Born of spite, fostered in pity, shrouded in fear.
Malaeya Lannister was a mystery to every soul in the Seven Kingdoms and far beyond. Many a song written in her name, yet few eyes had laid upon her. Locked away in the Red Keep, a need budded within...
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~͓̽~͓̽~
44 | ꜰɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ
𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒
𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒. Well, at least not because of women. In truth, he'd been nervous for most of his life. Always running from Robert's assassins - or bounty hunters who thought they could get a neat price for smuggling him and Daenerys across the Narrow Sea to the stags - could do that to a person.
But women had always come easy to him. He had his ancestors to thank for that. His silver hair, violet eyes, porcelain skin, angular face, and slender figure had women fawning over him from the time that he was old enough to even know what it was to be attracted to someone.
He'd always had his pick. Even now, he still had his pick. He was a king, and he'd chosen his bride. So, he couldn't for the life of him understand why, as he sat across from Arianne, there was sweat threatening to trickle from his hairline to his forehead.
It wasn't because of the way his men felt it insensitive to host a date when they should have been preparing for war - it wasn't like they had anything else to do while Rhaelle recovered anyway. And it certainly wasn't because he was worried about her opinion of him.
Perhaps it was because they both knew that his heart...his affections lie elsewhere. Perhaps it was because her bronze, sultry, feline eyes hadn't left his location for even a second the entire time they ate.
Either way, his throat felt like Dornish sands. Fitting he supposed.
Viserys lifted his chalice and sipped his wine, moistening his throat. "We need to find a Master of Whispers," he told her, glancing at her for a split second before adverting his sight again. "It's been a week since Rhaelle returned, but Maester says we need wait at least another before she can ride a dragon into battle. Cersei could be setting traps and plots in that time, and we need to know what they are."
Arianne was quiet for a moment, forcing him to meet her eyes again before she spoke. Everything about her was so intimate. "I'd rather not talk about war on a date," she told him, a small sly smirk playing on her plump lips. Or maybe not. Viserys couldn't tell whether she was smiling or whether she was just naturally seductive.
He cleared his throat. "Fine." A piece of cake found its way into his mouth, giving him something to focus on besides the way her stare made his skin feel swollen. "What do you want as queen? What are your desires." Whatever they were, he'd give them to her.
He never particularly cared about the trials of women before, but now that he had one in his life that he loved, he hated what she would have to endure simply because of her gender.
