𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓
❛ she wanted nothing
more than the strange
silver-haired queen ❜
━━ IN WHICH a foreign princess arrives at king's landing with a plot but finds herself side-tracked by the queen whose dream...
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ONCE AGAIN, the only thing that Aliandra Martell could focus on was lavender. It was all she could smell as her face was pushed into the sheets and her hips were lifted, as her thighs were spread wide, giving the king better and easier access to what he so desperately desired.
Perhaps she ought to feel guilty for dreaming of the queen as she fucked her husband, but it was not guilt that Aliandra felt. She wasn't quite sure what it was that swam through her mind as Aegon sloppily thrust into her, his hips ramming into her arse with enough force to bruise her soft flesh.
Moonlight cast a gentle silver glow over the pair as they grappled in the stillness of the night, sneaking away this moment after a week of sharing sultry glances and quick touches. Aliandra thought it would be harder to find her way into the king's bed, but she was quickly proven wrong. Aegon was a scoundrel, a pathetic twat who existed only to bury his own sorrows in his foul habits.
She did not love the king, did not even particularly like him, but she had a mission, and if lending her body to this fool aided her, then so be it. It was easy enough to endure these late-night trysts given how quickly Aegon finished and the fact that Aliandra was always graced with the lingering presence of his gentle wife.
The scent of lavender clung to Aegon's sheets so strongly it was as if Helaena was in the bed with them, and when Aliandra closed her eyes, she could pretend that she was.
Aliandra hissed in pain as Aegon rammed into her at a harsh angle, sending a sharp pain through her lower abdomen. He was oblivious to her discomfort, even as she lifted her head and glared back at him. His eyes were closed, his head lolling backwards as he thrust wildly into her. His pale chest was bare and stained with the wine they shared earlier by the fireplace.
She rolled her eyes and counted the seconds until Aegon pulled out of her with a shuddering gasp, his hand closing tightly around the base of his cock just as it began to twitch. Aliandra plastered on a breathless smile as she collapsed onto the bed and slowly rolled onto her back, feigning her own high as Aegon's ragged, breathy moans echoed throughout his chamber.
He was a dreadful fuck, but Aliandra had appearances to maintain, and if she wished to take his wife's place, she would have to win his heart one way or another.
The king flopped onto the bed beside Aliandra, who brushed the back of her hand across her forehead as if to wipe away the sweat that had gathered along her brows when, in fact, her skin was perfectly smooth and dry. "Does Aemond know how good you feel?" he mumbled as he slid his hand through his sweat-slicked hair, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "He must, if he intends to wed you."
Aliandra rolled her eyes. She had tried, in vain, to find her way into Aemond's bed, but the heartbroken prince was more difficult to woo than his fool of a brother. And as for the matter of his betrothal, no progress had been made in deciding which girl Aemond was to wed.
