JAEHAERYS TARGARYEN, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, felt uneasy as he was led deeper into the dark bowels of the Grand Sept of Visenya. He had only ever been in the sept-proper on a few occasions and had been too young to be allowed to venture deeper into the labyrinthine complex.
The temple was dedicated to one of the greatest queens in the history of the Seven Kingdoms and was one of the largest centre of worship in the known world, acting as a sept, an orphanage, a school, a palace and a brothel.
His nervousness heightened as he was led past the world famous Corridor of Carnality which housed the church's brothels and where he could overhear the overzealous moans and lustful cries of the clergy servicing the carnal needs of the faithful. Past the Corridor was the Maidenvault where underaged novices of noble birth were taught on how to pleasure the flesh. He had caught a glimpse of his uncle and namesake, Septon Jaehaerys, but the man was preoccupied by a Dornish couple as they made love in public without a care in the world. He was ushered past the copulating trio and down into a dark, twisting tunnel made of black, oily stone that led deep beneath the city itself.
The black walls of the tunnel swallowed all light and only the path beneath his feet was illuminated by the torches of his escort, two mute knights of the Rainbow Guard, an order of seven hundred and seventy-seven knights sworn to the High Septa and not the Iron Throne. Despite the strong alliance between the Faith and the Crown since the days of Maegor the Great, his fears did not alleviate as he was the son of an Old Gods-worshipping mother and he himself felt he was more Stark than Targaryen, preferring being called Jon than Jaehaerys. And as he was led deeper into the dark abyss of the underground tunnel, Jon couldn't help but feel like he was willingly walking into a trap.
It had been years since a Targaryen prince was given over to the Faith and with his brother, Aegon, being the crown prince, Jon was worried that he would be forced into taking his vows to secure the succession. While being a septon would grant him knowledge of the higher mysteries, learn how to breathe fire like a dragon and have endless sex until he was old and grey, Jon had other aspirations in life. Unlike what the royal court murmurs in the shadow, Jon didn't want his father's crown nor did he even want to rule as lord.
He wanted to be free.
To be a legendary warrior like Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. He wanted to explore the world atop his dragon, Snow, and discover new lands beyond the Sunset Sea and meet new people. He wanted to climb the Wall and defend it from wildlings alongside his Stark cousins. He wanted to sail the Smoking Sea and fight the hellish monsters that inhabit Valyria. But most of all, he wanted to share the bed of a particular princess, with eyes of amethyst and a smile that could thaw a frozen heart.
And the High Septa could snuff out his dreams with a single stroke of a pen.
As Mother of the Faithful, she held a power equal if not surpassing that of the king himself, capable of stripping Jon from his royal titles and banishing him from the realm like so many had before him. Of his four paternal uncles, three were taken in by the Faith to be septons while his uncle Viserys had been exiled to the Summer Islands on the charge of blasphemy and sedition.
For centuries, the Faith has acted as a shadow government, oftimes supporting House Targaryen and sometimes, undermining the royal family. Going as far as choosing which bride the king could marry and even which of the king's sons could inherit the crown.
Its incredible political power was supplemented by its mystical and magical powers which had only grown stronger since the Dragons landed in Westeros. It was said that a truly pious septa could cure diseases that a maester couldn't, have no need of nourishment, control animals, manipulate the elements, raise the dead and so much more.
Most of them were exaggerations but nonetheless, those tales inspired fear into boys and grown men alike and Jon was determined to not to be frightened.
"A frightened man is a beaten man." His uncle Brandon once said.
Even Aegon the Conqueror, who had forged the Seven Kingdoms into one realm, had treaded lightly in regards to the Faith, honoring their rights and privileges as well as taking a bride from each of the Seven Kingdoms as tribute. When the Conqueror had died, the High Septa decreed that he should be succeeded by his second son, Maegor, a man she deemed blessed by the Seven.
Maegor the Great would live to be 112 years old, rule for 77 years, win 21 battles and father 98 children from 14 wives, all considered auspicious numbers in the Faith. Whether he truly was blessed by the Gods was debatable but it certainly helped that he had seduced the High Septa when he was just a boy and the Faith had been on his side ever since with the Faith Militant acting as his own private army in his many wars against the Free Cities.
And now, it was Jon's turn to seduce the High Septa and make a name for himself or be forgotten in the annals of history. After minutes of walking, the tunnels came to a dead end and his silent escort stopped and took on station on either side of what seemed to be a large weirwood door, the bleach-white wood shining bright in the torchlight in contrast to the dark.
"Should I knock?" Jon looked at the Rainbow Guards for guidance but they remained mute and stoic, their face an emotionless mask. With no apparent handles or doorknob in sight, Jon raised his hand to knock but before his knuckles could meet the wood, the door slowly creaked wide open followed by a gust of cool ocean breeze. After spending minutes in the darkness of the underground tunnel, Jon was temporarily blinded by how brightly lit the room was as he stepped inside, shielding his eyes from the candles that shone with the power of the sun.
Several blinking moments later, Jon realized that the source of light was the sun itself, its golden rays filtering through the large open windows that gave a bird's eye view of the capital city below. The city below? Jon staggered towards the window and indeed he found himself high atop one of the seven colossal towers of the sept. How? He wondered. Every step he took in the tunnels had led him down not up. Yet, here he was. High above the sprawling city with the Red Keep in the distance, its crimson walls glowing like flames beneath the summer sun.
Jon turned towards the door from whence he entered, only to find that it had completely disappeared. Instead of a wooden door, Jon only found solid stone walls that encircled the seven-sided room. There was a large canopied bed beneath a large, weirwood carving of the seven-pointed star, an old bookshelf full of ancient books, a crystal crown upon the hearth, Myrish rugs, wide windows draped with golden curtains that swayed gently in the breeze and only one door, that led to the balcony.
"Rytsas, Dārilaros Jaehaerys."
Jon was almost startled by the greeting, the voice soft-spoken and melodious, every word sounded like it came from the lips of an angel from the heavens above. He noticed movement upon the balcony and a gust of wind blew aside the large golden drapes to reveal the woman who had summoned him.
And she was breathtaking.
For a moment Jon could only gauk at her. No wonder people believed that the High Septa was the avatar of the Mother Above, she possessed a beauty that was almost unnatural with silver-gold hair like the Valyrians of Old, heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a body that even the Father would worship.
She was scantily dressed as was expected of a member of the Faith but what surprised the young prince was the colour of her attire. The few times he saw her, she was dressed in white or depending of the feast days of the Seven any colour of the rainbow. But the woman standing before him was dressed in black. Targaryen black. The colour of sin.
"Udrizi Valyrio ýdrā?" She asked, her eyes smiling. "Iā gõntan ao ojughagon aôha ēngos?"
Do you speak Valyrian? Or did you lose your tongue?
"Valyrio muño ēngos ñuhys issa." Jon lied, Valyrian was definitely not his mother tongue. He knew enough to hold a conversation but he was hopeless when it came to reading and writing the lost language. But it was the native tongue of the Targaryens and he did not want to appear less so in her eyes.
"Do not lie to me, boy." The High Septa frowned in disappointment. "Not only would I see through your falsehoods but it would sour my already low opinion of you."
"My apologies, Your Reverence." Jon winced at her admonishment and gave a short bow out of respect, the one he was taught to give to one of her station. Even as he bowed his head, he was unable to look away from her piercing gaze as she came closer.
She was inhumanely beautiful, was Jon's thought as the goddess half-walked, half-floated towards him, her movements lithe and graceful. She held an uncanny resemblance to his aunt, Daenerys, but where Dany had amethyst eyes, the High Septa had heterochromia, with one eye as dark and as blue as the sea and the other a bright green, shimmering like the emeralds of the silver necklace around her long, slender neck.
"Most men are drawn to my breasts. Some to my feet. I see you prefer my eyes." The High Septa stood taller than him, over six feet tall, and he had to crane his neck to look up at her. "You're small for your age. It's a shame that you favour your northern mother."
"My mother is the finest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. It's a blessing to resemble her." Jon spat, clenching his fists, forgetting his mission to impress the Mother of the Faithful.
"The finest woman..." the Septa looked amused. With a graceful flick of her hand, she unlaced the silk chemise that fell like water to her feet, leaving her bare with only her bra and panties. "Even compared to me?"
"Yes." Jon stated firmly, ignoring how dry his throat had suddenly become. "Beauty is more than appearance, Your Holiness, and I don't know you as well as her."
"You're loyal to your family... As expected of a Dragon." The High Septa smiled and Jon felt like he had passed some sort of test. "Follow me, child, and let's see if you truly are more wolf than dragon."
Jon obediently followed the Matriarch to the other side of the room, where the tower faced the calm azure waters of Blackwater Bay. Perched in a pot on top a marble pillar by the window, is what appeared to be a small tree, carefully tended to so it was perfectly symmetrical.
"Do you know what I am? What my Order does besides praying and whoring?"
An Order of Sorceresses. Concubines. And worst of all, Politicians. Jon thought to say but he refrained himself. "The more I learn about your Order, the less I understand."
"Yes, as it should be... But in truth, we are not priestesses nor are we whores. We are gardeners." The High Septa said as she picked up a small pair od scissors and began to trim the tree carefully. "We tend to the Tree of Life. We water it, place it in the sun, care for it. And if a branch cannot support it's own weight, or a flower fails to bloom... We cut it out."
SNAP!
Jon almost flinched at the sharp sound that echoed throughout the room before cursing himself for his cravenness. The High Septa took the culled branch which had but one yellow leaf upon it and cast it into a nearby burning brazier which fizzled as it burned. "Tell me, child, have you ever heard of the Dance of Dragons? Or the Blackfyre Rebellions?"
"Rebellions?" Jon frowned, remembering his fond childhood memories at Summerhall, the seat of the cadet branch of House Targaryen. "The Blackfyres are our closest ally!"
"Daoruni gīmī, Ionos Sõnaro." The High Septa quipped and Jon was taken aback, startled by her words. He had heard those words before in his dreams, not in High Valyrian but in the Common Tongue, muttered by a scraggly redhead in a warm cave.
You know nothing, Jon Snow.
"This is your branch." The High Septa turned the pot around revealing a protruding branch at the side of the tree. It looked healthy but was growing at an angle that made it unseemly compared to the other evenly distributed branches. "It is an imperfection that ruins the symmetry... But flaws can sometimes be beautiful, can it not?"
Indeed, Jon nodded as he gazed into her 'imperfect' eyes. Blue vs Green. Somehow more beautiful than if her eyes were completely blue or entirely green.
"Like you, this branch was never supposed to exist. You see, a prophecy foretold that your father would have three children; a son and two daughters, the Conquerors Reborn. You were supposed to be the Visenya to your brother, Aegon." The High Septa revealed, her hands idling with the scissors at the base of the divergent branch and for the first time in his life, Jon was worried about a plant. "Your mother ruined centuries worth of selective breeding when she gave birth to you, instead of a daughter as she was instructed."
"And I'm guessing that you want me to defend myself? To give you a reason to not trim me off the tree?" Jon asked, already knowing the answer. No matter what he say or do, he had a feeling that nothing would be good enough for the High Septa.
The High Septa moved towards the burning brazier and placed her hand on the undoubtedly scorching hot metal rim without flinching. "This is a test that every would-be king must take... Your brother passed his with flying colours, let's see if you can as well."
"Aegon was born to be king. I don't want to usurp his crown." Jon stated, remembering Aegon's boast a little over a year ago, claiming he had seduced the High Septa and how she, in the throes of passion, had anointed him Prince of Dragonstone. Aegon had came back with a bandaged hand, didn't he? Jon's eyes were drawn to the burning hot embers and then to her nearby hand. How can she not feel the heat?
"Ur don't wUn it?" The High Septa mocked in a northern accent, goading him. "Is this how you obey your mother? Place your right hand above the flames. NOW!"
Jon found himself obeying her command before he could even think of protesting. No matter how much he tried to stop his hand, it moved with a will of it's own and into the burning brazier, directly above the dancing red flames.
"I... I can't move my hand!" He pleaded, his fear rising.
"A septa can use The Voice to compel the uninitiated into doing their bidding." The sorceress revealed, a feral look upon her face. "Now lower your hand."
Jon looked into her blue-green eyes and felt her compulsion taking root in his mind, slowly, unwilling and unable to resist, he lowered his hand into the fire. As the flames licked his palms, he felt first a sense of coldness and then numbness as if his hand were asleep. Then came a tingling which gave way to an irritating itch.
The mad woman moved closer to him, so she could have a better look at the sick game she was inflicting upon the prince with a twisted smile upon her face. Then the moment he had been dreading arrived all too soon, as the itch gave way to an ominously warm sensation.
"Why are you doing this?" He demanded, as he felt the heat rising.
"To determine if you're a dragon. Be silent."
Jon clenched his free hand into a fist as the warmth increased in his other hand. It mounted slowly: heat upon heat upon heat.... upon burning heat. He wanted to scream, the fingernails of his free hand biting the palm, as he tried to desperately move his burning hand away from the flames but couldn't.
"It burns!" He whispered, pleading for mercy. But none was given.
"Silence!" She snapped, her face inches from his. "Remember, child, fire cannot kill a dragon."
The pain travelled up his arm. Sweat covered his entire body in a desperate and futile effort to cool the burning hand. He closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing, remembering an ancient Valyrian litany that Grandmaester Aemon once taught him when he was younger:
Se ribazma iksis se ossēnagon hen zūgagon.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. I will face my fear. When the fear has gone, there shall be nothing. Only I will remain.
The entire world disappeared except for the hand immersed in pain. The burning pain! With his eyes closed he could feel his skin blistering, the smell of burning flesh that was somehow both terrible and mouthwatering until all that remained of his hand was a charred black stump....
It stopped!
Jon's eyes quickly snapped open and stared at his hand in astonishment. The pain was gone and his hand was... fine. It was surprisingly unaffected by the still burning flames. Not a mark. No sign of agony but in his left hand, where four bloody marks remained from where his fingernails had buried into his palms. Experimentally, he brought his left hand into the burning brazier alongside the other and as the flames danced in between his palms, the crescent-shaped cuts slowly healed until not even a scar was left.
"Fire made flesh." The High Septa's voice broke Jon away from his bewilderment.
"Is all Targaryens immune to fire?" He wondered, is this why Aegon had been so pompous lately?
"Ever shift sand through a screen, dārilaros?" The woman asked, the tone of her voice vastly different, almost respectful. "We shift Targaryens through the trial of fire to see which are men and which are dragons."
"So my father and brother? They've been through this? You tortured them?"
"Pain is weakness leaving the body and fire cleanses the soul." The woman's face softened and she looked upon Jon with reverence. "Your father and brother proved themselves worthy of the Throne by being able to endure a pain that would cripple lesser men. But no man has been able to not only overcome his pain but be unburnt by the flames. Until you, Dārilaros Jaehaerys."
"So I can do magic?" Jon was both excited and terrified by the ramifications. Would the price of magic be a lifetime of serving a God he didn't believe in?
"You can do so much more, my Prince." The woman sat down on a gilded chair and crossed her long legs. "You can learn how to fly without wings. How to see the past and dictate the future. You can learn all of this if, you sit down, here at my feet."
The offer to seat next to her was tempting and the invite was in a friendly voice but Jon felt the need to refuse it.
"I prefer to stand."
"Your father sat at my feet once." the Septa's eyes narrowed. "As did his father and his father before."
"I'm not my father."
"You hate me a little, eh?"
He didn't answer. She smiled at his futile resistance and stood up, towering over him.
"You are a young man, dārilaros. Almost an adult. And now tell me, have you ever been with a woman before?" She brought her hands to his neck and held him close. She slowly leaned down and as their faces inched closer together, Jon half-feared and half-hoped that she would kiss him but instead she leaned her forehead against his and simply closed her eyes.
Jon blinked once, then twice, taken aback by the unexpected gesture. She was so close to him that they were sharing each other's expired breaths, and he could almost taste the sweet Lysene oil that perfumed her silky silver-gold hair on his tongue. Suddenly, he felt a warmth emanating from his core and spreading throughout his body like his blood had been set on fire. His mouth went dry and he could feel his cock hardening in his pants.
She was using magic to seduce him!
"Get out of my head." He muttered, his dry lips almost touching hers, resisting the urge to close the distance and kiss her. He closed his eyes to fight off her influence but all it did was heightened his senses. Her scent was as intoxicating as it was addictive and it clouded his mind until he was lightheaded and the only thing that he desired was to stay in her embrace for all eternity.
"But it's so much fun being inside your head, baby. I didn't know you had such lecherous thoughts about me." Said a familiar voice.
Jon snapped his eyes opened and almost jumped back in shock. Before him wasn't the tall, blonde seductress but a familiar brunette who possessed the same shade of grey eyes as him and who was gloriously nude like she had been plucked from the deepest reaches of his secret fantasy.
"Hello, darling." The High Septa said in his mother's voice.
"You're... You're not my mother!" He whimpered as he took a step back, his voice heavy with want.
"I can be whoever you want, baby." She purred and pulled him into a wantonly wet kiss. His first. After several moments of having the older woman plunder his mouth with her tongue while he stood in shock, Jon's animal instincts kicked and he began to kiss her back.
He was clumsy, inexperienced and undoubtedly made a fool of himself in the process but his mother The High Septa was a patient teacher, slowing him down when he was too eager and encouraging him to be more bold when he grew too complacent until their tongues were twisted into a sordid and well-choreocrafted dance as if they lifelong lovers.
She eventually broke away, leaving Jon panting and wanting more despite knowing that he was being manipulated. She could be a demon from the Seven Hells and he'd gladly follow her every command.
"You think giving yourself to the Faith means giving up your freedom. But you're wrong." She slowly fell to her knees before him and begin to unlace his pants while Jon could do nothing but stare into her eyes and listen. "You are the one we've been waiting for, my prince. Your every desire will be met. If you wish to fight savages beyond the Wall, then the Faith Militant will fight by your side. If you desire to journey west of Westeros, the Seven Fleet will sail with you. And if you desire your mother or your aunt or any maiden, then they shall be yours."
She pulled down his pants and his cock sprang out, nearly hitting her in the face. Jon smiled proudly at the surprise etched on her face. He knew he was well-endowed but if the woman who had bedded kings and princes and warriors for a hundred years was impressed by his size, then it was surely a badge of honour.
"Look at me." She instructed, as she held his cock in her hand. "Look into your mother's eyes."
Jon complied with her demands and stared into her eyes which were now a shade darker, clouded with lust and desire. Keeping her eyes trained on his, she opened her mouth and lowered her head onto his throbbing cock never stopping until his shaft had disappeared in her mouth and her lush lips were around his base. There was no way anyone could take all of his cock down their throat in one go but the High Septa had a century worth of experience.
"Oh Gods," he cursed aloud, feeling his cock down her throat and her long tongue licking against the sensitive underside of his shaft.
She slowly pulled away, her tongue doing it's magic as his cock left her mouth, glistening with her saliva and smiled up at him happily. "We'll make a believer out of you."
The thought of spending his life in service to the Faith no longer bothered him, Jon thought as the Mother of the Faithful continued to pleasure him, worship him as she would her Gods.
Despite the impressive size of his cock, he was still a virgin and his 'mother' took his shaft into her mouth once more, he felt himself in the verge of spilling his load prematurely. The High Septa began to pick up the pace, bobbing her head on his thick cock, burying the shaft into the back of her throat everytime until he was fucking her mouth as he would her cunt. The wet sounds of her sucking grew louder as saliva spilled from her lips while her own moans and groans became music to Jon's ears.
Miraculously, he was able to survive the oral assault for a few minutes until he felt his balls churn with the telltale signs of desire and his cock somehow grew bigger in her mouth. He tried to hold on but he made the terrible mistake of looking down at her. He met her gaze and whatever he saw in those lust-crazed eyes, finally pushed him over the edge.
"Cum for me!" She half-commanded and half-begged for his seed as she pulled away from his cock, her hand a blur on his shaft while her tongue lick the slit. "Cum on mama!"
His cock twitched in her hand and then erupted like what he imagined the Fourteen Flames must have done so during the Doom, unleashing all of his pent up pressure and desire into a massive climax. He screamed in euphoria for all the city to hear as he shot seven thick ropes of seed upon the face of his mother, some managing to find its target on her outstretched tongue while the rest bathe her face and hair before dripping heavily down into the valley of her breasts.
Jon's knees went weak at the intensity of his orgasm as his cock kept jerking until he was sure that he was drained dry of his seed. Probably another magic trick, he thought eventhough he clearly enjoyed it. Looking down, it wasn't his mother beaming up at him but the High Septa, with her face glazed with his seed. With a wave of her hand, all of the semen followed her fingers and into her waiting mouth, leaving her face dry as she swallowed all of his cum.
"Do you want to fuck me now?"
"Yes." Jon answered despite being drained to the point of exhaustion.
"Not today." The High Septa replied with a smile, those two words cutting through him like a sword would. "Tomorrow's your fourteenth nameday, a special day for a man... Sleep well, for tomorrow, your mother will be joining us."
***
"STAND ASIDE!"
"My apologies, Your Grace." Ser Bonifer Hasty, the Grand Captain of the Rainbow Guard protested as he stood between the She-Wolf and the entrance to the Grand Sept. "The High Septa decreed that she would not be distur..."
"Open the doors and let me in!" The queen demanded again, this time using The Voice. As soon as the knight looked into her grey eyes, she took complete control of his mind to the point where he would have happily fallen on his sword if she had commanded him to.
"At once, Your Grace." The elderly knight bowed lowly and commanded the two soldiers attending him to open the heavy weirwood door leading to the Grand Sept.
The High Septa was inside with one of her favourites, a voluptuous redheaded whore from Asshai, who scowled in contempt as Lyanna interrupted whatever it was that they were planning. They weren't praying, as Lyanna knew for a fact that the Reverend Mother of the Faithful was but a faithless atheist who only worshipped herself and used the Faith as a tool to increase her power and wealth.
"Welcome back, Lyanna." She greeted without even looking up at her, as she lit up a bushel of Lysene herbs, filling the sept full of its thick and musky fumes. It was a potent drug from with psychedelic and aphrodisiac properties but Lyanna was immune to its effects as she was with all drugs and poisons. "I've been expecting you."
"Where is he?" The queen demanded, grey eyes burning with rage. "What have you done to my son?!"
"He is in the infirmary," the High Septa said nonchalantly. "He failed the Trial of Fire yesterday and was gravely burnt. You knew the risks when you sent him to me."
No! It can't be! Lyanna's was instinctively filled with maternal pain and worry as she heard the Septa's words but then she remembered her training and her grey eyes met mismatched blue-green eyes and she saw through the falsehood. "You're lying! Where is he?"
"Very good, Lyanna." The woman beamed proudly, ignoring her question. "Your training have done well, my dear daughter, being able to see through even my lies and..."
"I did not come here for your praises!" Lyanna snapped, ignoring the warmth she felt from the woman's words. My dear daughter. How long had she waited for such compliment? But now was not the time to dwell on it. "Where's Jon? You can't keep him from me, Shiera!"
The silence that befell the sept was deafening. The whore had been silent ever since Lyanna entered but now took a step forward, looking ready to assault the queen for daring to use the High Septa's birth name but Shiera Seastar refrained her from taking another step.
"You still hate me? After all these years?" the woman asked, a genuine sadness in her voice.
"I hate you... as much as I love you." Lyanna found herself saying through gritted teeth, flexing her pale right hand, remembering the flames, the burning agony. She had only been a child back then. Ignorant, ambitious and desperate for a mother's love. "You tortured my son!"
"I will not apologise for my actions, Lyanna. I vowed to live free of regrets." the High Septa sighed as she turned to her silent acolyte. "Septa Melisandre, go find our young guest and bring him here. He has waited long enough."
Lyanna watched as the whore reluctantly obeyed, leaving her mistress alone with the 'heathen' queen. Many zealots hated the idea of a Stark learning the higher mysteries of the Faith. Their magic was a sacred and esoteric knowledge that few possessed but the High Septa decreed that if Lyanna could pass her Trial of Fire, then she was entitled to learn magic as she likely possessed the blood of the Dragon through a 'distant' relative.
It was only in hindsight that Lyanna realized why the High Septa was so confident that she would pass the test easily.
"Why didn't you send him home last night?" Lyanna asked when they were finally alone. "If he passed his test, why keep him from me?"
"He and I had much to talk about." Shiera said as she walked in circles around the queen, towering over her and for a minute, Lyanna was back in the Maidenvault, feeling like a little girl once again. A girl who had recently lost her mother and was desperately filling that void with another mother figure. "Or perhaps, I just wanted the excuse to see you again."
"No, there's another reason." Lyanna met the Reverend Mother's eyes. "Keeping him from me... Is that my punishment? For giving birth to a son instead of a daughter."
"You were told only to bear daughters to the Silver King." The High Septa reminded her for the umpteenth time, the phrase was uttered so often it might as well be her House words. "And you in your pride thought you could give birth to the Voktys Rõvēgrie."
Voktys Rõvēgrie. The Great Priest.
Lyanna lifted her chin and braved the stare from the older woman. "I sensed the possibility."
"Well... it seems that you were right." The High Septa smiled, shocking the queen. "In our little interaction together, your boy has impressed me. Loyal and brave, much like your father had been. There's power in his blood. But, if he is to be the Voktys Rõvēgrie, you must tame him before he becomes a threat to us all. Do you understand?"
Lyanna hesitated. "I do. But my son is a dragon and a wolf. He cannot be tamed."
"My sweet girl," Shiera laughed as if Lyanna had said some droll joke. "Your son is still a man. They can all be tamed."
A few minutes later, Prince Jaehaerys entered the Grand Sept through the Maiden's Door with a stubborn slowness, no doubt angry at being held against his will. Wariness veiled his eyes when he glanced at the High Septa but then it widened in shock once he saw his mother emerged from behind the taller woman, an embarrassed blush forming on his cheeks and he immediately looked away from her.
"Dārilaros," the High Septa greeted warmly, "let's return to this dream business of yours."
"What do you want to know?" Jon asked, avoiding his mother's gaze as if she were a stranger to him.
"Do you dream every night?"
"Yes. I remember every dream. Some are worth remembering and some aren't."
"Last night. Was it worth remembering?"
"Yes." Jon hesitated, his eyes briefly meeting his mother's before looking away. "I was here, in this sept. With you. And there were others as well. You offered me a red potion and when I drank it you called me the... Voktys Rõvēgrie."
"Impossible!" The High Septa exclaimed. She sent a hard glance at Lyanna.
"I've not told him!" The queen defended, looking at her son in reverence.
The High Septa turned her attention back to Jon. "That potion I gave you, what was it like?"
"It was viscous like honey but it's colour was a bright red instead of amber." Jon closed his eyes as he remembered every detail of the dream. "It tasted bitter at first then better, almost sweet, like milk and honey, then like lemoncakes and fresh-fallen snow... Afterwards, I felt awake eventhough I knew that I was still dreaming."
He is the One! Shiera clutched her hand to her chest and felt a wave of euphoria and relief wash over her, ending her three hundred years of wait. Even if his mother had indeed groomed him to answer all of her questions correctly, there was no one alive in the world who could accurately describe the taste of consuming the Dragonspice, no one but her. Nonetheless, Shiera quickly concealed her excitement and her face became an emotionless mask of indifference. "Tell me truly now, Jon, do you often dream of things that happen afterward exactly as you dream them?"
"Yes. And it's been happening more often."
"Oh?" A sly grin spread across the High Septa's face. "Was your mother in that dream you had yesterday?"
Jon quickly stole a guilty glance at his mother. "Yes."
"And what did we do after you drank the spice?" The High Septa was now so close to the young man that he could feel her heavy breath upon his face.
"Uhh... nothing worth remembering." Jon lied, stealing another glance at his mother. The shame evident on his face.
"You made love to us, didn't you?" The High Septa asked rhetorically, biting her bottom lip seductively as she set her warm hand on his chest, her beautiful eyes roaming over his body until they met the hard bulge that was barely being contained in the tight pants he wore.
"It's just a dream..." Jon stated heavily, his head spinning by the High Septa's touch and the thick fumes in the air, making him feel hot and aroused with every passing minute.
"Is it? Do you not want to make love to your mother?" Jon did not have the chance to lie as the High Septa bent down and captured his lips in a scorching kiss. Jon stood wide-eyed as the older woman kissed him and began to grope his growing erection through his pants. Overwhelmed by lust and desire, Jon began to return the kiss with a fervor, partly due to the drugs coursing through him and partly due to his own sexual needs.
His skills as a lover had somewhat improved since the previous day and he was now an active participant, kissing the experienced woman with equal passion while his hands worked over her luscious body. Groping her ample bosom, pulling her body closer so she could feel his growing manhood against her legs. Shiera smiled wickedly as she glimpse Lyanna watching them with growing arousal and perverse fascination.
Jon almost growled when the High Septa pulled away, their eyes heavy with want as they stared at each other longingly. However, before he could embrace her once more, the High Septa moved aside with a wicked grin, making room for Lyanna.
"Mother," Jon whispered huskily, eyes dark with desire as his mother stepped forward. "Is it really you?"
"Of course..." Lyanna gave a soft, sad smile as she hugged her son, her empathic abilities sensing his lust and desire for her. How had she been so blind to her son's needs? When she had given birth to him, she would never imagined that fate would lead them to this moment. She was raised a Stark, in the cold and conservative North and so grew up with the belief that incest especially between parent and child was wrong and sinful.
She had married into a Valyrian family of incestual deviants: Rhaegar, her husband and secret nephew, who was a relatively chaste king compared to his predecessors, regularly stray away from their marital bed in order to make love with his own mother and most recently with his own daughter, Rhaenys. Nonetheless, she was also a Targaryen and like Shiera once said when she revealed her secret parentage, 'Our blood is iron and it draws us together'. Now, she was on the verge of committing the same sin. Of partaking the forbidden fruit with her own son and her own mo-.
Three generations coming together as one.
Her hand snaked into his dark curls while her lustful eyes locked upon his hopeful, eager ones. All thoughts of incest or marital infidelity was quickly forgotten as mother and child slowly came together in a forbidden kiss. For a brief moment in time, it was just lips against lips, as they both acclimatized to the feeling of being closer than kin with their breath stuck in each other's mouth. Then, their lips slide against each other sending flames of hot desire coursing through them. Lyanna opened her lips, angling her head to seal her mouth over his as her tongue eagerly ventured forth, dueling his to an eventual stalemate.
Lyanna did not realise how much she needed her son until right then, at the first moment of shared air and delightful moans coming from deep within her son's throat made her entire body melt against him. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingernails digging at the base of his skull to push him deeper into her, desperate to be closer and to be consumed by him.
Jon kissed her as if he had waited a lifetime for the opportunity. As if this was his only chance. The kiss was hard and deep, tongues dueling and breaths stolen from each other's lungs until they were both mere moments away from asphyxiation and the sweet release of death. When he stops, they both feel like they have forgotten how to breathe, taking in huge lungfuls of air as they slowly recovered from such an intense kiss. Before Jon could tempt her into another sinful kiss, Lyanna took his hand and led him to the center of the sept where the marble altar had transfigured into a large mattress.
Jon allowed the two women to push him onto the mattress and eagerly obeyed when the High Septa commanded him to strip naked. Lyanna felt her entire body keen at the sight of her son's manhood, which sprang forth proudly from the confines of his pants, its bulbous head already leaking precum.
"A magnificent specimen, isn't he? Truly, the Father-made-into-flesh." Shiera exclaimed as she undid the straps of her flimsy robe, which then fell at her feet. Lyanna could only nod absently, still staring at her son's cock, which was easily the largest she had ever seen. And, at only fourteen, he was sure to grow even bigger. "Do not be shy, Lyanna. You brought your boy into the world, now, make him into a man."
Lyanna's eyes met her son's as she slowly, deliberately began to undress. Enjoying the impatience in his gaze as her clothes slowly revealed more and more skin. All too soon, she stood bare before him and Jon could not look away from his mother's beauty. From her perfectly-shaped face, the enchanting grey eyes, the curve of her breasts, her tone stomach, wide hips and the long legs which led up to the most beautiful pussy he had ever seen. It was dripping with want and Jon felt drawn towards it, wanting to taste it, to devour it and lose himself inside her. In his lust-crazed mind, a dark thought urged him to his feet, ignoring the High Septa as he then kneeled before his mother, facing the place where he once came from exactly fourteen years prior.
"Jon!" Lyanna moaned as her son kneeled before her, urging her to spread her legs apart before he leaned forward and kiss her cunt. His strong hands ran over her muscular legs before grabbing her soft ass roughly. Lyanna looked down just in time to see Jon's pink tongue come out to run along her leaking cunt, gathering all the dripping arousal and sending shivers of pleasure throughout her body. Lyanna moaned even loudly as she leaned her head back and spread her legs even wider, opening herself up to her son's oral assault. Jon continued to lick at his mother's sopping cunt, dipping his tongue deeper inside in a futile attempt to drink her dry of her nectar, which only made her pussy gush with more juices for him to drown himself in.
Lyanna continued to moan wantonly and Jon looked up to see his mother indulged in lesbian kiss with the High Septa, whom he had almost forgotten about, being too consumed in his lust for his mother. The older woman's mouth was sealed upon his mother's, swallowing all of her moans and cries as her hands played and groped Lyanna's heaving breasts. Remembering something from his many erotic dreams, Jon inserted one slender finger into her wet pussy and was immediately rewarded with a loud moan as her pussy clenched around his finger. Jon replaced his tongue with a second finger, working in tandem with each other, sliding, thrusting and rubbing one particular spot on the anterior that Jon vividly remembered as crucial for his mother's pleasure.
Indeed, after about a minute of thrusting his fingers inside of his mother, her pussy began to twitch and squeeze his dexterous digits. Sensing his mother was close, Jon latched onto her cunt, digging his tongue deeper inside, as his fingers became a blur until Lyanna let out a loud shriek. Jon groan in excitement as he was rewarded with a sudden rush of sweet nectar, flooding his tongue with its sweetness as he continued to lick and suck, prolonging his mother's pleasure for as long as he can.
"Baby," Lyanna panted breathlessly. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"I don't know. I just wanted to do it." Jon looked up at her, hopefully. "Was it any good?"
"Come here, baby." Lyanna pulled up her son and kissed him passionately, answering him with more than just words. Together they fell upon the bed, lips locked onto lips, limbs entwined with limbs as they writhed to get into a more comfortable position. Eventually, Lyanna rolled Jon onto his back and proceeded to mount him, straddling her long legs around him. Jon stared at her as if she were a goddess as Lyanna grabbed hold of his erect cock and rubbed his shaft teasingly against her wet slit. Lyanna smiled at him as she found her mark and let herself fall down.
Jon felt like crying out in sheer pleasure as his mother sank down onto him, his cock sliding inside her and her pussy was slick and hot and tight as a vice. Lyanna made a primitive and guttural sound as her body sinks a little lower, balancing herself on his chest as she tried to take more of him deeper inside.
"Oh baby," she whimpered, her face scrunching in pleasure and pain as she felt herself stretching like never before in order to fit all of him, an ache that she both loves and hates.
"Mother," he whispers as he looked up at her. Her name like a prayer on his lips as if she was the Mother Above. Indeed, she was a goddess in the eyes of her beloved son. Her beautiful face flushed red as sat impaled upon his cock and her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breaths.
"How does it feel, Jon? To be inside your mother again?" the High Septa teased as she slid next to him, watching the incestuous pair with rapturous glee. Jon couldn't find it in him to answer as he struggled to not disappoint his mother and ejaculate prematurely. Which was proving to be an impossible task. The High Septa pulled him into a wanton, open-mouthed kiss as she buried her fingers into her own cunt, while Lyanna who had adjusted to having him in her, slowly rose and began to ride her son's cock.
Jon broke away from the High Septa to look upon his mother, her heavy breasts were bouncing erratically in front of his face, her arse making lewd smacking sounds against his thighs and was drowned out by Lyanna's loud moans as she swore that she could feel her son's cock knocked against the entrance of her womb. As a trained septa, Lyanna could control her body's metabolism to the point where she could commit suicide by simply stopping her heart. But no matter how hard she had tried, she failed to get pregnant after giving birth to Jon. As if a deity above had cursed her with infertility.
But now, she sensed her womb becoming fertile as her ovaries released two eggs, each destined to become twin daughters. While she could easily seal her cervix and stop any risks of being impregnated with two inbred children, she realized that it was her destiny through divine providence to become pregnant with her son's children.
The thought alone almost sent her over the edge of ecstasy.
"Oh, fuck.... I'm close!" Jon warned his mother almost shamefully, wishing he had the stamina to last several minutes more. Upon hearing his words of warning, Lyanna proceeded to ride Jon even harder, bending down so that her breasts were crushed against his hard chest and her face right next to his.
"It's ok, baby," Lyanna had an almost feral look in her eyes. "Cum inside me!"
"What? I can't!" Jon protested half-heartedly, his cock twitching at her words. Sensing his indecision, Lyanna captured his mouth, kissing him passionately as his protest faded and he indulged in the carnal act, mewling lewdly as Lyanna's tongue fought his for dominance and won.
"Can you imagine?" Jon heard the High Septa's taunting voice over the sound that his mother was making. "Can you imagine if she's fertile, right now? If she becomes pregnant with your child? Do you want to sire a child on your own mother?"
YES! Jon thought as he began to thrust up into his mother's pussy, meeting her downwards strokes and bringing them both over the edge. He came with a thunderous roar inside his mother's fertile pussy, firing an almost constant stream of his virile seed in her forbidden depths. Lyanna screamed at the scalding hot cum bathing her insides as his seed searched for its target in her vulnerable womb.
As he came, Jon saw a glimpse of his future in his mind's eye, a portrait of what his life would be due to the consequences of his current action.
And it was a pretty picture.
For what felt like an eternity but was only a few minutes, mother and son was in rapturous bliss as they felt like they had reached the seventh heaven. Still, Jon continued to fill his mother with potent seed guaranteeing her pregnancy.
Shiera watched wide-eyed as her grandson impregnated her daughter, the two lovers basking in the afterglow of their shared climaxes for what felt like hours, kissing each other languidly until Lyanna propped herself off his cock and rolled to her side. His cocking leaving her pussy with a loud pop as a river of white began to flow from her gaping slit. The She-Wolf was on the verge of passing out, fucked to the point of exhaustion, her eyes heavy as she struggled to stay alert.
Meanwhile, Jon's cock refused to go down. Standing tall and proud and glistening with the combined fluids of his mother's nectar and his cum.
"I knew that it would take more than one woman to satisfy you." Shiera smiled as she kissed down his body and wrapped her hand around the throbbing shaft, eager for her own turn.
"We've only just begun."
***
SHIERA SEASTAR was not so easily impressed. She had lived a thousand lifetimes, traveled far and wide and seen wonders and terrors beyond imagining. She had experienced more in her life than what most people could possibly fantasize about in their wildest dreams. She knew what it is like to rule an empire. To conquer an entire continent on the back of dragons. She knew what it is like to be a begging whore on the streets. An adventurer sailing into the unknown sea. A humble shepherd tending to her flock on the foothills of the Fourteen Flames.
She knew what it is like to kill and to be killed.
Likewise, sex was nothing new to her. It was an art that she had worked to perfect during the centuries. She had made love to kings and peasants alike, was raped by pirates and Dothraki khals, worshipped by priests from the Summer Isles with foot long cocks and bred beneath the full moon by inhuman abominations from Stygai. She had seen it all. Experienced it all. Nothing and no one could have possibly surprise her.
At least, that's what she had thought.
This boy beneath her somehow managed to surprise her. He knew things that he should never have known. Saw things in his dreams that he shouldn't have seen. His blood was coursing with power, untapped and limitless power. She had limited prescience and possesed the ability to see destinies of certain individuals but not him. He was a blindspot in her vision. She didn't know what he was capable of and it was a weakness she hoped to correct.
Shiera kissed down his chest, tracing her tongue along his hard abs, licking the slick of his sweat and his mother's release, a potent mix. She could hear his breathing hiked as she grabbed his base, her fingers unable to touch due to his girth. While it certainly wasn't the largest she had ever seen, it was unnatural for a boy of his size to have a cock of that size.
He was still erect, barely softening even after pumping his mother full of virile and viscous cum. Her daughter had been trained in the art of love since she was a child yet she had been rendered catatonic by this virgin boy who had worked his mother's body as if he was born to do so. Just like the legends had foretold.
No, she cursed herself and quickly banished the thought away, the legends are not real. I must not let hope blind me. They cannot be true.
Despite all that was written in the Seven-Pointed Star, despite all of its prophecies and parables and the sworn testaments of eye witness accounts, Shiera knew the truth about the Gods that few others knew, including all of her own septas.
The Gods weren't real.
The Seven Above was a work of fiction, crafted by the Stormsingers, a political sect of the Old Valyrian religion who was responsible for sowing the seeds of superstition in primitive cultures, so that the Freehold could one day take advantage of them when those seeds grew to full-fledged legends. In the Summer Islands they preached of love and pacifism, so that the Summer Islanders would make for docile and obedient sex-slaves. In the Free Cities, the worship of Red R'hllor was allowed to flourish so that nobles and slaves alike would live in fear of the fire-breathing dragons and obey their riders. Not even the Andals were spared from the reach of the Stormsingers. Despite being a fierce and independent race of warriors that chose exile over subjugation, they were extremely superstitious and a stormsinger by the name of Helaena Hildaeros, easily took the reins of their barbaric religion.
'Hilda of the Hill' as she became known in the Seven-Pointed Star used basic magic, glamour charms and healing spells to pass herself off as a messianic figure and became the first High Septa. She tamed the worst of their Andal beliefs with sex and replaced their bloodlust with carnal lust. Instead of fighting the Freehold, she had them abandon their homes and flee to Westeros with the task of subduing the backwater kingdoms of the First Men. Women assumed a more prominent role in society so that one-day, children born in such a matriarchal society would peacefully welcome the protective embrace of Mother Valyria when the time came for the Freehold to expand beyond the Narrow Sea.
That time never came. But the Dragons eventually did exploit these myths when Aegon landed in Westeros.
Upon the Landing, the High Septa urged all faithful lords to swear fealty to the Targaryens and many immediately did, believing that the prophecies handed down to them through the ages were being fulfilled. Queen Sharra Arryn, herself a pious septa of the Faith, was the first head of the Great Houses to bend the knee and she eventually became Aegon's third wife. In less than a year, the Conquest were done and Aegon took the entire continent with very little bloodshed with the Faith Militant rising up in defiance of lords who refuse to bend the knee. To the surprise of many including the High Septa, the entire Kingdom of the North yielded to Aegon without a fight. Torrhen Stark the King of Winter and a worshipper of the Old Gods heeded the advice of both his maester and his Manderly wife and bent the knee to a bemused Aegon, who had only fought three battles to bring the Seven Kingdoms to heel.
Shiera looked up at the young prince as she held his cock in her hands, studying his face. While he certainly look like a Stark, the lines of his face and the set of his bones revealed his Valyrian heritage. He was an Aegon albeit in a different colouring. And if she hadn't been convinced before then his godly cock would have confirmed her suspicions. The pinnacle of centuries worth of selective breeding, the thick veiny phallus was pulsating in her hands to the beat of his heart, the blood of the dragon pumping through the engorged muscle as it stood erect with a bead of precum forming on its head.
Locking her eyes with the young man, Shiera's tongue curled out of her mouth to taste the leaking head, making him squirm in pleasure. The taste of the milky substance was both foreign and familiar to Shiera as she wrapped her red lips around him and sucked. She smiled around him as she heard a breathy groan above her and he twitched in her mouth. He brought his hands to her silver-gold locks but she swatted it away and sent him a glaring look. This wasn't just about him and his pleasure. This was about control. His mother had failed to tame him and now it was her turn to show dominance.
She gripped him harder, enjoying the mewls and pleas he made as his cock throbs in her palm and then leans forward to lick her tongue from the base to the tip in a long, wet line.
"Gods, Shiera..."
Shiera immediately stopped her ministrations and looked up, eyes wide in surprise, his cock popping out of her mouth with a loud pop. "What did you call me?"
"I.. uhm... I don't know. It just seemed, right." Jon looked down at her with questioning eyes. "It is your name, isn't?"
"Yes." Shiera acquiesce. It had been a while since she's heard her name upon a man's lips. No one outside of the Faith knew her birth name, not even his father Rhaegar. "How did you know?"
"You told me..." He said slowly as if waiting to be ridiculed. "In a dream."
"Of course." Shiera's face once again became an emotionless mask that hid her curiosity and excitement. She knew not to get her hopes up. Many Targaryen males had dreams of both the past and the future and yet none of them survived the final ritual required to become the High Septon. Well... all but one. Bloodraven. She stared at the boy as she started to stroke his cock once more. "What else did you learn about me in your dreams?"
"You... said that... you were my grandmother." He groaned, fighting for control as her hands became a blur on his shaft.
"I am." Shiera's hands were now well-lubricated by his precum and she noticed his cock throbbed at the incestuous revelation. "Rickard Stark was one of my lovers and your mother was a product of our liaison. Does it arouse you, dārilaros? Bedding mother and daughter at the same time?"
Jon was unable to answer as she took his cock into her mouth and began to suck his cock earnestly, using centuries worth of experience to bring him untold pleasures. Her mouth was warm and wet, much like how his mother's tight cunt had been but her tongue was working wonders upon him. It seemed to grow unnaturally long and coiled around his girth like a snake, in a way that even her fingers couldn't try. The feeling was indescribable and Jon let his head fall back into the soft mattress feeling his climax nearing and his seed threatening to spill in her mouth.
Shiera on the other hand was sucking his cock like a thirsty whore, desperate for the taste of his potent seed. She kept staring at the pleasure that marred his face, the twisting and gasps that reminded her of his ancestors. Maegor had been a ruthless conqueror on the battlefield of war but in the bedroom he enjoyed being dominated by his women. The most powerful men in history often craved the love and worship of powerful women. Here, in the middle of the Grand Sept, she would use her magic to grant him pleasure for a portion of his power.
As she continued to fuck her throat on his cock, she could feel the tell-tale signs of his impending climax and for a moment she debated between letting him have his release or denying him. She could make him linger on the edge for hours until she had grown lax and tired of using him for her pleasure but she decided against it.
With a flick of her tongue against a specific pressure point on his cock, she triggered his release. He threw his head back and curses as his cock erupted and the warm seed landed on her waiting tongue. She moaned happily at the mildly addictive taste and to make sure that none of his precious seed were wasted, she swallowed his cock down her throat, sealing her lips around him and making sure to drink all he had to offer. She had tasted him the day before when she were impersonating her daughter but the taste still somewhat felt new and she knew that she will never grow tired of him.
He would be one of her lifelong lovers whether or not he was the Voktys Rõvēgrie.
When he was done and his cock softened a bit in her mouth, she reluctantly pulled away after realising that she had held her breath for the duration of his orgasm, oxygen being worthless to her in comparison to his life-giving seed. She could feel the magical seed in her stomach as it was digested and absorbed into her bloodstream. His untapped magic empowered her, granting her strength and fuelling her immortality. If one had a keen eye, they would notice that Shiera had become slightly younger as if the sands of her hourglass had turned back.
Had he released his seed inside her womb instead, she could have turned back her biological clock by weeks or even years. The thought alone made her wanton and desperate to have more of his seed inside her.
She heard his heartbeat quicken as she quickly mounted him, straddling his hips, but not before she had casted a simple but thoroughly useful spell that prevented his manhood from losing its rigidity until she had reached her climax.
His grey eyes darkened with lust and his intoxicating scent filled her nostrils fueling her own lust. He hissed long and low when she grasped his shaft, rubbing the tip along the wet lips of her cunt. He moved to grab her hips like he had done to his mother moments before but she forcefully stopped him, gripping his cock harder and the boy winced.
"Control yourself." She commanded and Jon reluctantly obeyed, clenching his fists as she slowly sank down upon him, taking the entirety of his shaft inside her virgin-tight cunt. Shiera took care to not display her delirious satisfaction of having him buried inside her, stopping herself from crying out as he reached her cervix. The cock of her grandson felt just as marvelous as her brother's was, more than a hundred years ago when she had been a blushing maiden.
Brynden was gone now, driven mad in his pursuit of power. His quest for immortality eventually led to his enslavement at the cold dead hands of dark forces beyond the Wall. Forces they had each swore to destroy. She banished the thought of her lover-turned-foe and looked down at the boy she was currently making love to. For now, she would content herself with her new champion, this boy who had only just lost his virginity and who will undoubtedly be ready to leave a trail of bastards and broken hearts across the Seven Kingdoms by the time she was done molding him.
"Speak to me!" She ordered, hating the sight of the boy gritting his teeth below her. He needed to know that she had all the power despite doing all of the work. She needed to hear his praise. Words of worship at her altar. Quite literally. "Tell me how good you feel!"
"It feels... incredible!" Jon groaned breathlessly, his delirious mind struggling to find words and form coherent sentences. "You're incredible!"
I know! Shiera smiled deviously as she rolled her hips against him, moving him deeper inside, using her inner muscles to massage his cock like her tongue had done earlier.
He gasped when her nails pierced the skin of his shoulder. Her smile was wide and bright and glorious. She could feel him in the depts of her core. Her movements were fluid, quite like a wave riding upon him, and with each stroke, unintelligible words mixed with his groans. She liked that about him. Soon, he began to try for dominance, stubborn boy that he was. His movements matched her own and they developed a rhythm. He learned quickly, a boon as well as a danger when applied to pawns. The dull nails of his hand grasped the top of her right thigh.
In that moment, the boy lifted her, chest to chest and feet planted to give leverage elbow and he thrust up into her heat, rammed into a spot he hadn't yet reached. Her moan traveled all the way to her belly. Her eyes fluttered closed as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, deeper. She hadn't felt that much pleasure in a very long time.
Shiera looked at him once she recovered. The boy was pleased with himself. His smirk should have annoyed her, would have annoyed her, had he not continued the action. It was vicious. It was lovely. There seemed to be naught to do but hold onto his shoulders firmly and bare her teeth. Somehow, his hands found purchase against her waist and she allowed him to keep them there. Her head fell back. Her chest stuck out.
He grew bolder, taking one perked nipple into his mouth while she was distracted. He swirled his tongue around the bud and sucked hard. It would leave her pale flesh purple were she mortal, but she didn't care about that. Her hands moved to his head, roamed against his scalp, became lost in his hair.
She looked down at the same time he looked up. His nipples were rough against her breasts. As they moved, he panted, open mouthed and wild. His grey eye, not red, was glazed with lust, excitement, and a thousand differing emotions.
Shiera leaned back, her hands giving her leverage to grind her cunt and he instinctively began to thrusts even harder into her dripping heat.
Shiera was happy to succumb to the madness bucking and twisting and happily losing herself. "Breed me, dārilaros! Cum in my pussy! Give me another daughter!"
She was unlikely to be impregnated on this day but there was something about screaming those words, about saying something so depraved that excited her. His name followed. Jaehaerys. His real name, howled in ecstasy as Shiera gave in, slamming back hard against him and rewarded for her trouble with his cock erupting balls deep inside of her. The hot flood of burning cum flooding into her womb made her twist and howl and coo in ecstasy, feeling so good and so overwhelmed by pleasure that she couldn't think anymore.
Shiera's wits slowly returned as she came down from her high, feeling his head on her chest, his cock still inside her cunt, their movements slow as it prolonged her release, feeling every twitch and every spasm that her body made. There was no hiding how intense and satisfying he had made her feel and as he raised his head to give her a cocky smile, she almost hated him for it.
"Ready for more?" He asked her and she nearly laughed, believing him to be jesting. There was no way that he could have recovered so soon after spilling so much in quick succession. Her smile quickly faded as she felt the drag of his cock against the sensitive walls of her cunt, which tore an embarrassing sound from the back of her throat. She found her body craving him once more, coming alive beneath his touch.
As he leaned forward to kiss her once more, she cursed herself for being so quick to respond to him as she kissed him back, moaning in his mouth as his cock pulled out only to thrust back inside and making her feel whole once more. She created a terror, as their bodies began to move in an established rhythm, she knows that he would be the end of her.
And she'll die happy.
Lyanna woke up some time later, still groggy and weary from her son's ministrations. As a sister of the Faith, her body did not require basic human physiological necessities such as sleep, being able to stayawake for days at a time before feeling fatigued. When she does allow herself to sleep in order to keepup appearances, her dreams were always lucid. Mastery over one's body were one of the core tenants of the Faith. She had surrendered control of her body to her son and was rewarded with the most pleasurable experience of her life as well as the promise of a new life forming in her womb.
My son's child, she found herself smiling as she cradled her stomach, it would take months for even the most skilled maester could confirm her pregnancy but she knew that she had been impregnated.
Blinking the grogginess from her eyes, she turned to her side and saw a sight she never expected towitness in her life. Not only was her son making love to her birth mother but ShieraSeastar, themother of the Faith and the most powerful sorceress who had ever lived was being dominated as if shewere nothing but a Fleabottom whore.
The High Septa was cursing. Throwing obscenities at all the Gods while Jon roughly fucked her from behind. Lyanna had never seen a more erotic sight. Her mother was certainly the most beautiful woman in the world but in that moment, Lyanna found herself falling in love with her son.
Her body moved closer to the copulating pair before she could think about it, craving to be a part of such joyous moment. Jon saw her and started to pound his grandmother even harder, his hips creating wet slapping sounds against Shiera's large ass.
Lyanna's fingers roamed over her own body, down between her legs to push the cum leaking out of her slick hole back into herself, playing with her son's seed as she fucked herself to the taboo sight before her. This was everything she didn't know she needed, seeing her son breed her mother. Lyanna found herself succumbing to a new height of pleasure as her fingers worked faster on her clit, picturing Shiera with a pregnant belly, a child who would be her sibling as well as her granddaughter and a companion to the daughter/granddaughter occupying her womb.
"Fill me!" Shiera moaned, "Fucking cum inside me!"
Jon couldn't argue against an idea like that, and the dominant riding of his cock had been so incredible that he really couldn't hold out for very long anymore, amazed by what he was seeing and too helpless to stop. He gave in, crying out, as he came, his twitching dick erupting inside of her snug cunt and pumping it full of cum just like he'd done to her daughter moments ago.
Everything burned so hotly within him, his head spinning and buzzing as he gave himself up, and it was all too good to bear, the pleasure overwhelming and powerful as he gave in. Shiera gave in too, and the clenching of her needy pussy around his cock was too much for him to bear as his sensitive, twitching cock unloaded even more cum into her climaxing hole.
Shiera stood up, knees weak as she nearly stumbled back down and letting Jon flop down next to his mother.
"Mm, that was nice," she purred, downplaying how thoroughly well-fucked she was. Shiera leaned down to pick up her clerical robe, revealing the cum leaking down her thighs as she shamelessly slid the robe on her sweat-slicked body. "I'm considering making this a regular occurrence."
"Am I free to leave?" Jon asked.
"You're free to do as you please, dārilaros." Shiera gave a weak smile, still breathless. "And feel free to return at any time."