Dragonlance, Chapter 3: Lusty Luck

Fifth Moon, 169 AC

Elaena Targaryen

As she sat there on Daena’s bed, Elaena couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she twiddled her fingers anxiously. She couldn’t believe she was really doing this, that she’d let Daena talk her into it. It was madness, complete and utter madness and yet it was also her only hope.

She had always liked Daeron. Though he had been three years her younger, they had been close as children, playing and reading together and keeping each other company as they both understood what loneliness was like. Then her brother, Daeron’s namesake, had died and Baelor had become king and Elaena and all her sisters had been locked in the Maidenvault.

Elaena had never forgotten that Daeron had protested her imprisonment and they had both mourned her confinement and how it had so sharply limited what they could do together. Yet that hadn’t stopped them. Though they could no longer go and play outside, they had read together and played inside the Maidenvault for many years as Daeron had been among the few males that Baelor had allowed to enter.

Then slowly but surely, Daeron had drifted away from her and Elaena could do nothing but watch as her only friend was taken away from her. Baelor had taken Daeron as his personal protégé and filled his head with nonsense, and that Dornish whore he had been betrothed to swayed him more and more with her flowery prose and oh so romantic letters.

Daeron had come less and less to the Maidenvault and Elaena had resigned herself to being lonely again. All alone in the Maidenvault with nothing but her books, vapid ladies, and sisters she envied as much as she loved.

Then, just as she had lost all hope, Daeron had changed yet again. He’d started coming to the Maidenvault more often, almost every day, and… he had looked good. Really good. There was a quiet confidence and strength in the way he carried himself now that hadn’t been there before and it had drawn Elaena in like a moth to flame, especially as he had dedicated himself to his new training as Aemon’s squire, filling out in all the right places with strong lean muscles.

His mindset had changed too. No longer just Baelor’s mouthpiece or a fool swooning over a Dornishwoman he had never met. He was so much more like the boy she had once known yet stronger, more confident, and more handsome in every way.

And Elaena had fallen. Hard. Like a parched man in the desert who had just found the sweetest spring water. She had always liked Daeron and her options were limited, trapped as she was in the Maidenvault, but with all the newfound changes within him, she had found herself falling more and more under his sway without him even trying.

She knew in her heart that even if she had been free and able to have her pick of all the men in the realm as a princess, her eye would still be drawn to Daeron as he was now. So tall and strong, so handsome and brave, with those kind eyes that understood and accepted her for everything that she was. And that roguish mischievous smirk.

Oh, that boy. He would tease and flirt with her without a second thought, never knowing just how much deeper he was burrowing into her heart with every word. And it hurt, it hurt that he only had eyes for Daena.

Daeron had been her friend first. She had kept him company when no one else had ever paid attention to him, and just when he had begun to change, just when it seemed that he might finally be receptive to her affections and Elaena could finally have someone who loved her, her sister had to just steal him away, didn’t she?

Elaena was self-aware enough to know she was not truly angry with Daena. How could she be? Her elder sister was even more desperate and alone than she was, already considered an old maiden by the reckoning of their people. Daeron was her last chance for love and marriage and Elaena could not begrudge her that.

Yet it hurt, nonetheless. She had always wanted to be like Daena, so beautiful, strong, daring, and charming. Everyone had always loved her. Everyone had always wanted her or Rhaena who had her own motherly charm and voluptuous body hidden beneath her baggy robes. Nobody had ever wanted quiet, skinny, and plain little Elaena, notable only for her striking hair that she’d long since cut short to spite her brother anyway.

And it hurt most of all that someone she thought might have finally wanted her for her had ended up choosing her elder sister instead. As so many always seemed to do.

Now she sat on Daena’s bed and waited anxiously for Daeron to arrive so that she and her elder sister could seduce him into a threesome of all things, like something she had only read in the most scandalous books they had been able to have snuck into the Maidenvault, of the filthiest kinds of writings that would have dear Rhaena fainting at the obscenity of it all.

She still couldn’t believe Daena was even willing to offer this to her. Elaena knew she would never have been nearly as generous if she had been in her shoes. Yet with Daena willing and giving, Elaena’s fears turned to a different path. Her heart pounded in her chest, so fast she thought it might fly out of her entirely.

“What if he doesn’t want me?” she thought to herself. “What if he only wants Daena? What if I’m not beautiful or daring enough for him?”

Her insecurities had never been stronger. There must have been a reason that Daeron had chosen Daena over her hadn’t there? And Elaena could not think of what it could be other than that he simply found Daena more attractive than she.

And who could blame him? Elaena looked down at herself and then jealously over to her sister. Daena’s body was more mature, more womanly than hers. She filled out her white dress exquisitely, with curves that poets would make ballads about. Her face was heart-shaped, her smile charming and daring, her bosom busty and buxom, and her behind supple and bountiful.

In contrast, Elaena’s body was awkward, angular, and flat. Her breasts were small, her curves lacking, her body not appealing as a woman in near any way. And she was small too, skinny and shorter than both of her sisters at barely five and a half feet. She must look more a child than a woman. Could Daeron really want her when he had already tasted a far more bountiful fruit?

Elaena did not know, and Daena was too awkward and nervous herself to really comfort her in this. She didn’t blame her. It wasn’t every day you prepared to share your lover with your younger sister.

For many long years she had resented her confinement in the Maidenvault but the deepest and most envious corner of her mind had whispered that it wasn’t all that bad. Perhaps it was a good thing after all. Perhaps by barring all of them from court, Elaena wouldn’t have to watch as everyone fawned over her more beautiful and charming sisters while she was ignored and relegated to the background just as she had been her entire childhood.

She did not have long to dwell on that dark thought before a knock on the door sounded and Elaena’s heart almost leapt from her chest as Daena answered the door.

Daeron walked in and Elaena struggled to keep her breathing under control. He looked handsome as always, with a healthy glow that could only come from a hard day of productive training. Yet the confusion on his face as he noticed Elaena gave him a cute and adorable streak and Elaena was suddenly reminded that for all of his recent growth into a promising young man, Daeron was still a boy three years her younger who hadn’t even come of age yet.

Elaena tried to speak, to greet him, but words failed her and Daeron turned to her sister.

“What is Elaena doing here?” he asked curiously, careful not to give away that he and Daena may get up to anything untoward if she wasn’t there.

“She knows, Daeron,” Daena replied simply and Daeron tensed ever so slightly.

Elaena felt a stab of guilt in her heart at the thought of what her desperate, foolish threat to Daena could have wrought. She could have made someone she cared for suffer and all for what?

“And is there anything that you want for your silence?” Daeron looked at her calculatingly, logically, as if assessing a threat and the sword of guilt in her heart twisted.

Elaena couldn’t bring herself to answer, couldn’t bring herself to admit what she had tried to do, what she had almost done. She shouldn’t have done this; she shouldn’t have come here. She was unworthy of his affection. This had all been a mistake.

Yet as she got up to try and leave, Daena caught her hand and wouldn’t let her go.

“You need not worry about any of that, Daeron. Elaena and I have already settled the matter and come to a certain understanding. She’ll keep our secret and in return, I will share with her her heart’s desire.”

“And what’s that?” Daeron demanded, a worried expression on his face.

“You,” Daena answered firmly.

That it seemed took Daeron by surprise. He stumbled where he stood in shock, his brow furrowing adorably in an expression of utter bewilderment and confusion and a cute blush began to fill his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, what?” Daeron asked, absolutely confused.

“I don’t get what’s so hard to understand Daeron. My sister will keep our secret because she’ll soon be part of it and she can’t exactly go off telling anyone that you’re having a dalliance with me if she’s being fucked silly right beside me now, can she?” Daena answered and it was Elaena’s turn to blush now. Her sister’s characteristically blunt recklessness and daring had never manifested so strongly and it was at her expense!

“Daena,” she hissed, beginning to protest only for her sister to look over at her with a devilishly mischievous smile.

“Besides, the poor girl is already madly in love with you. I thought it was simply unfair if I hoarded you all to myself and didn’t share. We’ve access to so little men here in the Maidenvault as it is that if I don’t, my adorable little sister might die a maid never knowing any kind of true pleasure or love and we can’t have that now, can we?” Daena said.

Elaena’s cheeks burned as her own sister betrayed her feelings and she froze as Daeron looked at her, shivering as his purple eyes stared through her soul.

“Is that true Elaena? Are you really alright with this?” he asked.

Elaena squirmed in place beneath Daena’s iron grip before she answered shyly. “Yes. I… I like you Daeron.”

Daena smiled cheekily and whispered something in her ear to say to Daeron and if it was even possible, Elaena’s cheeks burned more than she had ever thought they could as she blushed furiously and squeaked, “I can’t say that!”

“How about you, Daena? Are you truly comfortable with this? With sharing me with your sister of all things?” Daeron asked seriously.

The mischievous smile faded from Daena’s face as she considered his words. “Most men wouldn’t even hesitate to take what I’ve offered you, you know.”

“I’m not most men,” Daeron replied.

“No. You’re not. And I love you even more for the consideration you’ve shown me but it’s unnecessary. I want this to happen, I want you to take my sister and show her pleasure she’s never even dreamed of,” Daena said passionately and Elaena looked at her sister in shock. Since when was Daena this eager and excited for this?

The serious expression on Daena’s face soon switched to a lecherous leer as her eyes roamed appreciatively over Daeron. “Maybe I’d be more concerned if you were any other man but personally, I think there’s more than enough of you to go around,” she said, wagging her eyes suggestively.

Daeron still looked uncertain but before he could do anything, Daena pushed Elaena into his arms before taking a chair from the corner of her room and sitting on it. Alarmed, Elaena turned to her sister, “Will you not be joining us?”

“Later. For now, I’ll just sit here and watch. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your first time. Daeron does make them so very special. And remember what I told you Elaena,” Daena said.

Elaena’s cheeks burned all over again at the memory of Daena’s instructions before her mind finally caught up to where she was. She was in Daeron’s arms; her body pressed against his and his arms uncertainly wrapped around her back. Her thoughts scrambled as she felt the muscles of his chest, hard and toned from months of training, and smelt his musky scent.

She closed her eyes and waited, waited for whatever it was to come to happen but it never did. She opened her eyes and saw that Daeron had frozen, still unable to process what had been offered to him. Despite Daena’s reassurance and Elaena’s own shyly given consent, he still looked hesitant and Elaena was growing too anxious and impatient to wait any longer.

Mustering up all her courage, Elaena remembered Daena’s words and tiptoed up to whisper in his ears.

“I… I want you, Daeron. I want you to make me yours. Make me a woman,” she said, doing her best to sound sultry and seductive.

The dam broke and in an instant Daeron’s grip around her tightened as his lips met hers and Elaena melted into the kiss, her lips parting eagerly for him as his tongue entered her mouth and wrestled her own into a quiet submission and she tasted him. A slight mix of his supper washed down by cool water and something more, something that was unmistakably him.

Soon he pushed her down onto the bed and began carefully taking off her clothes. For the briefest of moments, Elaena felt naked and exposed and the fear gripped her that he would think her ugly or not as beautiful as Daena and reject her but it never came. Instead, Daeron simply stared at her with amazement and hunger, like a starving man who had just found a slab of juicy, succulent meat. She shivered, both from the cold and the weight of his piercing gaze.

Yet despite that, he was patient and gentle with her, far more than she would have expected with how much she had riled him up. He treated her like something precious, something to be cherished, and Elaena soaked it all up, wanting all of his love for herself.

He kissed and caressed her gently, tracing his kisses from her lips along her neck and arms down to her breasts where he stopped and licked at her almost painfully stiff and sensitive nipples, lathering her small breasts with more attention and love than she thought they warranted before he continued moving down. All the while his arms pressed and squeezed along her body gently, reassuringly, almost like a soothing hug or a gentle massage.

Elaena got so distracted in the comforting feeling of Daeron’s touches that she was taken by surprise when he finally reached her sex.

“Oh?” she gasped in shock and surprise. The feeling of his tongue licking at her womanhood, and sucking on her insides was strange, but in a good way. And when his tongue moved a little up to her pearl, the feeling was so intense it was almost painful. Elaena couldn’t help but scream and squeal in joy as Daeron worked her up to her peak and she felt the familiar crest of pleasure take her, feeling her legs and arms tense and spasm in place as the ocean of pleasure spread out from her core to every inch of her body.

It was a feeling she had experience before from her own touches and fingers during lonely nights with nothing but candlelit books and her own imagination for a lover. But she didn’t need that anymore. She had Daeron now.

She barely had the presence of mind to look over to where Daena sat on her chair, still watching raptly, her eyes attentive and her teeth biting her lower lip. Had Daeron done the same things for her, Elaena thought to herself. It was no wonder then that she had been so loath to surrender him to her.

It seemed that making her squeal beneath his tongue was all simply Daeron’s idea for preparation because soon enough he disrobed while she watched, her eyes roaming appreciatively over ever contour and line of his shoulders and chest as he did so before her eyes widened at the staff between his legs.

She had read about it before in books of course, even seen illustrations and diagrams, but nothing prepared her for the real thing. She rose from where she had laid on the bed, coming close to look closer and inspect it.

It was so large and thick, and a part of Elaena struggled to fathom how it was supposed to fit inside her. She could understand now why the illicit books that her ladies had smuggled into the Maidenvault had often described the manhoods of the men within with allegories likening them to staffs, swords, on some occasions, even lances. She felt uncertain but as she glanced over to where Daena was sitting, and noted the almost challenging look on her face, she knew she couldn’t back down now.

Daeron had used his mouth on her, hadn’t he? It was only right for her to return the favor, she thought, as she lowered her head down. Daeron gasped in shock as she wrapped her lips around his manhood. The taste was salty but it had the slightest trace of sweetness, making it decently pleasant if not an amazing treat. And knowing that it belonged to the man she loved would have emboldened her to continue even if it had tasted disgusting.

“Fuck, Elaena. Don’t stop,” Daeron begged as she continued sucking on his cock, doing her best to take him as deep into her mouth as she could, wrapping and slathering her tongue all over him and hollowing her cheeks to make it feel better as she bobbed, just as she had read in her books.

As she took a break for a breather, continuing to kiss and worship the manhood of the man she loved, as he had done for her, Elaena noticed Daena looking at her in complete shock and surprise.

Interesting, had she not done that for Daeron yet? Even though Daeron’s experience had clearly indicated he had done so for her? For shame, Elaena thought with a triumphant smirk, thinking that she might have found a way to outdo her sister and supplant her place in Daeron’s heart.

She redoubled her efforts, swallowing down as much of Daeron as she could, forcing her throat to open as she tried to resist the urge to gag, determined to succeed here and take the lead over her sister. As she did so, Daeron’s hands hesitantly grabbed at her hair, as if he feared taking control.

Elaena signaled her permission by pulling his hands to in with her own to grab round her head and hair as she stared up at him meaningfully. Daeron took the hint and soon her gag reflex didn’t matter at all as he used her throat for his own pleasure, forcing his manhood in and fucking her face as he pleased. She could barely breathe with how rough he was being.

And Elaena loved it. She loved that she could do for Daeron something that Daena hadn’t yet, being his first for something like this gave her no small amount of pleasure and pride. And it was also more arousing than she would have ever thought possible, feeling how her lover would take control and dominate her, how she could so easily make him lose control and strip him down to his primal instincts. It was an intoxicating feeling and she finally understood why similar scenes in all her books had always resonated with her.

Daeron only finally let up when his thrusts became more erratic and she could tell he was about to finish soon.

“I’m going to finish Elaena, you need to stop now,” he said, confirming her suspicions. But if she thought she was going to release him, he was sorely mistaken.

With a smirk she looked up at him as she wrapped her arms around his back and swallowed him down to the hilt, his vigorous throat fucking having loosened her gag reflex enough for her to do that, before she hummed and continued sucking on him.

With a groan, Daeron spilled inside her mouth and Elaena kept staring up at him as she drank it all down, making sure not to spill a single drop of his seed. Much like his manhood, the taste was salty with a slight trace of sweetness but its actual taste didn’t really matter to her.

What mattered was the thrill she felt in her core knowing that she had done this. The dazed and amazed look of absolute pleasure in his eyes gave her such an intoxicating feeling of victory. Just knowing that she had been able to give Daeron such unique pleasure, something her curvier and bustier older sister hadn’t been able to do, made her feel more confident and powerful than ever before.

It hadn’t come without a cost though, Elaena thought, as she finally broke away, resisting the urge to cough. Her throat felt sore.

Daeron, sweet and gentle as ever, apologized for being so rough before saying, “You didn’t have to do that.”

She looked up at him with a smile. “But I wanted to. And it was only fair after you did the same for me. Now come here and take me already,” she said, spreading her legs as she laid there on Daena’s bed before her eyes glanced over to her sister.

To her complete shock, she could see that Daena’s dress had been hiked up to where she sat and her fingers were buried in her quim and rubbing at her pearl and breasts as she struggled not to make any noise. Elaena found herself absolutely confounded before her memories of all the books she had read gave her some clue.

Was Daena… finding pleasure and excitement in watching them? Then in that case, Elaena thought amusedly, she’d give her all the show she could want.

She thought that, but the moment Daeron drew himself up and aligned his cock with her slit, all her confidence and bravado fled away as she finally realized just what was about to happen.

Elaena blushed furiously as she remembered and processed everything she had said and done over the past few minutes. She had been far too bold she thought, trying to act like all the girls she had read about in her books in her attempt to outdo her sister. And now she would pay the price.

“Are you sure?” Daeron asked again, his face desperate and pleading for her to say yes but her heart fluttered that even in this state of lust he had kept the presence of mind to be considerate of her.

“Yes, but please be gentle,” she said, still fearing that his size would cause her pain.

Even Elaena could see the irony in her saying that after she had encouraged him to fuck her throat to his heart’s content but she didn’t care. She was a princess having her first time, she could be as inconsistent as she pleased.

And Daeron, bless him, heeded her request. He was so gentle and sweet with her, Elaena didn’t even feel the slightest hint of pain as he slid into her and buried himself to the hilt. It probably helped that he had taken her to her peak once before already and she was wetter than she could ever remember being.

Slowly, Daeron began to explore her depths, thrusting in and out of her, and Elaena relished in the feeling of being filled. She felt so complete and full, like she had joined with Daeron and become one flesh as the septons always spoke about at weddings. In her haze of intimacy and lust, it was hard to tell where she ended and he began.

Every time he drew out of her, her core squeezed desperately to try and keep him joined with her, to try and keep him part of her. And every time he slid back home into her, lights of joy went off in her head as the pleasure shook every part of her body.

The experience was so much more than carnal lust or mere physical pleasure, though with how skilled of a lover Daeron was, there was no shortage of that either. It meant more to Elaena. It felt like the fulfillment of all the feelings she had nursed for Daeron for months now, feelings that had been the rekindling of a flame she had carried for him for years.

Even though some sad part of her knew that he probably still loved Daena more and might always, her heart couldn’t help but feel that the fact he was here in her now was proof that he loved her as well. That her feelings had finally been heard and they were reciprocated.

Every thrust he made into her was like the physical proof that she was wanted, that she was lovely and beautiful in her own way, and as desirable as her older sister to the man that she loved. And that brought more joy and pleasure to Elaena’s soul than anything she had ever felt before.

And with all of those complex feelings of love, lust, fulfillment, and victory over Daena’s hoarding of Daeron and Baelor’s demands on her chastity, it wasn’t long before Elaena felt herself racing to a peak yet again.

This time though, it was stronger than what Daeron had brought her to earlier, stronger than she had ever brought herself to with her fingers, and when it came she couldn’t help but scream as all the lights in the world went bright and her folds squeezed down harder than they had ever done before.

Elaena shook in the throes of ecstasy and pleasure, squeezing and gripping around Daeron’s cock within her while the wave crested higher than anything she had ever felt before. Running all the way down to the tips of her toes, every muscle in her body tensed and shook gloriously.

Daeron groaned, breathing out her name in her ear raspily and Elaena knew he was close. She wrapped her legs tightly around him to keep him from pulling out before she screamed.

“Inside me! I want it all inside me, Daeron! Please!”

All rational thoughts had fled from Elaena’s mind. Worries of falling pregnant, of how Baelor and everyone else would react if she quickened with a bastard child, of what it would do to Daena and Daeron’s relationship, she didn’t care about any of it. She just wanted to feel him fill her up, feel the warm seed spill within her. And when he did, she peaked all over again.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ears as he spilled inside her and she smiled triumphantly when she saw how he froze and melted all at once at her words.

When Daeron tried to pull out of her, Elaena tightened her legs, forcing him to stay in her a little longer, wanting to savor the feeling of him inside her and the intimate comfort it brought her. For a while they just laid there but eventually, she reluctantly let him go when he started getting a little heavy.

But despite no longer having Daeron inside her, Elaena had never felt so content. It was the best first time she could have possibly imagined and she had never felt happier in her life. She was about to kiss Daeron again when she finally remembered that they had an audience.

Daena was squirming in her chair as she rubbed herself raw, desperately chasing her own peak and Elaena found herself feeling some pity and gratitude to her older sister. Brought back to reality, Elaena had to remember that Daeron wasn’t hers. Daena had gotten to him first, he belonged to her. She had just been gracious enough to share him with her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with the way she returned him to her, Elaena thought with a grin as she got up from the bed shakily on her recovering legs. She couldn’t help but smile as she felt some of Daeron’s warm seed trickling down her thigh from her slit as she walked, gaining strength with every step as she stalked over to Daena like a predator upon its prey.

She had to repay her sister for her generosity, didn’t she? For all of her embarrassing teasing and mischievously whispered suggestions. Yes, Daena deserved a reward, Elaena thought menacingly as she wrapped her hands around her sister’s arms and pulled her to her feet with a yelp.

Daena had always been stronger and taller than her, there was no way for Elaena to truly pull her anywhere she didn’t want to go, and that only confirmed for Elaena just how crazed with lust Daena had gotten watching her and Daeron.

As Daeron watched with choked fascination, Elaena pulled Daena onto the bed beside him and started stripping her. Daena barely squeaked a word of protest as Elaena took her dress off and slid her absolutely ruined and soaking undergarments off her legs.

Daeron was still soft, Elaena noticed, though hardening fast, and she thought deviously what the quickest way she might get him ready to go again would be. Her books had always said that men were never more hard than when they had multiple women. Time to put that theory to the test.

Elaena wrapped both her hands around Daena’s bountiful chest and squeezed hard and Daena gasped with a worried shock as she choked out her name in surprise. “Elaena?”

But Elaena ignored her. As she groped and fondled the large and juicy soft breasts that she had always been so envious of, Elaena couldn’t help but admit that she understood why men got so obsessed with them. That just made her more sour that her own were small though so she lived vicariously by continuing to play and fondle with her sister’s breasts, fiddling and tweaking with her supple, perky nipples as she gasped and jolted at the sensation before running her hands all over Daena’s smooth, and curvy body, cupping her bouncy arse and spreading her strong legs.

Daena squeaked as she did so, especially when Elaena pressed her fingers against her sister’s womanhood and felt how wet she was. With a smirk, Elaena showed it off for their man to see. “She’s ready for you, Daeron.”

Daeron groaned and lost all control as he was upon them both in seconds. Daena’s protests were cut off as he kissed her furiously and his cock slid home into her cunt. For her own part however, Elaena was not neglected and she felt one of Daeron’s hands drift down to caress her breasts and finger at her own womanhood.

Despite his efforts to be fair to her, it wasn’t long before Daeron was consumed with devouring Daena and his hand pulled back to better focus on that task. Elaena didn’t mind though.

She could kind of understand why Daena had found this so arousing now. Once she suppressed her initial instinctive spike of jealousy, she could admire and appreciate just how hot the whole situation was.

Daeron looked so strong and manly as he plunged deep into Daena and conquered her depths. And the mewling, pleasure-drunk and submissive expression on Daena’s face as he dominated her made Elaena feel something she couldn’t quite name but it was not unenjoyable.

It wasn’t long before Elaena found herself actively grinding her wetness against Daena’s back, trying to gain some pleasure for herself while she helped Daeron fuck her own sister, holding her in place and continuously fondling her obnoxiously large breasts and fingering her pearl as he hammered deeper and deeper into her.

It wasn’t so much that she lusted for her sister (or did she? Elaena didn’t even know or care at this point. She had more important things to worry about) but she found joy in the cathartic alleviation of all her lifelong insecurities by helping their mutual lover fuck her and drive her mad with pleasure.

So much so that as they continued to reduce Daena into an absolutely screaming and squirming mess, Elaena thought to herself with a smile that maybe this whole sharing idea wasn’t so bad after all.

_______________________________

Eleventh Moon, 169 AC

Baelor Targaryen

“Please, Your Grace. Will you have nothing at all? Not even water?” his cousin Naerys asked insistently but Baelor refused. He had already had some water and bread at noon and that would suffice for the day.

“No. That will be all Naerys. Some of us have the strength to resist the temptations of the flesh, unlike your son,” he replied bitingly.

Naerys recoiled at his words but Baelor did not care. Words could not describe the disappointment he felt in the young lad. For so many years he had seen the boy as his own heir, raising and grooming him to follow in his footsteps, to keep the peace and honor the alliance with Dorne.

Instead, what had the boy done? He had spat on everything he had taught him and repaid him for his kindness with treachery. He had dishonored himself, made himself an oathbreaker by proving unfaithful to the betrothal with the Princess Myriah Martell and he had seduced and despoiled Baelor’s own sisters! Sisters whose chastity he had long guarded and protected for their own sake and the sake of the whole realm.

Baelor, the King himself, had held back and restraint his own lusts for the greater good, but Daeron had no such self-control. He had proven every inch his father’s son. Every inch the unworthy lecher that Aegon was.

He had spoken to Daeron himself but a few times, each time desperately trying to understand, to ascertain how it had all gone so wrong and his own protégé had betrayed him. But Daeron had only been smug and unrepentant, saying that Baelor had been wrong to deny his own sisters love and affection and lock them away and that he had taken care of them in ways he never could. Baelor had been so infuriated by his words that he had had to remove himself from the room and return to the sept before he was consumed by the tempting rage to strike the boy for his insolence.

It was times like this that Daeron reminded him of someone. Not just of his unworthy father, but of Baelor’s own elder brother, the boy’s namesake.

The Young Dragon, they had called him. And oh, how he had been such a sight to see. Tall, handsome, brave, and clever. Every inch the perfect Targaryen king. Like something out of the tales of old. Everything Baelor could never be. They had all loved him more than he. Aegon, Daena, their parents, Uncle Viserys, the whole realm, everyone.

For who would care about bookish, frail, and pious Baelor above clever, charming, and charismatic Daeron? Daena certainly hadn’t, not even when they had been wed briefly and she had all but thrown herself at him and attempted to seduce him like some whore in a cheap brothel. She had done all of that while Daeron was still in her heart and Baelor had never forgotten that.

Perhaps it was a mercy he had made the decision even before then to be celibate. It was a good thing he had had their marriage annulled, Baelor had always told himself, even when the shamefully arousing thoughts of Daena nude and squirming beneath his touch always came to mind. Better to not partake in forbidden fruit instead of having her in his bed while she lusted for someone else and disgraced their wedding vows.

Daena and all the others had never been able to see what Baelor could see. They could not see the darkness in his brother’s heart. The savage conqueror, the brute, the warmonger. They could not see the deadly sins that had taken root within him, the pride and wrath that would surely doom him.

Baelor had opposed his brother’s war on Dorne. He had fought it with everything he could. Praying and protesting that his brother might stop, that he might reconsider wisdom, and when that was no longer possible, he had prayed that his brother’s soul might still be saved, that the Seven would not strike him down and give him retribution for the evil he had wrought.

For Daeron had dishonored the vows he had sworn as a knight. He had brought war upon a people who had done them no true harm, and his armies had ravaged Dorne, destroying its crops, raping its women, and killing its young, breaking every oath and vow they had sworn as knights. And Baelor had known that the Seven’s judgement would not be long coming when that had happened.

Knights were supposed to defend and protect, never attack and despoil. Knights were supposed to defend the young and innocent, to protect all women. Knights were supposed to be good and loyal men, faithful and pious to the Seven and peaceful by nature, raising their weapons only in need and never for any glory not offered to a higher cause. They were supposed to be like his cousin, Aemon the Dragonknight, the truest knight Baelor had ever known.

That was what his boyhood mentor, Septon Maynard, had taught him. When his mother had died young in childbirth, and his father and uncle had brooded in their melancholy and sternness while they governed the realm, it had been Septon Maynard who had taken him under his wing and taught him important truths about the world.

Truths he sincerely wished his brother had had the chance to learn. Truths he had tried and failed to impart to him once they had come of age and he knew he would be judged for that in the seven heavens when the Father asked him where his brother was and he would have no answer for why he was not with him.

Daena and many others who had loved his brother or been of like mind with him could not understand. They would argue that his brother’s war had been justified, that Dorne had raided their lands countless times, but Baelor knew his brother had never cared about any of that. His war had been only to sate his own ego. Nothing more, nothing less. The Seven called for them to turn the other cheek, to love thy enemies as their neighbors, and Daeron had brought nothing but hate and death to them.

Baelor was not deaf. He knew the whispers. He knew how some of the so-called pious dared to question his faithfulness to the seven. They claimed he was ignoring the dictates of the Warrior by choosing peace over righteous war. That he was defying the Father by not demanding justice for his murdered brother beneath the sacred truce banner.

How little the fools understood. The fact that Daeron had died under the banner of the Seven was proof that he had been marked for death by the Seven for his unjust war. He had not been struck down by treachery but rather divine punishment. The Dornish had merely been the instruments of the Seven’s will.

Baelor had instinctively known what had to be done to make things right and alleviate the Seven’s burning anger upon his family as soon as word had reached of his brother’s death. He had repented of his brother’s war, returned the hostages he had torn from their homes, and risked life and limb to save his beloved cousin, Aemon.

And the Seven had rewarded him for his faith. They had proven him right. If he had not pleased them, they would surely have left him to die when he had been bitten by all those snakes while saving Aemon.

So what did it matter that everyone else had always loved Daeron more than he? What did it matter that Daeron had been the one desired by Daena, the one their father and Uncle Viserys had always been proud of, the one all the nobles had loved and adored while Baelor was ignored and mocked even to this day as King?

What significance did the complaints of the impious have to him? What sting could their words have when they loved the darkness more than the light? The Seven spoke to him! The Seven had chosen him!  They had chosen him to be his disciple, the frail and bookish second son, for they had seen as Scripture said, that true wisdom and goodness lied in a man’s heart and not in the strength of his arm.

It mattered not if Daena and all the rest cared not for him. He had all that mattered and that was faith and he was grateful that the Seven had made him this way, that they had ensured he would never be as strong or handsome as Daeron for it had ensured he would not make his mistakes.

He who exalted himself would be humbled and he who humbled himself shall be exalted. Daeron had sought glory; he had sought to complete the work of the Conqueror and cement his legacy in history. And all it had earned him was an early grave. Baelor humbled himself, he did everything he could to follow every last word of Scripture and restrain himself from the easy path, from seeking glory, and power, or military might.

The difference between him and Daeron, was that Baelor was all too aware of his own failings. Daeron had been blinded by his pride, his arrogance, and his wrath. Baelor fasted relentlessly to tame and control his own fatal flaw, his accursed lust.

In another world, perhaps the fire in his loins might have made him as despicable a lecher as his cousin, Aegon. But Septon Maynard had taught him better than that. He had taught him that the so-called Exceptionalism Jaehaerys the Conciliator had imposed upon the Faith was a sinful heresy and false doctrine, the reason for the Dance and all the other tragedies that had befallen their house.

Baelor had steeled himself, done his best to wrest control of his own self, to be the master of his flesh instead of its servant. And it had been difficult, oh so very difficult.

Even knowing Daena had loved Daeron more than him, that she had all but thrown a tantrum when her betrothal to him had been announced, even knowing that it would be wrong, that it would be a sin in the eyes of the Seven to bed his own sister, he had been so very tempted to take her for his own when Daeron had handed her to him as his wife. It had taken everything he had to resist when Daena had started dressing in white, showing off the way her bountiful curves filled out her dress and the way she’d tease and move to pull it off, to try and entice him to sin with her.

Perhaps the worst part of it all was that Baelor knew he could have been happy with her. He could have loved and cherished Daena as his wife. But they would have been living in sin, and for the sake of both of their immortal souls he had held back even when she did everything she could to make him break.

He almost had. The year he had been wed to her was the greatest and most pleasurable torture he had ever experienced in his life. He had prayed to the Seven for strength every day and when he was finally King and the matter of Dorne had been settled, they had given him their answer.

His lust had grown too strong. In the months he had spent recovering at Storm’s End after saving Aemon, Baelor had felt his own ego and pride growing. He had done a great deed doing what he did, risking his life against a thousand vipers to save his kin. Even Daena had to admire him for that and finally acknowledge him over Daeron he had thought.

That pride had simmered. It had grown like a weed, infesting his heart and his dreams with thoughts of finally claiming her as his reward for his heroic deeds. And not just Daena but Rhaena and Elaena too. They were no less desirable than Daena, no less beautiful than her. They had been young at the time but Baelor had known that they would flower and blossom into truly lovely women. Rhaena with her sweet motherly demeanor, so charming and pious, as faithful and zealous for the Seven as he. Elaena, with strikingly beautiful hair and her clever brilliance and quiet strength, so pleasing to cherish and nurture.

He had wanted them all more than he thought possible. The dreams had come to him and they had been seductive and alluring. Visions of himself as a mighty warrior king, like Hugor of the Hill. Pious, knightly, and capable all in one. Mighty enough to surpass even his brother or the Conqueror.

All of Westeros would adore and worship him but none more than the three sister-wives he had claimed for himself. He had felt every last stroke and caress of their reverent love in the dream. Felt their kisses upon his skin and the warm embrace of their bodies.

He had woken in a cold sweat many times in Storm’s End, haunted by that same vision and feeling terrified by how much he longed for it. And when he had finally recovered and returned to King’s Landing, he had known he had to do. What difficult choices had to be made to save himself and his sisters and the realm itself from his own shameful lusts lest the Seven strike him down for blasphemy, incest, and adultery as they had struck down his brother for his pride and wars.

He had had his marriage to Daena annulled and then he had confined her and their sisters to the Maidenvault where they could not tempt him or anyone else with their beauty and bring about the realm’s ruin and the Seven’s wrath through it. Then for good measure, he had taken vows of celibacy akin to that of a septon with the High Septon and the Most Devout as his witness, praying and hoping that the pressure of such publicly witnessed vows would hold him to his word.

Fortunately, it had. With the Seven’s grace, he could do all things through they who strengthened him. He would fast endlessly as penance and punishment, to weaken his treacherous flesh and deny it sustenance which it might use as strength to have him break his vows and damn his soul and that of his sisters.

And how had he been repaid for all this dutiful sacrifice? How had he been repaid for safeguarding entry into paradise for his kin!? With treachery and sin!

His protégé, sad to say, had fallen prey to the same lusts that he had resisted, the same ambitions for glory and greatness as a handsome warrior who conquered foes and women alike. He blasphemed all tenets of chivalry and knighthood, the stations instituted by the Seven, by betraying his King and taking the maidenheads of his sisters.

How dare he? If there was anyone in the world who might deserve such a prize, it would have been the one that had sheltered and protected their souls for years on end even to his own pain and misery. Every day he had held himself back and restrained his cursed lusts, cursing and weeping that the only women he had ever desired had been born his sisters and Daeron thought he was allowed to just have them!?

The boy was flawed and weak, just like his namesake. He was ruled by his flesh instead of ruling it as Baelor did and Baelor’s only consolation was that unlike him at least, he had not committed the sin of incest. The union of cousins was not considered incest by the Seven. Nonetheless he was guilty of many other sins beside such as fornication, lust, and more. And the… obscene actions Daeron had inadvertently seduced his sisters to commit with each other had surely defiled them with sin in the eyes of the Seven

With his preferred heir having fallen to sin and taken the sisters he had sacrificed so much to protect down with him, Baelor saw now that there had never been any point in thinking there was any hope for his family, any way of leading them back to the Light of the Seven. The certainty of that truth grew in his heart as undeniably as the bastards in his sister’s bellies.

Yet still he prayed. He prayed that the sins of his cousin and sisters might be forgiven, that his own failures would not be held against him, that there might still be some small chance of salvation for House Targaryen.

But the Seven were silent. They did not answer. Why?

WHY!?

Had he not obediently followed all their commands and dictates? Had he not heeded the teachings of Septon Maynard who had taught him as a boy? Had he not sacrificed so much and brought so much pain and misery to his own self for the sake of his kin? Why had the Seven forsaken him? Why would they not at least answer him?

He redoubled his efforts. There was no use in falling to despair. Melancholy would help no one. He had seen that for himself during his father’s reign.

Baelor had to keep faith. The Seven would surely give him a sign of some kind if he just prayed a little longer, if he abstained just a little more from food or drink. They would surely see his penance! They would surely give him a way to save his kin from themselves!

And so Baelor prayed and fasted. Vigorously and zealously, he pleaded for pardon, for succor and grace.

The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. Eventually his body could take the suffering no longer and when Baelor finally shamefully yielded to its demand for at least a drop of water as relief, his strength failed him and he fell upon the floor of the castle sept.

All his life Baelor had striven to see the light but only darkness greeted him.

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Author’s Note: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! We finally got Elaena’s POV and all that complex characterization and spicy stuff. Then came Baelor, it was honestly a struggle getting into his head at first but once I figured it out with some help, it came quite easy. The guy is truly quite pathetic and delusional. He’s somehow worse than an incel, he’s a volcel lol? Either way it was very fun to make him suffer for it.

Please let me know your thoughts, suggestions, and questions in the comments below or over on Discord!