A Life in Westeros Ch.14 [Game of Thrones] (Patreon)

A Life in Westeros

Chapter 14

Doc- https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WU7NdWT7nIcCDaxw-mU_r6iYXGoAYDB_nt6mk0GV-M4/edit?usp=sharing . Also, the Word, PDF, and EPUB files are attached below. Thank you for the Support!

Two to three weeks had passed since Adian first stepped through the plain wooden door of the manse tucked along the narrow side canal in Braavos. The initial days of careful settling had given way to something that almost resembled a routine, though nothing in this city of masks and secrets ever stayed truly quiet for long. Mornings often began with the faint slap of wooden swords in the courtyard under the lemon tree, the air thick with the sharp scent of citrus leaves and the briny tang drifting in from the canals. Afternoons brought ledgers spread across the small solar table, Rhaella’s careful handwriting filling pages as she cross-checked the latest reports from factors. Evenings were quieter—simple meals of roasted fish and bread, the children’s chatter filling the modest rooms while Lira moved about with practiced efficiency.

The household had found its rhythm, but beneath it ran a steady undercurrent of vigilance. Adian noticed it in the way the servants glanced toward the canal more often, in the extra locks on the secondary storeroom door, in the way Rhaella sometimes paused mid-sentence when a boatman’s call echoed too close outside. He carried it in the faint, persistent ache in his left shoulder from the pirate fight weeks earlier—the wound had healed enough to let him move freely again, but it still tugged when he raised his arm too high or twisted suddenly. He favored his right side without thinking about it anymore.

The children had changed in those weeks too. Viserys, at eight, had grown taller and leaner from the daily drills, his silver hair often tangled from running in the courtyard. Rhaenys, six and bright-eyed, spent more time gathering herbs from the small garden patch near the fountain, her small fingers stained green as she learned which leaves helped with cuts and which simply smelled sweet. Daenerys, not quite two but already walking with determined, wobbly steps, had become a constant shadow—toddling after Adian whenever he was in sight, her chubby hands reaching up with sticky palms that smelled of whatever fruit or bread she had been eating.

On this particular afternoon, the sun hung low enough to cast long shadows across the stone flags of the courtyard. The lemon tree’s leaves rustled softly in the sea breeze, and the distant sound of a boatman’s pole splashing through canal water mixed with the clack of wooden practice swords. Adian stood in the center of the open space, wooden rod in his right hand, watching Viserys reset his stance for the tenth time that hour. The boy’s silver hair clung to his forehead in damp strands, sweat darkening the collar of his simple tunic. His violet eyes burned with the same restless fire Adian had seen growing steadily over the past weeks.

Viserys lunged forward with a wide, overhead swing, putting too much weight into it. The wooden blade whistled through the air. Adian stepped aside easily, letting the boy’s momentum carry him forward. He caught the descending sword on his own rod with a solid crack of wood on wood, then slid in close, using Viserys’s forward rush against him. The boy stumbled, boots scuffing on the stone, and nearly went to one knee before catching himself.

Adian tapped the tip of his rod lightly against Viserys’s ribs—once, twice—gentle but unmistakable. “Again. Slower this time. Control it.”

Viserys straightened, breathing hard, chest heaving. His face twisted in frustration. “I am the blood of the dragon,” he spat, the words coming out sharp and loud in the quiet courtyard. “Why are we still hiding like rats in this canal shit-hole? Father would never have hidden. He would have taken what was his.”

Adian kept his expression even, though he felt the familiar weight of the boy’s words settle in his chest. He had heard variations of this before—every few days now, the frustration bubbling up during drills. Viserys wanted glory, fire, the songs he half-remembered from stories Lira sometimes told. Adian understood the hunger; he had seen too many men die chasing it. But understanding did not mean indulging it.

“Because rats live longer than dragons who breathe fire at everything that moves,” Adian said calmly, lowering his rod. “Your father is gone. Rhaegar is gone. The ones who charged without looking ended up as ash or worse. Again. Feet shoulder-width. Weight balanced. Don’t lean into the swing like you’re trying to knock down a wall.”

Viserys glared, but he reset his stance—feet planted, knees slightly bent, wooden sword held with both hands the way Adian had shown him. They went again. This time the swing was tighter, more controlled, but still carried too much anger. Adian parried it aside, stepped in, and tapped the boy’s shoulder.

“Better,” he said. “But you’re still swinging with your shoulders instead of your hips. The power comes from here.” He tapped his own midsection lightly. “Turn your body with the cut. Let the sword follow. Again.”

They drilled for another half hour. The courtyard filled with the steady rhythm of clacking wood, scuffing boots, and Viserys’s increasingly labored breathing. Sweat ran down the boy’s temples and soaked the back of his tunic. Adian corrected him gently each time—adjusting his grip, nudging his elbow higher, reminding him to breathe out on the strike. Twice Viserys managed clean hits on Adian’s rod, the impacts sharp and satisfying. Progress, small but real. Adian noted it without praise; the boy needed discipline more than compliments right now.

When they finally stopped, Viserys wiped his face with the back of his arm, leaving a streak of dirt across his cheek. His shoulders slumped, but the fire in his eyes had not dimmed. He muttered under his breath, voice low but clear enough to carry, “When do we stop pretending? When do we stop acting like we belong in this… this hiding place?”

Adian rested the tip of his rod on the stone and looked at the boy steadily. “When pretending keeps you alive long enough to matter. When it gives you time to grow strong enough that your fire actually burns something worth burning. Patience wins more wars than rage ever did. Remember that the next time you want to charge at shadows.”

Viserys opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it. He turned and stalked toward the fountain at the edge of the courtyard, shoulders stiff. Adian watched him go without calling him back. The boy needed space to sulk; pushing harder now would only make the anger fester.

Nearby on the low stone bench beneath the lemon tree, Rhaenys sat with her legs swinging, a small bundle of fresh-picked herbs resting in the lap of her simple blue dress. The leaves gave off a sharp, clean scent—mint and something earthier—that mixed with the citrus from the tree above. She had been watching the entire session with her usual wide-eyed curiosity, small hands folded neatly over the bundle. Her silver-gold hair was tied back with a simple ribbon, and her face still held the softness of childhood, though her eyes were far too knowing for six.

“He’s getting stronger,” she said softly when Viserys disappeared around the corner of the house. Her voice was quiet, thoughtful. “His swings are faster now. But he’s angry all the time. Even when he’s not training. He gets cross at Lira when she tells him to wash his hands, and he mutters about thrones at night when he thinks I’m asleep.”

Adian walked over and sat on the bench beside her, the wood warm from the sun. He ruffled her hair lightly, careful not to dislodge the ribbon. “He’s eight and thinks the world owes him a throne. Anger’s easier than waiting. We’ll work on it. You’re doing good keeping an eye on him.”

Rhaenys leaned into the touch for a moment, then held up one of the herbs. “This one’s good for swelling. Lira showed me. If he gets a bruise from training, I can make a poultice.” She hesitated, then added in a smaller voice, “Do you think he’ll ever stop being so angry?”

Adian considered the question. The honest answer was complicated—Viserys carried the weight of a lost crown and dead parents, and no amount of drills would erase that overnight. But the girl deserved something real. “Maybe not all the way. But he’ll learn to point it somewhere useful instead of just swinging at everything. You help with that by staying calm when he’s not.”

She nodded, seeming satisfied, and went back to sorting her herbs.

A small, determined patter of footsteps drew Adian’s attention. Daenerys had toddled into the courtyard from the side door, her chubby legs working hard on the uneven stone. She wore a simple shift that was already smudged with dirt and what looked like berry juice around the hem. Her silver-gold hair was a wild halo around her head, and her violet eyes locked onto Adian the moment she spotted him. A wide, gap-toothed grin spread across her face.

“Sea man! Up! Up up!” she demanded, arms stretched high as she wobbled closer. Her voice was high and bright, mixing broken Common with a few Valyrian words she had picked up from Lira and Rhaella—“up” and “sea” and something that sounded like “big man.”

Adian smiled faintly despite himself and bent down, ignoring the faint pull in his left shoulder. He scooped her up onto his good arm in one smooth motion. She was heavier than she looked—solid and warm, with the faint smell of milk and whatever she had been eating clinging to her skin. The moment she settled against his side, her sticky little hands came up and patted his cheek, leaving faint smudges.

“Big man,” she declared happily, patting again. “Sea man funny. Up high!” She giggled, a bubbling sound that echoed off the courtyard walls, and kicked her legs a little. One hand grabbed at the leather cord around his neck, tugging curiously.

Adian shifted her weight to keep her balanced, mindful of the old wound. “You’re getting too big for this soon,” he said, though there was no real complaint in his voice. Daenerys had grown attached over the weeks—following him from room to room, demanding to be carried whenever she saw him, babbling nonstop in her mix of languages. It was a small, uncomplicated thing in a life full of calculations and long games. He let her pat his face again, her fingers leaving sticky trails, and listened to her happy stream of half-words.

“Sea man stay? Play? Up up up!”

“Stay a while longer,” he answered quietly, more to himself than to her. “We’ll see about the playing.”

Daenerys babbled something that might have been agreement and rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, content. The courtyard felt almost peaceful—the rustle of lemon leaves, the distant canal sounds, the faint herbal scent from Rhaenys’s bundle, and the warm weight of the toddler in his arm.

Rhaella appeared in the doorway that led back into the house. She had changed in these weeks, just as the children had. The constant tension of exile had eased enough for her to stand straighter, to move with a quiet confidence that had not been there when Adian first arrived. Her silver-gold hair was braided loosely today, the plait falling over one shoulder and catching the afternoon light. Her simple gown—deep green linen that had seen better days—clung gently to her fuller figure, the curves of motherhood still evident in the soft swell of her hips and the way the fabric draped over her breasts. She carried a small ledger under one arm, its leather cover worn from use.

She paused there for a moment, violet eyes taking in the scene: Adian with Daenerys on his arm, Rhaenys sorting herbs on the bench, the faint sounds of Viserys splashing water at the fountain around the corner. A soft expression crossed her face—something warm and private, there and gone in a breath. Then she stepped into the courtyard, the soles of her shoes quiet on the stone.

“I finished checking the latest numbers you gave me,” she said, her voice low and steady as she came closer. Her gaze lingered on Adian and Daenerys for a moment longer than necessary, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “The trade routes through the Neck are bringing in more than we expected this month. Barbrey’s doing good work up there—steady shipments, fair dealings with the lords. The coin is flowing smoother than it has in years.”

Adian nodded, shifting Daenerys slightly so she could see Rhaella. The toddler immediately reached one sticky hand toward her mother. “She’s sharp,” he said. “Keeps the lords fed and paid. That’s what keeps them quiet and useful.”

Rhaella’s free hand brushed his arm briefly as she stopped beside him—a light, private touch, fingers warm against his sleeve. It was small, but it carried the weight of the weeks they had shared: quiet conversations over ledgers, shared glances when the children weren’t looking, the growing ease between them. “Come inside when you’re ready,” she said, her voice dropping a little lower. “I’ll have Lira take the children for a while. We can go over the rest of the numbers without little hands trying to help.”

Adian met her eyes and gave a short nod. “I’ll be there soon.”

Rhaella’s fingers lingered on his arm for another heartbeat before she stepped back. She reached out and gently took Daenerys from him, the toddler protesting with a half-hearted “Up up!” before settling against her mother’s hip with a contented sigh. Rhaenys gathered her herbs and followed, casting one last curious look over her shoulder.

Adian stood alone in the courtyard for a moment after they disappeared inside, the lemon tree’s shadow stretching across the stone. The ache in his shoulder had faded to a dull throb, but the warmth of Daenerys’s small body still lingered on his arm. He rolled his shoulder once, testing it, then turned toward the house. The routine was holding—for now. But routines in Braavos always had a way of breaking when you least expected it.

He took one last look at the fountain where Viserys’s splashing had quieted, then followed the others inside, the faint scent of herbs and citrus trailing after him.

***

Later that afternoon, one of Adian’s Braavosi factors arrived at the side entrance. The man was lean, his face half-hidden behind a simple dark mask that covered his nose and mouth, the kind favored by those who moved through Braavos’s shadowed alleys without wanting to be remembered. He slipped inside quietly, the heavy wooden door closing with a soft click behind him. The hallway was dim, lit only by a narrow slit of sunlight from a high window, dust motes dancing in the beam. The factor kept his voice low, barely above a whisper, as if the walls themselves might be listening.

“Whispers have reached Pentos,” he reported, eyes flicking toward the inner courtyard. “Someone is asking pointed questions about silver-haired children near the canals. Early Illyrio connections, most likely—merchants with fat purses and loose tongues. Nothing direct yet, but the questions are getting sharper. They want names, descriptions, routines. The Iron Bank is also sniffing around your Neck routes—nothing loud yet, but they smell steady profit and want to know exactly who controls the flow of grain, wool, and the black skiffs. Their factors are making quiet inquiries in the trading houses.”

Adian’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping along the line of it. He stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, listening without interrupting. The faint ache in his left shoulder from the pirate fight weeks earlier reminded him of how quickly things could turn. “And the servant?” he asked, voice flat and controlled.

“One of the kitchen girls was offered coin for information,” the factor continued. “A few silver pieces and promises of more if she talked about the household, the children, any unusual visitors. She came to Lira right away—smart girl, loyal. We moved her to the secondary safe cache across the canal this morning and strengthened the watches around the manse. Extra eyes on the rooftops and the water gate. No one gets close without us knowing.”

“Good,” Adian said, nodding once. “Keep it quiet. Pay her extra for the trouble and make sure her family is looked after. I’ll meet your contact tonight for better protection arrangements. Masked, neutral ground. The usual place near the Purple Harbor.”

The factor bowed slightly, the movement precise and practiced. “As you say. I’ll send word if anything else stirs.” He slipped out as quietly as he had come, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving the hallway empty except for the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the canal sounds outside.

Adian stood there for a moment, jaw still tight, mind turning over the new threads of danger. Pentos meant Illyrio, which meant bigger players starting to circle. The Iron Bank was expected—they always smelled coin—but the timing was inconvenient. He rolled his left shoulder slowly, testing the old wound. It pulled but held. He had dealt with worse.

***

He found Rhaella in the small solar, the room warm with afternoon light filtering through the shuttered window. She sat at the heavy wooden table, the ledger open in front of her, quill in hand as she made careful notes in her neat script. Her silver-gold hair was braided loosely today, a few strands escaping to frame her face. The simple gown she wore clung to her fuller figure—the soft swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips shaped by motherhood—making the fabric shift with every small movement. She looked up the moment he entered, violet eyes reading his face immediately, the way she had learned to do over these weeks.

“More trouble?” she asked, setting the quill down. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of concern in the way her fingers tightened briefly on the edge of the table.

“Nothing we can’t handle yet,” Adian said, closing the heavy door behind him with a solid thud. The latch clicked into place, giving them a small bubble of privacy. “But we need to be careful. Whispers are spreading. We tighten the watches and move smart.”

She set the ledger aside, pushing it to the corner of the table, and crossed the room without hesitation. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, palms warm through his tunic. She could feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingers. “You’ve carried enough alone these weeks,” she said, her voice dropping to that low, needy edge he was starting to recognize so well. “Let me help carry some of it tonight.”

Adian slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, bodies pressing together. She melted against him instantly, soft curves molding to his frame. Her lips found his in a deep kiss that quickly grew hungry, tongues sliding together, breaths mingling. Rhaella made a small, desperate sound in the back of her throat, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as if she could pull him even closer.

The kiss broke only when they needed air. Rhaella’s cheeks were already flushed, her violet eyes dark with want. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she whispered against his mouth. “The way you feel inside me. The way you fill me up and leave me dripping. I need that tonight. I need you to fuck the worry out of me.”

***

Dusk painted the courtyard in soft oranges and purples, the last light of the day filtering through the lemon tree’s leaves. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint salt tang from the canals and the sweet citrus scent of the tree. Adian pressed Rhaella back against the rough trunk, her back arching as he hiked her gown up around her hips with rough, impatient hands. Her legs wrapped around his waist immediately, ankles locking behind his back, pulling him in. He freed his thick cock and thrust up into her soaked cunt in one smooth, powerful motion, burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuck… yes,” Rhaella gasped against his neck, her arms tight around his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to sting. Her voice was breathy, needy. “Just like that. Fill me up. I’ve been wet thinking about this since you walked in earlier.”

He held her there, strong hands gripping her full ass, fingers sinking deep into the soft, yielding flesh as he started thrusting up into her in steady, powerful strokes. Her body jolted with each impact, her full ass rippling beautifully against his palms. Her heavy tits bounced between them, the gown pulled low enough that her stiff nipples were exposed, already leaking warm beads of milk that smeared across his chest with every thrust. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock pumping into her soaked cunt echoed softly under the tree—obscene, rhythmic squelches mixed with the slap of skin on skin.

Rhaella’s face was flushed deep red, lips parted, violet eyes half-lidded with raw pleasure. Her brows furrowed slightly each time he bottomed out, a soft whimper escaping her. “Harder,” she breathed, her heels digging into his lower back. “I need to feel you tomorrow when you’re gone meeting those men. I want to be sore. I want to feel your cum leaking out of me all day.”

Adian gripped her ass tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks as he drove deeper, hips snapping up with more force. Her cunt clenched around him, slick and greedy, walls fluttering with every thrust. Warm milk leaked steadily from her stiff nipples, dripping down the heavy curves of her swaying tits and onto his skin. The smell of her—aroused woman, milk, and the faint citrus from the tree—filled his senses.

“Gods, your cunt is so fucking wet for me,” he growled against her ear, voice rough. “Taking every inch like you were made for it. Look at you—legs wrapped around me out here where anyone could hear.”

Rhaella moaned louder, her head falling back against the tree trunk, silver hair spilling loose. “Yes… fuck me harder. I don’t care who hears. I just need your cock. Need you to stretch me open and fill me.”

She came first—sudden and hard—thighs shaking violently around his waist, a choked, broken moan spilling from her lips as her walls fluttered and squeezed tight around him. Fresh slick gushed around his cock, coating his balls and dripping down her thighs. Her face twisted in ecstasy, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent cry at first, then another gasping moan as the pleasure rolled through her.

Adian didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through it, grinding deep, hips rolling to draw out every tremor and aftershock until she was panting and whimpering against his neck, body trembling in his arms.

***

They barely made it inside the house before she was on him again, hands tugging at his clothes with urgent need. In the mirror chamber, the large looking glass reflecting the low lamplight, Rhaella pushed him down onto the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, facing the mirror so she could watch everything. She reached between them, guiding his thick, glistening cock to her entrance, and sank down onto him with a long, throaty moan, taking every inch in one smooth glide.

“Oh fuck… so deep,” she gasped, settling fully on his lap. Her soaked cunt stretched around him, already messy from the courtyard.

“Look at yourself,” Adian growled, his hands coming up from behind to cup and maul her heavy tits. He squeezed the soft, full flesh firmly, fingers sinking in as he forced more warm milk to leak over his palms and drip down her ribs. “Look how well that pretty cunt takes me. Greedy little thing, swallowing every inch.”

Rhaella’s reflection showed her flushed face, mouth open, violet eyes glassy with lust. Her silver hair was messy, strands sticking to her damp skin. Her heavy tits swayed and jiggled heavily in his grip as she started riding him, rolling her hips and bouncing on his lap with wet, rhythmic slaps. Her full ass rippled against his thighs with every drop.

“Gods… I look like such a whore for you,” she gasped, grinding down deep, eyes locked on their reflection. “These fat tits leaking everywhere… cunt dripping down your balls… stretching so wide around your cock. I used to be a queen. Now I’m just… fuck, I’m just your needy slut in this little house, begging for your cum.”

Adian pinched her stiff nipples, tugging them firmly as she rode faster. Warm milk sprayed lightly with the motion, splattering across his chest and her own stomach. “You’re still a queen,” he growled against her ear, voice low and rough. “My queen. And this cunt is mine. Look at it in the mirror—creaming all over my cock like you can’t get enough.”

Her face twisted in pleasure—brows furrowed, lips trembling, eyes rolling back slightly as another orgasm built. She bounced harder, ass slapping wetly against his lap, the obscene wet sounds filling the chamber.

“Cum for me again,” Adian said roughly, one hand sliding down her stomach to rub firm circles on her swollen clit while the other kept mauling her leaking tit. “Let me feel that greedy cunt squeezing. Milk my cock.”

She shattered hard, moaning loud and broken, body shuddering as she ground down on him. Her walls milked his cock in powerful, rhythmic pulses, fresh slick gushing around him. Her face in the mirror was pure bliss—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a long cry.

Adian groaned deep in his chest and thrust up to meet her, pumping his first thick load deep inside her. Hot spurts flooded her cunt, filling her until it started leaking out around his shaft with every grind. Rhaella kept riding him through it, slow rolls of her hips, milking every drop, her reflection showing a satisfied, messy smile as cum and her own juices dripped down his balls.

***

They moved to the bed. Adian pulled out of her with a wet, obscene sound, thick strings of cum connecting them for a moment before breaking. He flipped her onto her hands and knees. Rhaella arched her back immediately, pushing her ass up toward him high and eager. Her cunt glistened with their mixed juices, puffy and swollen, his cum already starting to drip down her thighs in creamy trails.

He gripped her hips firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and thrust back in deep in one smooth, powerful stroke. Rhaella moaned loudly into the sheets, her fingers twisting hard in the fabric as her body rocked forward from the force. The wet squelch of his thick cock sliding back into her messy, cum-filled cunt filled the room.

“Harder,” she gasped, voice muffled against the bedding but still desperate. “Please, Adian. Fuck me like you own this cunt.”

Adian’s hand tangled in her long silver hair, wrapping the strands around his fist and pulling her head back just enough to arch her properly. Her back curved beautifully, ass pushed higher. He started pounding her, hips slapping loudly against her full ass with every thrust. The soft, heavy flesh rippled and jiggled with each impact, red handprints starting to bloom where his fingers gripped her. Her heavy tits swayed and smacked underneath her, nipples stiff and leaking warm milk that dripped onto the sheets in small, wet spots.

“Gods, yes… pull my hair just like that,” she moaned, pushing back to meet him eagerly. Her voice was breathy and broken. “I love feeling you so deep. Stretching me open… filling me with all that cum. You’re so much thicker than anyone else. I can feel you in my belly every time you bottom out.”

The room filled with the wet PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of his hips meeting her ass, the constant squelch of his cock driving into her messy cunt, and her broken, needy moans. Adian reached under her with one hand and mauled one swinging tit, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh roughly, fingers sinking deep. More warm milk leaked out, running down his wrist and forearm in sticky trails. He pinched her nipple hard, tugging it, making her cry out.

“You’re still so fucking tight,” he grunted, yanking her hair a little harder, forcing her head back further. “Even after I’ve pumped two loads into you. This greedy cunt just keeps sucking me in, milking me like it doesn’t want to let go.”

Rhaella’s face was a picture of raw pleasure—cheeks burning bright red, eyes half-closed and glassy, mouth open as she panted and whimpered. Sweat glistened on her skin, strands of silver hair sticking to her neck and shoulders. Another orgasm hit her fast and hard. Her walls fluttered and clenched around him like a vice, a fresh gush of slick coating his cock as she cried out into the bedding, the sound muffled but loud enough to echo off the walls. Her whole body shook, ass rippling as she pushed back desperately against him.

Adian didn’t slow down. He kept fucking her through it, hips snapping harder, balls slapping wetly against her swollen clit with every thrust. “That’s it. Cum on my cock again. Let me feel how bad you need it. How much this married cunt craves being ruined.”

She came a second time in quick succession, thighs shaking violently, ass rippling as she pushed back desperately against him. Her cunt spasmed around his thick shaft, squeezing and fluttering in powerful waves. Adian groaned deep in his chest and buried himself to the hilt, pumping his third thick load into her. Hot spurts flooded her cunt, mixing with the mess already inside. Cum leaked out around his shaft and ran down her thighs in thick, creamy trails, dripping onto the ruined sheets.

“Fuck… I feel so full,” Rhaella whimpered, still trembling. “You’re pumping so much into me. It’s leaking everywhere… I love it.”

***

He eased her down onto her stomach without pulling out, shifting into prone bone. Rhaella’s legs stayed spread wide beneath him, ass slightly raised as he covered her body with his own, pressing her into the mattress. The new angle let him grind even deeper, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside her with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips.

“Fuck… you’re so deep like this,” she whimpered, face turned to the side on the pillow. Her expression was blissed out—eyes glassy and unfocused, lips parted, soft broken moans escaping with every slow, powerful thrust. Sweat slicked her skin, and her silver hair was a tangled mess across the pillow.

Adian kissed along the side of her neck and shoulder while he moved inside her, lips brushing her damp skin. “We’re going to make this work,” he murmured against her ear, voice low and steady even as he ground deep. “I’ll head back to Westeros soon. Consolidate everything. Make sure the routes stay strong and the gold keeps flowing. You and the kids stay safe here with the new protection.”

He thrust deeper, grinding slow circles, making sure she felt every inch. Rhaella moaned softly, pushing her ass up as much as she could to take more of him, her cunt clenching greedily around his cock.

“I’ll come back stronger,” he continued, one hand sliding under her to cup and fondle her leaking tit. He squeezed the heavy, soft flesh, rolling her stiff nipple between his fingers until more warm milk leaked out, soaking his palm. “And when I do, I’ll put another baby in you if you want it. A child with both dragon and Frey blood. Something no one else could ever give you.”

Rhaella’s breath hitched sharply at his words. “Yes… fuck, yes. Fill me with it. I want to carry your child while you’re gone. Something that’s ours. Something growing inside me that Robert could never manage.” Her cunt clenched hard around him at the words, walls fluttering with fresh arousal.

Adian kept the slow, deep rhythm, mauling her tit roughly and tugging the nipple until more warm milk leaked out in steady streams. The smell of sex and milk and sweat filled the room—thick, heady, unmistakable. He could feel her getting close again—walls fluttering wildly, thighs trembling underneath him, her breathing turning into short, desperate gasps.

“Cum for me,” he growled, thrusting a little harder, grinding against that spot deep inside her. “One more time on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze every drop out of me.”

She came with a long, shuddering moan, face pressed hard into the pillow, body tensing and relaxing in powerful waves. Her cunt milked him greedily, rippling and clenching in rhythmic pulses. Adian groaned low and pumped another heavy load into her, thick spurts flooding her already full cunt until it overflowed and soaked the sheets beneath them. He kept grinding through it, pushing every drop as deep as possible while she whimpered and trembled.

***

They shifted again. Rhaella pushed him onto his back with surprising strength, her hands pressing against his chest. She straddled him eagerly and sank down onto his still-hard cock with a satisfied, throaty sigh, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. Cum from all the previous loads leaked out around his shaft with the movement, making obscene wet sounds as it dripped down his balls and onto the bed.

Her heavy tits swayed right in front of his face, nipples dark and leaking steadily. Adian cupped them both in his hands, squeezing and fondling the soft, full flesh as she started riding him. Warm milk dripped onto his chest and stomach with every bounce, slick and warm.

“Look at you,” she breathed, eyes locked on his face as she ground down harder, rolling her hips in lazy, deep circles. “Still so hard for me… pumping all that cum into my cunt. Robert could never do this. He’d be soft and useless after one round, grunting and done. You just keep filling me, load after load. I love how much you give me.”

Rhaella leaned forward, her tits pressing heavily against his chest as she rode faster. The wet slap of her ass meeting his lap grew louder, rhythmic and filthy. Her face showed pure pleasure—flushed cheeks burning red, lips parted in constant soft moans, eyes heavy-lidded every time she took him to the hilt, grinding her clit against him.

“Fuck… I’m going to cum again,” she gasped, bouncing harder, her heavy tits jiggling wildly. “Your cock feels so good. So thick and hard. Keep mauling my tits like that… squeeze them harder… yes—”

She shattered hard, grinding down deep as her cunt clenched and fluttered around him in powerful waves. Fresh slick mixed with all the cum already inside her, leaking out messily with every roll of her hips. Adian gripped her ass with both hands, fingers sinking into the soft, rippling flesh, and thrust up to meet her. He pumped his final thick load deep, groaning as he emptied everything he had left, hot spurts flooding her until it overflowed and ran down his thighs in warm, sticky trails.

Rhaella collapsed on top of him, breathing hard, body limp and satisfied. Cum leaked steadily from her well-fucked cunt onto his thighs. Her tits pressed warmly against his chest, still leaking a little with every aftershock.

***

They lay tangled together for a long while, bodies pressed close in the messy sheets. Rhaella’s fingers traced the scars on his shoulder and chest with slow, gentle strokes, following the old lines from battles long past and the newer, still-pink one from the pirate axe on the Narrow Sea. Her touch was light but deliberate, like she was committing every mark to memory before he left. The room smelled strongly of sex, milk, and sweat—thick, intimate, and unmistakable, a heady mix that lingered in the air and on their skin.

“I hate that you have to go back so soon,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. Her breath was warm against his skin, and her voice carried the quiet ache of someone who had already lost too much. “But I understand. The children need you safe too. We all do.”

Adian ran his hand slowly down her back, palm gliding over the smooth curve of her spine and the soft swell of her ass. He felt the faint tremors still running through her from the orgasms, the way her body remained relaxed and spent against him. “I’ll set everything up here before I leave,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady in the quiet room. “Stronger watches on the canals, better contacts in the trading houses, extra coin for the right people. You won’t be alone. And I’ll send word as soon as I can—routed through the usual channels so no one can trace it back.”

She nodded against his neck, her silver hair tickling his chest as she shifted closer. Her full breasts pressed warmly against him, still slightly sticky from the milk that had leaked during their fucking. “Just come back to us. To me,” she murmured, the words half plea, half promise. “The manse feels different when you’re here. Safer. Warmer. The children… they light up when you walk into the courtyard. Even Viserys, for all his sulking, listens to you more than anyone else.”

Adian’s fingers continued their slow path along her back, tracing the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. He could feel the faint stickiness of cum on her thighs where it had leaked out, warm and slick against his skin. “I know,” he said after a moment. “I see it too. Daenerys follows me like a little shadow now, always wanting ‘up.’ Rhaenys watches everything with those sharp eyes of hers, learning more than she lets on. And Viserys… he’s got fire, but he needs to learn how to point it without burning himself first. I’ll make sure the protection here holds while I’m gone. No risks.”

Rhaella lifted her head slightly, violet eyes meeting his in the low lamplight. A small, tired smile curved her lips. “You always plan three steps ahead. It’s one of the things I’ve come to rely on. But promise me you won’t take stupid chances on the way back. The whispers from Pentos… they worry me. Illyrio’s reach is long, and the Iron Bank notices everything that smells of steady coin.”

“I don’t take stupid chances,” Adian replied, his hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck gently. “I take calculated ones. The routes through the Neck are solid because of Barbrey and the deals we’ve made. The gold flows, the lords stay fed and paid, and that keeps them useful. I’ll tighten everything when I get there. Make sure the web holds no matter what happens with Robert.”

She let out a soft breath and rested her head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Her fingers resumed their slow tracing of his scars, circling the one on his shoulder with particular care. “That wound from the pirates still bothers you sometimes, doesn’t it? I saw you favor the other arm during training with Viserys yesterday.”

“It pulls a little when I twist wrong,” he admitted, voice even. “But it’s healing. Nothing that will slow me down. I’ve had worse and kept moving.”

They stayed like that for a long time, bodies sticky with sweat, milk, and cum, the sheets tangled around their legs. The room was quiet except for their breathing and the distant, muffled sounds of the canal outside—boatmen calling softly, water lapping against stone. Rhaella’s hand eventually stilled on his chest, her touch growing heavier as exhaustion settled in. Adian kept his arm around her, fingers idly stroking her back, letting the quiet stretch. These moments were rare—peaceful pockets in a life built on survival and long games. He let himself enjoy it, the warmth of her body, the way she fit against him, the faint scent of lavender soap mixed with the heavier musk of their sex.

Eventually, Rhaella shifted, pressing one more kiss to his collarbone before settling more comfortably. “Stay with me until morning,” she whispered. “Just until then.”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he murmured back.

The next morning Adian moved quickly, the quiet intimacy of the night giving way to sharp focus. He left the manse before the children were fully awake, slipping out through the side entrance with a cloak pulled low. The streets and canals of Braavos were already stirring, merchants calling out, poleboats gliding through the water, the faint smell of fresh bread and fish mixing with the ever-present brine.

He met two of his Braavosi contacts at a quiet warehouse near the Purple Harbor. The building was nondescript, tucked behind stacked crates and hanging nets, the air inside thick with the smell of salt, rope, and old wood. The two men waited in a back room lit by a single lantern. One was a wiry trader with sharp eyes, the other a scarred former sailor whose hands looked like they had spent more time on ropes than ledgers.

They spoke in low voices, maps and lists spread on a rough table. Adian laid out the new watch rotations for the manse—extra eyes on the rooftops, the water gate, and the narrow alleys nearby. A secondary safe house deeper in the city’s quieter districts was confirmed, stocked with supplies and a fast boat. Gold changed hands in heavy pouches, enough to buy real loyalty and silence from the right people.

“Double the eyes on the canals around the manse,” Adian ordered, his voice calm but firm. “Anyone asking about silver hair, unusual visitors, or the household routine gets reported immediately. No chances. Pay the watchers extra and make sure they know what happens if they slip.”

The wiry trader nodded, counting the coins quickly. “It will be done. We’ve already shifted the kitchen girl’s family to a safer district as well. She won’t talk.”

The scarred sailor leaned forward, voice gravelly. “We also heard the Iron Bank has been asking about steady grain and wool flows from the Neck. Their factors are making quiet inquiries in the trading houses. They smell reliable profit and want to know who truly controls it.”

Adian’s expression didn’t change, but his mind turned fast. “Let them smell it,” he said. “But keep them at arm’s length for now. We control the routes. That’s our leverage. If they push, we’ll talk terms on our terms. For now, watch and report.”

The meeting wrapped quickly. The men bowed slightly as Adian left, the weight of the new arrangements settling over him. He felt sharper for it—the pieces were moving, protections strengthening. But the whispers from Pentos still sat heavy in the back of his mind. Illyrio’s shadow was long, and the Iron Bank never forgot a profitable thread.

That evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the canals in deep oranges and reds, Adian took a poleboat across the water for a final meeting with a masked Braavosi fixer who could arrange even more discreet protection. The boat moved slowly through the narrow waterways, the pole dipping rhythmically into the dark water. Lanterns from nearby buildings reflected off the surface like scattered coins. Adian kept one hand near the hilt of his knife under his cloak, eyes scanning the shadows of alleys and bridges as they passed. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint rot of low tide mixed with cooking smells from the kitchens along the canal.

The attack came fast and without warning.

Three men in plain, nondescript cloaks jumped from a side alley onto the boat, the vessel rocking dangerously with the sudden weight. One swung a short blade at the boatman, the steel whistling through the air. The other two came straight for Adian, faces hidden by hoods, movements practiced and silent.

Adian moved on pure instinct, years of survival kicking in. His left shoulder still ached from the old pirate wound, a dull throb that flared with sudden motion, but adrenaline burned through it. He slammed his elbow hard into the first attacker’s throat, the impact crunching cartilage. The man gurgled and staggered back. Adian drew his knife in the same motion and slashed low across the second man’s thigh, opening a deep gash. Blood sprayed hot across the deck planks, making them slick.

The boat rocked wildly. The third man lunged with a dagger, blade glinting in the lantern light. Adian caught the wrist, twisted hard, and drove his own knife up under the ribs in a quick, vicious thrust. The attacker gasped, eyes widening, and crumpled. Adian shoved the body overboard with a grunt, the splash loud in the narrow canal.

The man with the slashed thigh tried to flee, slipping on the blood-slick wood. Adian kicked him hard in the face, boot connecting with a crunch, then finished him with a quick thrust to the neck. The boatman had taken a shallow cut to the arm but was still standing, pressing a rag to the wound and cursing under his breath.

“Seven hells,” the boatman wheezed, face pale. “Who were they? Thieves? Assassins?”

“Hired thugs,” Adian said, breathing hard but steady. His shoulder burned now, but he ignored it. He searched the bodies quickly, hands moving efficiently. A small pouch of coins, a cheap seal on one of the cloaks—nothing identifying, but the style and the quick, coordinated attack pointed toward Pentoshi money. Someone was getting nervous.

“Get us to the next landing,” Adian ordered, wiping his knife clean. “I’ll pay double for your silence and that arm. Patch it up and forget you saw anything.”

The boatman nodded shakily, poling them forward with his good arm. The boat glided on, leaving the floating bodies behind in the dark water.

Adian made it to the meeting anyway, blood on his sleeve and knuckles bruised and raw. The masked fixer waited in a shadowed alcove, face hidden behind a simple grey mask. He didn’t ask questions about the blood. They finalized the protection deal in terse, efficient sentences—more gold for more eyes, emergency signals, backup safe houses. Adian paid without hesitation. More protection. More eyes on the manse.

He left the meeting feeling the net tightening around them. The whispers were no longer just whispers. It was time to move.

The walk back through the shadowed streets and narrow bridges of Braavos felt longer than usual. Adian kept his cloak pulled low, one hand near his knife, eyes scanning every alley and passing boat. The blood on his sleeve had dried to a stiff, dark patch, pulling slightly with each step. His shoulder throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a dull reminder of the scuffle on the poleboat. The fixer’s words echoed in his head—more eyes, more gold, more contingencies. It was enough for now, but “enough” in Braavos was a fragile thing.

Back at the manse, Rhaella met him at the door the moment he stepped inside. She had clearly been waiting, her face pale in the low lamplight from the hallway. Her eyes dropped immediately to the blood on his sleeve, and her expression tightened with sharp worry. The soft confidence she had worn these past weeks faltered for a second, replaced by the raw fear of someone who had already lost too much.

“It’s not mine,” he said quickly, closing the heavy door behind him and sliding the bolt into place with a solid click. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway. “Just a scuffle on the way. Nothing I couldn’t handle. We’re accelerating the plans. I’ll sail for Westeros within the week.”

She didn’t speak at first. Instead she pulled him into a tight hug, arms wrapping around him with surprising strength. Her body pressed close, warm and familiar, the faint scent of lavender soap and the manse’s herbs clinging to her hair. For a long moment she just held him, face buried against his chest, breathing him in. Then she pulled back, hands moving to his arms as she looked him over again, checking for other injuries.

“Come with me,” she said, voice steady now but still carrying that edge of concern. She led him to the small side room they used for cleaning wounds and minor ailments. The space was simple—a sturdy table, a basin of clean water, strips of linen, and a few jars of salves Rhaenys had helped prepare. Rhaella guided him to sit on the edge of the table, then rolled up his sleeve with careful fingers. Her hands were steady as she wiped the dried blood off his arm, the cloth cool and damp against his skin. She worked in silence for a moment, dabbing at the shallow cuts on his knuckles, her touch gentle but thorough.

“The children are asleep,” she said finally, breaking the quiet. “Tell me what you need me to do while you’re gone. Everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

Adian watched her face as she worked, noting the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the small line between her eyebrows that appeared when she was thinking hard. “Contingency plans first,” he said, voice low. “If the whispers get louder or someone comes knocking, move to the secondary safe cache across the canal. Lira knows the route. Take only what you can carry quietly—food, coin, the children’s warm clothes. The fast boat is stocked and ready. No heroics. Just get them out.”

Rhaella nodded, dipping the cloth back into the basin and wringing it out. Water dripped softly. “And messages? How do we reach you if something happens here?”

“Trusted channels only,” he replied. “The factors we’ve already paid. Use the coded phrases we practiced. Nothing direct. If the Iron Bank starts asking too many questions about the Neck routes, send word immediately. Barbrey can adjust from that end. The goal is to keep the children breathing and hidden until I can stabilize things in Westeros.”

She set the cloth aside and reached for a small jar of salve, scooping some out with her fingers. The scent of herbs filled the small room—sharp and clean. She smoothed it gently over his knuckles and the shallow cuts, her touch lingering. “I’ve grown into this life more than I expected,” she said quietly, a small, rueful smile touching her lips. “A year ago I would have been terrified at the thought of moving the children in the night. Now I’m thinking about which bags to pack first and which servants we can trust. You’ve given us that. Stability. A chance to plan instead of just hiding.”

Adian caught her hand as she finished, squeezing it lightly. “You’ve done more than you know. The ledgers, the questions you ask, the way you watch the children… it helps. We’re building something real here. Not just survival.”

Rhaella looked up at him, violet eyes searching his face. “And when you get back? What then? Robert won’t last forever. The realm will tear itself apart again. Where do we fit in all of that?”

“We fit by staying alive and useful,” he said simply. “I consolidate the trade routes, strengthen the alliances in the North, keep the gold flowing. You keep the children safe and learning. When the time is right, we decide the next step together. No rash moves. No fire and glory. Just smart ones.”

She nodded slowly, absorbing his words. Her fingers brushed his arm one last time before she stepped back. “I’ll make sure Lira has the emergency packs ready by tomorrow. And I’ll drill the children on what to do if we have to move—quietly, without frightening them. Rhaenys will understand. Viserys… I’ll handle him.”

When the cleaning was done, she kissed him hard, pushing him back against the wall with surprising urgency. Her body pressed into his, soft curves molding against him. “One more night before you start packing everything,” she whispered against his lips, voice husky. “I need you again.”

But they were both exhausted from the day—the scuffle, the meetings, the constant planning. Instead they simply held each other, bodies pressed close in the narrow bed, talking in low voices about small things: Daenerys’s latest babbling words, Rhaenys’s growing collection of herbs, Viserys’s improving footwork. The conversation drifted, comfortable and quiet, until sleep finally took them, tangled together under the thin blanket.

***

The next afternoon a raven arrived, wings flapping hard against the courtyard fountain. The bird landed with a flutter, dark feathers ruffled from the long flight. Lira brought the message straight to Adian in the solar, her face serious as she handed over the small scroll.

He broke the seal and read the coded lines from Barbrey. His expression stayed calm on the surface, but his eyes sharpened with focus. Cersei was moving pieces quietly, strengthening her grip on the Small Council through careful favors and quiet threats. In the North, some lords were testing the Frey-Dustin trade agreements—nothing open yet, but pressure on the tolls and routes, grumbling about who truly controlled the flow of goods through the Neck. Barbrey and Genna were holding firm, keeping the lords fed and paid, but they needed him back to steady the web before cracks widened.

Adian folded the letter carefully and burned it in the small brazier near the window. He stood for a long moment watching the ashes curl and blacken, mind turning over the next moves. Robert’s decline was accelerating. The realm was a powder keg waiting for the spark. He needed to be in the Neck before it ignited.

Rhaella found him there a few minutes later. She stepped into the solar quietly, closing the door behind her. “Bad news?” she asked, reading the tension in his shoulders.

“Expected news,” he said, turning to face her. “Robert’s steadily on his way out. Cersei’s positioning herself, and the Northern lords are testing the trade agreements. I need to be back in the Neck before the realm starts tearing itself apart again. I’ll sail in three days.”

She stepped close and rested her head on his shoulder, one arm sliding around his waist. Her body was warm against him, a quiet comfort in the moment. “Then we make the most of these three days,” she said softly. “Whatever you need from me, I’m here.”

***

The next three days passed in a controlled blur of preparations. Adian barely slept, moving between the manse and his contacts with relentless focus. He shifted extra coin to the watchers, updated the trade route ledgers with new contingencies, and reinforced the hidden protections around the household. The secondary safe cache across the canal was double-checked and stocked with extra food, sealed water, gold, and a fast boat ready if they needed to move quickly. Lira received clear, detailed instructions and a fat pouch for emergencies, her face serious as she memorized every step.

Viserys took the news of Adian’s departure with a mix of frustration and determination. During their final training session in the courtyard, the boy swung harder than usual, his wooden sword whistling through the air with raw force. Sweat flew from his silver hair as he attacked.

“You’re leaving us here to rot while you go play merchant again?” Viserys snapped after a missed parry, breathing hard, eyes flashing with anger and something like hurt.

Adian blocked the strike cleanly and stepped inside, tapping the boy’s ribs with the tip of his own rod. “I’m leaving to make sure there’s still a world worth taking back when you’re ready,” he said evenly. “Angry swings get you killed. Smart ones win thrones. Choose which one you want to be.”

Viserys breathed hard, sweat dripping from his silver hair onto the stone. He lowered the wooden blade, shoulders slumping slightly. “Just… come back soon. I still have much to learn.”

“You do,” Adian said, clapping the boy’s shoulder firmly. “Keep practicing what I showed you. Control first. The fire is useless without it.”

Rhaenys hugged him tightly when she heard the news, her small arms wrapping around his waist. “Bring back something from the sea,” she whispered, voice muffled against his tunic. “A shell or a pretty stone. And be careful of pirates. I don’t want you coming back with more scars.”

Daenerys refused to let go of his leg for a long time when he told her, chanting “Sea man stay” in her high, stubborn voice, her chubby hands fisting in his breeches. She buried her face against his knee, refusing to look up until Rhaella gently pried her away with promises of extra stories later. The toddler’s eyes were wet, and she kept reaching for him even as she was carried away.

***

That final night, the manse was quiet. The children were asleep, the household settled into the deep stillness that only came after a long day of preparation and worry. The faint lap of canal water against the stone walls outside was the only sound breaking the silence, a constant, gentle reminder of the city that surrounded them. Rhaella found Adian in the solar, staring at the latest messages from the factors spread across the heavy wooden table. The papers were covered in neat columns of numbers and coded notes—trade routes, coin flows, watch schedules. He hadn’t moved in some time, one hand resting on the edge of the table, brow furrowed in thought.

She closed the door softly behind her, the latch clicking into place with a quiet finality. The sound seemed to pull him from his thoughts. Rhaella crossed to him without a word, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. Her simple nightgown swayed with each step, the fabric clinging softly to her fuller figure. She stopped in front of him, violet eyes searching his face for a long moment.

Her hands slid up his chest, palms warm through his tunic. “No more planning tonight,” she said, voice low and soft, carrying that familiar needy edge. “Just us. For these last hours.”

Adian looked at her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at her touch. He set the messages aside and pulled her closer, but she was already moving, pushing him gently back into the sturdy chair by the window. The night air drifted in through the partially open shutters, carrying the cool salt breeze from the canals. Rhaella straddled his lap, gown rucked up around her hips in a hurried bunch of fabric. She reached between them, guiding his thick cock to her entrance, and sank down onto him with a long, relieved moan, taking every thick inch in one smooth, eager motion.

“Fuck… I needed this,” she breathed, forehead pressed to his. Her heavy tits pressed against his chest, already leaking warm milk through the thin fabric of her gown, leaving damp spots that soaked into his tunic. She settled fully on his lap, cunt stretched tight around him, walls fluttering as she adjusted to the fullness.

She rode him slow and deep at first, grinding her hips in lazy circles, savoring the stretch and the way he filled her so completely. The wet sounds of her soaked cunt sliding along his shaft filled the quiet room—soft, rhythmic squelches that mixed with their breathing. Adian gripped her full ass with both hands, fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh as it rippled with every roll of her hips. He squeezed firmly, pulling her down harder onto him.

Rhaella’s face was flushed with pleasure, lips parted, violet eyes locked on his. Her silver hair had come loose from its braid, falling around her shoulders in messy waves. “You always feel so good inside me,” she gasped, grinding down deeper, clit rubbing against him with each circle. “So thick… so full. I’m going to miss this every night you’re gone. The way you stretch me open and leave me dripping for days.”

She picked up speed, bouncing harder on his lap. Her heavy tits swayed heavily between them, nipples stiff and dark, leaking warm milk that dripped down the curves and soaked into their clothes. Adian pulled the gown lower with one hand, exposing one breast fully, and caught the stiff nipple in his mouth, sucking greedily. Warm, sweet milk flooded his tongue as she moaned louder, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there.

“Yes… drink from me,” she panted, voice breaking into a whimper as she bounced faster. “Take what you want. These tits are yours. They’ve been so full thinking about you leaving… aching for your mouth.”

Her first orgasm hit her fast. She ground down deep, cunt clenching around him in strong, rhythmic pulses as she shuddered and whimpered against the top of his head. Fresh slick gushed around his cock, mixing with the milk on his chest. Her face twisted in pleasure—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent cry at first, then a soft, broken moan as the waves rolled through her.

Adian didn’t let her slow down. He stood up, still buried deep inside her, strong arms holding her weight easily. Rhaella’s legs wrapped tighter around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the bed. He laid her on her back and thrust deep, hips snapping forward with purpose. Rhaella’s legs wrapped around him again, heels digging into his ass as he pounded her, the bed creaking softly with the rhythm.

“Harder,” she begged, nails raking down his back, leaving faint red lines. “Fuck me like you’re going to be gone for months. I want to feel you leaking out of me for days. I want to wake up sore and full of you.”

He gave it to her, hips slapping loudly against her ass, the wet PLAP-PLAP-PLAP echoing in the chamber. Her heavy tits bounced wildly with every powerful thrust, milk leaking steadily from her nipples and running down the soft curves. Adian mauled them with both hands, squeezing the heavy, soft flesh roughly, pinching and tugging her nipples until milk sprayed lightly across her chest and his. Rhaella’s face twisted in ecstasy—eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent cry as she came again, harder this time, cunt fluttering and gushing around his cock, walls milking him in tight, desperate pulses.

Adian groaned low and pumped his first thick load deep inside her, hot spurts flooding her cunt until it overflowed, leaking out around his shaft with every thrust. He kept moving through it, grinding every drop deeper, hips rolling slow and firm.

They shifted again. He flipped her onto her stomach without pulling out and took her from behind, one hand fisted in her long silver hair. Rhaella pushed her ass back to meet him eagerly, moaning into the pillow with every deep thrust. Her full ass rippled beautifully with the impact, red from his grip. Cum from the first load leaked out around his cock, making everything wetter and messier, the slick sounds louder.

“Fill me again,” she gasped, voice muffled but urgent. “Give me another baby before you go. Something that’s ours to hide. I want to carry your child while you’re gone… feel it growing inside me, a secret no one else can take.”

Adian’s grip tightened in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to hear her better. He fucked her harder, balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. “You’d look so good with my baby in you,” he growled, voice rough. “Tits even heavier, leaking for me while I’m away. This cunt staying full until I get back.”

She came a third time with a broken moan, body shaking hard, cunt clenching around him like a fist. He followed right after, pumping another heavy load into her greedy cunt, thick spurts flooding her until it overflowed and ran down her thighs in warm, creamy trails.

***

They finished with her on top again, Rhaella pushing him onto his back and straddling him. She sank down onto his still-hard cock with a satisfied sigh, taking him deep. She started riding him slow and grinding deep, rolling her hips in lazy circles. Cum from all the loads leaked out around his shaft with every movement, making obscene wet sounds that filled the room.

Her heavy tits swayed right in front of his face, nipples dark and leaking steadily. Adian cupped them both, squeezing and fondling the soft flesh as she rode him. Warm milk dripped onto his chest and stomach with every bounce.

“Look at you,” she breathed, eyes locked on his face as she ground down harder. “Still so hard for me… pumping all that cum into my cunt. Robert could never do this. He’d be soft and useless after one pathetic round. You just keep filling me, load after load, like you can’t get enough of me.”

Rhaella leaned forward, tits pressing heavily against his chest as she rode faster. The wet slap of her ass meeting his lap grew louder, rhythmic and filthy. Her face showed pure pleasure—flushed cheeks burning red, lips parted in constant soft moans, eyes heavy-lidded every time she took him to the hilt, grinding her clit against him.

“Fuck… I’m going to cum again,” she gasped, bouncing harder, her heavy tits jiggling wildly. “Your cock feels so good. So thick and hard. Keep mauling my tits like that… squeeze them harder… yes—”

She shattered hard, grinding down deep as her cunt clenched and fluttered around him in powerful waves. Fresh slick mixed with all the cum already inside her, leaking out messily with every roll of her hips. Adian gripped her ass with both hands, fingers sinking into the soft, rippling flesh, and thrust up to meet her. He pumped his final thick load deep, groaning as he emptied everything he had left, hot spurts flooding her until it overflowed and ran down his thighs in warm, sticky trails.

Rhaella collapsed on top of him, breathing hard, body limp and satisfied. Cum leaked steadily from her well-fucked cunt onto his thighs. Her tits pressed warmly against his chest, still leaking a little with every aftershock.

***

They stayed connected for a long time afterward, breathing together. Cum leaked steadily from her onto his thighs. Rhaella traced his scars again, pressing soft kisses to them, her fingers gentle and slow.

The next morning the black-painted skiff waited at a quiet dock. Adian stood on the deck, cloak pulled tight against the salt wind. Rhaella had come with him, wrapped in a plain traveling cloak. She held his hands tightly for a moment.

“Come back to us,” she said quietly, violet eyes steady. “We’ll be here. Waiting.”

“I will,” he promised, pulling her close one last time. He kissed her deeply, tasting the salt of a single tear on her cheek.

Then he boarded. The skiff pushed off into the canal, heading toward the open sea and the long journey back to the Neck.

Adian stood at the rail as Braavos faded behind them. The Titan’s roar echoed in the distance. His mind was already turning to what waited in Westeros.