You stare hard at her, but also caution yourself not to look indifferent. She steps forward in worry, inching closer to you. 

“Princess?” She softly utters, reaching a hand out. You remain silent in your place, glancing at everything around you: the fire, the bed, the table with fruits. 

“Bath.” You said, looking down to the floor. When she did not move an inch, you gazed up at her. “Bath!”

“R-Right away, princess.” The handmaid replied, jumping in her place before hurriedly fleeing to fetch the tub. It did not occur to you that you raised your voice, and you lamented it. You were never one to raise your voice at your maids, or anyone really. 

But tonight was the night of many firsts. 

It did not take them long to carry along the tub and fill it up with water. You wasted no time in going in and soaking yourself. The gentle splash of the water filled the room, and the frequent quivering of your handmaid’s breath was in fear that you would increase your voice again. 

You sat drenched in your own dirt, mind still hazy from what had happened before marching to your room. Staring at nowhere, your body was paralysed, not daring to move with time. A fatigue-induced lucidity occupied your mind, urging itself to be known by you. 

The linen cloth used to wash your skin felt like flesh. Warm, unsettling flesh. You left your trance and jolted, causing your handmaid to get startled. 

“I can do it myself, thank you…” You told her, reaching for the cloth on her hand. She nodded, bowed, and left without another glance in your direction. When the doors closed, echoing itself, that was when you felt true isolation. 

Nothing made itself known, and so there was silence. The cloth slipped from your fingers, slowly drowning to the very bottom. You could not help but watch as it reached underneath, lying on its own. Your body refused to move, through your willpower or not.

Your mind drifted back to the events earlier today: the council chamber, where Baelor parted your thighs and slipped himself inside your skirt. Your father spoke of borders and diplomacy while your folds felt pleasure. Yet your memory betrays you, fracturing itself to the dark and terrifying shadows of the dining hall where Maekar cornered you. 

A sickly heat washed over your body and lept to your stomach. Your hands shook as you reached down, submerging them beneath the water. Your fingers quivered as they slowly grazed over the flesh of your thighs. Shoulders trembling at the sensation it brought, your mind ran freely with its disturbing thirst. 

Maekar’s grip on your body, how he easily unraveled you. The way his eyes inspected every inch of your body, refusing your body a single step of agency. It felt strange and harrowing. 

Somehow, it made you journey your touch further down to your core. Your breath hitched; waves of confusing pleasure rolled through you. Eventually, you found a rhythm that had your head leaning back to the edge of the tub. Moans began to leave your lips, sounding familiar from your own pleas just a few moments ago. 

The thrill of the danger, the intoxicating weight of being his focus and desire. A desire so intense that Maekar could not restrain himself from your presence, and the thought of the many times he refused to take you for himself. The thought of being someone he admired from a distance, afraid to ruin it, and now that he had his hands on you, you fell apart to his own liking.

“Fuck…” You moaned out, fingers pressing over the same area he touched. The pleasure was real and cruel. It reached the depths of your mind that never wanted itself to be known. Now that it was consuming you whole, your lust accompanied it. 

You could not cease it. The memory continued to revisit you, intense but less overwhelming and less dark-winged. It came in pictures: Maekar’s eager thrusts, how he practically rearranged your womb and filled you in a way that had been unimaginable. 

‘I would have had you years ago’. It echoed through your mind. The realms of satisfaction that you would have reached if it had occurred soon enough. Maekar’s grunts and private curses made you cry at length, in desperation to feel the same hit again. 

Your release started to build up when your neck remembered the weight of his palm, how he wrapped around your throat and clung to you. With each entry of his cock, a cry left your lips, and bliss took you over. 

When your release came, your body tensed up, eyes widened, and back arched. You took a few moments to catch your breath, closing your eyes and gripping both edges of the tub. The moment the release shuddered through you, the heat vanished instantly, leaving you freezing in the tub. 

Instantly, you flushed with shame. The cold reason came back to you, but without agony. Hardly knowing whether to retreat or to persevere, you remained there, submerged in water infused with the same eerie guilt as you. Utterly paralyzed by your newfound pleasure from Maekar’s vile action, his obsession seeping through you. 

“Good morning, Prince Baelor.” Your guard greets. Baelor returns him a smile and reaches for the door, but is blocked immediately by him. 

“She has asked not to be disturbed, Your Grace.” From this information, Baelor scrunched his eyebrows. 

“Has she eaten?” He added in his query. 

“Yes, Your Grace. Her maids have said so.” The guard affirmed. 

“Has she left her chambers?” 

“Not since two days ago, my Prince,” said the guard courteously. 

Baelor had not seen you since the small council meeting, and he was beginning to think that you resented him for his expedition beneath the table. Drowned with much work, he barely had the chance to visit you for the past few days except for now. 

While he was disturbed beyond measure that you had not shown yourself to anyone else, the thought of you taking care of yourself by eating scarcely eased his mind.

He nodded and turned to the direction he came from to attend to other matters. Aware that your guards leave their post at a certain time period, he decided to return later, in an attempt to hear just a fragment of your voice.

A few hours passed, and just as he predicted, your guards were not found outside your door. At any other time, he would have scolded them, but the situation was more convenient for him than ever. Baelor carefully stepped to your door, reaching his hand out for the door. He stopped in his tracks, hand in midair before letting it fall to his sides. 

He sighed. It was best to let you take your time rather than force you to talk to him (for now). He inched his face closer to the door. 

“Are you all right?” Baelor asked through the barrier. He heard no reply, but was persistent in his goal.  

“Are you ill?” He continued. Still, no other words were heard on the other side of the door. Perhaps you were asleep, or willfully ignoring him. 

“Talk to me, please. If this is about what happened with the small council, I would like to atone for it.” 

Baelor stood in silence, trying to make out any footsteps or a muffled voice. When he finally admitted defeat, his shoulders collapsed as he sighed and left. 

As much as you wanted to respond, guilt and shame swallowed you whole. The impression of your self-pleasuring and Maekar’s unbecoming remained in your mind and has not left since. You would rather not face Baelor or even speak to him when your mind was plagued with a disease. Not until you could find a cure. 

It broke you that he returned outside your door for the second time today, and retreated to his chambers in loss. Sinking into mental phenomena, you curled up in your bed, covering your body with the blanket.  

Reluctantly stepping away, he made his way to the dining hall where he’ll be forced to dine with Maekar. 

He heard heavy, steel footsteps approaching his place. Gathering that it was your guards returning, Baelor fled. But just as he turned the corner, Maekar passed by him. Their eyes met, strangely curious of each other’s presence before Maekar continued in the same direction he came from. 

Peering with his eyes, he saw your guards already standing outside your door. When Maekar halted in front of them, the guards uttered the same words Baelor heard on his first visit.

“The princess has asked not to be disturbed.” Maekar nodded, suspiciously calm from being turned away. 

Before he could be seen, Baelor hid himself from his brother’s view and decided to skip dinner.  

Your mind has gone sufficiently unsteady as the days went on. You continued to refuse any efforts your maids have given you to leave the caged walls of your chambers. 

They have adjusted to your newfound routine: waking up at dawn to check on your health, then returning to bring you food. Even your guards refused to leave their post now, something out of the ordinary for them. It gave them more reason to stand watch, especially during the night. 

While they had gotten used to your daily living, Baelor did not share the same sentiments. He mourned your absence every morning, wishing you were right beside him when he woke up or when he attended to his duties as Hand. It was rather lonely for him, and he could not stand it for another day. 

Going against his initial thought of giving you your own time, he marched to the hallways of your chambers. Your guards stood, unwavering and without any trace of exhaustion. Baelor did not bother to stop and went for the door. 

“Your Grace is—” The guard on the right reminded. 

“I will make this easier for both of us,” said Baelor with determination. “Let me through, and you will not be forced to tackle me.” 

The guards gaped their mouths open, shocked and utterly conflicted on how to proceed. Terrified of the prince named Breakspear, they stood down, their swords remaining sheathed. 

Baelor pushed open the doors without a trace of effort and waltzed in to see you in the tub with your handmaid holding a linen cloth. 

Your handmaid stopped, and Baelor halted his steps. Your eyes locked with each other from afar, and your guards turned their heads away from the scene. 

“Your Grace.” Your handmaid bowed her head to him.   

“Princess, we apologize.” The guards said, keeping their heads away from the interiors of your chambers. 

Staring at Baelor, you gripped the edges of the tub with your hands. You sat up, refusing to break your gaze with him. 

“It is alright.” You called out to them all. “Leave us.” You turned to your handmaid, and she nodded before withdrawing to the door. She passed by Baelor, keeping her head down. The guards quickly reached for the door and shut it with an audible clank. 

Baelor lingered afar, his eyes only momentarily going over your exposed skin before returning to your face. At this moment, it only occurred to you that you were bare. The wind that passed through made you shiver, your body chilling from the water. 

That was only when he decided to take a step, calmly making his way to where you sat. Your hands lost their grip and fell to the water, a small splash resounding in the entire room’s silence. Baelor towered over you, his shadow landing just right on your neck. 

Only when he finally saw you up close did he see how your features had changed in just a week. His face clouded wth concern, his shoulders losing their tensed posture. 

“You’ve gone thin,” said Baelor carefully. Your eyes went down to your knees, refusing to look him in the eye. You sat in the same tub where you got off on the thought of being undone by his brother—your brother. A chill ran down your spine, and he watched the structure of your shoulder eerily move with your collarbone more visible than it once was. 

Baelor’s gaze went to the cloth hanging on the edge, and he grabbed it before walking behind you and crouching down. He was aware that you despised cleaning yourself and would rather someone did it instead. He gently pressed the wet cloth on your skin, passing by your arm and crossing to your shoulder. 

“What is bothering you?” He asked with a melancholic tone. You watched his hands move across your body, not daring to apply more pressure. It was as if he was afraid you would break apart if he spoke with more stiffness or held you tight. 

“Who says something is bothering me?” You replied, eyes wandering to the edge of the tub. Your reply was getting rather oppressive to his heart. Still, he carried on, not distressed when his detailed tunic was beginning to get soaked by the drops of water. 

He inhaled. “Your eyes have darker circles.” Baelor’s eyes went to the books piled up on top of the desk by the wall.“I don’t think any of your books have been opened at all this time; they are gathering dust. You have barely left your chambers for a week when you always visit the godswood every morning. After that, I would usually find you in the library before you sneak off to the Gallery of the Kings.” 

His precision was terrifying. Baelor knew you like an open book, and it ached you even further. 

“Has something gone wrong?” He continued to pursue. His trail now went to your neck, grazing your flesh with the damp material. 

“Everything always does.” You forced out a response. Baelor’s movement was cut short, his hand dropping and gripping the edge of the tub. Without a glance in his direction, you knew his eyes softened. If you met his eyes this close, you were aware that you would fall apart and your words would spill out. 

Baelor longed for your attention. He only felt more hollowed out in your presence now than he did without you because at least he did not see what you have become. Now that he was in front of you, your stubbornness to find consolation in him was painful. However, he will not falter. 

“Is it because of what I have done with the council? Does it have anything to do with one of our brothers?” He asked, taking his chances. 

Your eyes twitched. He was getting dangerously close. A tremble or a simple glance would have him on the right direction. If he knew, he would resent you for it. 

No reply was given on your end. Your head was turned away, shamefully hiding your vulnerability. 

“Maekar?” Baelor demanded, his grip tightening slightly on the damp linen. Your head snapped to him, eyes restraining themselves to show no fear. Baelor saw right through your ruse. His eyes inspected every subtle movement your face made. 

“What happened that night when I was gone?” 

Your mind fractured and returned to what transpired. How satisfied you were by Baelor’s affections and how oblivious you were to Maekar’s suspicious eye. How he watched you fall apart under the table from Baelor’s doing, and the thought it brought him. 

For a week, the shame ate you alive. It seeped itself to every part of your life. You thought you were broken because your body had burned at the memory of Maekar's heavy hands. But looking at Baelor now, seeing the desperate, protective terror in his dark eyes, a thought entered your mind.

The thought disgusted you. No, the sickening, addictive heat that had flooded your stomach in the tub was something far darker. Perhaps it was not Maekar’s violation that brought you bliss but the thought of being desired by them both. You prayed inwardly that it was not the former. 

The situation bode well for you: Baelor was right in front of you, and you were in front of him, wet and glistening without any gown to strip away. A cold, predatory clarity washed over you. You looked up from the water, locking your gaze onto Baelor's face.

A small light found its way into your eyes. “Stop asking questions.” You whispered before pulling Baelor into a kiss. Before Baelor could speak another word, you lunged forward, reaching out of the water to wrap your wet arms tightly around his neck. You pulled him down, burying your mouth against his, cutting off his interrogation with a desperate, bruising kiss. 

Baelor stiffened in absolute shock, his composure shattering for a split second before the sheer, sudden heat of you overcame him. A low groan escaped his throat as he dragged his heavy body straight over the lip of the tub.

“Right now?” He whispered through the kiss, and you nodded without hesitation. It took him no effort to eagerly undress himself, tearing every article of courtly clothing on his body to the floor. 

Baelor climbed into the copper bath, water splashing all over your bodies. His hands ran all over your wet hair, and you pulled him in closer. He kept up with the frantic rhythm your lips had, almost desperately moving his mouth. 

“Sister,” he spoke over the kiss, his eyes staring at you. “You want this?” 

“I want you to shut your mouth.” You replied, pulling his body closer, which sent a visible shiver through his frame. Baelor pulled away, taking a moment to watch you closely. 

You watched the conflict play out on his face: the battle between his protective instincts and the overwhelming intensity of the moment you had created. You remained still, allowing the silence to stretch, ensuring he understood that the terms of this interaction had fundamentally changed.

However, with your current state together, the heat had blurred his own reasoning to see your thoughts. He rushed into the kiss once again, this time sparing no second to line himself up on your entrance.

You felt a sudden sting on your skin at this. Pressing a hand on his chest, you caught his attention. “No.”

Baelor softened his eyes and looked to you, watching you as you led him to sit in your place. His upper body was all that was not submerged in water, and so you straddled him again. The position made you remember how you comforted him in this very room, with your bed only a few steps from your current place. 

Taking his stiff cock into your hands, you lined him up and pushed yourself down at his length. Your head threw itself back from the feeling. Closing your eyes, you moaned softly. But your mind kept betraying you, and you saw flashes of Maekar in your mind. 

You snapped your head to the front, looking down at Baelor, who merely watched as you grind yourself to him. As long as you kept staring at him, no memory of Maekar would enter your mind. It would not feel disgusting but satisfying. 

The water danced with every move your hips made. Baelor looked up at your body, astounded by how you looked. He lightly placed hands on your waist, still cautious of your state. Your hands gripped the copper bath, though it only reminded you of your previous masturbation. 

You were brought out of your trance when one of Baelor’s hands guided your chin to his view. His gentle touch made the experience even more gratifying. The mutual gaze between you two was what kept you going, your pace quickening. 

Baelor moaned along with you, his hips subtly bucking up. His hand remained on your chin, but you intertwined them with yours when you remembered how Maekar gripped your neck. 

You groaned together, and it did not take him long to twitch inside you, signaling his impending release. Bending down, you continued your movement while kissing him desperately. Baelor followed your lips, cupping your neck as he did so. 

He groaned with every rise and fall you did to his cock. Trailing his lips to your neck, he was all that filled your mind at the moment. You moaned at his ear, and he cursed under his breath as he released inside of you. You shuddered, moaning his name while arching your back.

You invited him into your own cage in a daring attempt to replace your own traces of self-pleasure with your brother. This was no longer about what had been taken from you; it was about what you were now prepared to take to forget. 

For some reason, one that you cannot grasp, you decided to speak to them both. A part of you wanted to see how this would play out, despite your own reservations. It was only a matter of time before Baelor found out, and you could not continue your ruse every time that happened—even if it bodes well for your pleasure. 

The encounter was arranged in a leisure room, a completely foreign environment for all of you. But you made sure that no knives or blades were placed on the plates sitting by the oak table. 

Baelor sat beside you in front of the fire, him clutching your hand and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You stood near him, eyes watching how the fire moved with each passing second. You had sent word for Maekar, and you cherished the silence and peace that the room had. 

Your betrothed was completely clueless about your intention for asking Maekar, thinking that it was about marital invites. But despite your fooling, even Baelor knew that something was unusual about it. He could not quite reason out the purpose. 

His restlessness could not be tamed, and he clutched you near him. His hands hooked your waist, and gently inched you closer to his body, where he rested his head on your hip. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you slowly patted him out of comfort. 

The intimacy of your affections was cut short when the doors opened, and you were forced to turn around. 

Maekar entered the room, striding with much pride, and stopped when he saw both of you. A subtle lowering of his smile could be made out. He was determined to show no shock or surprise at your presence with Baelor. His eyes went back and forth, Baelor then you, multiple times before sighing and bringing back his grin. 

“Wedding invites are in motion, I presume?” Maekar asks, a small curve on the corner of his lips as he stepped closer to where Baelor sat. Your eyes remained on him—every step, every word, every twitch his eyes made. You had never quite gotten over your original mistrust of him.

“I would have given it myself, but frankly, my mind is no longer at ease when it's just the two of us.” Baelor turned to you, looking up from his place at your words, and you dared meet his eyes this time. His piercing eyes locked on you before you flushed with shame and turned your gaze to Maekar. Your hand felt numb when he reluctantly let go of it, forcing you to hold yourself together. 

Baelor followed along your line of sight, scrunching his eyebrows. He gripped the rest of the chair, his knuckles turning white. Maekar watched your exchange, steadily standing in his place with a comfortable distance between him and the man, shooting a perilous glance.  

“Tell him.” You told Maekar, a monotonous tone taking over your voice. His lips quivered, lifting the corners to a recognizable grin. Silence fell among the three of you, only the nearby crackle of the fire breaking through in every interval. If it was mute enough, they could both hear the thumping of your heart, asking to be freed from your chest.  

“What?” Baelor sharply asked, rising from his place. He moved closer and closer to Maekar, like an animal closing in on its prey, and you could visibly see how his fists tightened with each step. Maekar did not falter, keeping his eyes on Baelor. 

“Did you touch her?” The question stung through you and made you want to sit, but you leaned back on the chair instead.  

Baelor did not need an answer, for he knew, judging by the look his brother gave him. But to justify what he was about to do, he had to hear it himself. He had to watch Maekar admit it, with the ounce of dignity he had left. 

They now stood face to face, only a small gap remaining between their bodies; enough for retaliation or escape.  

“Not only did I touch her, I fucked her.” Maekar spat back. You rolled your eyes at his childish antics, gripping the frame of the seat behind you. Baelor stood paralysed, the corners of his lips lowering.  

“I wager it will be a difficult thing to see who sired the babe now, brother.” 

That was the last you heard before a deafening punch echoed throughout the room. 

There was no royal decorum, no warning, and no princely grace left in him but raw, murderous fury. Baelor crossed the room in a single, blind lunge, slamming his entire weight into Maekar’s chest. The impact sounded like a battering ram hitting a castle wall. Maekar staggered back, his breath rushing out of him in a sharp gasp as Baelor drove him violently into the heavy oak table. 

Silver wine chalices and platters crashed to the stone floor, scattering food and pouring red wine across the room like fresh blood. Thankfully, every item that could impale them was hidden beforehand. Baelor brought his fist down to Maekar’s cheek, a groan leaving the other’s lips. 

“She is mine just as much as yours!” Maekar gripped Baelor by the collar of his tunic, trying with every strength he had to back his brother up against the wall. 

“The fuck are you on about?” Baelor retorted, his breath hitching. Before Maekar could throw the punch, Baelor brought his knee up sharply into Maekar’s midsection, doubling the younger prince over. 

“Stop it!” You cut right through their voices. They stared hard at you, their movements cut short. The brothers heaved their chests up and down. “Are you animals? Sit down, or I will tell our father about this.” 

Staring at each other, they pushed themselves away from each other’s grip. It was not an outcome you had expected, especially from Baelor, who would always preach about the obligation to love and accept your blood. With the countless arguments they had, they never, not even once, raised a hand to fight each other. 

It pained you that they had to get physical for your sake. The night was long and had time for it all.

They maintained a distance from each other, casually glancing at the other. You tossed a clean handkerchief in their direction, not bothering to see who caught it. Maekar wiped away the blood on his face with the cloth you threw in the air as he sat down, and Baelor rubbed off the pain and stain on his knuckles with his tunic before taking his place on the chair across Maekar. 

“How dare you?” Baelor snapped his head to Maekar, his chest heaving up and down. 

“Is that a challenge?” Maekar countered.

“Oh! Everything always has to be a challenge with you.” 

“If it means my victory is guaranteed.” 

“Is that what you thought of when you violated her?” Baelor snarled.

“Don't act all high and mighty, brother.” Maekar laughed bitterly, throwing down the handkerchief you offered to the carpeted floor. “You’re not exactly subtle with matters under the council table.” 

Baelor’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing. “You just couldn't help yourself, could you? If you want it but she doesn't want it, it's not a problem–” 

“What do any of you know about what I want?” you interrupted, your voice cracking with a terrifying blend of rage and betrayal. Capturing their attention, they had no words to retort to your remark. “What is this constant need the two of you have to possess me? Is it because you can't bear to live without a woman at your side? What is my part in this unsettling charade of yours? Do you see me as a pawn?” 

They shook their heads in unison. “Of course not,” Baelor said instantly with no flicker of hesitation. 

“We don't,” Maekar muttered, crossing his arms and looking away. “Well, I don’t. I'm not particular about him.” 

Baelor narrowed his eyes, almost ready to lunge forward again at him. “You really think I see her that way? She's about to be my wife–” 

“This!” You cut through their posturing, a hollow, breathless laugh escaping your lips. “This always happens. Gods!”Your hands went to your hair, frustratingly brushing them away from your face, and you paced around in your place. 

“Am I supposed to be the one who leads this discussion?” You sat down, your eyes staying on you from each word you spat. “You are two powerful Targaryen men in the prime of your lives, and you expect me to teach you how to behave yourselves?” 

“Talk.” You demanded, with a definitive voice. “Or perhaps you would like to settle this with a fight? A Trial of Seven? I’m more than welcome to spread the word.”  

Courageous as they once were, Baelor & Maekar now seemed exceedingly timid. The thought of having to publicly battle each other was exhausting and fatal. With a monotonous sigh, they glanced to you and gathered their thoughts.

“Sister, I sought comfort from you.” Baelor began, being delicate with each word. “I was struck by grief, and you were the one to offer it. I wanted the warmth of your arms again like how it once was when we were young.” 

“I did offer you comfort, Baelor.” You replied, your eyes softening from his intentions. “I let you come into my chambers, sit on my bed. I gave you comfort, but you turned into a cage. A night of solace and pleasure to ease you, it was supposed to be. “You never asked me. You branded me with responsibility.” 

A chuckle came from Maekar. You and Baelor turned your heads to him, coldly staring at him. 

“Do not think I forgot about you.” You reminded him, and he wiped off the smug look on his face. “Among the three of us, it's your head that is a few words away from being slivered off.”

“I did not mean to hurt you.” 

“But you did,” you replied with calm abandonment.

“And I cannot tell you how much I regret it all.” You stared at Maekar with attempted concern. He refused to look you in the eye, keeping his eyes down to the floor. Baelor pursed his lips at this, seeming irritated and unsatisfied. 

A long interval of silence fell. Baelor glanced at you, waiting for your response while he was on the edge of his seat. You tapped the frame of your chair, an audible ticking noise heard throughout. Sighing, smacked your lips together and cleared your throat. 

“I cannot forgive you.” You let out. “It is not that simple. It has already been done. But what I would like to know is why.” 

Maekar looked up at you from afar, turning his head just enough for you to lock eyes. “Why?” He uttered.

“Yes. Why did you do it? Is it from envy? Possessiveness?” 

You and Baelor glanced at Maekar, eager to hear his next words. Maekar, suddenly aware of the eyes on him, took a deep breath. An annoying headache found its way into your head, and you closed your eyes from frustration.  

What had been a mystery to you then was not much less a mystery to you now, so with every strength you had, you kept your eyes on Maekar.

“Father always liked you best,” He said before turning to Baelor. “And mother loved you because she could finallyraise a girl in the castle.” Maekar then acknowledged you.

His words were somehow true. Your father spent his time with the firstborn, loved him so much that he grew into a fine young prince and became his Hand. Your mother, on the other hand, gave so much attention to the lone girl she gave birth to. She would call for merchants to bring the finest toys and gowns from Dorne to you, enthusiastically showing her culture to you. 

It never really occurred to you that Maekar felt shunned by the lack of affection. 

“You were both perfect in their eyes. I wager they already planned on marrying you two back then. When you finally announced your plan to marry, it’s as if any chance of being loved was taken away from me.” 

“So I am a channel for your resentment?” you asked with vigilance. Baelor nodded at your reply, eyeing him up and down. The hardened glare in his eyes melted into a quiet tenderness. 

Maekar shook his head sideways. Shifting from his seat, he was left to his own reflections and grew weary. “You stuck by me. Always. You listened to me.” He addressed you, his face losing its cold and stiff facade.

“I also listen to you,” answered Baelor restlessly.

Maekar’s chest heaved with a ragged breath as his shoulders slumped forward, completely unstrung by the weight of his own shame. “Not in the way she does.”

His tone fractured into a quiet, trembling rasp, stripped bare of all anger and dripping with a lifetime of isolated neglect. “With her, I never saw contempt in her eyes. No animosity. You look at me and see a subordinate, Baelor. But she... she was never a prize to be won. She was my equal. She was the only one I should have reached for, before it was too late.” 

“Then you should have reached for her years ago, brother.” Baelor snarled in defensive retort. “Instead, you nurtured your malice until it choked out whatever affection she had left for you. Look at her now. She does not look at you with comfort, Maekar. She looks at you with dread.” 

Maekar swallowed hard, his throat bobbing heavily as his fingers twitched against his sides, unsure of where to hide his hands now that his weapons were useless. 

Beneath the surface of your skin, the heat of their touch still lingered. A persistent, sickening scar that felt like a permanent stain. For days, you had let the shameful weight of their hands drown you in a pool of guilt, believing your own body’s physiological betrayal meant you were fundamentally broken. That you enjoyed it.

But staring at the ruins of your brothers right now, the illusion shattered completely.

“Gods. I loathe you both.” 

You released a breathy laugh, giggling to yourself while hiding your face with your palm. Baelor & Maekar stopped dead in their tracks, a cold shiver running down them from your confession. Laughing hysterically to yourself, they had no words to cut you short from your state. When your laughter finally died down, your face flushed, and you turned away quickly. 

The words just spilled out of you without exactly wording the thought. 

“You have gone on and on about your honor and intentions, but are you aware of what you have done to me?” Your voice choked, unable to utter the sentiments that were in your mind.

“All my life, I was told by my mother that I would be given a choice as the youngest. The burden of the crown would not fall on me, and I would be free to do as I please. Yet the two brothers whom I have loved most, who knew of this promise, chose to take that away from me. But what is even more unbecoming is that I found pleasure in it. You have broken my mind. I found satisfaction with you both, and that is why I loathe you equally the same.” 

Your words left virtually no one in the room undisturbed. Baelor’s mouth flew open, and Maekar stared at the emptiness from afar. There was a distinguishable internal battle between their heart and their minds. To you, they looked in disbelief, unsure how to address the situation.

You stood up from your chair, pacing back and forth. Your lips quivered, your hand being forced to shut them. Your gown felt tighter, and the fibers poked at your skin, leaving you in anguish. 

Baelor broke the silence, standing up and cautiously walking up to your place. “How are we to move forward from this?” 

You threw your arms up in defeat, slumping your shoulders down with a sigh. You eyed the door to retreat, taking small steps towards the door. “Perhaps asking father to send me to Dorne would be good for all of us.” 

“Wait,” Maekar called out to you, rising from his seat. “There is really only one way to solve this.”

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Silence ruled everywhere around. With each step you took behind Baelor, prying eyes tracked your move. One of those stares was Maekar, who sat near the end of the table.   

“Princess?” The grand maester calls out. “I’m afraid the council has matters to attend to, and you’re—” 

“You are mistaken, Grand Maester.” Baelor cuts off. “My sister will join us today.” With that, he pulled out the chair next to his own place. You sat as the council gaped their mouths open in surprise. 

“On what grounds?” said Maekar bitterly. 

“Marital grounds.” Baelor proudly replied, taking his own seat beside your father, King Daeron. “I intend to make her my wife. The King has already allowed the arrangement. It is only right for the future Queen Consort to be present.” Every man at the table immediately snapped their eyes on your direction. A sweet. mischievous smile formed on your lips at their shock. No one in the room, however, was more surprised beyond measure than Maekar. 

“Isn’t it a bit early to be making wedding accords?” Maekar called out from afar. His indifference filled the whole room’s energy. “Not a month has gone by since your wife—”

“Choose your words wisely, brother.” Baelor’s voice sliced like a sharp sword. 

“And you have agreed to this?” You opened your mouth to object, but Baelor’s sharp words cut you first.

“You ask as if she has no agency of her own.” He scrunched his eyebrows, distinctly raising his voice. 

“Alright, enough.” King Daeron spat back, making his presence known at the head of the table. Everyone in the table jolted, including you. The two brothers gazed at each other menacingly from far away, their tension creating an uneasy air. “We have other concerns to heed.”

Your father turned to you, losing his enraged expression and now had a soft smile. “Thank you for joining us, my dear girl.” Greeting home with the same warm smile, he faced head-on the matter with a positive attitude. 

This made Maekar even more irritated, the way the King looked at you in the same way he looked at Baelor: pride and passion. Meanwhile, every word he spat out, regardless of whether it was sensible or not, was met with bothered glances. 

He felt even smaller than he did now that you were present, beside Baelor, than he did on any other day before.

“Shall we proceed?” asked Baelor of his father. After confirmation from King Daeron, the grand maester prepared himself to scribble. The men fixed their posture, arranging themselves to speak their own concerns. 

Just as you leaned back on your seat, you felt a warm hand on your thigh beneath the heavy oak table. Subtly looking downwards, you saw Baelor’s right hand creeping up on your left thigh. Gripping your knees for a moment, he casually bunched up the fabric of your skirt, enough to place his hand on your skin. 

“The foundations for the east wing of Summerhall just finished, Your Grace”, said the Master of Coin. 

His warm hand sent a chill down your spine, coiling your body upwards from the back of your chair. You gripped the edges of your chair, doing your best to maintain composure as his fingers reached your core. He pushed away the thin fabric to the side, and you swallowed a gasp. 

Glancing at him, he showed no signs of his intentions under the table. 

“But the stonemasons have made it known that they demand a higher wage. I’m afraid the treasury has already been stretched thin.” 

Baelor kept his eyes locked on the Master of Coin. He didn’t flinch even under close inspection, and instead wandered his fingers on your folds, rubbing them gently. “Why not offer a fifth share? Upon completion, of course.” He said as he applied a firm, agonizingly perfect pressure right against your center. 

Their words were contorted on your end, unable to ignore the oblivion that happened inside your skirts. Before you knew it, the matter was settled, but your high was just beginning. You kept glancing back and forth from Baelor to your father and to the council members. 

“Seems like a reasonable compromise.” King Daeron affirmed, lightly grinning to the man pleasing you unbeknownst to anyone in the room. The Master of Coin nodded in relief, dipping his quill and scribbling in his own scroll. You could see Maekar roll his eyes nearby. 

You felt Baelor’s finger abruptly enter you, and a sharp gasp got caught in your throat, instantly strangling the breath in your lungs. You choked down the whimper before it could leave your lips, your shoulders trembling as you stared straight ahead at the maps, completely frozen. 

Suddenly, your left hand grasped at his right thigh. Evidently, you could make out a subtle smirk on the corner of his lips. 

“Are there any other concerns?” King Daeron asked, scanning the room for other manifestations. Maekar cleared his throat, shifting their eyes to him. Baelor squinted his eyes, watching him carefully. 

“We have received complaints from the borders.” Maekar spoke sharply. “Dornish outlaws were said to be raiding their crops, and they now worry for the turnout of their livestock. They demand for a show of royal force.” 

Baelor nodded, not flinching for even a bit. His speed fastened with his fingers sliding in and out, and you had to lift your arm to the table, covering your lips as they trembled. “Send for men to arrange peaceful terms.” 

“You think diplomats will solve this?” Maekar retorted with a scoff. 

“Sending an army will only tear apart the fragile peace our father has built.” Your grip on Baelor’s thigh only tightened, and in the same way your pussy tightened around his finger. Maekar scoffed and stopped, his gaze dropping to the subtle tremor in your shoulders. Travelling his gaze down to Baelor’s his hand was concealed beneath the table. 

Maekar’s jaw clenched. “And what does the future Queen Consort have a say on the matter?” Your eyes snapped to him. “You have been awfully quiet today, sister.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs as Baelor’s other finger entered your folds, effortlessly sliding in from your wetness. You were trapped between high-risk rhythm right under the King’s attention and Maekar’s watchful glare. 

“I…” You form your words properly in your head, attempting to ignore the nearing bliss on your stomach. Clearing your throat, you sat up straight, highly aware of the eyes waiting for your response. “I agree with the Hand, Maekar. Peace so fragile should not be trifled with.” 

Baelor could not help but allow his lips to smile slowly of themselves, as he finally led you towards your release. Maekar stared at you, his eyes burning with dark suspicion as he noticed the flush creeping up your neck and your chest heaving up and down. 

“Peace,” he muttered bitterly, leaning back in his chair. “How convenient for you both.”

Baelor excused himself from the usual dinner you all had together, leaving you alone with Maekar once more. Unlike before, you actually entered the dining room with a slight grin, still in the cloud of your adrenaline from releasing on Baelor’s fingers. 

Maekar already sat in his usual place, right across from your place. You sat down, actively and willfully denying his presence in front of you. 

The meal laid out in front of you was something he would usually complain about, but his words were absent tonight. Not a single word was uttered by him, and you did not bother breaking the silence, feeling amused by your betrothed’s actions before dinner. 

All that could be heard was the knife grinding on the plate’s surface and the servants entering to pour wine in your cup. Once they fled to the door, aware that Maekar’s silence is usually more dangerous than his usual verbalized sentiments. In the corner of your eye, you noticed the absence of the guards in the room and the empty chairs that would usually have Maekar’s sons.

You reached for your cup, sipping wine. Maekar glanced to Baelor’s empty seat beside you. 

“He is too grand to dine with us, it seems. The Hand has more important matters than his own blood. Or perhaps he simply finished his business with you earlier today, sister?” Maekar chewed his food, sharply gazing at you. 

Gulping down your wine, you set it down on the table with a soft thud. Licking your lips, you finally acknowledged his presence and threw him a glance. “I do not know what you speak of.” 

He slammed his knife to the table, causing you to flinch in your place. “Fucking fingering you under the table? During a small council meeting with our father?” He chuckled mockingly. “My! He has got some nerve.” 

You chewed on your inner cheek, ignoring his remarks. Your eyes travelled to anywhere around you but him. 

“He might as well have fucked you right there on the table for us to watch!” That was when you slowly turned your head to Maekar in disbelief. His disgusting, vile words struck you right to your core. 

You scoffed, throwing the cloth on your lap to the table and hastily getting up to flee to the door. Just as you reached for the door, you felt a tight grip on your waist. 

Maekar dragged you away from the door, his strong arms gripping your entire body without effort. You twisted your body in any way possible. 

“Unhand me!” You exclaimed, kicking and lifting your feet. But he was way more powerful than you. He groaned as you tried to resist, and turned you around before pressing your body up against the wall. 

“What’re you doing?” Maekar trapped your arms, binding them to the wall by holding them down. His eyes raked all over your body from top to bottom. His eyes were far from what you had ever seen before, and it did not bode well for you.

“If I knew…” He whispered, his voice dropping to a fatal tone as he closed in on your face. You could feel his breath on your cheek, so you turned your face to the side to avoid his eyes. “If only I knew that such an arrangement could be asked of our father. I would have had you years ago.” 

Your eyes locked on him in an instant. “What? I can’t marry both of you!” Tears stung your vision as you watched him show terrifying force on your body. 

Maekar laughed at your innocence. “Who says I intend to share?” 

Frankly, you made a mistake in turning your head to him, for he took this chance to press his lips to yours. You yelled through the kiss, refusing to move your lips. Maekar, however, continued in pursuit and forcefully tried to move your lips with his. His lips burned you in a way, his beard brushing against your chin. 

His other hand went to bunch up your skirt, and you swatted his arm away. No amount of force could stop him from entering your garments. You widened your eyes as his fingers went over your soaking folds, sliding them up and down. 

Maekar broke away from the kiss, a smirk plastered on his lips from your wetness. He placed his thigh in between your legs, opening them enough to have access. With all your power, you pushed his hand out of your skirt but failed. 

He saw the tear that left your eyes. “Let me do this. Please, let me. I reckon you’ll enjoy it as much.” Maekar begged before entering your folds and starting with a rapid rhythm. It felt different compared to how Baelor did it, in a bad way and a pleasurable way. 

Your mouth flew open, and your body tensed up at the speed but trembled at his fingers. Closing your eyes, you winced both with discomfort and pleasure. Maekar watched as you fell apart in his hands, a vulture closing in on its prey. He felt his cock harden through his trousers. You were tighter than he imagined, and it only made him want to have you right there.

Your moans mixed with your cries, your free hand still trying to drive him away. Maekar pulled his finger out, looking at his glistening finger from your wetness. You sobbed silently as you watched him place his finger in his hand, licking it all off before pressing your lips together again. 

Clumps of tears dropped to your cheeks, and you couldn’t do anything but close your eyes. Maekar held down the hand that kept trying to thrust him away. Turning your body around, he pressed his crotch against your ass. He bound your hands behind your back, depriving you of any chance to flee.  

Lifting your skirt, the cold air met the flesh of your ass, and you trembled from helplessness. 

“Please…Please…” You wailed, catching your breath. You heard him unbuckling his trousers, breathing heavily behind you. He lined himself up in your entrance and pushed his cock inside. 

Feeling your womb fill with his length, you yelled at the top of your lungs for help nearby. Maekar only covered your mouth, gripping your face with his entire palm. 

Your cries were muffled by his palm, and your tears fell to his hand. His thrusts started slow but eventually became harder and faster. He groaned, keeping one hand on your waist to keep you in place. 

You did not want to linger on the thought, but he felt different compared to Baelor. He filled you up more than Baelor did; his length was inconceivable. You could vaguely feel his tip pressing up in your womb, hitting a state of bliss you never knew possible until now.

“We’ve always been the ones together,” Maekar whispered in your ear. “You accompany me during dinner, you listen to me. No one listens to me but you.” He trailed kisses from your ear to your neck. Shrugging your shoulder to block him, you bit his palm and heard an audible shriek of pain. 

Instead of letting you go, Maekar growled with anger and wrapped his hand around your throat. 

“Y-You've misplaced my affection for you, M-Maekar.”  You tried to let out words cut out of your throat by his hand pressing down on it. He only continued his thrusts passionately, ignoring your words. It was true that you did not want to leave his side since you were children, afraid he would wander into a state where he lacked moral clarity. But even with you beside him, he still entered that headspace and brought you down along with him. 

“Shush…feels good?” He whispered, cursing under his breath now and then. “I told you it would be. How come Baelor gets to enjoy you this way and I can’t?” 

You felt him tense up, and his thrusts became sloppier. His grip on your throat only got tighter, and you were on the verge of passing out from the lack of air but it no longer stood as a pressing concern. A tight knot was forming inside you, whether you wanted it or not. 

Eventually, Maekar gave way with one final thrust. The grip on your throat hardened before finally loosening up. His release poured inside of you, dripping down your thigh as he pulled himself out. 

Retreating his hand from your throat, you coughed and caught your breath. Rubbing the flesh of your neck, you pant. 

“If I can’t have you, then there’s no reason for him to have you,” Maekar said under his breath, towering over your vulnerable figure. “You will not marry him, not if I have anything to do with it.”

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You have hardly seen him roam around the halls of the castle, or even the library where he frequents most of the time. His sons, Valarr & Matarys, could be seen silently staring into the distance from the windows, transfixed by something you could not see. The boys would visit the godswood once a week, but would lock themselves up in their chambers the next few days. 

In your eldest brother’s absence, your interactions with your other brother Maekar have increased, much to your demise. His voice was almost like a fly endlessly buzzing in your ear. You had no choice but to push and mash around your food on the plate in front of you, every other noise ceasing in your ears. 

“Seven fucking hells.” Maekar shrieked. 

Closing your eyes with the dignity you had left, you were thrown out of your trance by his voice. You turned your head to him. “What?” you said, getting through your teeth. 

“Are we meant to eat second-grade rubbish until Baelor returns?” Dinner felt insufferable since the eldest isolated himself from the family. None of your other brothers could stand Maekar, and so they would eat before him. Afraid to leave his children unsupervised, you resorted to joining him every night. But there’s only so much one can take.  

“Perhaps chewing your food and shutting your bloody mouth will do you some good.” You spat back, unable to control yourself. Maekar scrunched his eyebrows at this, already agitated. Clearing your throat, you went back to your demeanor. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s bound to come out eventually,” Maekar replied blandly. 

“I suppose it takes time.” You uttered softly, pushing the food on your plate with your fork. 

“Time that will hopefully be used to increase the portions of the fucking venison!” Maekar screeched, causing the guards nearby to flinch. His youngest son, Aegon, closed his eyes at the loudness. He was the only one who dared to join you and your brother this evening.  

“Done with your food?” You asked the child. Aegon nodded. “It’s best if you leave.” Throwing a glance at Maekar, his ears started to smoke from fuming anger. 

“Now.” You turned to the child again, urging him. He left without another bat of an eye.

After an unfortunate but definitely not bland dinner with Maekar, you chose to go to your chambers to rest for the rest of the evening. When the heavy doors of your chamber shut, your shoulders slouched and the skeleton of your day seemed to have collapsed. With a sigh of relief, you were approached by your lady-in-waiting to loosen the tight laces of your gown and be changed into a loose nightgown. 

Your braids were undone, and your silver locks flowed down to your shoulders. Every strand is brushed gently with scented oils so that not a tangle or frizz would build. The solace of your chambers deeply calmed your nerves compared to your brother’s fits. 

Peace prevailed in the low-lit room when the guards outside could be heard arguing with someone. Muffled voices came from the other side of the door before it was reluctantly opened. Maekar pushed open the heavy door, eyebrows scrunched in search of you. 

Your lady-in-waiting stops, hairbrush stuck to your hair. The peace you have built in your head has vaporized into chaos once again.

“For fuck’s sake, Maekar. Even birds who chirp all day sleep at this time of the night!” 

“But just–” 

“Out!” You shrieked, raising your voice. Maekar rolled his eyes and headed for the door. The guards just right outside attempted to hold his arm when he swatted it away. A very audible ‘Don’t touch me’ was heard as the doors closed. The hairbrush started to move once again, and you felt drowsy from the sensation. 

“Excuse my brother.” You whisper to your lady-in-waiting. “He’s had no one to complain to since Baelor…locked himself up in his room.” 

“Shall I tell the guards not to let anyone disturb you tonight, your grace?” She asks, brushing the few remaining strands of your hair.

“If it’s not much trouble.” A few moments later, she eventually left your room, and peace finally went into your head. It was difficult not to let the slight distress fill you. Apart from Baelor’s unfortunate loss, it seemed more of the family burden was thrown upon his shoulders. He should take the time he needs, but the longer everyone waits, the more they were concerned for his well-being. 

Despite your drowsiness earlier on, sleep refused to come. You shifted, turned, and woke again every once in a while. It did not aid your waking mind that Baelor’s chambers were not too far off your own. 

‘I do not want to seem too eager,’ you thought. It had only been three days. You were not even certain if his body servant was able to enter his chambers. 

Finally coming to your senses, you reached for a book beside your bed and flipped through the pages. However, you soon realized that even if you understood the words written, nothing but your brother would come to mind. Attempting to snap your eyes open, you followed along the lines when a soft knock came from your door. 

The door slowly opened, with your lady-in-waiting showing her head from the frame. 

“Princess, I know you said not to let anyone disturb you...but Prince Baelor asks if he could see you.” 

Completely surprised, you gaped your lips at the sudden request. For a second, you almost forgot you had to respond to her and that she could not hear your own thoughts. 

“Let him in, and tell the guards to leave their post for tonight.” You gently replied.

“Your grace?”  

“They shall return in the morning.” Your lady-in-waiting stopped in her tracks, bearing the same expression you had just had not long ago. She nodded immediately.

“Right away, your grace.” The door once again came to a shut, but this time despair or peace did not fill your mind but rather thrill. A warm sensation began to spread along your body, even the parts of your body covered with the thick blanket. 

Brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face, you fixed your posture and cleared your throat. Finally, the door opened once more. It was not Maekar or your lady-in-waiting, but the man who had been in your head the entire week. 

Baelor slowly peeked his eyes into your chambers. He reluctantly entered, taking one step on the stone-cold floor.

The light did you both no favors; both your figures looked distorted in the dark. But when he finally stepped into the light near your bed, his face lit up. 

One would look at his face and notice no difference, but to you, the small changes are known by close inspection. Baelor’s face had a half-pleased, half-reluctant state, reflecting his own headspace. His soul had been disturbed and displaced. He did not wear his detailed robes, but only his nightshirt. 

The light of the candle flickered, and it did not falter his glum look. 

“Do you wish to be comforted? You asked, breaking the silence. He gently nodded in return. Shutting your book, you placed it at the foot of the bed. You gently tap the space next to you, asking him to take his place. 

Baelor sank on the mattress, the weight shifting as he inched closer to your body. 

“In which way, dear brother?” You whisper. 

“The old way,” Baelor answered.

A small curve forms on your lips at his response. You sat up properly, placing a pillow on the headboard and backing up to it. “Go on.” 

That was all he needed to hear before eagerly loosening the front laces of your nightgown. Before you knew it, your breasts were on display. The cold air met your sensitive flesh, and Baelor laid down his head on your lap and his mouth wrapped around your right nipple. 

You gasp at the sudden warmth, flinching slightly. His mouth moved slowly, taking his time with the soft mound of flesh. He flicked his tongue rapidly, and you swallowed a moan. 

“I haven’t seen you.” You breathed out. “It’s as if we barely live under the same roof. Maekar complains to me all day now.” 

He stopped for a moment, looking up at you. “Does he?” He continues his slow, sweet trail of kisses, fondling the other. The stubble of his beard grazed against your skin, making you jolt now and then. 

“And I’m the poorer for it.” Attempting to concentrate, you look down at him. “How do you feel?”

Baelor sensed the seriousness of your tone, looking up at you. He gulped, momentarily looking at the ceiling. “Better. I think.” 

“Do you need something?” Your hands found their way to his dark hair, deeply contrasting your own silver hair. Gently brushing them between your fingers, Baelor softly closed his eyes at the sensation. For a moment, you both remained there, giving attention to the sibling who called upon each other’s affection. 

Eventually, he opened his eyes. “Just you,” answered Baelor calmly. He got up from your lap, eagerly capturing your lips in a kiss. 

You followed his lips, moving ever so quickly without hesitation. His hands crawled to your hair, pushing you closer to his body. They moved to the back of your neck, his finger circling on your skin slowly. 

“I saw your guards leave their post,” Baelor said in between kisses. “Any reason for that command, dear sister?” He trailed his pecks to your cheeks, then to your jaw before finally settling on the crook of your neck. His other hand continued to squeeze and pinch your breast, inching for a moan from you.

“Privacy.” You whispered, trying to keep your breathing steady. A moan only came out of your lips when he started sucking on your flesh. “You did the same thing once before when you were in my place. Your guards were nowhere to be found when I entered your chambers.” 

“Ah.” Baelor chuckled, his voice muffled. “The night we found out about the bond between our family.” 

“Indeed.” The night that started it all. Your mother knew it was a mistake to teach the Targaryen custom at an early age, but your father insisted. After reading a book in the library unsupervised, you and Baelor, teens waiting to fully bloom, gave a small peck on the lips. 

What started as an innocent peck turned into a lengthy kiss, and next thing you knew, a feeling rushed into your body unlike anything before. These night endeavours decreased as time went by, and completely stopped when Baelor married Jena. 

But she’s not here to stop you anymore, is she? 

“I would rather no one knows of your vulnerability within my chambers, brother.” Lifting his chin, his lips locked into yours once again. His tongue playfully grazed your lips as you heaved your chest. 

“Mine or yours?” said Baelor teasingly.

“Too early to tell…” you replied. His lips curved into a smirk before continuing the kiss. You rose from your seat, placing your hands at his shoulders. Pushing him down to the mattress, you straddled his body and broke the kiss. Now at your mercy, Baelor sat there, his head leaning back to the headboard. 

You run your hands all over your body, trailing from your thighs to your stomach, then your breasts. Locking eyes with him, you fondle with your breasts, pinching and squeezing in the same way he did. Hiking up your nightgown to your thighs, you slowly circle your folds. 

His eyes raked all over your body, inspecting every single inch. Baelor reached for his own nightshirt, bunching the fabric to his stomach to unbutton his trousers. He impatiently took out his cock, the tip glistening with his precum. 

He slowly started stroking himself, a moan escaping his lips when he felt how hard and sensitive he was. He kept his eyes on you, your pussy, your perky breasts. Meanwhile, you watched his strokes, timing them with your fingers. You found yourself grinding your hips, desperate to feel the right amount of friction in between your thighs. 

Picking up the pace, you put pressure on your fingers and reached just the right spot. A moan came from you, and Baelor groaned at the sounds you made. He began to follow your rhythm, timing his strokes with the way your hips moved.

“The court will advise me to take a new wife.” He breathed in between groans. “I want it to be you.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle from your moan at his words. “Me? Where’s the fun in that?” A pit started to form in your stomach, making you quicken your pace. Your fingers rubbed at your folds, and your mouth opened from the feeling.

“W-Will this feel the same once we’re m-married?” You moan, on the edge of your release. Baelor was inched closer to his own climax at your state, all moaning and grinding on his body. 

“Too early to tell…” Both of you pant, mewling all over at each other’s condition. He was practically fisting himself, desperate to catch up with you.  

Without a word, you watched as he lined his cock up to your entrance. “Baelor, what are you—” 

You were cut off from your words when his whole cock entered you with a deep push. His hips bucked up, his body tensing up as he released inside you. He groaned uncontrollably, gritting his teeth. Your mouth opened, suddenly aware of being filled once again by his cock. 

You couldn’t even control the moan that escaped your lips. His warm release felt amazing inside you. Baelor kept pushing himself inside you, as if he didn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted. Without wasting time, he thrusted himself at a pleasurable rhythm. 

“I’ve been a faithful husband all these years. Not letting temptation make me bend you over and fill you up again. Let this be my reward.” He moaned, watching your body bouncing up and down from his thrusts. His eyes were fixed on your breasts, rising and filling. His hands crawled from your thighs to your waist, and you gripped them just enough for Baelor to look up in concern. 

Small beads of tears formed in the corner of your eyes, wincing from the sudden pressure on your womb. You wailed in silence, face contorting with the speed he picked up. Baelor noticed how glossy your eyes were and the unease on your face. 

It seemed to him you were resisting him, with how you pushed his hands down from your body. 

“You’ll be the perfect wife, sister.” He whispered. “I’ll parade you around as my lady by day and fuck you by night.” 

A tear slid down your cheek, and that was when he decided to get up from his seat and bend you on all fours to the mattress. He lined himself up again to your entrance, rubbing himself up and down your slit. A few drops of his cum dripped down to your thigh and the bed when he pushed his cock inside again. 

Baelor felt your warmth wrapping around his cock, groaning before thrusting aggressively. His thighs were practically clapping with your ass. 

“Fuck…” You cursed under your breath. Your elbows felt weak, and your silver hair stuck to your sweating face. Baelor’s hands gripped your waist, taking out his pent-up longing on your body. His rhythm was unmatched. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t want this too…I know you do.” He said in between thrusts. 

Your body started to feel weak, both from pleasure and pain. His grip on your skin started to burn, and tears continued to swell in your eyes. Grabbing your wrists, he bound them behind you. Your back arched, head thrown behind. 

“Tell me, were you dreading the idea that she bore my children instead of you?” He squeezed any part of your body he could. Your waist, your ass, your breasts. Both of you were panting from the inconceivable high. Baelor’s lips went to your shoulder, then your ear. 

His breathy moans filled up your ears. “That I was fucking her every night? I pictured you every night we fucked.” 

A familiar pit formed again in your stomach, and you could tell he would reach his second release soon. Trying to break free from his grasp, you twisted your body, but he was too strong to let you flee. His thrusts became harder, and he repeatedly moaned your name. 

Baelor cursed under his breath, on the edge of his bliss. It took him three more thrusts before he trembled at his release. He held your body in its place, filling you up with every single ounce he had to give. 

Your womb felt completely stuffed with his cock and his cum. Without control, you came on his cock, a trembling whimper leaving your lips. He refused to move an inch, twitching inside of you. 

“No moon tea this time, sweet one. My seed will grow in your womb.” He breathed out, carefully pulling out.