Cambrian’s Emporium of Everything (Multiple Settings)

King Stag Pt. 2 (Game of Thrones)

A/N: Make sure you've read Pt. 1 preceding this or you'll be VERY confused! Here's Part 2!

-x-X-x-

"You will never be Queen."

She knew that already of course. Sitting in her father's chambers in the Red Keep, Cersei looks across the man's desk at Lord Lannister himself. She tries her best to keep her face completely blank. The young woman has already shed her tears. She's already broken things, she's already raged at the unfairness of it all.

The worst part was that she'd allowed herself to hope. Lyanna Stark had been taken and sullied by Rhaegar Targaryen. Not only that, she'd been spirited away to Dorne of all places. There were so many ways things could have gone that would have worked out better for the Lannisters… for HER. Instead, the worst-case scenario had come to pass. Lyanna had come back alive and Robert had forgiven her for Rhaegar's crimes.

The sullied woman would become Queen. She would take up her place at Robert Baratheon's side, forever stealing away what SHOULD have been Cersei's.

"You knew that already of course."

Cersei blinks as her father unknowingly parrots back her earlier thoughts. She focuses a bit more on Tywin's face, and she stiffens at the disapproval she sees in his eyes. So then, he noticed her lack of attention. Keeping her expression stony, Cersei nods her head ever so slightly, in acknowledgment that she'd heard him.

"What you probably don't know is that Jaime has been released from his duties on the Kingsguard. In recognition of his heroic defense of King's Landing, Robert is giving my heir back to me."

Her eyes go wide at that, and for a moment she feels hope again. But then she takes note of the way her father is speaking. The way he uses 'me' instead of 'us'. For the first time, Cersei speaks, her voice more hesitant, more unsure than she would have liked.

"Then… I would request that I be allowed to accompany you back to Casterly Rock. Surely there's nothing left for me here."

The disappointed look her father gives her causes the young blonde to bristle. Her stony expression melts away as she frowns at Tywin. He just shakes his head.

"There is plenty left for you here girl, if you bothered to open your eyes and look for it. You will not be departing from King's Landing with us. You will stay. Hopefully, as the betrothed to Stannis Baratheon."

Cersei's eyes go wide again for the second time in so many minutes.

"What?! That… that grim BOY?!"

It's Tywin's turn to set his face in stone as he stares her down.

"You would do well to remember you are naught but a girl yourself, my very young daughter. Stannis Baratheon is our way into the new Dynasty. You will never be Queen, but it is possible for you to become a member of the royal family. Seduce the King's younger brother. Robert is likely to give Stannis Storm's End. At the very least, you will be the Lady of a Castle."

Her father is serious. Cersei can see that in the Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes. She considers what she has seen and heard so far of Stannis Baratheon. Dour and stoic to a fault. Immensely stubborn as well, if the reports were to be believed. He'd never surrendered to the Reach's armies. He'd held Storm's End for the entirety of his brother's rebellion. Father was right about that at least; the King would be an utter fool NOT to reward his brother with the very castle that Stannis had worked so hard to defend.

Only a monster would deny Stannis his right, especially now that Robert sat upon the throne. With that said… Cersei knew she wasn't getting out of this. Stannis was to be her last chance, and while she could botch the entire arrangement, purposefully fail in such a spectacular way that father HAD to take her home when he and Jaime left for the Rock, she knew Tywin Lannister all too well.

The young woman wouldn't put it past him to have her sent to the Silent Sisters, and if he didn't go that far, whatever marriage he did inevitably arrange for her would be swift and insulting. Probably to one of his lesser bannermen. Cersei Lannister was a beautiful young woman. She was supposed to be Queen, but at the very least, she would NEVER settle for being traded away to a Lannister bannerman for their loyalty.

Her place was higher than that. Still, that didn't mean she had to like it. And it didn't mean she had to show her father an ounce of respect now that she had her marching orders. With a vindictive sort of satisfaction, Cersei stands and whirls out of the Lannister Patriarch's office, stalking away from the man without another word, striding free of the room and feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her chest.

It was good, getting away from her father. The man had failed to get her a crown after all. She could barely stand the sight of him now. Lady of Storm's End… at the very least that would afford Cersei some of the power she rightly deserved.

-x-X-x-

He wasn't sure how it had happened. No, that wasn't entirely true. As he smashes his lips against Cersei Lannister's, kissing the blonde quite heatedly and aggressively, Stannis Baratheon knows exactly how this happened. It was all this blonde wench's fault, quite clearly. With a growl, the young man pushes the equally young woman back deeper into the shadowy alcove he'd forced her into.

Cersei lets him do so, her hands outright clawing at his expensive garments as she kisses him back just as aggressively. But then, of course. The Lioness had clearly decided this was going to happen from the moment she caught sight of him at Robert's wedding. Perhaps even before that, because when he'd caught sight of her, he'd immediately known she was going to be trouble.

After the ceremony was done and the feast had begun, the Lannister girl hadn't left him alone for even a second. She'd managed to mask it well enough that no one really paid much attention to him, but Stannis was no fool. She spent the rest of the feast wearing him down, teasing him, cutting at his stoicism.

In the end, the young man WAS still a young man. He'd wanted to put on a brave face, especially at his brother's wedding. He'd wanted to show those assembled that he was strong, that the Baratheons were still strong. Especially the Tyrells, that fat bastard Mace daring to show his face at the royal proceedings after he'd starved half of Storm's End…

Stannis knew why Robert had to pardon the obese prick. Intellectually at least. But behind his stony façade, the younger Baratheon wished that he could see the Tyrells' lands and titles ripped from them. He would have liked to have Mace's head on a silver platter, if he was being honest. Or perhaps, perhaps starve the fat bastard until he was nothing but skin and bones.

That anger and rage and hatred resting beneath the surface was also part of why Stannis was where he was now. As Cersei's hands slide down to the drawstring of his britches, working to extricate his cock from its confines, Stannis recognizes that he's not completely in control of his own actions… and he just doesn't care. The Lannisters weren't involved with the Tyrells, but they were technically loyalists, right until the end came.

Perhaps he could get a bit of much-needed satisfaction out of the Lannister girl, since she was offering. Cersei lets out a gasp as she finally takes hold of his cock and pulls it out. Stannis glances down between them, fearing she'd seen something wrong with his pecker, but as far as he could tell, it looked the same as always.

"… It's so big…"

That gets a lifted eyebrow from the young Baratheon. But it's clear that Cersei isn't going to make a move, as she just stands there, staring down at his dick still in her hand. With a growl, Stannis grabs the blonde woman by the hips and lifts her up, setting her on the windowsill right behind her. The drapes behind them swish a little, but when Stannis presses a hand down into Cersei's thigh, the blonde highborn spreads her legs wide without complaint.

She's still staring at his cock though, even as he pushes her dress up more and more. Once its bunched around her waist, Stannis continues on, grabbing at her smallclothes and all but tearing them off of her. He needs this. Not even realizing that he's doing all the work at this point, Stannis still goes for the kill nonetheless. Cersei covers her own mouth with her hand as he spears forward into her cunt, proving she has something of a mind between her ears when a loud moan ends up muffled a moment later by her palm.

With the revelry going on in the feast only feet away from them, no one is going to hear a few stifled cries of pleasure. Stannis' eyes flash as he drills his cock deep into the blonde girl's cunt. She's not a virgin, or at least, she has no barrier to break. Some don't though, Stannis remembers that from his lessons with the Septa. Horseback riding… was Cersei a rider? The thought didn't excite Stannis too much. He preferred travel by ship rather than travel by horse.

Was she much of a sailor? Why was he even thinking about these kinds of things? Growling, Stannis tears Cersei's hand away from her mouth and replaces it with his lips, even as he slides his fingers through her own, their palms pressing together. As they hold hands on one side, his other hand slides down around her, moving under her to grasp at her back side. Holding her by her rump, Stannis begins to move forward, stifling Cersei's subsequent cries and moans with his mouth over her own as they kiss heatedly, passionately.

They fuck. There's no other word for it. This is not lovemaking, this is not romance. It's not slow or sensual or gentle. Stannis fucks Cersei Lannister with all the power he can muster, pounding her, face to face, her toes inches off the ground, her legs shaking and trembling. Her eyes are locked with his, and his are locked with hers. He can't seem to look away from her in that moment. There's something so very delicious about her hungry, haughty gaze.

When she cums however, she loses some of that haughtiness and Stannis finds in that moment that he enjoys that more than when she has it. He fucks her harder, and she reaches yet another orgasm as his lips keep her yells from reaching the feast behind them. Seeing a win condition, so to speak, Stannis fucks Cersei Lannister senseless, plowing her for what feels like an eternity, until her eyes are fluttering shut and her tongue is barely responsive against his own anymore.

Her pussy is still quite responsive though, the Lannister's cunt tightening around his pistoning prick in such a way that it's almost impossible for him to hold back any longer. He cums hard as well, his seed flooding into Cersei's womb, even as the blonde's legs tighten around his waist. And that's when Stannis realizes why he found himself wondering if the woman was a sailor.

He's going to marry this broad. Whether he wants to or not, whether he even remotely likes her or not… this wasn't something he could walk away from. She'd goaded him into it, but he'd made the decision to fuck her in this alcove, and pump even seed to surely plant a baby in her womb. As he pulls back from her, both his mouth and his cock, Cersei slowly recovers, her chest heaving and her face red as she looks him in the eye.

However, the victorious, conniving grin on her face is slightly marred by just how exhausted she looks. Even as she basks in her triumph, her eyes are heavily lidded. Snorting derisively, Stannis leans in and takes one last deep, domineering kiss from the blonde girl, and when he pulls back this time, she's not looking nearly as triumphant.

It takes them both a bit to get presentable again, Cersei longer than him. Luckily, her smallclothes and her floor length dress do an excellent job of concealing the white, sticky seed leaking from betwixt her slightly agape lower lips. The duo re-enters the feast together, and neither is particularly paying attention to the things around them when Cersei leans up and gives Stannis a kiss on the cheek.

It's chaste, compared to what they'd just been doing… but it's also SEEN.

"Brother!"

The hall goes quiet as all eyes go to the High Table, where Robert is suddenly standing, goblet in hand and gaze directed towards Stannis. All eyes turn to HIM as they realize their king is about to address his brother. Stannis in turn freezes up of course, not sure exactly what Robert is going to do. Beaming, King Robert Baratheon comes down from where he's standing, making his way through the crowded hall as people create a path for him.

To everyone's surprise, most of all Stannis', Robert outright HUGS him upon closing the distance between them. It's a full body bear hug, and then it becomes a one-armed hug as the King looks out around the hall.

"My brother, Stannis Baratheon! He held Storm's End for me while I was away breaking that bastard Rhaegar's face! And he took care of our little brother Renly at the same time! Stannis Baratheon is the most stalwart brother a man could ever ask for! A rock in an ever-tumultuous ocean! And now it seems he's proved himself manly enough to catch the distinguished eye of Cersei Lannister herself!"

There's laughter and cheering and even some jeering at that, as both Stannis and Cersei go incandescent. Meanwhile, Robert goes back in for another hug, and only his brother and the Lannister girl can hear what he has to say next.

"I'm proud of you, Stannis. I'm proud of you, and I love you so very much. Thank you, brother, for being there to protect our family's seat when I could not."

Only Cersei catches sight of Stannis' tight, tearful smile and surreptitiously, she slips her hand back into his and gives it a comforting squeeze, even as the feast continues on around them, even more jubilant than before.

Mission accomplished, she supposed.

-x-X-x-

This… this was not how she expected to return to King's Landing. And yet, as Rhaella Targaryen arrives in the city as an honored guest, she can't quite help but be happy that things turned out this way. The beautiful, violet eyed woman walks with her head held high, her newborn cradled in the crook of her left arm, and her son's small hand clasped firmly by her right.

"Viserys… what I have told you?"

The young dragon beside her glances about, more than a little afraid. At five years old, he hadn't lived long enough, experienced long enough, to really have an opinion about anything at all. Rhaella could imagine a world where he would grow up hateful and spiteful. A world where perhaps she died in childbirth, and their last remaining loyal subjects squirreled her children away from Westeros entirely, to protect them from the Usurper.

That had not occurred, however. Negotiations had been had. Rhaella had not expected it, but Robert Baratheon, the new King of the Seven Kingdoms, had turned out to be more reasonable than her late husband… by far. And thus, here they were, to bend the knee to the man who'd slew her son, Viserys' brother… but Rhaella could not find it in her heart to truly hate over Rhaegar's death.

She would mourn him forever, but her son had grown up and made mistakes. He'd led to his own ruin, right alongside his father. If she could avoid that with Viserys, she would. Swallowing thickly beside her, the boy in question finally answers in a quiet, subdued tone.

"We are to bow and p-pledge loyalty to the new King m-mother. And I am not to refer to h-him as the Usurper…"

Rhaella smiles softly.

"Good boy."

That isn't to say it hadn't taken her quite a bit of effort to get Viserys to where he was now over the last few months. Five was still old enough to be impressionable, and the boy had grown up spoiled. And that was a nice way of describing it. Still, Rhaella loved her children. She would do anything to protect them. Even if that meant teaching them the hard way.

Quite suddenly, the large double doors before them open up. They are announced, and the entire court turns towards them as Rhaella begins to move forward. With her head held high, but unadorned of any crown, the beautiful Targaryen woman looks absolutely regal nonetheless, even with a babe in the crook of her arm and a young child at her side.

Robert Baratheon, as it turns out, has grown from the boy she met in passing years ago, to a bear of a man. Beside her, she hears Viserys' quiet, sharp intake of breath, and knows the boy is all the more cowed by the Baratheon's appearance, even as the man sits on the Targaryen throne. But it is not the Targaryens' any longer, and so long as Viserys doesn't make a scene, Rhaella has every hope that they will escape this with their heads on their shoulders.

Her children will be safe, and that is all that matters.

"Lady Rhaella. Lord Viserys. Lady Daenerys. Approach the throne."

The Baratheon King's voice rings out, deep and rich and complex. He does not roar, but he is heard by everyone in the throne room nonetheless. Rhaella is ever so slightly bolstered by the way his voice softens slightly when he speaks her daughter's name, despite the baby being too young to do much more than look around inquisitively and sleep at this point.

As they finally come to a stop beneath the Iron Throne, Rhaella descends to her knees, and Viserys does so with her. Together, they bow their heads in supplication, even as she makes sure to keep Daenerys safe in the crook of her arm. There is silence in the court for a long moment, as if everyone is holding their breath. After a moment, Rhaella realizes this is probably true. She knows she is, after all.

Finally, the Grandmaester speaks and the pomp and ceremony begins as he asks them to affirm their allegiance to their King. Rhaella does so, and to her great relief, Viserys does the same beside her, mimicking her words with his head down and his eyes on the ground. Her little dragon had become so very docile, and under other circumstances Rhaella might have regretted that. The loss of innocence… but under these, she knew they had to stay alive. And the Baratheon King's negotiations had been more than fair.

As everything wraps up and Rhaella and Viserys are bid to stand, Robert does the same. He speaks to the room, rather than to them, but his words fill Rhaella with joy nonetheless.

"The sins of the father need not stain his children, nor his wife. Their dynasty is at an end, but the remaining members of House Targaryen have proved themselves reasonable people. I will not see them destroyed because of a Mad King and a Rapist Prince. Viserys Targaryen will be Lord of Dragonstone when he comes of age. Rhaella Targaryen and Jon Arryn will be wed and share regency over the island until Viserys is a man grown. This is my decree. Let it end with Aerys' death. I will not see anyone take vengeance on the children."

And like that, its over. Rhaella isn't sure what to do, as court comes to an end and people begin to leave. But then Elia is there, and if nothing else, the Martell woman is a more familiar face than half these people that the new Baratheon King surrounds himself with. The other half being the traitors and vultures who sold her family over in the first place for a piece of the pie…

Elia is most obviously pregnant, but Rhaella doesn't comment on that… at least at first. Hours later, once Viserys and Daenerys are both sound asleep, the former Queen can't help but ask the obvious. Elia tenses for a moment, and then seems to simply decide to own it, smiling casually as she sits beside Rhaella on the bed, one hand on her bulging abdomen.

"It's Robert's, of course."

Rhaella's eyes go wide, but deep down inside, she had known it was something of that sort. For a moment, there's silence, and its clear that Elia isn't sure whether or not she's about to be judged. After the moment passes, Rhaella lets out a sigh and gives the younger woman a smile.

"I'm glad for you, my dear. May you find happiness, in your new life."

Elia smiles back, pleased with Rhaella's reaction. After a moment, Rhaella continues, slightly more mournful.

"If only my son had not been as bad a husband as his father. I had high hopes for the boy… for our family. Aerys was a monster, he merely grew less and less capable of hiding it as the years went by. But Rhaegar? My dear Rhaegar? I hope you'll forgive me for feeling sentimental. I'd truly thought that the Crown Prince would fix the mistakes of his father… not compound them."

Rather than judge her mother-in-law, Elia reaches out and places a hand over Rhaella's, squeezing reassuringly.

"He was a good man to me, at least at first. But… in the end, the madness consumed him as well. It will be up to you to make sure it does not consume Viserys… Daenerys."

Rhaella's back straightens up at that as she catches the hidden meaning in Elia's words. The unspoken message 'or else Robert will have to end them' is loud and clear, hanging in the air. The other woman is not wrong though, and after a moment Rhaella deflates, her shoulder slumping as she nods her head.

"Yes. I will do my best, you know I will. I can only hope that Viserys is young enough to change."

With a reassuring smile on her face, Elia bobs her head up and down in agreement.

"There is Jon to consider, as well. The Lord Arryn certainly did something right with our new King and Eddard Stark, did he not? Perhaps you can lean on him for support. It will be a strange thing, being able to do that with your husband after so long with… Aerys… but I think you should do your best to learn."

Rhaella bites her lower lip at that. Jon Arryn… yes, her new husband. The man would still be spending the majority of his time in the Vale, but he would also be making routine trips to Dragonstone, to assist her with the regency that was to come. And tomorrow they would be wed in the Great Sept, and she would have her second husband.

It was not usually something that was done. Rhaella would have accepted the Silent Sisters if it kept her son and daughter alive and well. But Robert had been more generous than that… more savvy as well. Despite her looks and her name, Robert or perhaps Jon himself, had sussed out the fact that, out of everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, none hated what the Targaryen Dynasty had become quite as much as Rhaella.

There were those who had potentially suffered more… but she'd sat in the center of her House's machinations for too many long years to feel anything but disgust for it all. As such, she truly would be the perfect regent for her children, as Robert and Jon had apparently decided. Rhaella would not allow any loyalists that remained to poison the minds of her babies with thoughts of taking back the Iron Throne.

She would raise Viserys to be a Lord, and Daenerys to be a Lady. House Targaryen would live on, but it was Rhaella's fondest wish that her family never rule Westeros, ever again. Jon… Jon Arryn would be helpful there, yes. With a slight smile on her face, Rhaella nods to Elia.

"You're right, of course. He can't be worse than Aerys, now can he?

Elia chuckles at that and rubs her fingers into Rhaella's skin.

"I think you should aim for a bit more than that… but yes, I highly doubt he could be."

Rhaella joins Elia in chuckling, and without even realizing she had them in the first place, the former Queen finds her worries over her impending nuptials fading away.

-x-X-x-

Just like that, she's married. It was rather crazy, how time could pass so swiftly. The ceremony had dragged a bit, but the feast had been a whirlwind of events. Now though, they were alone. Rhaella Targaryen, last living adult to House Targaryen, stood in the bedchambers of one Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale. The man was not… unappealing. While his age showed, it did not show like it had on Aerys. Jon was not decrepit, or hunchbacked. Nor was he wrinkly and mad-eyed.

No, as the man approaches her, Rhaella can't help but find him quite… distinguished. What follows is a surprisingly tender kiss, and all she receives after that is more of the same. Her hands come up to rest on Jon's chest, even as he slowly, almost lovingly even, divests her of her dress and smallclothes. It takes time, but he gets there. It certainly takes longer than Aerys would have. But then, Rhaella is only finding out what she already knew. Jon Arryn is no Mad King.

When he finishes exposing her, the man presses his palm against the curve of her breast, running his fingers over her soft, pliable chest. Rhaella's breath hitches. It's the first time in her life that a sexual touch has not also been a rough, aggressive, violent one. And in the end, it means the world to her. In that moment, Rhaella realizes she does not have to be a spectator in her own sexual encounter.

Every move Jon makes invites her to reciprocate, and once Rhaella sees this, she can't help but do so. Divesting him of his own clothes does not see him flying into a rage and hitting her. Touching him does not provoke him to skip the foreplay, bend her over, and fuck her standing up right then and there. They explore one another, and Rhaella can't help but be in awe of the mutual respect as she runs her fingers over the aged Lord's body, even as he does the same with his fingers on hers.

Eventually, they end up on the bed. But Rhaella is not thrown there, not tossed on by a man with only lust and anger and spite running through his veins. Jon lays her back, and the Targaryen can't help but spread her legs for him as he slips between them carefully, gently. His member, more than erect by this point, pauses nonetheless at her opening. Rhaella bites her lower lip as he looks up into her eyes questioningly.

Even that much is… more than she's ever gotten. Nodding her head in silent approval, Rhaella watches as Jon slowly pushes forward, filling her with his length. It's… it's good. It may just very well be the first pleasurable sexual experience she's ever had. The more he moves, the more Rhaella enjoys it, and as Jon makes sweet, sweet love to her, the former Queen can't help but wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a deep, passionate kiss.

Their copulation lasts quite a while. Rhaella experiences an orgasm at the hands of a man for the first time in her life. And when Jon finally reaches his own release, it's not some pathetic panting sort of thing as he wheezes atop her. The aged Lord grunts once, and then she feels it, his hot seed painting her insides.

Its everything Rhaella never knew she wanted. And when Jon pulls out a moment later and instead of rolling away, continues to hold her close, the Targaryen woman realizes that it's everything she ever needed as well.

After decades of suffering and sadness, Rhaella Targaryen… is finally at peace.

-x-X-x-

He never would have seen himself here, not in a million years. Oh sure, there'd been a time when Jaime Lannister had been raised as his father's heir. His twin sister certainly wasn't going to become Lord of Casterly Rock, and his little brother the dwarf was even less likely to gain the title. Jaime Lannister, firstborn son to Tywin and Joanna Lannister, was the only one who could truly become Lord Paramount of the Westerlands.

Until King Aerys declared him Kingsguard. It was a great honor, to be sure. It was also an attack on his father, one even Jaime recognized as such. To be Kingsguard was to be landless and without any other title. To be Kingsguard was to be spouseless, and childless. And all of this… for life. It was a great honor… and also something that neither Jaime nor Tywin in his stead could refuse. The King spoke, and just like that the Westerlands' succession was in peril, Tywin was abruptly without a proper heir save for a dwarf boy with a propensity for books.

Jaime had felt for his father. He truly had. Amusingly enough though, Tywin had born with it, accepting the insult without action. Oh sure, his father probably had some idea of how to take revenge for Aerys' slight, but the war that followed, Robert's Rebellion as they now called it, that had nothing to do with the Lannisters. Not until the end at least, when Aerys started ranting about wildfire and burning everything to ash. Jaime had stepped in, and the King and his Hand had died by Jaime's sword.

He wasn't expecting to be praised for it. He wasn't even sure exactly why he'd done it. Was he simply afraid of death? Wildfire was certainly a bad way to go if nothing else. Maybe he'd wanted to save the city. Jaime couldn't say for certain. There were certainly people in Aerys' court that he found pleasant enough. He'd never much cared for the smallfolk though. It wasn't like he actively despised them or anything… they were just so far beneath his notice.

Regardless, one way or another, Jaime had made his decision. He'd slewed the Mad King. He'd killed the Grand Master of the Alchemists' Guild and ended the immediate threat posed to the city. And when Robert had led his armies to the throne room, he'd been awaiting the Usurper with a wane smile on his face and blood on his sword.

He really, truly hadn't expected praise for his deeds. And yet, Robert had proved shrewder than anyone, or at least Jaime, could have suspected. The Baratheon Lord had drawn out the truth of matters from him. And in the end, when all was said and done, and Tywin had arrived to swear fealty to Robert, the new King had gone a step further and released Jaime from his oaths, removing him from the Kingsguard.

The young man hadn't known what to think of that. It hadn't come cheaply of course. It hadn't actually been that simple. Robert had ordered Tywin to quell the Tyrells first and foremost. Only once the Lord Lannister had proved his loyalty did the new King Baratheon release Jaime from his bondage. And honestly, that WAS how he saw it now. There might have been a time where he would have been insulted at being released from the Kingsguard.

Even if Jaime understood that his appointment was less an honor and more a gilded cage as the Mad King used him as a pawn against his father, there was still something to be said about being Kingsguard. And something far less kind to be said about being one of the very few over the centuries to be dismissed from the prestigious knightly order, rather than dying with the white cloak on their shoulders, as so many had before them.

But he was happy now. Happier than he'd been in a long time. Happier than he honestly thought he ever could be. It might have had something to do with the gushing wet cunt pressed against his face. Or the massive tits wrapped around his throbbing cock. Hell, the tongue and lips on his balls certainly didn't hinder his enjoyment of the situation.

Jaime had a smile on his face, even as he gripped the pleasingly plump posterior right in front of him with both hands. Its owner moans wantonly as he kneads her fat ass, and she squirms and writhes atop his face as his tongue dives deep into her wet, velvety depths. Jaime is quite happy with the reactions of his new wife. How can he not be? Lysa Tully, now Lady Lannister of Casterly Rock, is a needy, eager-to-please little thing, and she seems absolutely enamored with his cock.

But then, she'd told him herself that it was the biggest one she'd ever seen. He would have thought her lying, if not for the wide eyes and the reverent tone as she stared at his member the night of their wedding, their very first bedding. But no, Jaime had gotten quite good at reading people during his years as Aerys' Kingsguard. Once you learned how to tip toe around insanity such as the Mad King's, normal people were delightfully transparent.

Lysa was not lying to him. She did not fake her enjoyment of his cock or his tongue. And Jaime… Jaime was left quite pleased with his secret trysts with his sister, as they left him prepared and experienced to welcome the sexually active and thoroughly insatiable red-haired Tully with open arms. Heh, Cersei… he would more than likely never fuck his twin sister, ever again.

The thought caused Jaime to feel a strange mix of things. He couldn't quite put it all into words. Cersei was his first. Unlike with his and Lysa's first bedding, passion-filled and extremely enthusiastic as it had turned out to be, Jaime's and Cersei's first time had been awkward to say the least. Cersei was certainly tighter than Lysa had been when they first fucked, but that didn't make plowing the curvy beauty any less pleasurable.

On top of that, Cersei had always been a bony thing, growing up. Her skinny body was enjoyable in its own way, especially since it was the only type of woman Jaime had ever known. Now that he knew the joy one could find in Tully curves… well, Jaime had quickly learned he was a tits and ass man, both of which Cersei had of course… but not in such quantities as his new bride had.

Not to mention, Cersei was always rather… rough. She was an aggressive girl that grew into an aggressive woman and being her twin and lover didn't protect Jaime from that. He remembered quite clearly how her boney, skinny form would bump into him, how she would sometimes choke him or slap him, how she would roughly grab him by his cock and lead him off to the side, so she could get a quick shag.

It wasn't that Jaime hated those times with his sister. It was all the intimacy he'd ever known. Without a mother, and with a cold-hearted father like Tywin Lannister, Jaime was starved for affection. Cersei gave him that affection, even if it came with a healthy dose of derision heaped on top. Especially after he'd become Kingsguard and their times together became limited to whenever she could get father to let her visit King's Landing. Which was to say, not often given the kind of man Tywin was.

Ultimately though, Jaime had found something better. And with his sister now married to the middle Baratheon, he didn't see much of her anymore. She wrote to him once in a while, and Jaime in turn had young Tyrion write back for him, since he'd never been very good with his letters. But in the end, they were no longer inseparable.

Jaime liked to think they'd finally grown up… at least, he hoped Cersei had found love in Stannis Baratheon's arms. He knew for a fact that he'd found it with Lysa Tully. A grin spreads across the handsome Lannister's face and a moment later he's pushing up on Lysa's ass as he rises at the same time, causing the young, voluptuous red head to yelp as he almost up turns her.

Her face is already beneath his cock, in his balls. Her tits pressed around his member. Jaime doesn't mind as her legs wrap around his head to take some of the weight off of her own skull, even as he forces her upside down, his arms wrapping around her waist in response. Her pussy is still right in front of him, and Jaime happily leans in to continue ravenously eating it out.

Lysa doesn't raise a single word of protest, beyond her surprised squeaks and her pleasured moans. That's the biggest difference between her and Cersei. Lysa Tully is far more docile, far less of a lioness… but also more beautiful and cuddly than Jaime would consider of a trout. He didn't know what to really compare her to, when it came to animals. But then, perhaps every woman in the world DIDN'T need to somehow take after their house crest. Heh, perhaps a woman could be just that… a woman.

And there was no doubt in Jaime's mind that his new wife was ALL woman. As she cries out against his balls while worshipping them with her tongue, Jaime gets a face full of Lysa's pussy juices, her orgasm finally arriving. That's his cue to move on, and it takes the young man all of five seconds to flip Lysa around again, laying her out on the bed on her back as he grabs her by her ankles and pushes her legs up into the air, and then down towards her body.

This is probably his favorite position to take his curvy, voluptuous wife in. Lysa's fat ass is on full display, as are her lower holes. But then, at the same time so are her beautiful, bountiful breasts, smooshed together by her arms as he forces her legs further and further back. Lysa moans in delight when Jaime moves his cockhead to her dripping wet mound, her fattened, plump pussy lips completely exposed and vulnerable to what he intends to do next.

What that is, is rather obvious of course. He looks down into his beloved wife's eyes with smoldering intensity, and then without another word, he thrusts deep into her cunt, filling her with his cock. Lysa's mouth immediately opens up, forming into a small o, but no sound comes from her as she looks at him with such… such LUST in her eyes. Jaime wastes no time in beginning to fuck his curvaceous new wife. His cock pounds down into Lysa's cunt, and the half-folded woman quickly succumbs, noise once more leaving her throat as she moans and mewls rather pathetically, writhing and squirming beneath his powerful thrusts.

Jaime gives it to her as hard as he possibly can. Certainly harder than he ever gave it to his sister. But then Cersei was always rather controlling when they had sex. It was never like this… Jaime was heir to Casterly Rock though now. He had to learn to take control. A man who was led by his wife was no man at all… and Jaime preferred not to think about what that meant for a man who'd allowed himself to be led by his sister.

Ah, but Cersei might as well be a world away. It was only him and Lysa now. And as Jaime continued to fuck the beautiful woman beneath him, as he watched Lysa reach climax after climax at the end of his thick, impaling cock, he felt completely at peace. The past was in the past. Peace had finally come to Westeros with the end of the Targaryen Dynasty. And at the same time, peace had come to Jaime Lannister.

It's not long before it all comes to a head. Lysa's face, her tightening, milking inner walls. The way her beautiful, voluptuous body shakes and jiggles and bounces with his deep, powerful thrusts. Its really all too much. Jaime roars like a victorious lion as he fills Lysa with his seed for the umpteenth time since their first bedding, and her ecstatic cries join with his voice as her back arches and her womb takes in his cum, spurt after spurt of the white, sticky fluid coating her insides.

Jaime doesn't know if she's already pregnant by this point. He certainly wouldn't be surprised if she was. But until they have confirmation, they're going to make damn well sure that his seed eventually takes… and neither he nor Lysa minds the constant 'attempts' one bit. Panting heavily as he slowly catches his breath, Jaime pulls out of his beautiful wife and let's go of her ankles, her legs flopping down as she splays out on his bed in such a delightful way.

Plopping down beside her, Jaime grins as Lysa turns her head towards him. The two of them kiss, deeply, and then he pulls his wife close as they both drift off to sleep. The heir to Casterly Rock and his bride, a joining between two noble houses that would stand the test of time. The Lannister's power in the Westerlands was secure. And Jaime Lannister was completely and utterly content with his lot in life.

-x-X-x-

It had been a momentous day. But now night had fallen, and it was time for the evening events to take place. Grinning widely, King Robert Baratheon, first of his name, stands from his seat at the high table.

"I think it's just about time for the bedding ceremony, don't you lot?!"

A general cheer raises through the hall, even as Robert raises his goblet in the direction of the blushing groom and bridge. Prince Edward Baratheon, son to Robert and Lyanna, next to his new wife, Lady Jeyne Lannister, daughter of Jaime and Lysa. The joining of the Baratheon and Lannister Houses would bring about the same sort of prosperity and close ties that joining Baratheon and Stark had. Robert was sure of that.

As the right people make their way up to prepare both Edward and Jeyne for their bedding, Robert settles back into his seat, laughing and making merry, even as he enjoys the general atmosphere of the great hall. This moment, here and now… this is the culmination of all he's worked to build. Hopefully, his reign is remembered as a strong, just reign. He's done his best to build a dynasty and a legacy that his children can be proud of.

Of course, right now Robert was prouder of his heir than anything else. Edward took the bedding process with great aplomb, even as many a highborn lady groped at him while stripping him down to nothing. Of course, both he and Jeyne were long out of the hall before Robert had to see anything too outrageous of his son's body, but the ribbing jokes and the good cheer sounded from the corridors long after they left.

The feast continued on even with the departure of bride and groom, but things did begin to wind down nonetheless. Robert catches Jaime's eye and lifts his goblet in the direction of his new good brother, even as Jaime smiles and does the same. Of course, that's around the time that Elia appears by his side, leaning in to whisper in his ear, while giving Robert a nice, delectable view down her dress.

"My King, there is something that requires your… delicate touch."

Robert lifts a brow at that, but the main event is over anyways. No one will begrudge the King if he retires now. And Robert would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by what Elia was offering. Robert had been named a great many things in his life, but delicate was not one of them. Rising to his feet, the King of Westeros allows Elia to pull him away from the feast.

The pair make their way through the Red Keep's halls, until eventually they arrive at the royal quarters. Robert wasn't sure what to expect when they entered. Lyanna, he could have guessed at… but the other woman waiting for them did take him aback for a moment, he had to admit.

"Lady Tyrell…"

Margaery blushes a little, even as she rises from the table where she and Lyanna had been seated and talking. Lyanna rises as well, making her way over to Robert with a smile on her face. King and Queen kiss for a moment, and Robert can't help but snake a hand around to squeeze at his delicious she-wolf's ass, drawing a playful growl from the dark-haired woman even as she pulls back and gives him a smoky look.

"Y-Your Grace."

As their lips detach, Lyanna curls into Robert's side, speaking to him directly, though her voice is loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room.

"Robert. Margaery has a favor to ask of you… of us. Elia and I have already decided to give our consent. Now it simply comes down to you."

Robert grunts at that and stares Margaery in the eye for a moment before snorting derisively.

"You need an heir… so you came to me? Heh, can't say I'm overly surprised. Best to keep it in the family."

Margaery's eyes go wide at that, and it's clear that the beautiful young flower is absolutely shocked at Robert's blunt way of shooting right to the heart of the matter.

"I… you know?"

Lifting an eyebrow at that, Robert shrugs his shoulders.

"What, that my littlest brother is a poof? That he's happier in YOUR brother's bed than your own? Aye, I know. Regardless of Renly's proclivities, he's still my brother… and he's still a good man, no matter what those religious nuts might say about his lifestyle. He did his duty in marrying you… but I'd hoped he could do his duty in bedding you as well. I suppose that was too much to ask?"

Biting her lower lip, Margaery glances down at herself.

"We have tried to make it work multiple times, your grace. Even including my brother… but the seed will not take. It has been over a year now, and people are beginning to talk."

Robert grunts at that, moving free of Lyanna and Elia as he plants his fists on his hips.

"So, you've come to me then. And if Lyanna and Elia are alright with it… then so am I. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

Margaery blushes deeply once more and bobs her head up and down in agreement.

"As you say, your grace."

Robert moves towards the bed, even as Lyanna moves to join him. Elia in turn moves to Margaery, and the two older women assist both the King and his brother's lady wife in removing their garments, bit by bit. Once he's naked, Robert sits down on the edge of the royal bed, watching as Margaery fidgets in place. She's certainly beautiful, though it's the beauty of a maiden rather than a woman grown.

Over the years, the King has found he prefers a woman's beauty, rather than a maiden's. But this isn't for his own pleasure, even if he knows he probably will enjoy it all the same. Still, Elia and Lyanna are both so much… fuller in all the ways that matter, even as they too strip down. When Elia guides Margaery over and bids her to kneel, Robert finds himself studying the beautiful Martell woman, over the girl he's about to bed.

All the same, once Margaery's lips close over his cock, Robert does groan and pay the girl some attention. His fingers lace through her hair, even as he stares down into her eyes. She's eager to please, and quite enthusiastic, even as Elia guides her along, giving her advice here and there on how to best suck his cock. At the same time, Lyanna is behind him, kneeling on the bed as she rests her chin on his shoulder, her tits against his back.

Robert would have liked to say he never could have imagined things ending up like this. But in truth, he'd seen this coming from a mile away. His darling women were not nearly as sneaky as they thought they were. Nor was his littlest brother and that Knight of Flowers he was cavorting along with. In truth, Robert pitied Margaery… but it was good to see the Tyrell girl looking for a solution to her problem, rather than wallowing in despair and letting the issue fester.

For that alone, he would be happy to fulfill her request. After all, as King of Westeros, it was his duty to make sure the realm always remained stable.

"Gagkh… Gagkh… Gagkh…"

Margaery is beginning to gag on his prick now, as it grows bigger and bigger. At his full size, she's simply not able to take every last inch into her small mouth and down her tight throat. That's fine though, because Robert has no intention of putting his seed anywhere else BUT inside of that needy little womb of hers. Pulling her off of his cock with a grunt, Robert looks down, even as Margaery glances up with fretful eyes.

"A-Am… am I not pleasing you, your g-grace?"

Snorting derisively, Robert rolls his eyes.

"You're as good as can be expected, Tyrell. But I'm hard now, which means we move onto the main event. Get on the bed."

Flushing deeply in both trepidation and anticipation, Margaery does as she's told. Elia and Lyanna end up laying with the girl, both of them playing with the younger woman's body as they take her attention away from what's about to come, one after the other. Lyanna kisses Margaery deeply, before Elia guides the young Tyrell woman's mouth to her caramel chest.

Robert watches the insanely hot scene for a moment, before ultimately, he climbs onto the bed and kneels between Margaery's legs, spreading them wide and causing the young woman's breath to hitch as she immediately zeroes in on his cock, aimed at her tight little cunt. Bringing his fingers to her pussy lips, the King is gratified to find his partner wet and ready for him, even as nervous as Margaery looks.

Her tight little flower looks oh so small compared to his cock… but when he penetrates her, she's no virgin, her purity long since lost to one of the attempts by her husband, his brother, to impregnate her. Robert doesn't care. He's long past the days where he went around taking the purity of maidens as if he was collecting bounties. He much prefers an experienced woman's form at this point.

Regardless, his cock sinks into her inch by inch, despite the seemingly large size disparity. Margaery gasps for air as he fills her with his meat, and Robert watches her face contort into all sorts of interesting expressions throughout the process. In the end, his cockhead smacks against her cervix, and there he pauses for a moment, allowing the young Tyrell woman to recover herself somewhat.

Of course, Elia and Lyanna aren't above teasing the girl. Lyanna runs her hands through Margaery's wavy locks, while Elia slides her fingers down the Tyrell's taut belly, all the way to her navel, as if she's stroking Robert's cock right through Margaery's flesh.

"He's big, isn't he love? That's alright. You get used to it."

"Mm, at the same time, you never TRULY get used to it. Being fucked by the King of Westeros himself… it's a high honor, isn't it?"

Margaery whimpers and nods her head, words escaping her as she just stares at where she and Robert are joined. Deciding he's waited long enough, Robert pulls back and thrusts in again. The cry that he draws from the girl beneath him is cut off by Lyanna's lips, even as Elia lets out a quiet giggle. But Robert doesn't stop there. Once he's begun, there's no way he's going to so much as hesitate before he's finished.

Thrusting in and out of the Tyrell girl, the King of Westeros fucks Margaery into oblivion. His big, fat cock fills her again and again and again, and there's nothing she can truly do but take it. In that moment, she's simply a receptacle for his cock. Soon, she'll be a receptacle for his life-giving cum. Robert grunts and increases the pace at that thought. There's something to be said about fucking his own brother's cute young wife.

He'd never do it under any other circumstances, of course. He'd never fuck Cersei behind Stannis' back, for instance. Not only was that probably not good for his health, Stannis and Cersei had a very active love life indeed, with four children between them at this point. Yes, they were doing just fine together. This though? This was not a betrayal, this was assistance, in its own way.

And it's also immensely pleasurable. Fucking the hot young thing that is Margaery Tyrell brings Robert a strange sort of satisfaction, as he stares down into her face, watching her climax around his cock time and time again. Elia and Lyanna have their own fun with her, but ultimately, they're just side pieces at the moment. This is between him and Margaery, his cock pistoning in and out of her cunt with wild, reckless abandon.

And he's getting closer. As her tight inner walls cling to his shaft, as she squeezes down on him harder and harder, Robert knows it won't be long before he reaches his release. Might as well make it now. With a growl followed by a holler, the King of Westeros begins to cum deep inside of Lady Tyrell. He fills Margaery's womb with seed, painting her insides white with his cum.

He packs her to the brim with his ejaculate, and only once he's done cumming inside of her does he pull back, panting just a bit. Margaery is flushed with arousal and lust and panting as well much harder than he is. On top of that, she's covered in sweat as she stares up at him in no small amount of wonder.

"I didn't… I didn't know it could be like that."

Robert chuckles darkly, reaching out and caressing one of Margaery's small tits for the first time. He grins down at the girl, even as he very pointedly slaps his still-hard cock down on her leaking cunt.

"You're going to learn a lot of things from us, girl. We're far from done here."

Margaery swallows thickly, but when Robert turns her over, she's quick to move up onto her hands and knees, pressing her backside up against his crotch enticingly. A moment later, and he's fucking her from behind this time, railing into the young, nubile woman with all his might as Lyanna and Elia watch on with hooded eyes, touching themselves all the while.

He'd fuck the both of them next, he figured. But even when he fucked them, he'd be sure to leave the loads that they'd inevitably squeeze from his cock inside of the hot young thing currently impaled on his member. Margaery Tyrell wasn't leaving this room until Robert was absolutely sure that the tight little cunt was pregnant.

It was his duty after all. And he'd be sure to see it through.

-x-X-x-

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-x-X-x-

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