Mah blue tea

If you can read, he would let you read him letters and books so he could rest his eyes. He is really fond of you. Really much.

And the first time you could know he is fond of you is that when you was sleeping in your shared servant chamber, you feel something touched you between your legs. Your hand was touching something even you didn't touch anything. Something that made your clit throbbed as if it was longer that it actually was. Something rough with little cold as if it had metal on it, maybe that was a ring? Maybe?

You felt your clit was hold so firmly, and your was wet as if you felt someone twirled their tongue around your cunt.

You heard his voice.

Oh he was calling your name.

You sat up and looked around and you can only see your fellow maids sleeping.

Your clit was rubbed again and it was something like flicked. It was pulled out a little and be back. Your juice flow down almost soaking your bedsheet so you had to use the blanket to cover you.

You had to try to suppress your moan when your nipples were hard against the rough fabric. You clenched your legs, but your clit was still abused by a rough imagine hand.

You heard him calling you again. Faint and far away but definitely his voice.

You felt something wet was spat down your clit. And it help the rough hand rub it better.

You hid your face down into the pillow, the hand kept rubbing and rubbing, until you came silently in the chamber of too many people.

Then...

Well… that wasn't any metaphors, they were really toys in the shape of towers moving above the cradle that the wet nurse had put you in. Toys that looked like real towers.

How… romantic.

You sighed, you didn't remember you sighed this much when you were still a third year medical student. 

You were in the body of a Hightower baby, of course you would have some tower-looking toys. But the most interesting thing was that you could see some vibrant red and green on them now, which made you believe that you were currently a 2-month-old infant. 

It was quite ironic that the two first colors you could see were the red of House Targaryen and the green of this body’s house. 

This body was so boring because you couldn't lift your head yet so your vision was really restricted. A one-month-old could do it but the neck of this baby was weak so lifting was out of your league. You wanted to return to your world but you could do nothing but turn your head slightly. You turned to look to the left, and you could see the old wet nurse was snoring loudly.

She was a lovely lady, you didn't know her name yet. She had crinkle eyes and hands that were quite harsh to your sensitive skin. Her voice when she sang was really lovely, her speaking voice was smooth but her snoring was as loud as thunder in the clean summer sky, too loud that it hurt your ears. 

You sighed again. You wanted to cover your ears but the neuron system of this body was a traitor to your mind. 

Right at the moment you thought about that, *BANG*, your hands clapped the sides of your head immediately making you dizzy.

You cried.

“Oe! Oe!”

It wasn't your intention.

“Oh my Seven!”

But it was so painful that your eyes automatically shed tears and your throat screamed on its own. You hated your reaction so much. The body didn't obey you and you could not tell it to stop.

The wet nurse sat up immediately and rushed towards you, picking you up to calm you.

“Oh Alice, m’lady Alice, I'm here, I'm here, don't cry m’lady. I'm here.”

She cooed at you, patting your back and bouncing you. You felt nauseous at the movement and you tried to wiggle. But she didn't let you down.

“You’re a good girl, aren't you? Aren't you? So please, don't cry, I'm here. Are you hungry?”

You sighed again. 

You slowly stopped crying for a brief moment when the wet nurse put your head to her breast, which had taken you at least 3 days to get used to… well… new nipples… 

You sighed again. And decided to cry more to protest but she kept pushing your head to her chest. 

“Good girl, good girl.”

You had to open your mouth, drinking your milk and your bored mind wandering from here to there. Then you looked at the skin of hers with a head containing so many unsolved questions.

Why were you here? Why did you have to suffer this tedious mummer’s farce? 

Why did her milk taste like metal? When will this hell stop? Could you die to get away from here? 

She patted your head, humming something that was so soft and you definitely had never heard before.

Should you suicide? You wondered yourself. But how a baby suicide? That was a ridiculous thought. 

You looked up a little.

Why was the window opened? Why was the door closed? Why did you have those nonsense questions? 

Were you insane? 

You blinked. Yeah, maybe!

Why were you a baby girl? Why was your name Ah-liss? 

And when would anyone let you know how to spell the name of your new body? 

You sighed again, yes, again you sighed, as the sound left your lips like the coo of a baby. 

The name, it was still a mystery to you. Was it Alis? Alice? Alyss? Alys? Aelys? 

It was so frustrating when people called you Ah-liss and you still didn't know exactly how your name was written.

Ay-el-eye-see-ee. Alice?

But that was so modern, maybe George R.R. Martin won't choose it to name a baby girl. But… obviously this baby didn't exist in his world. 

Oh… maybe because she would die soon in the future so history would never write about her? 

Or maybe… this wasn't the world of the real House of the Dragons and you were just dreaming.

Okay, you were overthinking now.

You swallowed the milk, looking at the wet nurse and blinking.

“What a lovely girl. You're the sweet girl, aren't you?”

Oh, maybe you were Aelys. Ah-ee-el-why-ess. 

But then you thought that you weren't a Targaryen so how on earth do you have the prefix “Ae-” in your name? 

Okay so maybe Alys? That was more reasonable.

Ay-el-why-ess. Alys.

There were a lot of Alys in the book series. Maybe that was your name. 

Alys!

Yes, maybe Alys!

“Drink well and your lady mother would be so proud of you. My little sweet lady.”

Your days were so boring and now finally you could solve one mystery among hundreds of mysteries that happened to you.

Okay, so Alys. 

That was your new name now. Though… you still missed the old one. 

You weren't Alys. You weren't the lady of the House Hightower, nor the sister of the future Queen. You were just a normal medical student.

You were borrowing the body of Alys and you were suffering the exhausting, boring days of being a baby and people kept calling you the name of hers.

You wondered what had happened to the real Alys. Was she dead? Was she alive? Where was her soul? Did she go to the seven havens or still stayed in the body? 

Or was she yourself but in another universe? Like… multiuniverse in the superhero series… But you have never seen your own face as Alyrie’s sleep chamber never had any mirror, so did she look like you? Or different? You couldn't know.

Alright…  that was quite complicated… 

And what would happen to you if you still stayed in her body? Would the future change? But… What was her future?

You kept thinking when the nurse finally pulled you out. She patted your back until you burped unlady-like and put you back to the cradle where those wooden toys were still swirling. 

You looked at them again, wondering why you didn't die yet so you just returned to your real world. No matter if the old world was a happy place or not, at least it was more hygienic than this. You wondered what was the last time this wet nurse took a bath. You only knew that she cleaned her nipples before feeding you. 

The toys kept swirling, swirling and swirling, until you finally drove to sleep.

The window opened, letting the breezes dance into the chamber, carrying the golden lights of the sun to paint the room with coziness. You fell into the realm of dreams again, and in this dream, you saw a familiar face, with the same eyes you had been seeing in the mirror for decades, with the same feature of the face you could never forget. 

It was you.

“You” were smiling, “you” were standing there without any purpose and staring back at you. Deep down in your heart, you missed your own face so much. But the more you looked at it, the more uncanny you felt about the body that was now far beyond your reach. 

You frowned. 

It was just only 2 months and you started to feel that the old face of yours was quite strange. It didn't look like that the last time you looked at a mirror. Your eyes weren't that bright, and the color of your irises seemed so off. 

You couldn't comprehend why and what was happening. The other “you” just kept smiling and smiling. Then a loud sound woke you up.

“Alys!”

A boy's voice beat your eardrums, making them hurt and your throat started to sing those familiar screams again, pulling you out of your dream.

“Whoa whoa, little sis, calm down”

“My lord Gwayne, please, I've just put her to sleep.”

Your wet nurse startled, stopping him from approaching the cradle.

“She needs sunlight, let me take her outside a little.”

“Please” she tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and patted his shoulder. “Your lady mother won't allow me to let you do that. She specially told me not to let you bring your newborn sister out of this room.”

“Oh…” the boy’s face dropped. “Alright…”

You sighed, as an hour later, you found yourself being brought outside when the snoring of your wet nurse belted like a goodbye to you.

The sun was so bright and the world was so grayish, though it was colored with some red and green too. It was currently autumn, so the space you could observe wasn't that much lame. Some leaves wore the color of the irises of Alyrie, floating around ones with the color of the lips of your mother.

It was pretty refreshing, the wind caressed your skin and kissed your forehead, except that your giant brother was beaming at you with a childish grin. 

Eh, of course, he was a child after all.

He was bringing you somewhere, and he sang something with a familiar lyric yet the melody was so strange.

“A bear there was, a bear, a bear!

All black and brown and covered in hair!”

You frowned. You bet you would have an eleven strand on your forehead when you grew up. The lyrics you had listened to somewhere. From the movie series Game of Thrones to the book series. 

Oh… 

The Bear and the Maiden Fair…

“He lifted her high in the air!” the boy sang happily when you felt nauseous again as he had lifted you in the air so high. 

“He sniffed and roared and he smelled her there! 

She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair! 

When he licked the honey from her hair!”

Oh heaven, why would he sing this?...

He spun around and you had to use all your 2-month-old strength not to vomit. The milk was precious, it contained essential antigens, it was crucial for your development, you could not waste it on his face.

“Let's find your big sister. She's studying with her Septa”

He happily brought you to the less sunny part of your house. Was it a house? A palace? A castle? Anyway just stuck to “house”, and he kept singing the song with his ridiculous energy. 

“From there, to here. From here! To there!

All black and brown and covered in hair!

He smelled that girl on the summer air!” 

He put his nose to your belly and you almost watered his hair with your precious amount of milk that the wet nurse had given you. 

“The bear! The bear! The maiden fair!”

He kept singing, only lowering his voice down for a while when a maid went past or he was passing a knight. Then you saw yourself held by his two giant hands vertically. Your neck was so weak that it almost dropped your head back but then you felt a warm steady wall of flesh welcomed it. 

“Look, Lissy. That’s Aly!” 

Aly? Such a weird choice for a nickname. 

You frown when you try your best to narrow your eyes to see what he was pointing at. And you saw a little figure with hair of quite gray-ish color, not exactly like gray as it still had some red in it. You could not tell, you currently could only see red and green. And then you saw her dark gray eyes, which you really hoped were brown, looking back at you.

“"It’s a sin of vanity to gaze out the window when the Mother commands your devotion, child.”

Oh… that was your sister, Alicent. She was sitting so straight and her hands were on her thighs, she was so beautiful for her age but she gave you a feeling that she shouldn’t have as a child. A feeling when you look at a submissive lady. 

“They are so boring, aren’t they, Lissy?”

“Oeh”

You cooed as an answer. 

“Purity is found in utter stillness, not in daydreaming of foolish tourneys and mummers' shows.” the Septa kept speaking nonsense to your ears, and your brother put his chin on your weak head. 

“Oeah,”

Your head dropped to aside and he quickly held you back. 

“Oops, sorry, Lissy”

“Oeh”

You cooed again and he held you horizontally now, your head was secured in the crook of his elbow and your head turned to the right.  

“Pick up your quill,” you could see Alicent looking at you two a little more before picking her quill up, “we are not finished with the verses of repentance."

And after that was only the sound of her quill sliding across the paper. 

“Let’s go Lissy, I’m bored”

“Wah ah”

He went away, touching your nose: “Aren’t you quite smart for a newborn?” and he chuckled.

A moment later you found yourself being put down on a bench, which was quite hard for your soft head and quite sunny for your own liking. You looked to the side to watch the nature of this world. 

It was quite similar to the old one, but fresher, and more gray-ish. There were some birds chirping far away and you could even hear the sound of some insects that you couldn’t be sure if they were the same insects in the modern world.

Gweyne was running around with his new, blunt metal sword. He slashed at tree trunks, then at lampposts, and then struck the hilt against the very ornaments on it, making them shatter. He was in a panic and hastily picked the pieces up and threw them into a nearby bush.

You sighed, then you looked to your left.

Oh…

A green lake. 

It was so green and was so bright that you thought the light was making the greatest deceiving show before your eyes. It was so luring as if it tried to pull you towards so you could push your tiny head down under the water.

“You shouldn't say ‘is it because of calcium carbonate, or algae?’, that’s a closed question and we don’t use closed questions for the patient.” you heard your professor's voice in your mind, most of your professors in school loved observing nature in their own way, and his way was biology. 

If memory served, he had really asked you to use the SOCRATES question to describe nature when your group had a chance to walk with him. 

Site was for where the pain was. 

Onset was for when the pain started. 

Character was for what the pain felt like. 

Radiation was for if the pain traveled. 

Associations were for other symptoms. 

Timing for the time the pain lasted. 

Exacerbating was for anything made the pain worse or better. 

Severity was for how bad the pain was on a scale from 1 to 10.

“You know he is mad, right?” One of your friends mouthed, rotating his finger in a circular motion.

“So… where did you see the lake? When did you see it?... Erm… Could you describe the lake?...”

Another friend of yours tapping his head in agreement. Your professor was mad.

You didn’t remember what you had said, the only thing you remembered beside his strange query was someone saying “to be or not to be” when they had mentioned the time the pain lasted. 

You looked at the surface of the water, watching the waves dancing up, and down, and up, and down when a red leaf landed on them. The leaf was dancing to, tempting you to get nearer. 

You really wanted to go there, but your body just couldn’t. It took you all of your strength but you couldn't even lift your head up let alone crawl there. 

So they were just dancing before your eyes.

Up and down. And up and down. 

And up and down. 

Until the unconscious state of yours decided to occupy your mind again. 

It had been a week since that evening, your eyes were exploding with the range of colour you could see now. The golden hair of your mother flying above your face and you stared at it with all of your concentration. You just finished your milk, so your mother decided to play with you for a while.

“My lovely Alys.”

She beamed, holding a braid and waving the end of it in front of you. She looked more sick than the last time you saw her, which was exactly 3 days ago. The red lips you often saw became more gray when she turned away to cough. 

“My lady.”

You turned your head at the sound and you saw a giant man in chains with a young lovely boy with hair of golds and sunlights walking in. 

“My lady.”

“Maester Walys.”

“May I introduce you my acolyte.”

Acolyte? Trainee?

“My lady,” the boy bowed with so much grace and a voice of silk that you always wanted to be left in. “My name is Perwyn, the third son of Gawen Fossoway, my brother is Owan. You might know him from the last nameday celebration of the heir of Fossoway.”

“My honor, Perwyn.” She smiled but then she coughed again. Your body was shaking with her, so she gave you to your nurse. 

“Tansy, if you please.”

The wet nurse took you in her arms, and then you saw the maester asking her about how long she had this sickness. 

“For 3 days, Maester Walys, my body was on the small fire and my head felt like someone was using a hammer to smash it every moment I breathe. My throat is occupied with slimes, making me unable to breathe easily.”

The symptom of her was quite familiar, but you needed to ask her more to know what her condition might be. The SOCRATES questions could help you that.  

“Your body was full of Phlegm, that explains why you have been so tired and phlegmatic, my lady. We should let the phlegm out to balance the four humors. Let we bleed your feet for the sake of healing.”

What???

What on earth was he talking about!?

Your eyes widened at that, and your voicebox unconsciously let out some coos.

“Oe!”

He was talking nonsense. What was he talking about? Phlegm? What!?

The Fossoway boy looked at you, you saw his blue eyes staring at you with so much interest. 

He came to you, popping your nose and beaming. He was a handsome lad, but a handsome face wouldn’t save your patient from death. 

“Aeh, Ah!”

You wanted him to go away so you could look at your mother. You can not let her be bled without any logic like that.

“Lovely lady,” but instead he smiled, still standing there, being the beauty obstacle between you and your potential patient. 

You were annoyed. Really annoyed. 

“Aeh! Ah! Ah!”

You smashed your small chubby arms to his face, you wanted to see your mother. You could hear her painting as you saw the maester pull out an enormous needle.

Be gone giant trainee! Mother!

He chuckled and enjoyed being attacked by you, that made you cringe your nose and then you wanted him to f-off.

Mother! He can’t not do that to your mother! You have to save her!

*Pfft.*

Oh…

As you were so annoyed by this giant, your traitor body could not control itself and allow your gut to crumble. At the most horrible consequence, you felt something wet and stinky popped out under there. 

“Oh my Seven!”

Oh…

Your wet nurse gasped and quickly covered you. The smell slowly danced around everyone’s nostrils, and the boy before your eyes tried to maintain his smile and not be crude to just a baby like you. A baby with a traitor body. 

“Forgive me, my lords and ladies.” She said hastily then took you out of the chamber immediately.

Perwyn Fossoway.

That golden-haired boy was Perwyn Fossoway. And you would never forget him.

It would take for a lifetime to clear the memory from your mind where the mighty youngest daughter of Otto Hightower released herself from the stinkiest, slimiest thing-should-not-be-named in front of him. Even if it was 3 or 4 hours later after the wet nurse had changed your clothes, even when the night came and took your eyesight, you could never forget him.

You were burned in shame, wondering about your choice of life and just wanted to throw yourself into the nearest lake. 

He would remember it, of all things you couldn’t be sure since the day you had come to this world, you were sure that he would remember this. 

Even in your dream, you could see him laughing at you. You wished you could just scoop a bowl of it and throw it directly into his face.

Okay… Okay so might be you were overreacting…

No.

No, you were not! You were the prominent third year medical student, who didn’t have your own White Cloak Ceremony where the students wore the blouse and said Hippocratic Oath to become a real doctor. You didn’t have your ceremony yet because of your weirdo university. You weren’t overreacting!

You blamed all of this for your new body. You couldn’t control its gut and bladders yet. It was all of it’s fault. 

You could hear your friends laughing around, and you saw yourself sitting in the lecture hall again. 

“Now, let’s move on to infant bowel habits,” your professor fixed his collar while talking about that, you wondered, always wondered why he could give a topic about stomach while his major was about lungs. 

But… Well, he was always strange like that. 

“It is crucial to understand that breastfed babies defecate much more frequently than older children or adults. In fact, passing stool eight or nine times a day, right after or even during feeding, is perfectly normal. It’s simply their gastrocolic reflex functioning properly, not a sign of illness.”

“Man, why do I have to listen to the details of a baby pooping. Eight or nine times a day? Ehhhh."

“Tell me about it. Speaking of which, did any of you catch the exact definition for persistent diarrhea?”

“Loose or watery stools lasting for more than 14 days. And…” one of your friends poked your arm, “there’s no break of two consecutive symptom-free days."

“And acute is less than 14 days."

“Yeah, pooping is so hard, right?”

“I need to poop, any of you go with me?”

“Get lost, loser!”

_____

“̸̯̰͕͕̥̖̼̥̞̼͐͊̀̔̄I̴͉̮̻̋̑̒̎̓͛͒̚t̷̩̩̬̘̏͂̋̓̕’̸̜̗͔͗̉̐͛ŝ̵̱͓̟͖̘̗̐̉̏̂̿͆̿͘ ̷̠͙͚͍̦̍̓̇͆̔̈̉̐͠ͅa̴̪̅ ̵̫͍̙̲͎̗͇̩̦͑͊̅̎̓̅͗̕g̸̢̱̩̿̏̄̎͘͝i̶͔͗̆̾́̊͋̒͘͠r̷̹̖͖͖̙͐͂̽͝ĺ̵̺̙̹̪̬̿͂͘,̷͖̰̈́̂̔̌̒̊̒̐͋͊ ̷̡̦͍̮̰̘͇̍͆̇̐̃̽̑͝ͅm̴̢̟̠̠̚ý̷̛̜̜͍̏̊̾̏̄̆͋ ̶̱̈́́͌̒̎̿̓̓͑͒l̵̘̮̲̊̾́o̵̱͗̀̾̀͘͝r̴̥̖̞̻͖̞͊d̴̨͚͛͛̂͒͆̅̕͝!̶̨̨̛͓͎̥̞̒̏̓̔̓̔̍͌͜ͅ”̸͎̞͍̬͍͈̣̝͍̾

Your ears were so hurt, as your own cries were pounding against your eardrums, deafening the other sounds. It was so cold, it was so hot, it was so clammy all at the same time. Your chest exploded with the pain you have never had before, making you scream out and your body moved unconsciously. 

You could feel someone shouting over your right ear with a strange voice, and on your left someone was panting while murmuring something too loud yet too hard to be heard. You could feel, but you probably could not fathom it.

Your arms were restricted when you tried to control them, and something so giant and warm wrapped around your body. 

“It’s … girl, my…”

You could hear it now, when your own cry slowly faded and made place for the strange voices flying over your head.  

“... oh, such … pretty girl…”

“... had your hair, … lord…”

“... give … lady A-leer-ee…”

English. That was what you could recognize from those faint sounds, or at least they sounded like English. The way they spoke was so bizarre, their accent, their way of addressing, all were so strange to your burning ears. 

You kept crying and crying, your eyes were so heavy as the soaking dress of the darkness still suffocated you. You could feel something soft touching your skin and something aromatic dancing through your nostrils. 

You were welcomed by the rhythmic rise and fall of something. Something that was so enormous yet was so tender. 

“Lady A-leer-ee.”

“Lady A-leer-ee…!”

“My lord!”

You could hear clearly now, and your glued eyelids slowly escaped the capture of the canvas of the night. 

“Congratulations!”

Someone cheered when something else touched your arms. You could feel it patting your skin while you tried to let the light slowly invade your sight. It was so bright when the night faded away, the shining stars turned into lines and curves, mixing themselves to shade the grey space before you. 

You could see something looked like flesh but it was so pale, something that looked like silk but was entirely hazy, translucent gray. Something blended with lines of varying gray shades flowing around like water gliding across. 

“My lord, what do you want to name her?”

The tender flesh that had been covered around you rumbled with the sound, and the thing that touched your arm held you so tight with such gentle force. You turned your head, and you saw a giant with a hazy figure, he was standing quite far to be seen clearly and his faint gray eyes looking back at you.

“A-liss Hightower.”

Your eyes widened, as the memories of a distant book series came into your mind and helped you to guess the meaning of it. 

Alice Hightower.

________________

It had been days since the day you realized you had been pulled out from the body of another woman. And everything you could remember was the faint lullaby of her and the comfortable smell of the liquid you drank. You kept sleeping and waking, but mostly sleeping because after you drank (and you guessed the liquid was milk), your brain seemed to love forcing you to sleep. You had been living at the intersection of reality and dreams. 

You dreamt about your past life, about the days you were in the medical university. You still remembered vividly about the times you were hanging out with your friends and in some dreams, they were chatting about what you had learned. 

“The uterine contractions during labour and the “vaginal squeeze” at delivery make the fetus change position, therefore compressing its highly compliant thorax.” 

“Could you speak human-ese?” 

“The baby’s chest is pressed by the vagina of the mother when she pushes the baby out of her womb. So all of the liquid from the lungs that contains oxygen is cleared and then,” one of your friends gestured with their hands, “Boom, their chest expands to breathe like a normal human by crying.”

“I wonder whether it’s a painful experience or not.”

“I don’t know either, but they won’t put it in the test so I don’t really care.”

“Lemme check it.”

“So… it means if they don’t cry, they die?”

“Maybe?...”

“You guys will get such bad grades.”

“Oh shut up.”

“You shut up.”

It has been a lifetime since you had that conversation with your friends. And in some dreams, you saw they were bantering while waiting for the professor. Your favourite professor and he favored you too. He was always late to school and you wondered how many disciplinary actions he's received already. But he was an amazing teacher after all.

“I bet he won’t be here in 30 minutes.”

“Nah, 15 mins max. He’s just got the third warning this month.”

“By the way, do you know the newborn baby can’t see? They just see black and white and things in gray. They are practically blind. ”

“Why now? Let us rest, nerdy.”

Your friend group groaned as they wanted to rest their mind for some minutes, not to revive the lesson. 

“Ah about that, how many days does it take for the baby to open their eyes?”

“Within a minute, dude? We aren’t dogs!”

“Urg, you guys will get such bad grades.”

You chuckled, as they were so chaotic even in your dreams. And before you could say anything, you heard peaceful footsteps echoing through the hallway. 

“Morning, class.”

Your professor opened the door and closed it so peacefully, as if he wasn’t 20 minutes late to class. All the class stood up to greet him and then they sat down. 

You kept dreaming and dreaming. Sometimes you saw you were sitting in the lab with your professor, sometimes you saw yourself stealing his pen as… well, everyone had to lose a pen in hospital once, so you gave him a chance to experience it. 

Sometimes you saw yourself studying all nights just to get better grades and then the grade won’t meet your expectation, and sometimes you saw yourself cutting all your nails just for the OSCE test, where you go room to room to show your teachers that you know how to check, treat, and talk to patients within 5 minutes per room. 

You were floating in a river where water kept reflecting sceneries you could not know were dreams or your real memories. You could see your friends, your families, your professors, could hear them, but could not touch them. 

And when you opened your eyelids, you could not know if you were still sleeping or it was just another dream. 

You saw a giant woman looking at you with such love in her eyes, making your chest rise with so much affection you were unfamiliar with. She was smiling and poking your cheeks. You wanted to ask who she was, but when you opened your lips, your tongue got stuck and dropped on the bottom of your mouth. 

“You’re drooling, little Alice.”

She chuckled, using something gray to wipe your mouth and then kissing your forehead. She smelled really good, and her breasts, oh her breasts, were what captured your eyes. You could not understand why but you drooled when you looked at them and your stomach rumbled. You told yourself that was just the biology of a newborn as their saliva glands were quite active. But it didn’t explain why you drooled too much before drinking. It was always like that until you slept again. 

The days passing to you were so tedious. They were just eating, crying (you could not stop or else you couldn’t breath, you hated that so much) and sleeping. You kept opening your eyes, then closing them again. 

They said isekai was a funny thing to experience but to you, it was a torment. 

The days kept repeating. Repeating. Repeating. Days. Weeks. Months. You could not tell. 

Sleeping. 

Waking up.

Crying. 

Drinking.

Sleeping.

Waking up.

Crying.

Drinking.

Sleeping.

Dreaming.

Crying.

Waking up.

Everything kept repeating and repeating. Days and nights to you were the same. You could not speak as your tongue was too big. You couldn’t understand why your head was so painful until one day you realized your hands weren’t yours to control so you gripped your hair unconsciously. You couldn’t help but drool all the time, while the people around you kept appearing and disappearing immediately in front of your eyes. 

You tried to comfort yourself, trying to reason that your new brain couldn’t control itself functionally yet so it could not recognize people without looking at their faces. You remembered your professor once said babies could not know that things still existed when they were hidden. 

“They don’t have object permanence,” he had said when you had asked him about why the babies loved peek-a-boo.

“What does that mean, professor?”

“The realization that people and things still exist even when they are hidden from view.”

You had thought it was such a weird way to process the information, until you were a baby again. You tried to remind yourself that you weren’t a baby. And you weren’t Alice. Or Alys. Or Alyss. Or Aelys. Maybe it wasn’t Alice.

You sighed when you thought about that. 

You weren’t sure if your name was Alice or not, as George R. R. Martin loved to name people with such same pronunciations. The days were so boring that pronunciation could be a great interesting thing to your mind, apart from colorful toys other giants kept shoving to your face. 

And among them, there was one person you knew. 

Alicent Hightower. 

When you first heard her name, you knew your fate had the greatest humor to throw you in the world of House of the Dragons. You had thought you would deal with this situation worse than you did, but all the exhausted days and dreams kept your mind dizzy and made no room for horror. You should have been scared when you woke up as a baby. You really should. But all the new senses occupied your brain, or this body’s brain, so you were busy panicking as a prisoner, not as a lost person who was thrown into a new strange world after a snooze.

And now you had time to think about it when you were looking at Alicent. She was just a little girl, no more than… you couldn’t know, she looked like other giants. But shorter.

“Careful, my love, you will scare her.”

“I will, mother. But she loves me too.”

You tried to roll your eyes when you heard that. You didn’t “love” her, you were just observing her face and then your brain told you to giggle when she touched your belly. 

“Sleepy Lissy,” she teased you, poking your cheek like the giant mother of yours and kissing your forehead. Like mother, like daughter. But you didn’t complain because she smelled as good as the A-leer-ee lady. 

Or Alyrie Florent. 

You knew her name from the movie cause George RR Martin didn’t mention her name in the book. You sighed again at the pronunciation. 

When Alicent was a lovely sight to look at, even you could not figure out her shape as your eyes were so blurry, your brother wasn’t. 

“Mother! I came to see the new lady!”

Alyrie sighed softly and you knew she was smiling affectionately at the voice. A boy, a little higher than Alicent, walked into the room with such force making your little thin hair fly. 

“Hush, my little Gwayne, keep your voice down.”

“Oh, she looks like a monkey, mother.”

“She’s just one week old, my boy, she will change.”

One week?

Just one week!?

You could not believe in your new ears. You had thought it was a lifetime and it was just one week!?

With the advantage of being a royal, you could have all the spices you wanted, even if they were as rare as dragon eggs or as expensive as a ship for just a spoon. Robert loved to spoil you, so he couldn't deny you such things.

You made friends with the cook, and often appeared in the kitchen zone to make sure that they made the chicken the way you like. All of your meal was made by the most talented chef and you enjoyed eating so much.

Those chickens were beyond delicious.

Some might say the Seven themselves must have blessed your way with the capon. Servants standing near those dishes would have bent their knees just for a taste of them if they had any chance.

Sometimes you spent time eating alone in your own room. But sometimes when you had dinner with your King, your Queen, and your siblings, the maid made sure to place the chicken in front of you. No one bothered how much you like chicken, or no one dared to bother.

But the Hound did.

Standing after the prince Joffrey, his eyes casted to your mouth when you, who sat across at the other side of the table, bit the chicken wing which was perfectly poached. Its skin was as gold as the fucking hair of the cunt prince and it was juicy.

Your lips were covered by some juice and you subtly licked them with your little tongue. The scene was enough to make him narrow his eyes. The Hound didn't like the way you eat those chicken wings. You were a lady in a blue dress, of course, you weren't allowed to hold the chicken in your hand and devour all the meat on it. Looking at how you leave the bone with tons of white flesh, his jaw tightened.

He wanted to chew those chicken bones, digesting all the delicious, mouth-watering meat in the scrap bowl of yours. Someday, he also had the thought that maybe, maybe you might be at your mercy to spare him some legs or the neck of the chicken. He wouldn't admit that he would growl the "thank you" to you if you did that. But it was just his daydreaming about those fucking chickens.

He could not eat chicken at some bar in the Flea Bottom anymore, not after that one time he was given a chance to have a taste of your chicken. It was a hot day when the food was easily spoiled, you were busy sniffing and tasting the new spices for too long that you forgot to eat your breakfast and now it was past midday. Then Joffrey came to your room as he wanted to show off his new crossbow and to scare you a little bit.

"Sister, careful" he said when he shot the arrow at your sack, but he missed so the arrow just dig itself into your table just right under the sack, making it drop and then he laughed when the nutmegs rolled on the floor.

"Joffrey!" You yelled, but he just laughed louder and walked into your room. Your maid help to collect those nutmegs while you use your hand to cover the edge of the table for her.

Joffrey looks at the maid's buttocks before gazing at your meal on the table. It was fowl baked in clay, a low-born way of cooking, but you liked that as it could keep all the juice of the meat and could make the chicken sweeter.

"Ooh, chicken. Let's share it with the dog" he said then plucked the arrow out of the table, stabbing it into the chicken, making its juice splashed on your blue dress and shoved it into the Hound's face.

The Hound easily caught it with his mouth, not wanting to get the chicken into his eyes. But when he bit the meat, his eyes widened.

"No, Joffrey!" You gasped, quickly stood up and wanted to take the arrow out of his mouth. "Please, don't eat that, it has gone off, you would have a stomachache!"

The Hound stepped back, he didn't want to get too close to anyone, especially ladies. He still chewed the chicken, and to his dismay, it was beyond his imagination. The flesh was too soft as the tits of the most expensive whore he once threw her corpse out of Joffrey's room and tasted better than anything he had ever eaten in his life.

Fuck.

It was too good.

Too fucking good that his mouth could not stop chewing and tasting the meat before your horrified eyes.

"Please, Ser, stop eating..." you pleaded, not as sweet as the chicken to his ears but sweet enough to make him stop for a moment.

You released a breath, intending to smile at him but he chewed again.

This chicken was fucking delicious.

Joffrey laughed aloud, he smacked the buttocks of the maid and walked out. He loved bothering you like that, he did these things from 5 to 8 times a fortnight just to see you yell and panic.

You hold the hand of the maid to calm her down and look at the back of the little prince. Then you cast your eyes to the Hound who was so huge that almost filled your sight when he was close to you.

The Hound chewed the chicken, looking at you.

"Ser..."

"I'm not a Ser" he said with chicken in his mouth. He looked at your worried eyes, thinking why they were always so bright and shining in their own way. He wondered whether they would be as bright as they were now if you cried.

"Please, Clegane, don't swallow it..."

He swallowed.

Seven fuckers.

The apple of his throat bobbed as the meat slid down his gullet.

He growled deeply, it was so sweet that make him want to close his eyes and moan like a dog in heat. It was too, too, too good. The piece of meat brushed against the base of his tongue, causing his mouth to water even more. The smell of it evaded his nostrils and he was scared to breathe out because it would waste the chicken. He was blessed by the Seven, the pleasure coming from his mouth made his body feel like he was fucking ten whores at the same time.

You were confused by the growl, looking at your maid while she was as confused as you. Then you looked back at him and smiled, asking him nicely again.

"Clegane, it has gone off, you would be sick-"

"Dog! Where are you!?"

Joffrey yelled back and the Hound huffed.

"Let me throw it out for ya, little princess" he said, snatching the rest of the chicken to put it in his bag and walking off, not staying long enough to hear you whisper to yourself when your eyes followed his broad shoulders.

"I'm not little..."

That was the first time he ate your chicken. He still remembered its taste even in his dream. But from that moment, you noticed that the Hound kept staring at you whenever you had dinner with your family. He wanted chicken. Your chicken. Not of anyone else.

So you started to share your meal with the Hound.

It was a strange choice of a princess so most of the time you just put your chicken in a paper bag and told the maid to help you find him. You would go there alone and give it to him.

"Yer wasting paper."

"It tastes scrap."

"It's midnight, stop wandering".

That was how he showed his gratitude to you. He accepted your chicken too quickly and urgently that he almost tore the bag and shoved it in his mouth.

He fucking liked your chicken. Even when he pleasured himself in the middle of the night in his own chamber, he still imagined eating your chicken. He didn't remember when he stopped thinking about women's breasts, some under the blue dress, some just came from his imagination, and started thinking about chicken instead. The taste of it drove him crazy, making him addicted as if you put drugs in it.

You kept giving him chicken, and it made him greedier.

"Chicken"

"My name isn't chicken, Clegane" you giggled as he greeted you when you were at the place where no one else was around. You gave him the bag, and he tore it off immediately, starting biting the whole chicken. Yes, you saved a whole chicken for him even though you wanted some chicken too. You liked chicken as much as him after all.

"You shouldn't be here at this time" he said as he enjoyed his food. He wished he could have some beers now, but this was enough to put him in heaven. You smiled at his words, stepping closer to him, one hand behind your back, the other hand reached out to pick up a piece of paper on the chicken bone he was chewing. You know he would destroy the bone too, you just didn't want him to eat the paper.

"You would protect me, wouldn't you?" you lingered your hand a little near his chin, then you retreated your hand to yourself.

"I just do my work, i work for the prince."

"But i give you chicken, every day!" you pretended to be hurt, you put your hand on your chest, gasping playfully.

He looked at your breast; the corset made them look bigger than without it. He wondered if they tasted as good as the chicken.

The fuck was I thinking?

The Hound grunted, then continued eating. He bit the chicken drumstick in his mouth, searching for something in the bag.

"Where's the gizzard?" he asked, looking at your face. You smiled, giving him another bag you held behind your back all that time.

"I asked the chef to make this a little special today. I guess you would like it"

"Your chickens are always edible," he said, and it made you smile brighter. Too bright for his eyes.

He took the bag, opened it and poured everything in the bag into his mouth.

Fuck...

He groaned. Gizzard was the best part of the chicken; it was chewy yet tender, soaking up every drop of the rich, flavorful broth you taught the cook to prepare. He closed his eyes to enjoy, as you could see his other hand gripping the chickens too tightly that almost ruined the meat.

You giggled, and it didn't help him much.

"I will die for you"

"Oh?" you were surprised when he said that, he was overwhelmed by the taste of your chicken. You giggled even more, then you stepped closer and closer.

"I don't need you to die for me" you said. "Just a thank you is enough."

"Aye" he nodded, enjoying his gizzard and shoved some chicken meat into his mouth.

You looked at him for a while, then raised your eyebrow: "So?"

"So what?" he frowned, not knowing what you were talking about.

"My 'thank you', where is it?" you smiled. You were standing too close that he could count your eyelashes. "Or... you could share a bite with me? I love chicken too."

"You have chicken everyday"

"Yes, but currently, I save it for you"

He looked at you, then the chicken, then you again.

"Thank you" he said, continuing to eat the chicken without sharing.

You laughed, your voice was as sweet as the broth he tasted inside the muscle of the gizzard. You kept watching him enjoy his food, the corridor was painted by the shadow of you two.

He was so tall that his figure could envelope your space and for some people, it would be so terrifying. But for you, it was... safe. You didn't understand why you had such a thought. Looking at his ruined face, you studied it and absent-mindedly reached out to touch it. But you stopped before you actually did that.

He looked at you, staring into your eyes for a moment. Your eyes were so big. Or maybe it was his imagination, but he swore that you could hold all the silhouettes of him inside your eyes. If that wasn't mean big, he didn't know if there was anything else big.

He could see your irises slide down a little as if you were looking at his lips. That look was so innocent yet seductive that he felt his trouser tightened.

"Here" he said before tearing some meat for you, you didn't take it by your hand. Instead, you lean closer and open your lips, taking all his meat inside your mouth. You looked up at him while his two fingers were still inside your warm and wet little mouth, your tongue stroked his thumb in such a slow and irritating way.

"Don't start it," he said, his voice rough and too deep, sending a chill down your spine.

He knew he shouldn't stand still like a fool like this, but your blue dress kept haunting his dream for a while, then your chicken, and now... your tongue. He was a monster, and a monster couldn't be with the blue dress princess.

You could see how he hesitated, you withdrew with a pop.

You kept looking into his eyes, seeking any affection he had for you to keep doing this. But all was hesitation.

"Sandor"

You whispered, your voice was sweeter than any chicken he had ever tasted and he had to admit that it would be the sweetest thing he would ever hear.

He leaned in, the chicken in his hand was long abandoned.

His breath was hot on your skin; it stank of steel and chicken. Both of his hands were dirty, he didn't dare to touch your delicate skin but he just wished to taste the softest meat he would consider - your lips.

He kissed you, and you could taste the meat from his lips. It was your recipe after all, which meant it was beyond delicious. Sandor was beyond delicious.

"Clean yourself, my chamber has more chicken."

You whispered, as your hands wrap around his neck and you wanted to pull him down but he grunted and shook his head.

"Go back to your chamber. I can't do this."

"You've just kissed me?"

"I'm sorry."

He said, then walked away, but you could see his ears were red, and by the seven heavens, you could catch a glimpse of a tent under that armor. How big was he?

Not as big as your chicken, you believed.

Or maybe bigger.

You slapped yourself mentally before you called over him: "Tomorrow I have clay-baked chicken. Clean yourself before coming."

"Why are you so good for me, sweetheart?" Thorin smirked when his hands grabbed your hips, bucking slowly and making you gasp. You tried to close your mouth, but with every slow but firm thrust of him, you just could not. Saliva drooled on your chin, to your neck and collarbone. When it reached your naked breast, Thorin leaned in.

His flat and big tongue touched you, his breath made your skin burn with need. He started dragging his tongue from the water drop, slowly, to one of your breasts. He moved his tongue in the way the wolf drank water but more slowly, tapping, licking, testing the tender of your breast before twirling it around your hardened nipple.

"Oh Mahal," Thorin growled, sucking that poor bud and biting it slightly like it was made from gold. "You're so sweet and tasty. I bet you bathed in the honey soap i gave you before you lure me in to suck your nipple? Right? Right love?"

He bucked his hip, his hands kept your hips down and each time he cooed you, you could feel his vein throb inside you harder.

"Thorin..." you could not say anything but his name, as his length stretched you out. He smirked, gripping your hip harder to enjoy the flesh there as he let go of your nipple. He kissed the other one and blew a hot breath to it.

"It's cold, isn't it? Poor you, my little wife, your nipples need more warmth. Let me provide you with that." he opened his mouth and took in as much as he could into his mouth, while his tongue plucked your nipple as a hello. Then the hello turned into a hug where he twirled his tongue around it and sucked harder.

His hand moved to your navel, then tap, tap. His palm pressed down and his fingers traced your skin slowly, too slowly that irritated you, before giving it a squeeze. His calloused hand trailed down to your suprapubic area, pressing down gently to feel himself through your flesh. He thrusted again, the wet sound was louder when all of your senses were all about him.

"Am I too big?" He smirked, letting go of your nipple, then kissing your neck and chin before giving your lips a light kiss. You chased his lips, trying to get more.

Tap tap.

He tapped your belly again, "Easy there, my treasure, answer your King first."

"Uhm, Thorin, kiss me" you pouted, hugging his neck to pull him closer but he just kissed your nose.

"Done, now answer me, am I too big?"

"No..."

"No?" he raised his eyebrow with a smirk on his face.

"No..." You shook your head, still disappointed that he didn't kiss your lips.

Thorin chuckled but said nothing as his fingers slid down to your clit. He pinched it slightly, you pouted. He flicked it a little bit harder, you looked away not to meet his eyes. He smiled, then his fingers slid down, buried into your warmth, where he was already stretching you out, to take some juice with him before sliding back and circling your hardened clit.

He took care of it with all the patience the King had for you, slowly at first. A drop of sweat rolled down your naked back, slowly rolled down your butt. Then his finger became quicker until it caught up to the pace of his hips.

"Answer me, my love, answer your King." he plucked your swollened clit, the sound of slapping flesh echoed off the wall of the throne room. You followed his rhythm, riding him to chase your pleasure but by Mahal, he was, indeed, too big.

But you didn't want to admit it yet, not yet.

His embroidered cloak brushes against your inner thighs when you move, and his trousers feel so hard compared to your skin. You wanted to moan, though you were stubborn enough so you covered your mouth to stop the moan from escaping your lips.

Thorin just smirked, he knew you were doomed now, so he moved his finger faster and faster, his over moved from your belly to your buttocks and gave it a squeeze.

"Thorin... ah..."

"Just say it"

Thorin let go for a moment, he licked his fingers and spit on them before moving them back to your clit. He played with it rougher and faster, while he pulled you down just to slam down on him.

"Fuck, Thorin... I can't... you're too big... I'm so sorry..." you finally gave up and leaned down to bite his shoulder, his tunic tasted well in a weird way. He smiled, the hand on your butt moved to your head, he wove his fingers into your hair and tugged gently to make you show your neck.

He bit your neck absentmindedly, once, twice, before pulling you down to kiss you. His kiss was sloppy and lazy, but he could drive you mad just with his tongue and lips. His tongue glided over your teeth before finding your tongue, he stroked your tongue with his and pressed it back to your throat just to see you whine.

His hips moved faster, he thrust up to you as if he wanted to destroy your cervix, in a nice way.

"Mmm!!"

A chill ran from your toes, to your soles, ran through your calves to your inner thighs. More and more of your juices flowed out, wetting a patch of his pants. Your inside contracted violently, causing Thorin to growl and press you closer to him. Your naked skin rubbed against his robe, making your nipples be squeezed mercilessly.

But he didn't stop. He kept thrusting, then, your vision became a little blur and now you found yourself half sitting half lying on the throne. Thorin pushed your thighs up to your chest so he could pound into you easy.

"Ah! Thorin please! I can't!" You moaned out, you were so overwhelmed now. But he just chuckled.

"You can't? Ah ah, no, no darling, you can and you will take it. Take everything from me."

He kept pounding on you, one hand resting under your head while the other kept your leg spread wide for him.

"Aw my queen, look at you, so pathetic with my cock inside. Does it feel good? Hm?" He cooed, kissing your nose before he licked your lower lip: "Yes, yes it does.”

You could not answer, could not say anything but moaning louder as you hugged his neck. His beard brushed against your chest.

"Say it, say you like it"

"Thorin please..."

"Say it, please, sweetheart. Hear, my ear. Pour your sweet voice into it, please"

His clothed thighs brushed your naked ones, you were sure that totally burned after this but you cared for nothing. You slid your finger into his beard, and as you tried to whisper into his ear, your nipple stuck into it and it felt nothing like his tongue.

You arched your back when you almost felt another wave of ecstasy, your toes curled.

"Aw, you want to come again?" he patted your thighs. "Not yet, darling, not yet. Hold a little longer please. I want to see you suffer a little longer."

"Please, please Thorin, please..."

"Your plea hurts my heart a lot" Thorin pouted, so his hand moved to your clit and pinched it harder and he plucked it for some fun. "I think I will be melted by your plea. What should i do with you, love? I still want to see you being cockdrunk, i can't help myself"

He kissed you again, this time his saliva drooled into your mouth and his breath warmed your cheek.

"It's all my fault, I am so" thrust. "So..." thrust. "So sorry" he thrusted again. "But my love. Don't blame me. Your cunt is so warm and wet. This sloppy cunt clenches around me so hard that I want to fuck you again and again and again, until you scream my name."

His balls slapped against your skin with each rough thrust.

"That's it, you're so good, sweetheart, fuck, you're so beautiful. Look at that slutty face, I want to feed your cunt and your mouth all of my seed. You would take all of it like a good girl, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled when your eyes rolled back, and his name is the only thing that escaped your lips now.

"Thorin... Thorin... please..."

"You're so gorgeous when i fuck you like this, my queen. Come, come for me, darling, yeah, that's it, come for your king."

You shook your head, as you pouted a little and looked at him, asking for a break. You were so sensitive now.

"Ah ah, don't look at me like that, keep going, give me another orgasm and I'll be at your service. Come, darling, come."

"Who's my little needy wife? Hm? Whose cunt is so sloppy now? Oh Mahal you look incredible. Does my cock feel good? Does it? Does it darling?"

He pounded with each question, his hand on your leg moved to your nipple. He squeezed your breast while pinching your poor bud, his mouth sucked the other one.

The wet sound of his mouth and of the slapping flesh was too loud in your head. You felt your soles burning and then your back arched automatically.

You came, too much and too hard that you squirted all over his open trousers with a scream.

"Aaahh" Thorin grinned this time. "You did it, your second orgasm" he chuckled. "You're so good love, so good for me."

He kept slamming into you. Slamming and slamming. He was chasing his own orgasm now as he bit your nipple a little bit too hard. 

Then he came. Yet he pulled out in time, and his seed splashed over your stomach.

"Mmm... Thorin... why?..." you pouted, tugging his beard down to make him face you. Your cunt was still clenching, but it clenched around nothing this time. 

You felt empty, you felt abandoned.

"You have to earn it yourself, my queen." He tucked your head behind your ear, his face made you want to punch him now. Of course, punch him with your lips.

"But I did ride you" you bit his nose, then gave it a kiss.

"Yes, but the rest was my work. You have to do it all yourself" He chuckled, resting his softened cock above your entrance. He teased you, but you want him again.

"Thorin..."

"Want to try again?"

Thorin smiled, kissing you back. But this time you moved your face away.

He raised his eyebrow.

"No"

"No?" He smirked.

Then you pushed him out so you could sit properly on the throne. You looked at him, tsked, then looked back at his cock. You licked your lips, thinking about when your throat would fully remember all of its veins but it would be another time.

Thorin stood before the throne, before you, crossing his arms and looking at you with a smirk on his face.

"So?"