aFireFist
A Life in Westeros
Chapter 14 - Part 2
"Sea man stay? Play? Up up up!"
"Stay a while longer," he answered quietly, more to himself than to her. "We'll see about the playing."
Daenerys babbled something that might have been agreement and rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, content. The courtyard felt almost peaceful—the rustle of lemon leaves, the distant canal sounds, the faint herbal scent from Rhaenys's bundle, and the warm weight of the toddler in his arm.
Rhaella appeared in the doorway that led back into the house. She had changed in these weeks, just as the children had. The constant tension of exile had eased enough for her to stand straighter, to move with a quiet confidence that had not been there when Adian first arrived. Her silver-gold hair was braided loosely today, the plait falling over one shoulder and catching the afternoon light. Her simple gown—deep green linen that had seen better days—clung gently to her fuller figure, the curves of motherhood still evident in the soft swell of her hips and the way the fabric draped over her breasts. She carried a small ledger under one arm, its leather cover worn from use.
She paused there for a moment, violet eyes taking in the scene: Adian with Daenerys on his arm, Rhaenys sorting herbs on the bench, the faint sounds of Viserys splashing water at the fountain around the corner. A soft expression crossed her face—something warm and private, there and gone in a breath. Then she stepped into the courtyard, the soles of her shoes quiet on the stone.
"I finished checking the latest numbers you gave me," she said, her voice low and steady as she came closer. Her gaze lingered on Adian and Daenerys for a moment longer than necessary, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "The trade routes through the Neck are bringing in more than we expected this month. Barbrey's doing good work up there—steady shipments, fair dealings with the lords. The coin is flowing smoother than it has in years."
Adian nodded, shifting Daenerys slightly so she could see Rhaella. The toddler immediately reached one sticky hand toward her mother. "She's sharp," he said. "Keeps the lords fed and paid. That's what keeps them quiet and useful."
Rhaella's free hand brushed his arm briefly as she stopped beside him—a light, private touch, fingers warm against his sleeve. It was small, but it carried the weight of the weeks they had shared: quiet conversations over ledgers, shared glances when the children weren't looking, the growing ease between them. "Come inside when you're ready," she said, her voice dropping a little lower. "I'll have Lira take the children for a while. We can go over the rest of the numbers without little hands trying to help."
Adian met her eyes and gave a short nod. "I'll be there soon."
Rhaella's fingers lingered on his arm for another heartbeat before she stepped back. She reached out and gently took Daenerys from him, the toddler protesting with a half-hearted "Up up!" before settling against her mother's hip with a contented sigh. Rhaenys gathered her herbs and followed, casting one last curious look over her shoulder.
Adian stood alone in the courtyard for a moment after they disappeared inside, the lemon tree's shadow stretching across the stone. The ache in his shoulder had faded to a dull throb, but the warmth of Daenerys's small body still lingered on his arm. He rolled his shoulder once, testing it, then turned toward the house. The routine was holding—for now. But routines in Braavos always had a way of breaking when you least expected it.
He took one last look at the fountain where Viserys's splashing had quieted, then followed the others inside, the faint scent of herbs and citrus trailing after him.
***
Later that afternoon, one of Adian's Braavosi factors arrived at the side entrance. The man was lean, his face half-hidden behind a simple dark mask that covered his nose and mouth, the kind favored by those who moved through Braavos's shadowed alleys without wanting to be remembered. He slipped inside quietly, the heavy wooden door closing with a soft click behind him. The hallway was dim, lit only by a narrow slit of sunlight from a high window, dust motes dancing in the beam. The factor kept his voice low, barely above a whisper, as if the walls themselves might be listening.
"Whispers have reached Pentos," he reported, eyes flicking toward the inner courtyard. "Someone is asking pointed questions about silver-haired children near the canals. Early Illyrio connections, most likely—merchants with fat purses and loose tongues. Nothing direct yet, but the questions are getting sharper. They want names, descriptions, routines. The Iron Bank is also sniffing around your Neck routes—nothing loud yet, but they smell steady profit and want to know exactly who controls the flow of grain, wool, and the black skiffs. Their factors are making quiet inquiries in the trading houses."
Adian's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping along the line of it. He stood with his back to the wall, arms crossed, listening without interrupting. The faint ache in his left shoulder from the pirate fight weeks earlier reminded him of how quickly things could turn. "And the servant?" he asked, voice flat and controlled.
"One of the kitchen girls was offered coin for information," the factor continued. "A few silver pieces and promises of more if she talked about the household, the children, any unusual visitors. She came to Lira right away—smart girl, loyal. We moved her to the secondary safe cache across the canal this morning and strengthened the watches around the manse. Extra eyes on the rooftops and the water gate. No one gets close without us knowing."
"Good," Adian said, nodding once. "Keep it quiet. Pay her extra for the trouble and make sure her family is looked after. I'll meet your contact tonight for better protection arrangements. Masked, neutral ground. The usual place near the Purple Harbor."
The factor bowed slightly, the movement precise and practiced. "As you say. I'll send word if anything else stirs." He slipped out as quietly as he had come, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving the hallway empty except for the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the canal sounds outside.
Adian stood there for a moment, jaw still tight, mind turning over the new threads of danger. Pentos meant Illyrio, which meant bigger players starting to circle. The Iron Bank was expected—they always smelled coin—but the timing was inconvenient. He rolled his left shoulder slowly, testing the old wound. It pulled but held. He had dealt with worse.
***
He found Rhaella in the small solar, the room warm with afternoon light filtering through the shuttered window. She sat at the heavy wooden table, the ledger open in front of her, quill in hand as she made careful notes in her neat script. Her silver-gold hair was braided loosely today, a few strands escaping to frame her face. The simple gown she wore clung to her fuller figure—the soft swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips shaped by motherhood—making the fabric shift with every small movement. She looked up the moment he entered, violet eyes reading his face immediately, the way she had learned to do over these weeks.
"More trouble?" she asked, setting the quill down. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of concern in the way her fingers tightened briefly on the edge of the table.
"Nothing we can't handle yet," Adian said, closing the heavy door behind him with a solid thud. The latch clicked into place, giving them a small bubble of privacy. "But we need to be careful. Whispers are spreading. We tighten the watches and move smart."
She set the ledger aside, pushing it to the corner of the table, and crossed the room without hesitation. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, palms warm through his tunic. She could feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingers. "You've carried enough alone these weeks," she said, her voice dropping to that low, needy edge he was starting to recognize so well. "Let me help carry some of it tonight."
Adian slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, bodies pressing together. She melted against him instantly, soft curves molding to his frame. Her lips found his in a deep kiss that quickly grew hungry, tongues sliding together, breaths mingling. Rhaella made a small, desperate sound in the back of her throat, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as if she could pull him even closer.
The kiss broke only when they needed air. Rhaella's cheeks were already flushed, her violet eyes dark with want. "I've been thinking about you all day," she whispered against his mouth. "The way you feel inside me. The way you fill me up and leave me dripping. I need that tonight. I need you to fuck the worry out of me."
***
Dusk painted the courtyard in soft oranges and purples, the last light of the day filtering through the lemon tree's leaves. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint salt tang from the canals and the sweet citrus scent of the tree. Adian pressed Rhaella back against the rough trunk, her back arching as he hiked her gown up around her hips with rough, impatient hands. Her legs wrapped around his waist immediately, ankles locking behind his back, pulling him in. He freed his thick
{R-18 Scene Adian x Rhaella 2735 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n.}
***
They lay tangled together for a long while, bodies pressed close in the messy sheets. Rhaella's fingers traced the scars on his shoulder and chest with slow, gentle strokes, following the old lines from battles long past and the newer, still-pink one from the pirate axe on the Narrow Sea. Her touch was light but deliberate, like she was committing every mark to memory before he left. The room smelled strongly of sex, milk, and sweat—thick, intimate, and unmistakable, a heady mix that lingered in the air and on their skin.
"I hate that you have to go back so soon," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. Her breath was warm against his skin, and her voice carried the quiet ache of someone who had already lost too much. "But I understand. The children need you safe too. We all do."
Adian ran his hand slowly down her back, palm gliding over the smooth curve of her spine and the soft swell of her ass. He felt the faint tremors still running through her from the orgasms, the way her body remained relaxed and spent against him. "I'll set everything up here before I leave," he said quietly, his voice low and steady in the quiet room. "Stronger watches on the canals, better contacts in the trading houses, extra coin for the right people. You won't be alone. And I'll send word as soon as I can—routed through the usual channels so no one can trace it back."
She nodded against his neck, her silver hair tickling his chest as she shifted closer. Her full breasts pressed warmly against him, still slightly sticky from the milk that had leaked during their fucking. "Just come back to us. To me," she murmured, the words half plea, half promise. "The manse feels different when you're here. Safer. Warmer. The children… they light up when you walk into the courtyard. Even Viserys, for all his sulking, listens to you more than anyone else."
Adian's fingers continued their slow path along her back, tracing the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. He could feel the faint stickiness of cum on her thighs where it had leaked out, warm and slick against his skin. "I know," he said after a moment. "I see it too. Daenerys follows me like a little shadow now, always wanting 'up.' Rhaenys watches everything with those sharp eyes of hers, learning more than she lets on. And Viserys… he's got fire, but he needs to learn how to point it without burning himself first. I'll make sure the protection here holds while I'm gone. No risks."
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