Chapter Text
The sun rose early this day and Lyanna woke with it, bathing with Lyarra until a summons arrived from the king. Every loyal lord was to appear in court. Lyanna Stark made her way to the throne room just in time, weaving her way through the large crowd to stand at her place just before the raised Iron Throne.
“I have had news from the Westerlands, the Reach and Dorne. The damn Ironborn ignored my commands and have been reaving from Sunspear to Pyke. Call your banners my lords.” Rhaegar I Targaryen announced from his perch and a hushed gasp rang through the gathered lords. Lyanna’s eyes rested on Elia, who looked shocked at the news.
Lyanna had been expecting it. Aemon had changed the orders, having warged the raven delivering it and having it intercepted. He had changed them so that Balon Greyjoy would fall for his carefully laid bait and would reave their way south before occupying the Stepstones, which had been Rhaegar’s original orders.
Next, Aemon would fly south on his great white and grey dragon’s back to bring fire and death to the Ironborn pirates. In fact, her son was already weaving his own way through the crowd, the gorgeous Cersei Baratheon following closely on his heels.
“Father. You have no need of your banners. Send me.” Aemon told the seated king, and a louder gasp rang through court.
“You would deal with this problem for me?” Rhaegar asked. “You and your mount?”
“Lyannax is yet to be blooded. She will be eager to teach these Ironborn scum the meaning of our house words.” Aemon promised darkly, his hand resting on the ornate hilt of his favourite Valyrian steel sword, a bastard sword wrought from black steel with red ripples throughout the blade.
“Then go with all speed, my son.” Rhaegar told him and Aemon nodded.
“I will leave on the morrow.” Aemon replied and turned to leave.
“Wait, you’ll want to hear my other news.” Rhaegar told him before raising his head to gaze out over the crowd and raising his voice. “I have decided to betroth my eldest daughter, the princess Rhaenys, to Robb Stark of Winterfell!”
Lyanna felt shocked at her husband’s words but had to admire his plan. He was clearly seeking to tie the North even closer to the Iron Throne. She briefly wondered how Aemon would react, before her son clapped his hands together slowly.
“A brilliant idea.” Aemon told his father in what Lyanna was sure was a voice dripping with sarcasm, but that was only because of how close she and her son were these days. Rhaegar certainly didn’t read anything but genuine warmth in his tone, but Lyanna could hear the bitter edge to it.
“With that done, this court is concluded.” Rhaegar announced and descended the Iron Throne as the throne room began to empty. Lyanna made to approach, but Rhaegar exited through a side door. Lyanna sighed and turned to where Aemon was stood with Cersei. Aemon’s left hand twitched at his side and realisation crept into her mind. He’s using the ring. Influencing Cersei. She thought to herself as she caught his gaze. She turned to leave him to his business with a small smile on her lips.
She came across Ser Arthur on her way through the corridors. She had tried the library first, for Rhaegar was ever fond of books and scrolls, but had found the vast wing of the castle empty save for the acolytes working at bringing order to three-hundred years of disorder and chaos in the personal library of the kings of House Targaryen.
“He’s in his solar, Lya.” Arthur told her when she questioned him as to Rhaegar’s whereabouts. She smiled at the familiar use of her name, for she and Arthur were long-time friends. He had been the Kingsguard she had spent the most time with at the Tower of Joy, always questioning him as to Rhaegar’s past. She smiled as she left him and wound her way to the king’s solar, knocking on the door before entering at the beckoning call from within.
“I know you are busy, but might I beg a word?” Lyanna asked her husband as she entered the brightly lit room, tall candles and the roaring fire illuminated her husband. Rhaegar was bent over the desk, studying a map of some sorts. The Stepstones, hopefully. Lyanna mused as Rhaegar’s head looked up at her.
“I always have time for you, my love.” Rhaegar replied and Lyanna had to fight the grimace of rage and disbelief from her face. He probably really believes that the fool. She thought to herself as she forced a grateful expression onto her face and nodded. Kinvara smiled at her and again Lyanna had to swallow her rage at seeing the Red Priestess at Rhaegar’s side.
“Things seem easier between the two of you.” Kinvara commented as Rhaegar left the desk and laid a hand on her belly, giving it a swift stroke with his lithe fingers. Lyanna shivered at the contact, almost disgusted at Rhaegar’s touch. She did not enjoy the feel of another man’s hands on her. “Queen Elia, I mean. I swear she even smiled at you today.”
“We had much time to talk during the tourney. Things are different between us, now. Aemon gave Aegon one of his swords, one that matches his own, I think she has finally accepted that my son is not a threat to her’s, but a true and loyal brother.” Lyanna replied with a forced smile at the Red Witch as Rhaegar’s hand left her stomach. She longed for the day that she could tell Rhaegar the truth, to crumble his illusions and bask in a moment of sordid triumph as realisation hit her husband, so he could learn the sinful depths of her utter betrayal.
“I hear Aemon faced Arthur in the final?” Rhaegar asked. Lyanna did not know why he was asking, tales of the six tilts that the two had rode against each other had spread throughout the realm. Lyanna simply nodded.
“Aemon rode well, but experience won the day.” Lyanna replied with another forced smile. “Our son was very frustrated by his defeat.”
“There is no shame in losing to the greatest knight in the entire Seven Kingdoms.” Rhaegar commented as he crossed to the table, taking a deep drink of his wine. “And Aemon has always been a stronger sword than lance.”
“Yes, our son is a mighty swordsman.” Lyanna commented with what she hoped was an unreadable smile. “I have a request, Rhaegar. For our new child.”
“Speak it. I know I wished for it, but I am surprised that my seed took root in you again so quickly. You have certainly earned whatever you wish for.” Rhaegar replied with a warm smile of his own.
“I want to journey to Winterfell, when it is time for my confinement. I want at least one of my children to be born in my former home.” Lyanna requested in a supplicating, almost pleading tone.
“Why?” Rhaegar asked, seemingly baffled. “Tradition dictates that you must travel to Dragonstone, or else remain here in the Red Keep.”
“Call it sentiment. Or call it my faith.” Lyanna answered
“Your faith is an ancient poison on these lands, Your Grace.” Kinvara commented in a coy tone, her brown eyes flashing. “If you would only embrace the Lord of Light, your new child could achieve great things in the light of R’hllor’s grace.”
“I am no heretic, witch. I would sooner die than embrace your false and cruel faith.” Lyanna growled, baring her teeth at the wicked whore before turning back to her husband. “What of it, Rhaegar?”
Rhaegar’s eyes flicked to Kinvara momentarily before they snapped back to her own. Rhaegar smiled and nodded.
“As you wish, Lyanna.” Rhaegar answered and Lyanna felt joy in her heart and smiled back at her husband. The truth of the matter was that Aemon wished his bastard child to be born the North, his future kingdom. A plan she agreed with, for Lyanna dearly wished to spend more time with her niece and future good daughter. To make some kind of attempt to prepare the sweet girl for whatever awaited her as Aemon’s future wife. Now, the idea was unthinkable, for Sansa no doubt had dreams of romance and unbreakable fidelity from her husband. Aemon’s lusts meant that that was an impossible hope.
Though the idea of spending months away from Aemon’s side was a dreadful one, Lyanna knew their reunion would be worth the wait. It was already planned, Aemon would fly north, and she would place a child, to all the world a new brother or sister, in his arms, shortly after his firstborn child, a ‘cousin’, by Lady Catelyn. That the babe growing inside her was both her child and grandchild still gnawed at her in her private moments. No matter Aemon’s enigmatic comments that the Old Gods would approve of their arrangement, it flew in the face of Lyanna’s own beliefs, everything she had been taught and experienced of the merciless Old Gods.
Far too late for these doubts. Lyanna cursed herself as she left the kings solar. And Elia and I must be much more careful. It is said that the Red Witch saw visions in her flames, would her strange god show her the truth of Aemon’s activities the last few months? She hoped not, for more than her own sake.
She made her slow way to Aemon’s chambers, smirking when she realised that he was unguarded before she began opening the door. Before the door was even halfway open, she could hear the wet smacks of sex. Aemon had the beautiful Cersei Baratheon bent over his desk, her son was wildly fucking her, Cersei’s face slack and shrieks erupting from her throat. Neither noticed her entrance. Aemon was too intent on his pleasure, and Cersei did not seem entirely there at all. Lyanna knew the feeling well and she admired the scene of passion in front of her.
Finally, her patience snapped, and she made an exaggerated cough that made Cersei’s head snap up to her, a wild look of panic on her face as her eyes focused on her. Aemon merely laughed and clenched his left hand, the ring glowing blue-white.
“Ah. You’re just in time.” Aemon growled in a lust filled delight as he gave an almighty thrust that knocked the pitcher of water from his desk to crash to the floor and eliciting a loud yelp from the proud lioness. His mother suppressed a sigh and beamed wide at him as he continued fucking Cersei across the desk.
“What do you wish of me?” Lyanna asked in a teasing tone, and Aemon almost laughed, for he was sure his mother could guess as to his wishes at the moment.
“I’ve been fucking her like this for near an hour. I’m close. Very close, but the ring is holding the flood at bay. Get on your knees, lower your dress, and get ready.” Aemon commanded and he smirked as Lyanna let herself drop to her knees, peeling the straps of her grey gown as she did. She thrust her chest out, cupping her tits in her hands to present them for him. Cersei watched in shocked horror at the scene, but Aemon used the ring to overwhelm her good sense and kept her locked in place on the desk.
He crossed the room in four long strides, his cockhead angry and red, glistening with Cersei’s essence, the deadly ring glowing with blue-white light. He admired the view he had of his mother, utterly submissive before his eyes, just as he liked her, as he stood before her and jerked himself. His mother’s small hand reached out and gripped him around the head, massaging the ridge beneath in her palm and Aemon sent her a wicked grin before he gave an almighty roar and nearly collapsed in relief as one of the strongest orgasms he had ever known hit with full force.
The first blast hit her right breast and splattered outwards and downwards, he watched in wonder as rivulets of his hot sperm ran down her tits and stomach. He huffed in delight and pleasure when she caught the next powerful blast in her mouth, sucking on the head with all her might as Aemon twitched and growled above her as her tongue slurped the underside of his cock. Her mouth was swiftly full to the brim, his seed leaking out the sides of her mouth and running down her chin to fall to cover her breasts.
Aemon’s hand dropped to grasp the back of her head, and she noted the blue-white glow of his magic ring beginning to dim, and he shuddered as she forced her head down his cock, he bucked his hips she gagged as he forced his still hard cock down her throat. He knew she could taste Cersei on his cock.
Of all his lovers so far, Cersei had been the hardest conquest. He had carefully used the ring to seduce the woman over the course of the morning, switching between subtle waves of desire and an all out assault on her mind.
His cock gave one final twitch in his mother’s throat and Aemon stumbled backwards, breathing hard as he leaned against the desk, sucking in huge gulps of air as he basked in the triumphant afterglow of orgasm.
“What the fuck did I just witness?” Cersei demanded even as Aemon turned to grasp at her lithe waist. He lifted her from the desk and planted her in his lap, marvelling at the feel of her naked flesh beneath her fingers. He was glad once more that Cersei was in the capital.
“You asked for the truth, my lady. I am trusting you with this, not that you have much choice.”
“I suppose you are. The realm would be outraged, the Faith would call for your heads. But I’ll keep your secret, my prince. For a price.” Cersei purred as she shifted in his grip in his lap, Cersei reached beneath her to guide her son’s cock against her slit. Lyanna watched in lustful awe from her place on the floor, licking her lips and chin clean with her tongue as Aemon rested his cock against Cersei’s folds.
“What price?” Aemon growled using all his formidable determination not to plunge his cock forwards back into Cersei’s molten depths. He wasn’t penetrating her, not yet, and he caught his mother’s adoring gaze as she watched from her knees. This was a favourite tactic of his.
“You must fuck me like this whenever we cross paths. I’ve endured Robert’s bed for years; I want you to ravage me and make me yours, make me forget his touch.” Cersei demanded in a teasing tone as she bucked her hips, sheathing Aemon’s cock deep inside herself in one swift motion. Aemon’s head buried into her shoulder as her cunt enveloped him in between her velvety walls. Cersei had one of the tightest, most snugly fitting cunt’s he had ever experienced, a silken and hot tightness filled his sensations as he bucked his hips, seeking to penetrate her as deeply as he could, as deeply as she wished as her plump tits pressed into his chest.
“You both taste as delicious, by the way.” Lyanna interrupted with her own wicked smile as he fucked Robert Baratheon's wife, Cersei’s fingernails digging into his back. “I do hope you have some left for me.”
“Why?” Aemon gasped between breaths and behind closed eyes that snapped open to look down at her words. “It’s not like I can get you more pregnant, muña.”
A moment of panic settled on his mother’s beautiful face, as if she were taking his words seriously. As if I could stay away from you.
“Your father agreed. I will soon set forth for Winterfell.” Lyanna told Aemon with a smile. A look of dark delight, even triumph, took over her sons face even as his eyes dropped to her come splattered breasts. He detangled himself from a clearly disappointed Cersei and crossed to where she was rising to her feet from the richly carpeted floor.
“Good. It is vital that they be born there.” Aemon murmured against her lips as his tongue began probing her own. Cersei watched in half-interest from her perch on his desk, her hand dipping to curl two fingers within what must have been a thoroughly exhausted cunt.
“You still haven’t told me why.” Lyanna breathed into his mouth as his hand leapt to curl his fingers around her nipple. He squeezed tightly, thrilled at the brief battle of pain and pleasure on his mother’s beautiful long face.
“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Aemon replied enigmatically as his fingers loosened, he gathered some of his come in his palm and turned to Cersei, beckoning her over with a crook of his finger. The woman quickly hopped from the desk and eagerly began licking and slurping at his hand. “The North is my future kingdom, my home. It is only right that my children be born in its greatest castle.”
Lyanna seemed to ponder that, but Aemon turned back to her and lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped as his cock slid home, filling her to bursting. The feeling of her hot and tight cunt, his favourite, stole his breath for a moment, a breath he only just managed to catch when she began thrusting her hips and bouncing in his grip. His lips crashed back onto hers as he fucked her ever harder, his cock beginning to swell in response to the pulsating massage of her inner walls.
He backed off when he felt the first tightening at the base of his cock and let her fall roughly from his arms, she fell to her knees where Cersei swiftly joined her before him. Lyanna turned to look at the beautiful woman, finding she had her beguiling green eyes locked on Aemon’s swollen cock. Cersei beat his mother to it and leaned into plant kisses along the shaft before descending on his heaving balls.
Lyanna took the opportunity to suck him into her wet mouth, bathing the head of his cock in her warm saliva which was soon leaking down to fall onto Cersei’s flushed face. Aemon watched utterly mesmerised as the two gorgeous women pleased him, marvelling again at the pleasure he found in women. Lyanna dropped her head down his shaft, taking as much as she could while gagging at the intrusion, her throat rippling around his cock, driving him wild with lust. His hand dropped to hold her roughly in place as he bucked his hips, slamming his cock into her wet and tight throat again and again until he noticed her eyes seemed far away, unfocused at she gazed up at him. When he finally let his hand drop from its place on her head, her mouth left him with a wet pop as she sucked in as much air as she could.
Cersei replaced her and was soon gagging as violently as she had been only moments ago. Lyanna took the opportunity to grab her by the side of the head, forcing her head down on Aemon’s cock again and again as the proud woman struggled in her strong grip, she was enjoying the thrill of power she must have been feeling as the proud daughter of Tywin Lannister choked on his cock.
Cersei came up gagging and retching, ugly rage twisting her beautifully flushed features. She turned to look at Lyanna even as her hand joined hers on his shaft, rubbing and pumping with a vigour that impressed and delighted him as he rushed towards another climax.
“I’ve always envied you, hated you, Lyanna. To see you like this, to know you’re no better, in fact that you’re worse than a common whore is very satisfying.” Cersei told his mother cruelly and Aemon grabbed her by the hair, tugging roughly to pull her mouth back to his cock.
“There’s nothing common about that whore, Lady Cersei.” Aemon warned before he heaved his hips forwards, his cock aching with the need of relief. Cersei’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ just in time for his cock to slip between her lips, sliding over her tongue. Aemon began huffing his pleasure as he used the blonde’s mouth for his pleasure, fucking her mouth and throat as hard as he had her cunt only moments ago.
Aemon’s eyes however were locked on his mother’s storm grey eyes, eyes so similar to his own, where he realised, she recognised the signs of his impending release and Aemon wondered if she envied Cersei the chance to finish him, for Lyanna always, always finished him with her mouth, claiming a perverse enjoyment at tasting her son’s seed in her mouth. He dimly wondered somewhere in the back of his mind whether Lyanna would push the lioness away, but she allowed their new partner her time. Aemon came with a roar, his hand joining hers on the side of Cersei’s head, holding her in place as his cock twitched and thrashed and spasmed as he finished inside her throat.
Aemon again stumbled backwards to rest against the desk. He was utterly spent. Even with the assistance of the ring, four orgasms in the space of an hour were too much. His well used cock ached as he reached down for his discarded trousers with a slack expression spread across his face.
“Clean yourself up and get out of here. We’ll speak before I leave.” Aemon told Cersei in a rough and harsh tone. The proud woman coloured, clearly not used to being dismissed, before nodding and dressing in a rush.
“Remind me why we need her?” Lyanna demanded as she left. Though he knew she desired the woman, that she wanted her in her bed, he also knew she despised any woman who would willingly marry Robert Baratheon. And she did not trust Cersei, there was something coy and sinister about her that she could not place, she had told him.
“I need eyes at Storm’s End. It was her or her daughter, she just happened upon us quicker than Myrcella. Do you object?” Aemon asked. “It’s rather too late to do anything about it, short of killing her.”
“Watching you fuck her was thrilling, Aemon. You know I trust you. Are you prepared to do what is necessary in the Stepstones?” Lyanna asked after shaking her head.
“Of course. My body is awash with anticipation of battle. I have never warred from a dragon’s back before; I am excited at the thought. Lyannax is, too.” Aemon confessed.
“Is the dragon close, then?” Lyanna asked, smiling wide at the news as she pulled her ruined dress from over her head, crossing to the chest to pull out a pair of her riding leathers she had wisely left in Aemon’s room. “Where did you hide her, by the way?”
“She’s been hunting along the White Knife since we left for the tourney, had a cave in a mountain near there.” Aemon replied with a smile as his eyes roved over her as she dressed, watching the way the leathers gripped her curves. “She flies south even now. I sent for her before the news even reached us.”
“Bloodraven has been keeping you informed, then?” His mother asked and Aemon nodded.
“He updates me every time I sleep.” Was all he said to that, he did not wish to linger on such dark topics. He did not trust Brynden Rivers. He did not know what he wanted, so he could not control the ancient wizard. He was just thankful that he was trapped in the far north.
“You must promise me you will be careful, Aemon. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” Lyanna suddenly demanded as she crossed to him, leaning her head into his still sweaty chest. She looked up at him in his arms with such an earnest expression that Aemon felt his heart break for her.
“I will be as careful as I can be, muña.” He promised.