Legacy of Fire and Sand

Chapter 12: A Night of Deception

Once they were in a private room, Ashara turned to face Ser Lyonel, her demeanor shifting. "You talk a big game, Ser Lyonel. Let's see if you can back it up."

Ser Lyonel grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "Oh, I intend to, Targaryen."

Ashara forced a smile, her mind already detached from the act she was about to perform. She knew how to play her role perfectly, and tonight would be no different. She had to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, using this encounter as another means of survival.

She began by undressing slowly, her movements calculated and precise. Ser Lyonel watched her with hungry eyes, his breath quickening as more of her skin was revealed. Ashara felt nothing but a cold detachment, her mind drifting to the letter and the threat it posed.

"You're even more beautiful than the stories say," Ser Lyonel muttered, his voice thick with desire.

Ashara stepped closer to him, her smile never reaching her eyes. "And you're just as bold as they say, Ser Lyonel."

He reached out, his hands rough and eager as they roamed over her body. Ashara remained still, allowing him to touch her without reacting. She had perfected this art—making men feel powerful and desired while keeping herself emotionally distant.

Ser Lyonel's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. "Show me what makes you so famous, Targaryen."

Ashara leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "As you wish, my lord."

She guided him to the bed, pushing him down onto it with a practiced grace. Her movements were fluid and confident, each step a part of the performance she had perfected over the years. Climbing on top of him, she began to undress him, her fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his trousers.

Ser Lyonel's hands roamed over her body, squeezing and groping with increasing fervor. Ashara suppressed a shudder of revulsion, her mind focused on maintaining the facade. She had done this countless times before—turning herself into an object of desire, a fantasy come to life.

As she straddled him, Ser Lyonel's hands moved to her breasts, squeezing them roughly. "You're mine tonight, Targaryen."

Ashara forced a seductive smile, her eyes meeting his with a calculated intensity. "Yes, my lord. All yours."

Ser Lyonel's hands moved to her hips, gripping them tightly as he guided her onto him. Ashara felt the familiar sensation of being taken, her body responding automatically to the rhythm he set. She moved with practiced ease, her mind drifting further away from the act.

He thrust into her with a fervor that spoke of desperation and power, his movements rough and demanding. Ashara's body complied, her moans and gasps perfectly timed to heighten his pleasure. She watched him through half-lidded eyes, noting every expression, every sound he made.

Ser Lyonel's hands moved over her body, exploring every inch with a possessive hunger. He grunted and groaned, his breath hot against her skin. Ashara continued to play her part, her mind detached from the physical sensations. She knew what he wanted—an illusion, a fantasy—and she was more than capable of providing it.

His thrusts became more erratic, his grip on her hips tightening as he neared his climax. Ashara increased her pace, matching his rhythm with practiced precision. She let out a series of moans, her voice laced with feigned pleasure, pushing him closer to the edge.

With a final, guttural groan, Ser Lyonel reached his peak, his body shuddering beneath her. Ashara continued to move, drawing out his pleasure until he was spent. She could feel his hands relax, his grip loosening as he lay back, panting.

Ashara climbed off him, her movements graceful and controlled. She dressed quickly, her mind already shifting to the next task. Ser Lyonel watched her with a satisfied smirk, his eyes heavy with post-coital haze.

"You're worth every coin, Targaryen," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Ashara forced a smile, nodding as she finished dressing. "I'm glad I could satisfy you, my lord."

Ser Lyonel's eyes began to close, his body succumbing to sleep. Ashara took one last look at him before slipping out of the room, her mind racing with thoughts of the letter and the threat it posed. She had to stay focused, to remain vigilant.