Your madam brings you all out to the main room, excitement buzzes throughout, like bees swarming around a hive, and you smile even though you're unsure what is causing the excitement. 

She lines you all up, fluffing some hair, straightening clothing, pushing the girls shoulders back as best to show off their attributes. You're already doing all of that, you're more than used to this process now at your age. Because of this, you smile eagerly along with the other girls, but you don't fully share their excitement. Whoever was coming wouldn't pick you.

For a whore, you were pushing the edges of acceptable age. You didn't want to stay in this profession, you just wanted to save enough coin to bribe a man to pretend to be your husband and buy a small parcel of land so you could farm and live in peace. You were almost there, and your madam was a good woman all things considered. She was vicious and cunning, and incredibly ruthless in protecting her interests and property.

Even if the property was the women who fucked for her profits.

Horses sound outside, and everyone stands to attention, including you. That's when your madam finally lets you all know who is about to talk through the door,

“It's time, my jewels! The Princes Baelor and Maekar are coming! Do not let me down, use every trick I have shown you, and you'll earn enough gold to see you resting easy for at least a moon's turn!”

The girls murmur happily at that. The younger ones were worked ragged most nights, to be allowed time off would be worth whatever these princes wanted. Your shoulders drop slightly. The men that frequented your establishment were already unlikely to pick you, there was no chance that two Targaryen princes would. 

The sound of hooves died down, you all go silent so you can hear the murmur of deep voices as they close on the entrance to the unassuming building,

“... a year, brother, it's time-”

“- Baelor, I don't know-”

“Shut up, put a smile on your face,”

“Oh, fuck off,”

You almost laugh at the just barely heard exchange, they certainly sound like brothers, for all that they were princes. You'd never laid eyes on a Targaryen before, they were like alien beings, and all the more terrifying for their mystery. You crane your head to better view them as they both come in. At first, you frown, you see two men who are indeed attractive, but they're certainly not the eerie, otherworldly beautiful that had been impressed on you from all the gossip you'd heard.

They were just normal attractive men, several years older than you, but clearly still full of vigour and desire. Both dressed in Targaryen black and red, tall and broad shouldered. The dark haired one - and that confused you further as you had been told all Targaryen’s had white hair - took your madam's hand, and placed a kiss on her knuckles,

“Bertha, ever beautiful,”

“My prince,” Bertha - who had indeed once been a great beauty, and was now more handsome in her advanced age - curtsied beautifully, “we have your usual favourite here, but please do choose who you wish, should you require more,”

It was then that you realised you recognise the dark haired prince. You'd never had him in your bed, he certainly preferred your younger colleagues, his favourite being a beauty that had been named Ruby for her hair. Now you thought about it, he often brought his wife with him, though she didn't appear to be here right now. He nods his head, turning his blue and brown eyes on your grouping, 

“Ruby, my darling,” he takes her immediately, “forgive me, Jena couldn't make it tonight, however I have my brother,” he turns to Bertha, lowering his voice, “his first time,”

Bertha hums happily, whilst Baelor picks two other younger girls. Perhaps his wife was away? Who was to say with Princes and Kings. You would wager their appetites were just like any other man. They all wanted the three holes that women had. Tongues, fingers, and cocks, if they could slide it inside one of those holes and release their seed into it, they would. If another woman was there to occupy the appendage that wasn't in use, all the better.

You're not paying attention, fully resolved to the fact that you would not be working tonight, your dream tract of land another day away from you, when the two girls standing in front of you part and you're face to face with Maekar Targaryen, who points,

“You. What name do they call you?”

Your mouth goes dry for a long second, and the man looks annoyed before turning away. You finally pipe up, working very hard to keep the irritation out of your voice,

“Diamond. If it please you, your grace,” of course this wasn't the name you'd been given at your birth, but it was a name you enjoyed enough in this line of work. Maekar turned his purple eyes back to you, looked you up and down, and then nodded,

“Fine. She'll do, Baelor. Put them down,”

He takes your wrist in a not unpleasant grip, and walks you to the front and his brother. Baelor looks like he's been slapped for a moment, not to mention Ruby, Opal and Amethyst whose faces show nothing but disappointment. That sends a shock of excitement through you. 

If a man could make a whore genuinely excited to be fucked, that was a man worth being fucked by.

Baelor sighs, but he extricates himself from the three younger, beautiful girls, handing them a bag of gold each,

“Here, my beauties, when next I return, I'll bring Jena. We'll make it up to you,”

The girls coo like birds just fed premium seeds, and they all wink at you. Ruby in particular was a joyful girl, no malice in her heart, and she wraps her arms around your waist before the Targaryen princes can pull you away,

“Come to me after, Diamond, you'll have the best night, trust me. Tell us everything,” she lets you go and blows a kiss to Baelor, “goodnight, my prince,”

“And you, beloved,” at this, he fully turns his attention to you, and to his credit, he does not look disappointed even though you were clearly not his preference, “come, let me take a good look at you… my usual room, Bertha?”

“Yes, my Prince,”

And then you were being walked through the beautifully draped walls into one of the larger rooms with the most sumptuously appointed furnishings. Baelor stands you in the middle of the room, carefully removing his cloak and draping it across one of the seats. Those hypnotic eyes of his don't leave you, and you can feel Maekar at your back like a prowling beast. 

The younger prince seems to be content to light the candles, an air of distraction about him. You clear your throat carefully,

“Tell me how I can be of service, my Princes, I am yours to order,”

You hear a snort from Maekar, who enters into your line of sight, throwing himself into the same seat his brothers cloak in on with a groan,

“You heard the woman. Fuck her, and let's be done with this charade,”

Baelor rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand, pulling you flush with his body. You're wearing the sheer and enticing clothing that is preferred by your establishment. It billows around your body, showing everything whilst revealing nothing. It had panels and cut outs that exposed flesh which was buffed and oiled to a high shine and exquisite smell. Hands and fingers and mouths could find your skin if they tried without ever making you undress.

As Baelor immediately did.

His fingers are cool as they find your waist, trailing up and over your ribs, his thumbs managing to find the underside of your breasts and just barely grazing them. You gasp slightly, and it was not a fake one. Baelor smiles, turning you so you face his brother, with him remaining at your back,

“Look at how responsive she is, Maekar. You'll want her too before the night is out,” he runs his nose over your throat, his teeth sinking into that spot where your shoulder meets your neck, and again you genuinely moan, “my brother has only ever lain with his dearly departed wife, he will take a moment to succumb to your charms, but no fear, we'll both fill your body on this night,”

“Not bloody likely,” Maekar grumbles, but his eyes don't leave you as Baelor finds the partings in your dress, and cups your breasts fully, taking long seconds to play with your nipples, 

“You're quite lovely, Diamond, should we show my brother what he'll be missing? He chose you, but I'm happy to fuck you senseless if he's too craven,”

“I'm not fucking craven, Baelor,”

Ignoring him, Baelor takes your chin, turning your face so you can meet his eyes. When he asks to undo the laces on your dress, your neck feels like it might snap with how hard you nod it.

Men rarely asked to do anything after they had taken you to a room. Of course, they didn't have to, not once their coin had parted their purses, and only the most indecently violent men would warrant Bertha sending in her hired men to pull them off. Most men who came in knew better, anyway, but that didn't mean they cared about the whore in the bed. 

Baelor was proving to be an exception to the rule. In fact, you were certain that if you told him ‘no’, he would leave immediately with no further questions. 

In all honesty, it made you want him inside you more.

Baelor takes his time loosening the laces, tugging at your dress, and easing it down to your hips, leaving you bare from the waist up with just your diamond collar around your neck. Well, you were fairly certain that the stones were actually just polished glass, but it was pretty nonetheless. You all wore one to correspond with your names.

“See? Your choice was worth it, indeed,” Baelor goes to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing you to stand in the space between his spread legs, he takes your hands and places them at your sides, his voice low as he tells you to just let him enjoy you.

And he does.

His mouth is soft, warm, his whiskers tickle, but the way he uses his lips against your breasts immediately makes your knees weak. Your fingers ignore his command, sinking into the soft hair at the top of Baelor's head to hold him to you. You feel his chuckle ripple through you, your cunt clenching in response,

“Maekar, get up and check to see if our Diamond is wet, I fear I want to taste more than these beauties. Especially if you can't be bothered to,”

“Ugh,” The seat he's on creaks, and you feel the younger brother at your back, “I don't see why you can't do this,”

The younger prince was starting to vex you, but you put on your best smile, and leaned your head back to meet his violet eyes, “Perhaps my prince is too scared to?”

Maekar glares, and his hand takes a grip of your skirt, “I know my way around a woman, don't you fret,”

You feel Baelor pull away again, “To be sure, my dear brother does have six children… I just want him to experience someone new,”

Maekar’s hand is still holding your skirts, it's warm and dry, delightfully calloused as you take it in yours, “Do you not want me, your grace? I will do whatever you desire. All or none,” you hold his gaze, he doesn't pull away, even as you move his hand inside the panels, to touch the warmth between your legs, and the desire pooled there. Maekar’s eyes close on a low moan,

“Y-yes… she is ready for more,”

“Wonderful,” Baelor grins, and then with no further ado, stands up, spins you, and gently throws you to the bed. You bounce against the mattress on a startled yelp which quickly dissolves into giggles. Your breasts bounce, your hands cover them slightly shamefully, but Maekar waves his hands,

“Don't. I like how you look. Womanly,” he goes red at that, and puts his hands awkwardly on his hips. Baelor is undressing himself and nods in agreement slowly,

“Indeed, most womanly,” his tunic and undershirt are removed swiftly, his body glowing beautifully in the firelight, “it reminds me of my dear wife's body…” he sounds both thoughtful and dismissive, you can't help but frown at him, but Baelor comes to lay next to you, his skin beautifully warm. He kisses you as Maekar watches, your skirts inching up to your waist and then your legs are gently parted,

“Ahhh, look, brother, see how much she wants your tongue in her,” Baelor whispers happily, leaning forward to look down at your cunt, his fingers brushing past your curls to part your lower lips, opening you to Maekar’s gaze. You moan low in your throat, you'd never felt so exposed in your life.

You'd taken more than one man to your bed at a time before, the other whores had been involved as well in the past, but it had always been about the customers wants and needs, never yours, never your fellow whores. It almost made you laugh that your first sign of true pleasure in your work came from Princes who should arguably give even less of a fuck than the common man.

“Open your mouth, Diamond,” you do as you're told without thinking, and he puts two fingers against your tongue, drawing your saliva onto them, and then taking those digits back down to your cunt and rubbing them gently against your clit. He throws a leg over yours, keeping your legs wide open, “ask my brother to come and fuck you with his tongue, Diamond, and I'll reward you with my cock first,”

You feel close to orgasm already, a feat you would've thought impossible, and you beg the younger Targaryen eagerly, “Please, my prince, please come fuck me with your tongue,”

You can't see Maekar, Baelor is controlling you body, one hand at the back of your head so he can kiss you, the other still playing idly with your cunt, but you can hear Maekar groan, sounding almost desperate, though not half as desperate as you were feeling at that point. You're lost within Baelor's kiss and his touch, your hips restless against the mattress, and that's when you feel Maekar’s tongue at your entrance.

It's cool, and gentle, and you about come from the one soft touch alone. Your hips rise from the bed, but Maekar is the one to push you back down, one hand on your stomach, and the other moving forwards to ease two fingers inside you,

“Stay fucking still, I want you to enjoy this, woman,”

“So pleased you're joining us, brother,” Baelor remarks dryly, getting to his knees next to your head, and unlacing his breeches to release his cock, pressing it against your lips, “Open wide, dearest,”

You do, swirling your tongue around his head first, before relaxing your jaw so he could slide inside your mouth. Baelor thrusts on a steady rhythm, Maekar sucks on your clit, his fingers matching the rhythm Baelor is setting, and your first orgasm is wrought from you. It's like a wave on a summer's day at the edge of Blackwater Bay. It had been some years since you'd seen a true summer of course, but the beauty of those days reminded you of this.

Soft, warm, all encompassing.

You moan around Baelor's cock, your hips rising and falling, or they were trying to until Maekar stops you once again, his fingers never leaving your body even as the orgasm wanes and you begin to feel too sensitive. Baelor idly rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger,

“Does she feel ready?”

Maekar hums, then pulls his fingers out, quickly rubbing them against your back passage, “Dyanna never allowed me back here,” he stands and starts to disrobe. At this point Baelor pulls out of your mouth on a huff, leaning down to take his own taste of your cunt,

“Hmmm… your wife was a good woman, as is mine, but not all allow that kind of breach,” he sits back against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap and unceremoniously pushing you down onto his cock, “does this feel good, Diamond? I couldn't wait any longer,”

Your head is thrown back on your shoulders, your mouth open on a silent scream. You'd been more than prepared, but he's thick, and hits deep enough that you can almost feel him in your throat. Baelor holds you to him, easing back so you're leaning forwards, your arse as it rises and falls against him on display for Maekar's eyes as he comes to stand next to you both.

Maekar’s body is of a warrior, just like Baelor's, both built strong, with a littering of small scars. Baelor has dark hair across his chest, whereas Maekar’s looks to be as pale as the hair on his head. Your fingers itch to touch him, so you do, reaching out to play your fingers through the thatch of silver gold hair at the base of his cock, before wrapping your fingers around him and stroking him up and down as Baelor fucks you,

“Do this please you, my prince?”

“Too much,” his hand covers yours, but doesn't remove it, “I fear you please me too much,”

You understood his lady wife - Dyanna - had passed. Maekar was possibly the first man who'd passed through your doors that had ever honoured his vows this long after a wife's passing. Or honoured them at all.

“I'll only please you as long as you wish, my prince,” your smile is indulgent, you were enjoying their attentions, especially as Baelor grabbed the cheeks of your bottom in a bruising grip, pulling them apart to expose your arsehole,

“Brother, find some oil, and have some fun with our Diamond. Afterwards, we can swap, then I fear we must leave in order to get back before daybreak,”

Maekar hesitates, but at your eager smile, he does as he is bade. You don't exactly enjoy this particular practice, men seemed far too eager to go to this hole that was not designed for such a thing, but when done right, it had its pleasures. Which, unsurprisingly, Prince Maekar seemed all too eager to do,

“Tell me if I do something that hurts, I mean it,” his voice is gruff, bordering on angry, and you nod haltingly,

“I will… but I'm used to pain, if it's what pleases you, my Prince,”

Maekar grabs your chin, making you look into his eyes, “Your pain doesn't not please me, understood?” Baelor stills inside you, taking your face back from his brother, and making you look back to him,

“We may be paying customers, but we are not here to use and abuse. Tell us if we do something that you don't like, or hurts you,” he kisses you playfully, “should you lie, perhaps we'll spank you,”

Maekar once again pulls you away from his brother, placing his own kiss against your lips, “My brother is a fool, I wouldn't spank you… I would just be disappointed,”

You pout, but let the man leave you to walk to the end of the bed and behind you, and you continue riding Baelor again. The oil dribbles down your back, and you feel cool and calloused fingers massage it against your back passage until you start to moan, needing more, needing that fullness inside you more than you need the perfumed air in the room. When Maekar pushes a finger inside you, you beg for another, meaning every syllable of your plea's. 

Maekar grunts but does as you ask, slowly easing another finger inside, stretching them out. It burns slightly, but in a good way, you can feel your desire leaking further from you, making the feel of Baelor's cock that much better. Maekar stops you, his hand on your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest as he kneels behind you. In this position, you're sat up straight, completely impaled on Baelor who is looking pained at the interruption,

“Hurry, for fucks sake,”

Maekar chuckles, “I think you've broken my brother, dear lady,

“I think you've both broken me,”

You weren't lying. This kind of care and attention would never see you again. It almost hurt, but not truly. You would treasure this memory.

Baelor once again pulls at the cheeks of your bottom, and Maekar holds you open as he nudges the tip of his cock at your hole. His lips are at your ear, his whiskers tickling, “Last chance. Tell me this is what you want,”

“Please,”

“Very well,”

And he pushes inside. This time the burn does hurt, but you reach around, pulling the prince further into you. Experience said that it wouldn't last, it would morph into pleasure if you let them do what they needed. You almost gasp in shock when Baelor joins you, his arms reaching around to cup his brothers arse, when he nips Maekar’s jaw over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to his lips… but you remember the Targaryen proclivity for incest and remain silent.

Reprimanding Targaryen’s was a level of foolishness you had no desire to reach.

They take a moment to pause as they both fill you, all three of you breathing heavily, sweat covering your body, mixing with theirs. The Princes combined scents, the sensory overload, it was the most profound feeling you'd ever had in your life, and that was before they started to move. Maekar broke first, pulling out on a low grunt,

“Fuck me,”

Baelor rolled his hips upwards, his lips at your neck, his hands at your breasts. Maekar pushed back in, knocking Baelor's hands away so he could fondle you, and his brother's hands went to your hips, holding you still. 

In and out. In and out. 

The tempo increased, both princes grunting and moaning in your ears, their lips at both sides of your neck, then at your mouth, at each other's mouths. Fingers were at your clit, but you couldn’t say whose. Pretty soon you were just a body of sensation between them as they fucked you hard, taking their pleasure, almost forcing yourself. Baelor came first, pushing you down on him and pulsing inside you, you could feel his seed dip out and onto his stomach. 

As soon as his brother collapsed back, Maekar shoved you forwards, and took his last few thrusts roughly. As soon as you felt him twitch, it triggered your orgasm alongside his, and you screamed.

It took several minutes, but they both lost their hardness, turning soft and slipping from your body. They cradled you between them for many more minutes, praising you, kissing you, touching each other… then touching you…

They did as they promised. Maekar filled your cunt next, Baelor at your back. They took their time, enjoying several more positions of your body before finally Baelor said he could do no more and fell asleep. You're cuddled against Maekar, who lays a surprisingly gentle kiss at your crown before he gets up and goes to the pot of heated and oiled water to wash in. He pulls his breeches back on, and then comes to you, cloth in hand,

“Let's get you ready to head to your own chambers,” he runs the cloth over you, taking his time, being extra careful as he washes between your legs. After a minute, he breaks the silence, “Thank you. This was…” he trails off, and you smile, reaching up to tap a finger against his cheek,

“I will always be happy to serve you, my prince,”

“I won't be back, Diamond. Perhaps my brother will, but,” he shrugs, meets your eyes, “why do you do this?”

Your heart hurts briefly, but you'd known. A man as loyal as Maekar seemingly was would never be the type to frequent a whore house. You shrug,

“I was married too. My husband died. I had no children, and I just kind of… fell into this. Age breeds wisdom, however. I am almost at the point where I can afford my own land outright. I won't be here for much longer,”

Baelor wakes, rolls over to kiss you, and then gets up. The brothers dress, and you can almost see the emotional distance as clearly as the physical. They'd had what they needed, and now they would return to the life of a wealthy prince and heir. They both dropped a large bag of gold on your table though, and you bade them good night.

You slip out of the ball, your head spinning from Lyonel's confrontation. He knew who you were, he knew who your father was. It was only a matter of time before someone else here figured it out, even that fucking Fossoway had seemed to recognise something of your family in you. 

The taxi takes you back to the hotel, your head filled with nothing but thoughts of leaving. This job role had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was dangerous, with far too much exposure to you. Your hands shake as you put the key in the door to your room, tears pool in your eyes that you wipe away harshly-

“Tears again?”

You jump about a foot in the air, shrieking loudly, pressing a hand to your chest where you swear your heart was trying to pound its way out of your chest,

“Maekar!” You take a deep breath, glaring, “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!” 

The fact that he'd specifically told you that he would be meeting you here had all but slipped your mind, and finding men in your room was more than an unpleasant experience for you. Your breath slows as you look at a frowning Maekar, and your hand drops to rest at your side.

Today has been too much, the confrontation had been the final cherry on top of a stressful cake… but now you were alone with your lover, and he looked impossibly better than he had at the ball. His jacket was gone, his tie removed, the top buttons undone so that his throat and neck were exposed. Suddenly you didn't care about anything else. You just want him.

Maekar stands, his hands on his hips, “I told you I would be coming,”

“Yes,” you murmur quietly, holding his eyes as he walks towards you, “I didn't think you would break in,”.

He ignored that, instead taking your face in his hands, “I can go if you like, you still look exhausted,” You ignore that, instead tugging at the open collar of his shirt, touching his warm skin, your hands pushing under his shirt to touch his shoulders. The buttons on his shirt are almost ripped off as you push the shirt off his body and press your lips to his chest, “What in seven hells has gotten into you?” 

Maekar doesn't sound angry, his hands now on the back of your head as you press yourself to him, kissing every inch of his neck like you could drink him down into you permanently,

“I told you, I missed you,”

That's not just it. The reality of your need was a knowledge you didn't want to look at too closely just yet. Tears rise up again, you ignore them and drag Maekar’s face to yours so you can kiss him, but he pulls away, 

“What the fuck is wrong?”

“Nothing, just kiss me,”

He pushes you away, his hands firm on your shoulders as he makes you look at him, “What’s upset you?”

I can't stay with you. I've been lying to you. You'll hate me when you find out, so I'll leave before you do.

“Nothing,” you smile, “You're just really sexy right now,”

A blank look of confusion crosses Maekar’s face, “Sexy… did you just call me sexy?”

“Mmmhmm,” you bite down on your bottom lip, fingers trailing down over his chest to the waistband of his trousers, “You're very sexy, your grace,”

He raises an eyebrow at your deliberate tease, but you can see all too clearly that his desire is out pacing his curiosity over your mood. The noise that emanates from his throat when you reach down to close your hand over him through the fabric of his trousers sends a warmth through you that almost takes your breath away.

You want this man so badly it makes your head spin, your mouth water, your cunt ache in the most pleasant way. It's your eternal damnation that you'll never be more than this, and that you'll live with the knowledge that it's your own fault.

Maekar kisses you, his lips desperate at yours, hungry and demanding. You open up for him, you want this, need it. You're rubbing at his cock, all but dry humping like a teenager overcome by hormones,

“Bed, Maekar, please…”

“You get on the fucking bed, I want to taste you this time,”

Maekar is never rough, not really, but when he got into the mood he now was, the control you usually wanted in bed was given up. You gasp as Maekar backs you onto your mattress, as you fall back and he lands over you. He's big enough to block out the whole world, make you feel safe and secure as he takes his time undressing you,

“I like this set,” Maekar runs his finger over the lace of your bra, “I promise to replace it,”

“Replace- Maekar!” He tore open your bra on a grunt, burying his face in your chest as you whine, “I really liked that set as well, you know,”

“Shut up, woman, let me do as I want,” He starts kissing his way down your body, taking a moment to stop at the scar low down on your stomach, pressing his lips to it tenderly. Your heart twists. Maekar thought you'd had a surgery for a cyst that had been botched and left you sterile. That had been the first lie you'd ever told him.

You almost tell him to stop, his gentleness is too much after what Lyonel confronted you with, but you're selfish. You want this for as long as you can keep it. Maekar peels your underwear down your legs, and spreads them wide over his shoulders, “Look at me,”

Maekar enjoys using his mouth on you, enjoys making you meet his eyes as he fucks you slowly with his tongue, as he plays you carefully with his fingers. He likes seeing every emotion on your face, knowing what truly was making you feel good, what made you feel great, and how best to use it against you to drag it all out to torturous lengths. Like now. You were brought to the edge three times before you threaten to kill him with your ruined bra if he didn’t stop teasing and let you come, 

“To die by your hands, and between your legs? I think I would be happy with that,”

“Maekar…”

“Beg me again, Jorrāeliarzy, I like how it sounds coming from those beautiful lips,”

You grab a pillow, ready to beat the man senseless with it, when he leapt up, straddling your legs and covering you with his body. You were naked, and he still wore his suit trousers, the material soft enough that it felt like exquisite torture against your over sensitive skin. Maekar deftly removes the pillow, takes your wrists in a gentle grip in one hand, and presses his free hand against your cunt, his fingers magic, 

“Tell me you still want to come,”

“Please!”

He grinned wickedly, “Good,”

The way he fucks you with his fingers is everything you wanted, you almost sob as he leans down to kiss you, your wrists released so you can hold him to you, The orgasm almost destroys ypu, it rips through you body with such a force. Tears form unbidden, not from pain or sadness, but Maekar suddenly looks horrified, 

“What?! I-”

“No, don’t, I’m fine, I promise, that was just really, really good,” You know you would reach for his face if you could lift your arm, you're certain of it, “Fuck me, please?”

“Are you sure?” He moves away, “I should let you rest-”

“Yes, do you want me to beg?” You shouldn't be this irritable with him, it's not Maekar’s fault that your past caught up to you, or that you never trusted him enough to tell him about it. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans down to kiss you, smiling into his mouth as he grumbles,

“Begging would do you good, I fear, you're in an odd mood tonight,”

“Nothing having you inside me won't fix,”

Maekar grunts, running his hand down your side to cup underneath your bottom and tilt your hips up to meet his and pushes inside you in one thrust. It burns briefly, but it's a good burn, a good pain, you revel in it as Maekar fucks you harder, hands grabbing his arse and pushing him into you.

“Fuck me, would you calm down?” Maekar pulls you to him, crushing you against him, “You're going to give me a fucking heart attack,”

“I just- I want it to be-” Memorable. You stop yourself from uttering that, instead leaning up to bite down on Maekar’s shoulder. He hisses, his thrusts stuttering briefly, looking down at you incredulously,  

“Fucking biting now?!”

“I'm sorry, you just feel so good,” and he did, Maekar always had, but you wanted this feeling to last, wanted to feel it in you when you worked tomorrow morning. You wanted to feel Maekar forever because tonight would be the last night.

Maekar’s arms are wrapped around you, he gentles his hold so he can cradle the back of your head, his other around your lower back, his pretty violet eyes almost glowing in the darkness,

“Are you going to be like this every time you do something successful? Should I start training harder at the gym to keep up with you?”

That he thinks so highly of you, that he thinks this will be something he will see over and over again, is more than you deserve, it makes your heart hurt,

“Maekar, you're not that much older than me, for fucks sake. Just give me this one, and I'll pass out faster than you will, trust me,”

“You'd better,” 

He rolls his hips, sending a surge of pleasure through you, and you gasp, moaning Maekar’s name. That seems to send him into the frenzy you'd been desperate for, and he fucks you harder, your legs wrap hungrily around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. When he leans down to kiss you, you kiss him back desperately, pulling on that beautiful silver hair, trying to memorise how every inch of him feels.

Your orgasm hits out of nowhere, all you can do is scream soundlessly as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you like fire. Maekar comes on a grunt, crushing you to him again to the point that you feel like you can't breathe, but you just hold on tighter, gripping his back hard enough that you know your nails are scoring his skin.

You're both breathless when he meets your eyes again, his voice gentle,

“Better now?” You lean into his touch as he cups your face, “Will you sleep?”

“Yes. You're wonderful,” you mean it with every fibre of your being. He's not perfect, Maekar is grumpy and rude and dismissive… but he's always been good to you. And all you'd ever done was lie.

Right now, you didn't even care that he looked uncomfortable at your too honest words, or that he left the warmth of your arms and moved to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you both up. You would be honest in this moment, and leave him with that much.

“I wish I understood you better,” Maekar gets back into the bed, leaning over you, “I think… After this weekend, I think we should talk honestly about the future.”

Of course he would want this conversation after you'd made your decision. Tears choke you again, you force a smile on your face, which Maekar thankfully seems to interpret as you feeling happy about the prospect. Suddenly, hope blooms, like the winter rose, you can’t help it. Maybe…

“I want that,” you whisper into the dark, praying that there might be something light coming from it, “I… I want to talk to you. About everything,”

A firm nod is all you get, but Maekar pulls you to him, tugs the covers over you both, and you sleep wrapped in your lover's arms.

You wake to a man in your bed, he's angry, ruthless, you can't shout or scream because he covers your mouth, pulls everything off of you, your covers, your clothing, leaving you naked, terrified. The man was your new fiance, he'd been kind and affectionate when you'd met, now he was rough and violent,

“You can't be my wife, but you'll still be my whore, open your fucking legs!”

“Wake up!”

You jerk at the order, the deep voice in your ear breaking through the one in your memory, and you come face to face with Maekar. His eyes are violet, beautiful and haunting. The eyes of the man that had attacked you were green, cold and putrid. You blink, the vestiges of the nightmare falling away, leaving you realising that you weren't alone in bed. You frown,

“You're still here…”

“I was about to get up,” Maekar admitted gruffly, “but you were whimpering… Who's Robb?”

Your stomach lurches, and you push against Maekar, needing some space. Thankfully he gives it, puts his hand on your back when you turn away,

“A nightmare?”

“Yes,” you shake your head, “just a nightmare, I get them when I'm stressed, and obviously it's stressful right now, so nothing to worry about,”

“Hmmm,” Maekar doesn't sound convinced, you feel him at your back, the weight of his gaze almost physical, but before he can say anything else, you hear his phone ring. It's the tone of some old children's cartoon, and the ridiculousness of it makes you turn around and raise an eyebrow, Maekar scowls,

“Fucking Aegon messing with my phone again,” Aegon was his fourth son, not that he spoke of his children of course, but he was a public figure, you knew who they were, even if the pictures of them were few and far between - especially of his youngest three. Maekar and his wife had been fiercely protective of their privacy.

“Oh,” you giggle, thinking of that little boy deliberately messing with the settings to irk his father, but sober up when Maekar puts his finger to his lips and answers the phone,

“What? When? No, when was he- oh fuck me… very well, I'll be there in five minutes,”

Maekar gets up out of the bed, and you turn back onto the mattress, pulling the covers up to your chin, 

“Is everything okay?” You didn't expect a response, but Maekar shocked you when he turned around and answered as he pulled his clothing back on,

“No, my fuckwit, useless son hasn't arrived yet, and he had Aegon with him, they were supposed to be here by yesterday evening,” 

“Aerion?” He was the second son of Maekar, and you'd heard he'd been sent through several different schools for bad behaviour. Maekar paused buttoning up his shirt,

“What? No, Daeron, that…” he paused, “My eldest is- he thinks he has problems, but he can't keep fucking up like this. He'll change though, he must, or by the gods I swear I'll see him dead,”

“Dead?” You scoff, your father's voice from all those years ago suddenly ringing in your ears, “Wow, little wonder your eldest is so eager to live up to your expectations,”

Maekar couldn't have looked more shocked if you'd clubbed him around the head. You know you should drop it, this is the first time Maekar has even acknowledged his children in front of you, and the first thing you do is call him a terrible father. 

“He can't keep on the way he is,” Maekar finally responds, his voice low. Dangerously low, “Tell me, how many fucking children have you raised?”

You wince, both at Maekar’s words, and at that damn phantom pain where your scar is. You see his eyes flare, anger and regret burning that purple bright, but you shake your head, speaking before he can,

“None. I know that. But… Do you want to know how long it's been since I have seen my father?” You don't wait for his response, “Almost twenty years. He told me- I did one thing he didn't like, and- well, he told me he wished I was dead, that it would be better than-”

Maekar starts towards you, and you hold up a hand, “No, it's fine, and I'm sorry, I know I'm probably overstepping. But don't be like my father, not unless you never want to see your oldest child again,”

You can see him gritting his teeth, his fists clench… and finally he shakes his head and sighs,

“I cannot be lenient with him. It's not as simple as some- well, Daeron has the weight of the Targaryen empire on his shoulders. You can't know how many eyes are on him, on me,”

You of course knew better than he realised, and you force yourself not to say that Daeron was hardly next in line to a throne, it was just a business, now matter how powerful it was, but you choose wisdom this time, holding your hands up,

“Being supportive is not the same as being lenient. And washing your hands of him completely will be even worse. That’s all,”

Maekar stares at you for a long time, then seems to remember that he's supposed to be looking for the son you've just argued about, and rushes to get the rest of his clothes back on. You watch the process, realising this was an intimacy that you'd never thought to expect to witness. Your heart is thudding, and when Maekar stands to face you, hands crossed over his chest, you swallow thickly,

“I'm sorry, it's none of my business-”

“I bought this for you,” Maekar pulls a small box from a pocket in his jacket, “you can't wear my dragon, but this will still put me at ease that you have some form of my claim on you,”

His words send an excited tingle through you, and you open the box with shaking fingers, “Perfume?” You spray a small amount, and hum at the scent. It's a gorgeous scent, deep and powerful. Maybe a little stronger than your usual preference, but it meant so much that he'd tried.

Maekar looked oddly vulnerable for a moment, “It's my favourite scent, and… well, I think it would suit you. Every time you smell it, think of me,”

With that, he stomps over to you, presses a firm kiss to your lips, and leaves. You don't even have time to wish him good luck in finding his sons.

“God's, I feel like fresh shit,” Lyonel thrusts his car keys into your hands as you meet him outside the hotel, “those apple boys and their cider,”

“Hmmm,” you snatch the keys, and push Lyonel to the passenger side, “you're an adult, where's your self control?”

“Oh, please don't be this disagreeable all day,” he gave you a foul look from the corner of his eye, “I'm just looking out for you,”

“Well, there's no need, I haven't needed anyone to look out for me in a long time, so I don't need some stag cosplayer doing it now,” Lyonel groans at that,

“Who fucking showed you that picture? I was in uni! I was drunk!”

You don't answer, enjoying seeing him uncomfortable after his bluntness the night before. You don't tell him that you'd found the picture six months ago when you'd frantically been trying to find out anything you could about Maekar after your first night together. What you'd found was a picture of your lover around the time of the Blackfyre’s attempted takeover. He'd had the oddest looking bob you'd ever seen on a man.

Unfortunately he still looked unreasonably attractive, even with that stupid haircut. 

“Are you mad at me, dearheart?” Lyonel asks as you pull into the fields, 

“Stop calling me that, Lyonel!” 

“Don’t screech, you harpy!” He glares, you glare back, until finally, Lyonel sighs, rolling his eyes, “I apologise for confronting you like that last night. It wasn’t very boss like,”

You make an irritable noise, but finally give an irritated smile, “Thank you. And maybe it was a good thing that you said all that. I think I'm going to tell Maekar after this weekend is over. It's time,”

Lyonel looks doubtful at that, but wisely doesn't say anything else about your relationship, instead directing you to the Baratheon Events tent, 

“Well, good, that saves me lying to the face of that man and his ilk. So! Today!” He claps his hands, effectively drawing a line under the unprofessional discussion of your tangled web of lies, and bringing the conversation back to where it needed to be, “Today should be much easier than yesterday, you did an incredible job of getting everything going,” 

You burn with pride at that, looking down at the grass as you leave the car with Lyonel and head into the tent, which was really just a fold out table and some chairs for you both to come in and answer questions or look up details if needed.

“The main thing today is the jousting, and the kids' games like the egg and spoon race, and the tug of war, and some other childish nonsense that will have them all screaming, laughing… yelling…” he goes green, and all but throws himself into the available chair, “remind me never to drink on the job again,”

“The only reminder I’ll give you is that you’re an adult who can make their own decisions,” 

“Whatever, you’re being annoying and disagreeable again,” he waves you away, “go and find some food, please,”

You make stupid faces at Lyonel after he closes his eyes, his hand over his face, but do as you’re told. You’d barely eaten anything yesterday, and you wouldn’t make that same mistake again today, especially when half of the stalls sold the most delicious looking food. It was still early, the jousting wasn’t due to start until noon, and the children’s games would be happening all day from mid morning, so you had time to go around and check everything first.

You’re gleefully about to sink your teeth into the biggest breakfast sandwich you’d found when a large and looming shadow blocks out the sun you’re sitting in. You sigh harshly, and look up… and up, 

“Hello, Dunc,”

“Am I interrupting?” the big man points to your sandwich, and your lips downturn in irritation, 

“No, this is just a prop for one of Tanselle’s shows,”

“Tanselle?!” Duncan looks around, his face going red, “Oh, shit, I-”

You laugh, “I’m taking the piss, but I do need to go to her tent soon if you want to come?”

Still bright red, Dunc shakes his head, and sits down next to you, “I’m sorry, you should eat,”

“Just give me five minutes, and then we can sort your stall out, okay?”

Again, the young man smiles, and it makes him suddenly so much younger and more approachable. You ask him to tell you what it is he needs whilst you eat and learn all about Ser Duncan “The Tall”, and how his old boss had taken him in, showed him all he needed to know as he grew up, and then died very suddenly at the end of winter, 

“He’s had a few coughs and colds, but we thought we were past the worst of it all, you know? There was still some frost, but the trees were starting to bud, the birds were singing… one day, I came into his office, and he was still sitting where I’d left him the night before. Dead.”

“I’m sorry,” you briefly touch the boy's arm, “but he left you the business?”

He gives one of those smiles that aren’t a smile, and nods his head, “He was signed up as PennyTree defence? Here,” He shows you a video of himself and an older looking man outside a studio proclaiming the business name, which then went into more footage of them working with kids in what looked like a studio. Duncan shows you his bosses website as well, and sure enough, Dunc is on there as his assistant manager. You feel a flash of anxiety, but you can’t see the harm in letting him stay. Duncan definitely worked for PennyTree.

“Oh! Yes, I remember seeing that he hadn’t turned up late last night,” you shrug, finally, “okay, well, I think it’s fine, but we don’t have any of your signage or promotional stuff or anything like that, so you’ll have to make do with whatever you already have with you,”

“That’s great!”

“What do you do, anyway?” You get up and start to walk, heading towards the edge of the field to take him to the empty spot he could set up at. Duncan beamed, 

“Self defence classes for kids,”

“Really?” you could’ve done with some of those growing up, “Okay, well, I’ll check back in with you later, good luck!”

You're watching the jousting, laughing along with the crowd as the “knights” try to unhorse each other. You've been told that they're trained thoroughly, that no one is in real danger, and this is a very well rehearsed show for the children's benefit. Afterwards those same “knights” are going to give some of the children horse riding lessons, and a practice at jousting with big foam sticks where the “victor” will receive some kind of prize that Ashford is giving out.

You're making your way back to your tent when you see a crowd at Duncan’s tent, and start making your way over to it curiously. You can hear his booming voice giving out instructions, and then a much smaller and younger sounding voice making the most ridiculous noises in response, lots of “UGH”, “YAH” and “HUH”’s. Eventually you work your way through the crowd of children and their parents, to see Duncan completing a demonstration with Tanselle appearing to be a damsell in distress of some kind, and a small boy acting as her defense against Dunc. The boy clearly wasn’t skilled, but he looked like he was having the time of his life as he fought Duncan away from the beautiful Tanselle who swooned dramatically. The boy ‘punched’ Duncan, who fell to the floor, before he bellowed at the top of his little voice, 

“Take THAT, you Blackfyre bastards!”

The crowd laughed, Duncan looked bemused, and Tanselle took a bow. You observed all of this within about ten seconds, and tried to keep your face as happily neutral as you could whilst you waited for the crowd to thin out. Duncan was almost euphoric as a lot of adults came to his table and signed their children for his classes, and you waited patiently whilst the stall emptied. Tanselle makes her way over to you, whilst the boy stands and stares openly, you stare back, narrowing your eyes a little. His own are a very dark colour, you can’t quite make it out from where you’re standing, but you do abruptly wonder if he’s wearing some sun screen as he had no hair to speak of. There’s something about that insolent stare that registers to you, but by that time Tanselle is at your elbow, and your attention is diverted. You smile at the younger woman when she comes over to you, 

“You didn’t need that kids help, you could’ve taken Duncan on your own, I’ve no doubt,”

“Later,” she winks, and you snort in laughter, “I hope that was okay? I came to do a quick sign for him, he looked so forlorn and basic standing at an empty stall. Then Egg came-”

“Egg?” You look around, “What’s he using eggs for?”

“No, the boy, he says his name is Egg,” she shrugs, “Anyway, next thing, people were here, and he’s getting enquiries,”

“It’s no problem, honestly,” you lie to her easily, “Thanks for helping him, I think he needs all the help he can get,”

You watch as Tanselle smiles at the tall man, as he then fumbles a sentence in front of his potential clients, and you have to hide a smirk. Murmuring a goodbye to Tanselle, you tell her  to email anything she needs for her show tonight, and almost walk into the small boy - Egg - who is now standing directly in front of you, 

“Who are you?”

Precocious children make you laugh as a rule, you could hardly be angry about their boldness when you knew you’d been just like them at their age. Probably worse when you had a father who ignored you, a mother who was pleasant but absent, and a brother who spoiled and indulged you - until he dropped you with your nanny and ignored you too. You raise an eyebrow, 

“The person who’s going to take you back to your parents,”

“You can’t. My mothers dead,”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Your father?”

“He left me with my brother,” the boy gives you the most angelic smile you think you’ve ever seen, “and he said I could be here,”

The boy may be angelic, but he can’t lie to save his life, “Oh, I don’t doubt that, but you should still tell me where he is so I can get him to come and get you. Not every adult is as noble as Duncan,”

“I know,”

You frown at that, open your mouth to ask Egg what he means, when Duncan appears at your elbow, 

“Did you see that? I’ve had more enquiries here in an hour than old Arlan got in a month! Way to go, Egg!” Duncan holds a hand up - far too high - and the boy leaps into the air like a cat to hit his palm against Duncan’s on a “whoop!” of celebration. You make a humming noise of mutual joy, smile benignly as Egg goes to the other side of the stall, and then turn to Duncan, 

“Are you stupid?!” His face falls, and you feel like the worst person alive for all of two seconds before you shake it off, “Did you get his parents permission? What would have happened if that boy had gotten hurt? I’m assuming of course that your old boss left you this business in his will, and that you have all that paperwork to hand if someone wanted to see it and not accuse you of some kind of fraud?” Duncan looks at the ground, his face bright red, and your teeth grit as a suspicion you’d had is confirmed. You gentle your voice, 

“My neck is on the line here as well, okay? I need this job, and if a vendor accidentally gets a kid hurt, and it was me that let that happen…” you trail off, breathing a sigh a relief when the tall man nods finally, 

“Okay, I get it,”

“Good, now, I need to take him back to his- where the fuck has he disappeared to?!” you look around, but Egg has vanished. A growl starts to build in your chest, a headache starts to form, when Dunc suddenly starts stammering, 

“W-welcome, would you like a- well, I don’t have a pamphlet-”

The niggling headache abruptly turns into a fully formed pounding nightmare from the base of your skull to behind your eyes when you see Baelor Targaryen, his wife Jena, their son Valaar, and a third young man who is clearly a Targaryen but you're not sure who he could be. Baelor shakes Duncan’s hand, his own smile becoming slightly forced when Duncan seems to forget to let go, prolonging the handshake long past common decency. Finally, the older man is released, 

“I remember Arlan, he once taught at a camp that Valaar went to as a boy,”

Jena all but beamed with pride at her son, it was lovely to see. The redhead wasn’t that much older than you. Your heart ached when you realised that Valaar wouldn’t be too different in age to-

“Ah! And here is the traitor!”

You jump, turning your attention back to Baelor in shock, heart thumping which makes your headache worse, Traitor? You’d had no part in what your stupid family did, how could he possibly imply that, Baelor was supposed to be like his father, good and kind and reasonable-

“We were about to offer you a promotion, and here I find you in the employ of a Baratheon,” Baelor smiles, and your bones unlock all at once, “you’ve done a wonderful job here,”

Your relief is almost crushing, “Oh, well, technically it wasn’t me-” 

“I know event planners who couldn’t get things set up half as quickly, with twice the time to plan that you had,” Jena pipes up, that glorious hair blazing in the sun, “but not to worry, we’ll have poached you back into our family… business, in no time. Lyonel can’t compete, I’m sure,”

You don’t think you’re hearing things when Jena pauses after ‘family’, all you can do is laugh softly as she continues to smile, her blue eyes twinkling,

“Well, I’m happy here, for now. But working for Targaryen Enterprises was a great experience, of course. I’m surprised you even realised I’d gone, to be honest,”

“Oh, I’ve known about you for some months now,” Baelor murmured. You notice for the first time that he had two different coloured irises, and that those eyes were gifted to Valaar. You give yet another polite smile, backing away to leave Duncan to the Targaryen’s when the silver haired young man suddenly pipes up, 

“Your perfume is lovely,”

The headache becomes piercing, a thump in your head to match every thump of your heart, “Oh, uh, thank you,” you’d sprayed more of the scent Maekar had gifted you, the strong aroma soothing you this morning. He sneers, 

“Yes, my mother had one just like it. I’d know it anywhere.”

Abruptly you realise who he is. It's Aerion, you'd seen a handful of photos from when he was much younger. Maekar's second son. Dyanna’s second son. There’s a ringing in your ears, the noise of the event falls away, like your head has been pushed underwater. Your stomach roils, that fucking perfume suddenly too strong, too cloying, and you hear your voice ring out clearly through the distortion, 

“What a wonderful coincidence! Well, it was lovely seeing you all, I’m so happy that you’re enjoying the event, it’s wonderful that you could come. You should sign up to Duncan’s classes though, he’s great. Okay, goodbye!” And you turn on your heel, and leave, all thoughts of finding Egg and dragging him to the safety of his family gone. All joy in the day, destroyed.

You knew Maekar hadn’t gotten over his wife, you weren’t stupid enough to think that he ever would, or possibly even could get over her, but to not even try and carve out a true space for you in his heart? To just treat you like you were the replacement to his tragically dead wife? And it hurt more because you knew that you were wrong, so very wrong, to be this upset. 

Maekar might not be open about his feelings, guarding that side of himself like a dragon guarding treasure, but he’d been honest in his own way. You were a one night stand that he hadn’t intended, he enjoyed your company enough to come back, and back, and eventually it had been something more to him. But you were a secret. Something he kept to himself, for himself. Maekar had said he wanted to talk, he'd at least done that. All you'd ever done was lie, and here you were, angry that your lover had apparently found comfort in having you wear the same scent as Dyanna. The man didn’t even know your real name, and you were throwing a tantrum over a perfume bottle.

You're stomping through the rows of tents and stalls, pushing past people without seeing anything, you just want to get away for a moment, to find some peace and fucking quiet. You close your eyes as you walk into the trees at the edge of the forest that surrounds the large meadow the event is held in, far enough away that the noise is finally dimmer, your headache starts to fade…

“I don't suppose there's a chance that you'll let my brother explain himself?”

You spin on your heel, the motion making the pain in your head snap back to attention, and you squint at Baelor Targaryen,

“I'm sorry?” Your tone is the very opposite of sorry, and you don’t have the inclination to try and change it, “Who…?”

“You can’t possibly think that Maekar hasn't told me about you,”

Your mouth drops open. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that Maekar would tell someone about you, it had seemed so completely like your relationship was something he didn't want anyone to know about. Your temper rises, you didn't know this man, and his stupid nephew had just ruined a gift you'd loved,

“Well, he never talks about you,” you make your tone as dismissive as possible, “Maekar never talks about anything like that, that’s not what he comes to me for, I’m just-”

Baelor grimaces, “You couldn’t be more wrong,”

The sun is too bright, you can’t even look at him properly, all you can do is shrug, “Whatever. Your brother is fucking infuriating, all this time, and I thought-

“Do you care for him?”

Your bottom lip trembles, and you bite down firmly to stop it before he can see. You nod, slowly, “Of course. If you want honesty, he’s the only man… I don’t trust anyone easily, especially men. And yet, I trust him,”

“So speak to him. Maekar treats his loved ones in ways unique to him, you should understand that by now,”

You burst out laughing at the notion of Maekar loving you. It hurts less than bursting into tears, which is what you really want to do. 

You lean against the tree you’re standing next to, and meet Maekar’s older brother's eyes. He’s handsome, in a completely different way to your lover, it’s somehow both gentler, and harder. Maekar looked like the type of man it was dangerous to cross, and he had the social skills of a sullen cat. Baelor, however, looked and sounded like he was softer, and more approachable. He was the face of their empire, ready to take over as soon as Daeron retired. A man like Baelor was more dangerous, because he was the type to let people underestimate him, right before he took everything from them to protect his family’s interests.

Your headache abruptly clears, leaving you able to stand up, “I'm not a loved one. I’m a mistress. I’ve accepted that,” not quite true, but not really a lie, either, “I’ll speak to your brother though, of course I will.” When Baelor nods, and turns to walk away, you blurt, “What does he say about me? I- I really didn’t think he would talk about us, to anyone,”

You don’t see more than his profile, Baelor chooses to smile to himself rather than fully turn back to you. He’s almost as good a dresser as his brother, you note, but his shoulders aren’t as broad. Finally, he puts his hands in his suit jacket pockets, and sighs, 

“I haven’t heard my brother yap so much since he met Dyanna as a teen,” now he turns to look at you, the sun burning at the back of his head, “don’t ruin this for yourself, and him, over what my nephew said,”

And then he leaves you, staring after him in shock, and more than a little frustrated admiration. You wanted to call after him that you wouldn’t fuck this up, you’d rather die than hurt his brother, but you couldn’t, because you knew you were going to. You couldn’t lie to Maekar anymore, so you would have to tell him as soon as you could. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull your phone out, a stupid smile blooming in spite of your anxiety when you see it’s Maekar, 

“Hello, you,”

“I need you to find a man who has set up in the meadow for me,” Maekar ignores your greeting, but he sounds so serious that you don’t waste time feeling offended,

“Who? Why?” You’re already heading back to your Baratheon tent, and then almost trip when Maekar describes a man just like Duncan, 

“I found Daeron, he’s in one piece, and I’ve promised not to beat him senseless as he swears he’s told me the truth,” your steps pick up as you get closer to the stalls, “ but he doesn’t have Egg with him. My son is missing, and that man took him. Find him for me, and don’t let the bastard out of your sight,”

You stop dead, “Egg?”

“Aegon, woman!” Maekar barks, sounding like his patience has broken beyond repair, “My fucking son! Can you help me or not?”

“Yes, I’m going to help you, I know exactly where to go, how long will you be?” You could hear the roar of his engine as he sped his way back to Ashford Meadow, Maekar wouldn’t be long, before nightfall, so you said your goodbyes and hung up, promising to find his child.

In the meantime, your migraine comes back full force, your sandwich from this morning threatening to come back up. You’d seen that fucking boy earlier, and you’d let him disappear. You’d also let the man accused of kidnapping him into the event even though he clearly was lying about inheriting the business he was representing, because you wanted to be kind and give someone a chance, like you’d had all those years ago. Oh, and you also needed to tell Maekar that you were the daughter of one of the men who tried to ruin his family, and you’d been lying to him all this time because you hadn’t wanted him to turn you away like your family had done.

You stand in the middle of everything for a moment, staring blankly.

“Fuck!”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐓𝐰𝐨

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Your madam brings you all out to the main room, excitement buzzes throughout, like bees swarming around a hive, and you smile even though you're unsure what is causing the excitement. 

She lines you all up, fluffing some hair, straightening clothing, pushing the girls shoulders back as best to show off their attributes. You're already doing all of that, you're more than used to this process now at your age. Because of this, you smile eagerly along with the other girls, but you don't fully share their excitement. Whoever was coming wouldn't pick you.

For a whore, you were pushing the edges of acceptable age. You didn't want to stay in this profession, you just wanted to save enough coin to bribe a man to pretend to be your husband and buy a small parcel of land so you could farm and live in peace. You were almost there, and your madam was a good woman all things considered. She was vicious and cunning, and incredibly ruthless in protecting her interests and property.

Even if the property was the women who fucked for her profits.

Horses sound outside, and everyone stands to attention, including you. That's when your madam finally lets you all know who is about to talk through the door,

“It's time, my jewels! The Princes Baelor and Maekar are coming! Do not let me down, use every trick I have shown you, and you'll earn enough gold to see you resting easy for at least a moon's turn!”

The girls murmur happily at that. The younger ones were worked ragged most nights, to be allowed time off would be worth whatever these princes wanted. Your shoulders drop slightly. The men that frequented your establishment were already unlikely to pick you, there was no chance that two Targaryen princes would. 

The sound of hooves died down, you all go silent so you can hear the murmur of deep voices as they close on the entrance to the unassuming building,

“... a year, brother, it's time-”

“- Baelor, I don't know-”

“Shut up, put a smile on your face,”

“Oh, fuck off,”

You almost laugh at the just barely heard exchange, they certainly sound like brothers, for all that they were princes. You'd never laid eyes on a Targaryen before, they were like alien beings, and all the more terrifying for their mystery. You crane your head to better view them as they both come in. At first, you frown, you see two men who are indeed attractive, but they're certainly not the eerie, otherworldly beautiful that had been impressed on you from all the gossip you'd heard.

They were just normal attractive men, several years older than you, but clearly still full of vigour and desire. Both dressed in Targaryen black and red, tall and broad shouldered. The dark haired one - and that confused you further as you had been told all Targaryen’s had white hair - took your madam's hand, and placed a kiss on her knuckles,

“Bertha, ever beautiful,”

“My prince,” Bertha - who had indeed once been a great beauty, and was now more handsome in her advanced age - curtsied beautifully, “we have your usual favourite here, but please do choose who you wish, should you require more,”

It was then that you realised you recognise the dark haired prince. You'd never had him in your bed, he certainly preferred your younger colleagues, his favourite being a beauty that had been named Ruby for her hair. Now you thought about it, he often brought his wife with him, though she didn't appear to be here right now. He nods his head, turning his blue and brown eyes on your grouping, 

“Ruby, my darling,” he takes her immediately, “forgive me, Jena couldn't make it tonight, however I have my brother,” he turns to Bertha, lowering his voice, “his first time,”

Bertha hums happily, whilst Baelor picks two other younger girls. Perhaps his wife was away? Who was to say with Princes and Kings. You would wager their appetites were just like any other man. They all wanted the three holes that women had. Tongues, fingers, and cocks, if they could slide it inside one of those holes and release their seed into it, they would. If another woman was there to occupy the appendage that wasn't in use, all the better.

You're not paying attention, fully resolved to the fact that you would not be working tonight, your dream tract of land another day away from you, when the two girls standing in front of you part and you're face to face with Maekar Targaryen, who points,

“You. What name do they call you?”

Your mouth goes dry for a long second, and the man looks annoyed before turning away. You finally pipe up, working very hard to keep the irritation out of your voice,

“Diamond. If it please you, your grace,” of course this wasn't the name you'd been given at your birth, but it was a name you enjoyed enough in this line of work. Maekar turned his purple eyes back to you, looked you up and down, and then nodded,

“Fine. She'll do, Baelor. Put them down,”

He takes your wrist in a not unpleasant grip, and walks you to the front and his brother. Baelor looks like he's been slapped for a moment, not to mention Ruby, Opal and Amethyst whose faces show nothing but disappointment. That sends a shock of excitement through you. 

If a man could make a whore genuinely excited to be fucked, that was a man worth being fucked by.

Baelor sighs, but he extricates himself from the three younger, beautiful girls, handing them a bag of gold each,

“Here, my beauties, when next I return, I'll bring Jena. We'll make it up to you,”

The girls coo like birds just fed premium seeds, and they all wink at you. Ruby in particular was a joyful girl, no malice in her heart, and she wraps her arms around your waist before the Targaryen princes can pull you away,

“Come to me after, Diamond, you'll have the best night, trust me. Tell us everything,” she lets you go and blows a kiss to Baelor, “goodnight, my prince,”

“And you, beloved,” at this, he fully turns his attention to you, and to his credit, he does not look disappointed even though you were clearly not his preference, “come, let me take a good look at you… my usual room, Bertha?”

“Yes, my Prince,”

And then you were being walked through the beautifully draped walls into one of the larger rooms with the most sumptuously appointed furnishings. Baelor stands you in the middle of the room, carefully removing his cloak and draping it across one of the seats. Those hypnotic eyes of his don't leave you, and you can feel Maekar at your back like a prowling beast. 

The younger prince seems to be content to light the candles, an air of distraction about him. You clear your throat carefully,

“Tell me how I can be of service, my Princes, I am yours to order,”

You hear a snort from Maekar, who enters into your line of sight, throwing himself into the same seat his brothers cloak in on with a groan,

“You heard the woman. Fuck her, and let's be done with this charade,”

Baelor rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand, pulling you flush with his body. You're wearing the sheer and enticing clothing that is preferred by your establishment. It billows around your body, showing everything whilst revealing nothing. It had panels and cut outs that exposed flesh which was buffed and oiled to a high shine and exquisite smell. Hands and fingers and mouths could find your skin if they tried without ever making you undress.

As Baelor immediately did.

His fingers are cool as they find your waist, trailing up and over your ribs, his thumbs managing to find the underside of your breasts and just barely grazing them. You gasp slightly, and it was not a fake one. Baelor smiles, turning you so you face his brother, with him remaining at your back,

“Look at how responsive she is, Maekar. You'll want her too before the night is out,” he runs his nose over your throat, his teeth sinking into that spot where your shoulder meets your neck, and again you genuinely moan, “my brother has only ever lain with his dearly departed wife, he will take a moment to succumb to your charms, but no fear, we'll both fill your body on this night,”

“Not bloody likely,” Maekar grumbles, but his eyes don't leave you as Baelor finds the partings in your dress, and cups your breasts fully, taking long seconds to play with your nipples, 

“You're quite lovely, Diamond, should we show my brother what he'll be missing? He chose you, but I'm happy to fuck you senseless if he's too craven,”

“I'm not fucking craven, Baelor,”

Ignoring him, Baelor takes your chin, turning your face so you can meet his eyes. When he asks to undo the laces on your dress, your neck feels like it might snap with how hard you nod it.

Men rarely asked to do anything after they had taken you to a room. Of course, they didn't have to, not once their coin had parted their purses, and only the most indecently violent men would warrant Bertha sending in her hired men to pull them off. Most men who came in knew better, anyway, but that didn't mean they cared about the whore in the bed. 

Baelor was proving to be an exception to the rule. In fact, you were certain that if you told him ‘no’, he would leave immediately with no further questions. 

In all honesty, it made you want him inside you more.

Baelor takes his time loosening the laces, tugging at your dress, and easing it down to your hips, leaving you bare from the waist up with just your diamond collar around your neck. Well, you were fairly certain that the stones were actually just polished glass, but it was pretty nonetheless. You all wore one to correspond with your names.

“See? Your choice was worth it, indeed,” Baelor goes to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing you to stand in the space between his spread legs, he takes your hands and places them at your sides, his voice low as he tells you to just let him enjoy you.

And he does.

His mouth is soft, warm, his whiskers tickle, but the way he uses his lips against your breasts immediately makes your knees weak. Your fingers ignore his command, sinking into the soft hair at the top of Baelor's head to hold him to you. You feel his chuckle ripple through you, your cunt clenching in response,

“Maekar, get up and check to see if our Diamond is wet, I fear I want to taste more than these beauties. Especially if you can't be bothered to,”

“Ugh,” The seat he's on creaks, and you feel the younger brother at your back, “I don't see why you can't do this,”

The younger prince was starting to vex you, but you put on your best smile, and leaned your head back to meet his violet eyes, “Perhaps my prince is too scared to?”

Maekar glares, and his hand takes a grip of your skirt, “I know my way around a woman, don't you fret,”

You feel Baelor pull away again, “To be sure, my dear brother does have six children… I just want him to experience someone new,”

Maekar’s hand is still holding your skirts, it's warm and dry, delightfully calloused as you take it in yours, “Do you not want me, your grace? I will do whatever you desire. All or none,” you hold his gaze, he doesn't pull away, even as you move his hand inside the panels, to touch the warmth between your legs, and the desire pooled there. Maekar’s eyes close on a low moan,

“Y-yes… she is ready for more,”

“Wonderful,” Baelor grins, and then with no further ado, stands up, spins you, and gently throws you to the bed. You bounce against the mattress on a startled yelp which quickly dissolves into giggles. Your breasts bounce, your hands cover them slightly shamefully, but Maekar waves his hands,

“Don't. I like how you look. Womanly,” he goes red at that, and puts his hands awkwardly on his hips. Baelor is undressing himself and nods in agreement slowly,

“Indeed, most womanly,” his tunic and undershirt are removed swiftly, his body glowing beautifully in the firelight, “it reminds me of my dear wife's body…” he sounds both thoughtful and dismissive, you can't help but frown at him, but Baelor comes to lay next to you, his skin beautifully warm. He kisses you as Maekar watches, your skirts inching up to your waist and then your legs are gently parted,

“Ahhh, look, brother, see how much she wants your tongue in her,” Baelor whispers happily, leaning forward to look down at your cunt, his fingers brushing past your curls to part your lower lips, opening you to Maekar’s gaze. You moan low in your throat, you'd never felt so exposed in your life.

You'd taken more than one man to your bed at a time before, the other whores had been involved as well in the past, but it had always been about the customers wants and needs, never yours, never your fellow whores. It almost made you laugh that your first sign of true pleasure in your work came from Princes who should arguably give even less of a fuck than the common man.

“Open your mouth, Diamond,” you do as you're told without thinking, and he puts two fingers against your tongue, drawing your saliva onto them, and then taking those digits back down to your cunt and rubbing them gently against your clit. He throws a leg over yours, keeping your legs wide open, “ask my brother to come and fuck you with his tongue, Diamond, and I'll reward you with my cock first,”

You feel close to orgasm already, a feat you would've thought impossible, and you beg the younger Targaryen eagerly, “Please, my prince, please come fuck me with your tongue,”

You can't see Maekar, Baelor is controlling you body, one hand at the back of your head so he can kiss you, the other still playing idly with your cunt, but you can hear Maekar groan, sounding almost desperate, though not half as desperate as you were feeling at that point. You're lost within Baelor's kiss and his touch, your hips restless against the mattress, and that's when you feel Maekar’s tongue at your entrance.

It's cool, and gentle, and you about come from the one soft touch alone. Your hips rise from the bed, but Maekar is the one to push you back down, one hand on your stomach, and the other moving forwards to ease two fingers inside you,

“Stay fucking still, I want you to enjoy this, woman,”

“So pleased you're joining us, brother,” Baelor remarks dryly, getting to his knees next to your head, and unlacing his breeches to release his cock, pressing it against your lips, “Open wide, dearest,”

You do, swirling your tongue around his head first, before relaxing your jaw so he could slide inside your mouth. Baelor thrusts on a steady rhythm, Maekar sucks on your clit, his fingers matching the rhythm Baelor is setting, and your first orgasm is wrought from you. It's like a wave on a summer's day at the edge of Blackwater Bay. It had been some years since you'd seen a true summer of course, but the beauty of those days reminded you of this.

Soft, warm, all encompassing.

You moan around Baelor's cock, your hips rising and falling, or they were trying to until Maekar stops you once again, his fingers never leaving your body even as the orgasm wanes and you begin to feel too sensitive. Baelor idly rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger,

“Does she feel ready?”

Maekar hums, then pulls his fingers out, quickly rubbing them against your back passage, “Dyanna never allowed me back here,” he stands and starts to disrobe. At this point Baelor pulls out of your mouth on a huff, leaning down to take his own taste of your cunt,

“Hmmm… your wife was a good woman, as is mine, but not all allow that kind of breach,” he sits back against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap and unceremoniously pushing you down onto his cock, “does this feel good, Diamond? I couldn't wait any longer,”

Your head is thrown back on your shoulders, your mouth open on a silent scream. You'd been more than prepared, but he's thick, and hits deep enough that you can almost feel him in your throat. Baelor holds you to him, easing back so you're leaning forwards, your arse as it rises and falls against him on display for Maekar's eyes as he comes to stand next to you both.

Maekar’s body is of a warrior, just like Baelor's, both built strong, with a littering of small scars. Baelor has dark hair across his chest, whereas Maekar’s looks to be as pale as the hair on his head. Your fingers itch to touch him, so you do, reaching out to play your fingers through the thatch of silver gold hair at the base of his cock, before wrapping your fingers around him and stroking him up and down as Baelor fucks you,

“Do this please you, my prince?”

“Too much,” his hand covers yours, but doesn't remove it, “I fear you please me too much,”

You understood his lady wife - Dyanna - had passed. Maekar was possibly the first man who'd passed through your doors that had ever honoured his vows this long after a wife's passing. Or honoured them at all.

“I'll only please you as long as you wish, my prince,” your smile is indulgent, you were enjoying their attentions, especially as Baelor grabbed the cheeks of your bottom in a bruising grip, pulling them apart to expose your arsehole,

“Brother, find some oil, and have some fun with our Diamond. Afterwards, we can swap, then I fear we must leave in order to get back before daybreak,”

Maekar hesitates, but at your eager smile, he does as he is bade. You don't exactly enjoy this particular practice, men seemed far too eager to go to this hole that was not designed for such a thing, but when done right, it had its pleasures. Which, unsurprisingly, Prince Maekar seemed all too eager to do,

“Tell me if I do something that hurts, I mean it,” his voice is gruff, bordering on angry, and you nod haltingly,

“I will… but I'm used to pain, if it's what pleases you, my Prince,”

Maekar grabs your chin, making you look into his eyes, “Your pain doesn't not please me, understood?” Baelor stills inside you, taking your face back from his brother, and making you look back to him,

“We may be paying customers, but we are not here to use and abuse. Tell us if we do something that you don't like, or hurts you,” he kisses you playfully, “should you lie, perhaps we'll spank you,”

Maekar once again pulls you away from his brother, placing his own kiss against your lips, “My brother is a fool, I wouldn't spank you… I would just be disappointed,”

You pout, but let the man leave you to walk to the end of the bed and behind you, and you continue riding Baelor again. The oil dribbles down your back, and you feel cool and calloused fingers massage it against your back passage until you start to moan, needing more, needing that fullness inside you more than you need the perfumed air in the room. When Maekar pushes a finger inside you, you beg for another, meaning every syllable of your plea's. 

Maekar grunts but does as you ask, slowly easing another finger inside, stretching them out. It burns slightly, but in a good way, you can feel your desire leaking further from you, making the feel of Baelor's cock that much better. Maekar stops you, his hand on your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest as he kneels behind you. In this position, you're sat up straight, completely impaled on Baelor who is looking pained at the interruption,

“Hurry, for fucks sake,”

Maekar chuckles, “I think you've broken my brother, dear lady,

“I think you've both broken me,”

You weren't lying. This kind of care and attention would never see you again. It almost hurt, but not truly. You would treasure this memory.

Baelor once again pulls at the cheeks of your bottom, and Maekar holds you open as he nudges the tip of his cock at your hole. His lips are at your ear, his whiskers tickling, “Last chance. Tell me this is what you want,”

“Please,”

“Very well,”

And he pushes inside. This time the burn does hurt, but you reach around, pulling the prince further into you. Experience said that it wouldn't last, it would morph into pleasure if you let them do what they needed. You almost gasp in shock when Baelor joins you, his arms reaching around to cup his brothers arse, when he nips Maekar’s jaw over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to his lips… but you remember the Targaryen proclivity for incest and remain silent.

Reprimanding Targaryen’s was a level of foolishness you had no desire to reach.

They take a moment to pause as they both fill you, all three of you breathing heavily, sweat covering your body, mixing with theirs. The Princes combined scents, the sensory overload, it was the most profound feeling you'd ever had in your life, and that was before they started to move. Maekar broke first, pulling out on a low grunt,

“Fuck me,”

Baelor rolled his hips upwards, his lips at your neck, his hands at your breasts. Maekar pushed back in, knocking Baelor's hands away so he could fondle you, and his brother's hands went to your hips, holding you still. 

In and out. In and out. 

The tempo increased, both princes grunting and moaning in your ears, their lips at both sides of your neck, then at your mouth, at each other's mouths. Fingers were at your clit, but you couldn’t say whose. Pretty soon you were just a body of sensation between them as they fucked you hard, taking their pleasure, almost forcing yourself. Baelor came first, pushing you down on him and pulsing inside you, you could feel his seed dip out and onto his stomach. 

As soon as his brother collapsed back, Maekar shoved you forwards, and took his last few thrusts roughly. As soon as you felt him twitch, it triggered your orgasm alongside his, and you screamed.

It took several minutes, but they both lost their hardness, turning soft and slipping from your body. They cradled you between them for many more minutes, praising you, kissing you, touching each other… then touching you…

They did as they promised. Maekar filled your cunt next, Baelor at your back. They took their time, enjoying several more positions of your body before finally Baelor said he could do no more and fell asleep. You're cuddled against Maekar, who lays a surprisingly gentle kiss at your crown before he gets up and goes to the pot of heated and oiled water to wash in. He pulls his breeches back on, and then comes to you, cloth in hand,

“Let's get you ready to head to your own chambers,” he runs the cloth over you, taking his time, being extra careful as he washes between your legs. After a minute, he breaks the silence, “Thank you. This was…” he trails off, and you smile, reaching up to tap a finger against his cheek,

“I will always be happy to serve you, my prince,”

“I won't be back, Diamond. Perhaps my brother will, but,” he shrugs, meets your eyes, “why do you do this?”

Your heart hurts briefly, but you'd known. A man as loyal as Maekar seemingly was would never be the type to frequent a whore house. You shrug,

“I was married too. My husband died. I had no children, and I just kind of… fell into this. Age breeds wisdom, however. I am almost at the point where I can afford my own land outright. I won't be here for much longer,”

Baelor wakes, rolls over to kiss you, and then gets up. The brothers dress, and you can almost see the emotional distance as clearly as the physical. They'd had what they needed, and now they would return to the life of a wealthy prince and heir. They both dropped a large bag of gold on your table though, and you bade them good night.