When Visenya Velaryon was born paler than the winter snows barely six moons after the wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor, the whispers started there. Bastard. No matter how hard Rhaenyra tried to claim she was Laenor's daughter, her resemblance to Daemo...
Okay y'all, this is my version of Storm's End and it is vastly different so buckle up
enjoy this beautiful picture of Laenora that PhylliCheese made with AI. Obviously her eyes are purple but ai cant't be perfect lmao
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You are early, my love," Aemond said behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. His hands rested on her bump as he kissed her neck.
"Is that your sword or are you just that excited to see me?" She smirked. She could feel his hardening erection pressing against her, not that she was complaining. It was hard to find time alone with him without the presence of guards, so she'd take him in the throne room if that's where they had privacy.
"You have Queensguard trailing you constantly. Plus, I'd be a lying man if I said I hadn't imagined fucking you on the throne. This past week I've been anxious to see you sit on it."
She smirked and turned to face him. "Wait right here, then."
She seated herself on the steel swords that made up the throne. It wasn't made for comfort, she could see herself already antsy to get off, but that could be because her pregnant state wasn't comfortable in a lot of seats.
Visenya leaned back on the throne and the weight of the role was weighing on her. She had the crown of the conqueror on her head, she was sitting on the throne.
She smirked at Aemond and slowly let her legs spread. "Kneel, before your queen."
Aemond was a man starved, and he practically crawled to her. She pressed her foot against his chest before he got any closer.
"Beg for it."
His brow rose, and his cock twitched with the dominance she was exerting. She was a queen now, she was his queen, and he would let her boss him around anywhere.
"Visenya Targaryen, ñuha jorrāelagon, kostilus ivestragī nyke sylutegon ao." *My love, please let me taste you.
She tilted her head with a smirk. "Skoro syt should nyke ivestragī ao, valzȳrys?" *Why should I let you, husband?
"Kesrio syt eman daor issare able naejot sylutegon se sweetness hen aōha orvorta isse iā week. Eman watched ao tepagon mirre aōha energy naejot se court se daor save mirre syt nyke. Gaomagon daor pendagon gaoman daor approve, iksā se olvie desirable skori wearing se pāletilla. Yn nyke dream hen aōha dōna moans se se ñuhoso aōha juices spill ilie hen aōha orvorta naejot ñuha ēngos." * Because I have not been able to taste the sweetness of your cunt in a week. I have watched you give all your energy to the court and not save any for me. Do not think I do not approve, you are the most desirable when wearing the crown. But I dream of your sweet moans and the way your juices spill straight from your cunt to my tongue.
