"F-fuck." Alicent's shudders bitting her lips as his girth shifts her womb.
"Argh!..." Aenar groans into her ear as he grasped her hips and thrust, hours and hours of his own pent-up desire, fuelling each lunge into her, the silky sheath of his stee...
Sunlight gleamed through the trees, while the sun stood in it's horizon in the sky. Dogs barked and hounds growled in the distant as they chased after the scents the white hart left behind.
King Viserys was skeptically looking around the area as he holds tight the reins of his white horse. A page rushed to the King's steed, placing wooden steps down the ground and taking the reins of his horse.
Prince Aenar swiftly descended his stallion as the hounds barked vigorously.
"Your Grace......My Prince" Ser Howland Sharp greeted the King, meeting him in the middle of a small clearing.
"How far is it?" Aenar asked.
"The droppings were found half a league to the east My Prince." Ser Howland held his hands out to show the heir.
Aenar removed his glove and lifted one of the droppings. "Still fresh." He felt the weight and texture, sniffing the excrement as he showed Viserys.
The King watched in disgust, removing his glove and lifted one of the droppings from his brother's palms. His stomach rumbled as his breakfast threatened to come out. Disgusting.
Aenar smirks. "How big, does to it weigh?"
"Between two and three hours, my prince, my best scouts spied him. The beasts are upward of 35 stone. And we now have their trail." Ser Howland Sharp confidently states.
"Aye." Viserys threw the droppings to the ground, pulling his riding gloves back on.
"Before the dragons ruled over Westeros, harts are potent beasts, especially the white hart was a symbol of royalty in these lands." Ser Howland Sharp stated.
"And on this day of all days. I've never been one for signs and portents, Your Grace, but if the gods did wish to show their favor on your son's name day Your Grace." Ser Otto Hightower declares, beside the King.
Aenar sighs. "Perhaps Elissa will inherit the iron throne after my me, don't you think Lord Hand? A Queen of the King's Wood." He mused, turning away.
Otto Hightower bleached.
Viserys smirks, tapping the Hand's shoulder as he returned back to his horse to join his brother, as they galloping back to the campsite.
The Princess Consort, Francesa Tully was seated amongst the noble women, her brown orbs trailing around the crowd, searching out for Rheanyra and Daenerys, hoping they had return back safely, but none of them was in sight.
"Prince Aenar." Queen Alicent's face lightened as he comes into their midst.
"Might if I join you ladies." Aenar asked for permission in a raunchy tone.
The women battered their eyelashes, blushing as Ser Larys felt invincible.
"Come, sit my love." Lady Francesa gestured him over as the heir sat beside her, holding hands.
At that moment Queen Alicent felt envious, she and her lover held each other's gaze briefly, but Aenar planted a kiss on Francesa's knuckles, appraising her beauty and kindness towards the small folks, to which to women remarked.
Immediately, they switched from politics to adventures, they all began swooning, battering their eye lashes, urging the King's brother to tell them of his travels across the Narrow Sea, to which he did, whilst holding the hands of Francesa's hand, caressing her palms softly as baritone voice rumbles soothingly.
His wife, the Princess Consort felt like a butterfly, basking in love and delight at the attention Aenar gave her.
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