aFireFist
A Life in Westeros
Chapter 12 - Part 3
Later that night, after they had finally dragged themselves up, washed with warm water from the basin, and changed the ruined linens, Walder woke again demanding food. Barbrey settled into the big chair by the hearth, gown open, and let him nurse while Adian poured them all cups of watered wine. The baby suckled noisily, tiny fists kneading her breast, milk occasionally dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Genna watched with a soft, almost fond smirk, one hand still absently resting on her own belly as if imagining what it might feel like.
They were just settling into a comfortable quiet when a raven tapped sharply at the solar window.
Adian rose without hurry, crossed the room, and took the small scroll. He broke the seal, unrolled the coded message, and read it twice in complete silence. His face remained calm and unreadable, but something subtle shifted behind his eyes—a quiet calculation, a decision locking into place. He folded the parchment carefully and tucked it away inside his tunic.
Only then did he call both women back over.
Barbrey had just handed the now-sleeping Walder to the waiting maid. She returned and sat on the edge of the heavy oak table, one leg swinging lazily. Genna leaned against the back of a chair, arms crossed under her tits, still flushed from earlier.
Adian looked at them both for a moment before speaking.
"I'll be leaving for a while," he said simply. "Trade business across the Narrow Sea. Two months, maybe a little longer. You two keep everything running here—the routes, the tolls, the North, the new deals we just made with the lords. All of it. No mistakes while I'm gone."
Barbrey's eyes narrowed slightly, studying his face with that sharp, knowing look she had perfected. She rested a hand on her stomach out of long habit, even though it was flat again. "Trade business," she repeated, tone even but probing. "You've been handling most of that through ravens and factors for years. Why go yourself now?"
Genna tilted her head, curious but careful, her golden hair catching the firelight. "Something more important than just silks and dreamwine? Or are you finally tired of us wearing you out every night?" She smiled, but her eyes stayed sharp, watching him closely.
Adian met their gazes evenly, giving nothing away. "Two months. That's all. Keep the North steady, keep the skiffs moving, keep the coin flowing. Walder needs his mother strong. The routes need both of you watching them. I'll be back before the worst of winter sets in."
The air in the solar grew heavier with unspoken questions. Barbrey's fingers tightened briefly on the table's edge. Genna's arms remained crossed, but her knuckles whitened for a moment on her own arms. They both sensed there was far more to it—something bigger, something he wasn't ready to share yet. But neither woman pressed him. They knew Adian well enough by now. Some things he carried alone until he decided the time was right.
"Two months," Barbrey repeated quietly, her voice steady and warm. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm, squeezing once. "We'll be here when you get back. Stronger than when you left. The routes will be smoother, the North quieter, and Walder will be even bigger and louder. Just… come back in one piece. We've got plans that need you breathing."
Genna smiled, slow and knowing, though her eyes stayed sharp with that Lannister edge. "Don't get yourself killed out there, river rat. We still have plenty of use for you. Cersei would be furious if you left her waiting with a swollen belly and no one to fill it again when the time comes. And I'd be very annoyed too. Extremely annoyed." She stepped closer, trailing her fingers lightly down his chest. "Try not to forget how good we feel while you're gone."
Adian nodded once. That was enough.
He stood there for a moment longer, letting the weight of the decision settle. Barbrey watched him with that steady, unblinking Northern gaze, her hand still resting on his arm. Genna's smile lingered, but her eyes were sharp, reading him like one of her brother's ledgers.
Barbrey spoke first, voice low. "You're really leaving tomorrow?"
"Yes," Adian said. "The skiff's already loaded. Tide's right before dawn."
Genna stepped closer, trailing her fingers down his chest one last time. "Two months is a long time to go without this," she murmured, pressing her body against his side. "Make sure you remember how we taste. How Barbrey's milk feels on your tongue. How tight we both get when you fill us."
Barbrey gave a soft laugh, leaning in to kiss the corner of his jaw. "Don't forget us while you're playing merchant across the sea. Walder will be crawling by the time you're back. And I'll still be leaking if you take too long."
Adian pulled them both close for a moment, one arm around each woman, breathing in the mixed scent of sex, milk, and their skin. "I won't forget," he said simply. Then he kissed Barbrey slow and deep, then Genna just as thoroughly, before stepping back. "Keep the tower strong. Keep the coin moving."
They let him go.
Later that night, after the women had gone to bed, Adian sat alone in the solar with the raven's message. He broke the seal and read the coded report slowly, letting every line sink in.
The household in Braavos was secure. Rhaella kept the children to a strict but gentle routine. Lessons every morning with the tutor—High Valyrian, sums, history without the Targaryen gloss. She turned painful memories into careful stories instead of nightmares. Viserys, twelve now, was growing sharper and angrier by the month. He practiced sword forms in the small courtyard every day, swinging a wooden blade with furious determination even though he was still small. He spoke constantly of dragons returning and thrones that were his by right, voice cracking with youth and pride. Rhaenys was the bright one—curious about everything. She named the gulls that wheeled over the canal and built little castles out of pebbles and shells, pretending they were the towers of Old Valyria. She asked too many questions but listened when told to be quiet. The little one, Daenerys, was walking everywhere now. She toddled after her brother and sister on chubby legs, laughing wildly when they chased her around the lemon tree in the courtyard. Healthy. Loud. Already full of fire.
Adian read the report twice, then burned it in the hearth. He sat for a long time watching the ashes, thinking.
The night before he sailed, Adian stood alone on the deck of one of the black-painted smuggling skiffs. The Narrow Sea stretched out east, black water glittering coldly under the moon. Salt wind tugged at his cloak and whipped his dark hair across his face. Behind him the lights of Greywater View flickered low and steady—his tower rising solid against the night sky, the new docks quiet except for the gentle lap of water against hulls and the faint glow from the watchfires along the walls.
He thought about the day's events. About Walder sleeping upstairs, small and fierce, already nursing like he owned the world. About Barbrey's heavy tits still leaking warm milk when she fed him earlier that evening, the way she had moaned when Adian sucked them dry right after. About Genna's throaty laugh and the filthy way she had swallowed every drop when he'd finished in her mouth during their long evening together. He remembered Barbrey on her back, legs spread wide, tits bouncing and spraying milk while he fucked her deep. Genna riding her face, grinding down with desperate moans. The way both women had knelt side by side, asses up, begging him to switch between their dripping cunts. The wet slaps of flesh, the obscene sounds of his cock plunging into one then the other, the way their full asses rippled when he slapped them. How they had licked each other clean afterward, moaning softly, covered in his cum and each other's milk.
He thought about Cersei's belly growing round and heavy back in King's Landing, carrying his child right under Robert's drunken nose. The way she would read Genna's letter tonight and finger herself raw remembering everything.
And he thought about the three silver-haired children waiting in a quiet house on a Braavosi canal. Rhaella keeping them safe with strict routines and gentle stories. Viserys practicing sword forms with furious little swings. Rhaenys building pebble castles and naming gulls. Daenerys toddling after them, laughing with pure fire in her blood.
He didn't smile. He just looked east across the dark water, feeling the long game turn another slow, deliberate notch.
***
In King's Landing the royal bedchamber reeked of sour wine, old sweat, and the faint, stale stink of the king's last whore. The air was thick and heavy, the kind that clung to the back of your throat. Robert Baratheon lay sprawled on his back like a beached whale, snoring loud enough to rattle the tapestries on the walls. His thick chest rose and fell in heavy, rumbling breaths. His mouth hung wide open, a thin line of drool trailing down into his beard. One meaty hand still loosely gripped Cersei's thigh even in sleep, fingers twitching occasionally like he was dreaming of holding down some serving girl. His cock lay soft and useless against his hairy belly, shriveled and red, never even close to getting hard.
Cersei lay beside him, six months pregnant now. Her belly was a smooth, heavy swell under the thin silk sheet, round and firm, the skin stretched tight. Her tits had grown noticeably fuller and heavier, the pale flesh swollen and sensitive, nipples darker and larger than before. She let Robert's hand stay where it was, the weight of it almost comforting in its uselessness. With her own hand she reached between her thighs, fingers sliding through the slick, eager heat already waiting there.
She closed her eyes and remembered Adian—thick, hard, relentless. The way he had fucked her right here in this very bed while Robert snored two rooms away. The way he had pinned her down and filled her until his cum leaked down her thighs for days afterward, warm and sticky every time she moved. Her fingers moved faster, circling her swollen clit with firm pressure before dipping inside, two fingers pushing deep.
A soft knock sounded at the side door. Cersei didn't stop. A trusted Lannister courier slipped inside, bowed low without looking directly at her, and held out a sealed letter.
"From Lady Genna, Your Grace. Delivered this afternoon by fast rider."
Cersei took it without stopping what her fingers were doing. She cracked the seal with her teeth, unfolded the parchment, and began reading by the light of a single candle while her other hand kept working between her legs—slow, steady strokes that made wet little sounds under the sheet.
Genna's words were blunt and filthy, written in her elegant hand but with no restraint:
The boy was born healthy. They named him Walder. Barbrey looked like a proper broodmare on the birthing bed, tits already leaking everywhere, screaming and cursing through every push. Two weeks later she sat through a full council meeting with the babe nursing openly at her tit while we talked tolls and smuggling routes. The Northern lords couldn't stop staring at her fat, dripping tits and the way the baby sucked so greedily. Adian fucked her right after the birth—sucked her milk straight from those heavy udders while he pumped her full again, slow and deep, making her leak even more.
Cersei's breath hitched. Her fingers moved quicker, sliding in and out of her soaked cunt, thumb rubbing tight, fast circles on her swollen clit. The silk sheet shifted with the motion of her hand. She kept reading, lips parted.
Then I arrived. Dropped thirty thousand dragons on the table and told them how good you look round with his child. The air got thick in seconds. He made me lock the door. We spent the whole evening on him—six different ways, no mercy. I rode his face while Barbrey bounced on his thick cock, her tits spraying milk everywhere. He bent me over the edge of the bed and fucked me stupid from behind while she sucked on my swinging tits and told me how wet my cunt sounded taking him. Then both of us on our knees like good whores, mouths working his cock together while he read your letter out loud. Spit and milk everywhere. He came in me twice and in her twice more. We were dripping—milk running down our tits, cum leaking down our thighs, spit all over our chins. Barbrey's still leaking like a good cow even days later. She says the northern lioness is doing her part—keeping his cock happy and busy while you sit pretty on the Iron Throne.
Cersei's hips jerked hard. She bit her lip to stay quiet as the first orgasm hit—sharp, hot, rolling through her in powerful waves. Her cunt clenched tight around her fingers, fresh slick gushing out and soaking her hand and the sheets. Robert snored on beside her, completely oblivious, his hand still heavy on her thigh.
She didn't stop. Her fingers kept moving through the aftershocks, slower now but still hungry. She read the letter again, slower this time, savoring every filthy word. Her free hand moved up to cup one heavy, sensitive breast, pinching the dark nipple until a thin bead of early milk appeared. The sensation sent another spark straight to her clit.
When the second, slower wave built and crashed over her, Cersei let out a shaky breath and smiled—cold, satisfied, triumphant. One hand rested possessively on the swell of her belly where Adian's child grew strong and secret, hidden right under Robert's drunken nose.
"Good," she whispered into the dark room, voice low and venomous with pleasure. "Keep him busy up there, aunt. Keep that northern whore dripping and leaking for him. Ride his cock until he forgets everything but filling cunts. I'll keep him rich down here. I'll keep feeding him gold and power until he can't live without either of us."
She folded Genna's letter carefully, kissed the parchment once like a lover, and tucked it away with the growing stack of others in the hidden compartment of her bedside chest. Then she wiped her slick fingers on the edge of the silk sheet, not caring if it stained.
Robert grunted in his sleep and rolled over, still clutching clumsily at her thigh like it belonged to him.
Cersei closed her eyes again, fingers drifting back between her legs for another slow, luxurious round. She pictured Adian's thick cock stretching Barbrey open while milk sprayed from those heavy tits. She pictured Genna on her knees, choking on him. She pictured herself next—rounder, heavier, riding him right here while Robert snored uselessly beside them.
The game was still hers.
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