knees, choking on him. She pictured herself next—rounder, heavier, riding him right here while Robert snored uselessly beside them.

The game was still hers.