aFireFist
A Life in Westeros
Chapter 13 - Part 5
Adian didn't speak. He simply pulled the shift down over her shoulders, letting it join the gown on the floor. Rhaella stood completely bare before him now. Her tits were full and heavy, swaying slightly with her quickened breathing. The nipples were a deep rose color, already glistening. When he squeezed one breast gently, a thin bead of warm milk appeared at the tip and slowly trickled down the soft curve.
Rhaella moaned softly, her cheeks burning with a mix of shame and desperate need. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering half-closed.
Adian leaned in and took one stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucked slow and deep, drawing the warm, sweet milk onto his tongue. The taste was rich and slightly sweet. Rhaella's hands immediately tangled in his dark hair, holding him there as a broken whimper escaped her throat.
"Gods…" she whispered, voice trembling. "That feels so good. No one has touched me like this in years… please don't stop. Please keep sucking them."
He obliged, sucking harder, drawing long, rhythmic pulls from her breast. More warm milk flowed steadily into his mouth. He swallowed greedily, one hand still cupping and fondling the other heavy tit, fingers sinking into the soft, yielding flesh. Rhaella's thighs pressed together tightly, her slickness already starting to coat her inner thighs. Her breathing came in short, needy gasps as he switched to the other nipple, sucking just as deeply while his hand mauling the first breast, squeezing it firmly so fresh milk leaked over his fingers and ran down her ribs in shiny trails.
Rhaella's head fell back slightly, silver hair cascading down her back. Her face was flushed, lips parted, eyes heavy with lust and relief. "Yes… like that. Drink from me. I've been so full for so long… it aches less when you suck them hard. Oh gods, your mouth feels incredible."
Adian groaned against her soft flesh, the vibration making her moan louder. He kneaded both heavy breasts now, alternating between sucking one nipple and then the other, milking her with his mouth and hands. Warm milk leaked continuously, dripping onto his chin, running down her stomach, and smearing across her skin. The wet sucking sounds filled the quiet chamber, mixed with Rhaella's soft, desperate whimpers and the faint scent of lavender and aroused woman.
When he finally pulled back, her nipples were shiny and wet, swollen from his attention. Milk still leaked in slow, lazy trails down the full curves of her tits. Rhaella's eyes were glazed with raw lust, her chest heaving.
"On your knees," he said quietly, voice rough with desire.
Rhaella sank down gracefully between his spread legs, looking up at him with that regal face now beautifully flushed and eager. Her hands trembled only slightly as she unlaced his breeches
{R-18 Scene Adian x Rhaella Targaryen 3230 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n}
***
The next morning the house smelled of fresh bread and lemon tea. Sunlight filtered through the shutters, casting warm stripes across the wooden floors.
Adian woke first. Rhaella was still curled against him, one leg thrown over his, her silver hair spread messily across the pillow. Cum had dried on her thighs overnight, leaving faint sticky trails, and a faint smear of milk marked her breast where it had leaked while she slept. She looked peaceful in a way he doubted she had been in years — the lines of constant worry on her face softened in sleep.
He dressed quietly, careful not to wake her, and stepped into the courtyard. Lira was already up, setting out breakfast on the table near the lemon tree. The older woman glanced at him, her eyes flicking briefly to the bandage on his shoulder.
"You look better than when you arrived," she said dryly, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Sleep helped, I take it?"
Adian sat down and accepted the cup of lemon tea she poured for him. "It did. The bed was more comfortable than the ship's deck."
Lira gave a small, knowing smile as she sliced the fresh bread. "I'm sure it was. She needed last night more than she would ever admit. Years of being strong for the children… it wears on a woman. I'm glad it was you."
The children appeared soon after.
Daenerys spotted him immediately from across the courtyard and toddled over on her chubby legs with her arms raised high. "Up!" she demanded again, her voice bright and insistent, bouncing on her toes. "Up, sea man!"
Adian smiled faintly and bent down, lifting her carefully onto his good arm despite the pull in his injured shoulder. She settled against him happily, one small hand fisting in his dark hair while the other patted his cheek with sticky fingers. "Soft," she declared seriously, as if making a grand observation. Then she giggled and buried her face in his neck, babbling happily in her half-formed mix of Common and Valyrian words.
"You're getting heavier every day," Adian murmured, shifting her weight gently. "Soon I won't be able to lift you at all."
Daenerys just laughed louder, clearly not believing him for a second.
Rhaenys came out next, bright-eyed and full of morning energy. Her silver-gold hair was still a little messy from sleep, but her curiosity was already wide awake. She skipped over and looked up at him with open admiration.
"Will you tell us more stories about the sea today?" she asked eagerly. "About the big statue and the pirates and the black ships? What noises did the Titan make when the waves hit it?"
Adian nodded, settling Daenerys more comfortably on his hip. "I can tell you some. The Titan is loud — the sea crashes through its legs like thunder. And the pirates… they smelled worse than wet dogs and old fish."
Rhaenys's eyes sparkled. "Did you fight them with your sword? Did they scream when they fell in the water?"
Before he could answer, Viserys arrived last, wooden practice sword already clutched tightly in both hands. The eight-year-old looked determined, his silver hair tousled and his violet eyes sharp with purpose.
"Training first," he insisted, planting his feet. "I want to be ready. No stories until after. Please."
Adian gave a short nod of approval. "Good. Discipline matters. Put the sword down for a moment and watch."
Adian spent the next hour in the courtyard working with the boy. He started by correcting Viserys's footwork, showing him how to keep his weight balanced and his stance low. "Smaller boys like you get knocked over easily if you stand too tall. Use your size. Stay low, stay quick."
They moved through simple drills. Viserys attacked with furious energy, his wooden blade whistling through the air. Sweat poured down his face, sticking silver strands of hair to his forehead. The prince was quick and had real fire in him, but he was also reckless — overextending, swinging too hard, leaving himself open.
Adian blocked a wild overhead swing with his forearm and stepped inside. "Patience," he said calmly after Viserys nearly lost his balance. "A sword is useful, but coin buys armies. Information wins wars before steel ever touches. Remember that. Anger makes you strong for one moment. Control makes you strong for a lifetime."
Viserys wiped his brow with the back of his hand, breathing hard. He lowered his sword for a moment, chest heaving. "You sound like a merchant, not a warrior. My father was a warrior. Prince Rhaegar was a warrior. They didn't talk about coin."
Adian met the boy's eyes steadily. "I'm both. The smart ones are. Warriors die on battlefields. Merchants and survivors build what comes after. Your father and Rhaegar are gone. You're still here. Think about what that means."
Viserys frowned, clearly chewing on the words. He wasn't ready to fully accept them yet, but he didn't argue. Instead he raised his sword again. "Show me the counter again. The one where you step inside."
They continued for a while longer. Adian let the boy land a few clean hits on his good arm, praising the technique when it was good and correcting when it wasn't. Viserys listened intently despite his pride, asking sharp questions between bouts.
Rhaella watched from the shaded colonnade the entire time, leaning against a pillar with her arms loosely crossed. There was color in her cheeks this morning, a soft flush that hadn't been there the day before. The way she looked at Adian carried a new warmth — quiet gratitude mixed with something deeper, more intimate. Every so often their eyes would meet across the courtyard, and she would offer a small, private smile.
After the midday meal — a simple spread of bread, cheese, fruit, and cold fish — Adian slipped out alone into the city.
He took three different boats, changing masks twice along the way. Caution was second nature now. He moved through crowded canals and quiet side passages, always watching reflections in the water and shop windows. Only when he was certain no one was following did he head toward a nondescript warehouse near the Purple Harbor.
The men waiting for him in the quiet back room were sharp-eyed and practical — seasoned Braavosi factors who knew how to move money and secrets without drawing attention. They greeted him with respectful nods.
Adian wasted no time. "Two more ships added to the run between Braavos and the Neck. Keyhole contracts for the discreet cargo. Fresh agreements with the information brokers who work the ports and the Iron Bank's outer circles. I want eyes on anyone asking about silver-haired children or unusual shipments from Westeros."
One of the older factors, a thin man with a neatly trimmed beard, slid a sealed packet across the scarred wooden table. "Fresh reports from King's Landing and the North, as requested. Delivered this morning."
Adian broke the seal and read them carefully, his expression unchanging. Robert's health was declining faster than expected — heavy drinking, violent outbursts in court, and growing rumors of blackouts during hunts. Cersei was consolidating power quietly, moving more gold through Lannister channels and strengthening her influence over the Small Council. In the North, Barbrey was doing excellent work; the Manderlys and several smaller houses were leaning harder into the Frey-linked trade routes, with new agreements for wool and grain moving south.
There were also faint whispers about a silver-haired boy in Braavos — nothing concrete yet, but someone was asking the wrong questions in the wrong taverns near the docks. The inquiries were careful, but persistent.
Adian burned the reports one by one in a small brazier, watching the ashes curl. "Stay ahead of those whispers," he said quietly. "Double the dreamwine and silk shipments. Expand the grain route north. Winter is coming in Westeros. Hungry lords pay well and ask fewer questions. Make sure our captains know to avoid the usual checkpoints."
The factors nodded. One of them, a younger man with sharp features, spoke up. "The Iron Bank has been watching the northern routes more closely. They smell profit. Should we offer them a quiet share?"
"Not yet," Adian replied. "Keep them curious but not involved. We control the Neck. That's our advantage. When the time is right, we'll talk terms."
He paid the men well — heavy pouches of coin slid across the table — and gave final instructions before slipping back out into the city the same cautious way he had come.
He returned to the manse as the sun was setting, painting the canals in deep oranges and reds. Rhaella met him at the door, pulling him inside with a quiet urgency that surprised him. Her hand lingered on his arm a moment longer than necessary, and her violet eyes searched his face with open concern.
"The children are already in bed," she said softly, closing the heavy door behind him. "They waited as long as they could, but Daenerys was exhausted and Viserys finally admitted his arms were sore from training."
Adian allowed himself a small smile. "Good. The boy worked hard today."
Rhaella nodded, but her expression remained focused. She reached into the folds of her gown and pulled out a sealed parchment. "A letter came while you were out. Lira says it arrived through the usual channel. It looks important."
Adian recognized Cersei's cipher immediately — the subtle pattern of ink and phrasing that only the two of them understood. He took the letter and broke the seal, unfolding the parchment while Rhaella watched him closely, her arms crossed loosely under her breasts.
The letter was pure Cersei — cool and controlled on the surface, but burning with raw filth underneath. Adian read it slowly, letting every word sink in.
My dearest river rat,
The stag grows weaker by the day. He can barely get his limp, useless cock hard anymore, yet he still paws at me like some drunken fool who thinks he owns me. Last night he tried again — grunting and sweating on top of me for a few pathetic minutes before collapsing in a wine-soaked heap, snoring like a dying boar. I lay there the whole time thinking of you. Of how thick and hard you feel when you stretch me open. Of how you filled me so completely that I could still feel you leaking out of me days later.
My belly is round and heavy with your child now. Six months along and it shows clearly when I wear the right gowns. My tits are full and aching constantly, swollen and sensitive. They leak at the slightest touch. I find myself touching them when I'm alone, imagining your mouth on them the way Genna described how you sucked Barbrey's while you fucked her.
Speaking of Genna — she told me everything when she returned. How Barbrey's heavy tits were spraying milk while you pounded her. How the two of them knelt together like eager whores, sucking your cock and licking each other's cum off your balls. How you switched between their dripping cunts and filled them both until it ran down their thighs. I read that letter three times with my fingers buried deep inside myself, rubbing my swollen clit until I came so hard I had to bite my own arm to stay quiet. Robert was passed out in the next room, completely useless as always.
I need you back soon. I need you to bend me over this very bed and fuck me raw while my useless husband snores two rooms away. I want your thick cock stretching my pregnant cunt again. I want you to maul these heavy, leaking tits and drink from them while you pump me full of more of your seed. Come back and remind me who I really belong to.
Your queen is waiting, wet and impatient.
— C
Adian folded the letter with a small, satisfied smirk, tucking it away inside his tunic. The words had stirred heat low in his belly, but he kept his expression calm.
Rhaella raised an elegant eyebrow, her arms still crossed. "News from home?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral, though he could see the curiosity — and a flicker of something sharper — in her eyes.
"Useful news," Adian replied, stepping closer and sliding an arm around her waist. He pulled her against him, feeling the warmth of her body through her gown. "And some very personal reminders.
{R-18 Scene Cersei Letter, Adian x Rhaella Targaryen 1320 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n}
***
Adian stood alone on the balcony later that night, the cool Braavosi breeze brushing over his bare chest. Below, the canal water lapped quietly against the stone walls. Behind him, through the open door, Rhaella slept deeply in the bed, naked and thoroughly spent, a thin trail of his cum still glistening between her thighs in the low lamplight.
He looked out over the city — the distant lights of the Titan standing guard, the masked figures moving like ghosts across arched bridges, the vast web of canals that carried secrets and gold in equal measure.
The long game was turning. Slowly. Surely.
And for the first time in years, Adian Frey allowed himself a small, satisfied breath.
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