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“Please, I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Arya begged, her grey eyes wide and wild as she stared up at the hooded man.
“You have everywhere else to go, child,” the man replied softly before closing the door.
“Damn it,” Arya hissed under her breath, feeling hot tears sting her eyes. “Damn it!”
Her scream echoed outward from the House of Black and White, earning her a couple curious looks but no response. She stomped away from the temple, her mind awash with fury as she recalled the moment she lost out on the last true opportunity she had left.
*****
“Gah!” Arya cried as she was abruptly woken by the rocking of the ship.
A crack of thunder roared overhead. and she went still, her heart racing in her chest as fear gripped her. She’d never found storms frightening as a child, not the way that Sansa and Bran had. Winterfell always seemed so safe and impenetrable then, a massive fortress that could keep all the world’s ills out.
“If only we’d never left it,” she thought to herself bitterly.
The ship rocked hard to the left, and Arya barely managed to steady herself against the wall. Deciding to see if something had gone wrong, she opened the door to her cabin and left, rushing up to the deck. All around her, men were scrambling about, each working to help the ship weather what turned out to be one hell of a storm, or so Arya supposed. She wasn’t all that familiar with ships.
As she clung to the doorway leading from the cabins, the captain spotted her and called out, “Go back down, you fool! It’s not safe out here!”
“What?!” Arya shouted, his words having been drowned out by the winds and thunder.
He spoke again, and when she didn’t hear that either, she ventured closer, only to immediately regret it as something flew down from the mast, heading right at her head. If not for a flash of lightning that arced across the sky just a moment earlier, Arya might not have seen it coming, but she did and immediately leapt to the side, only to slip on the wet wood. Falling down, she caught herself on her forearms, but as the ship tilted slightly, she found herself racing towards the edge. She heard the faint sounds of men shouting as she clawed at the deck, desperately trying to keep herself from ending up in the sea, something she was sure would mean her death.
The ship righted itself just before she could tumble off the edge, and she immediately pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, crawling as quickly as she could towards the entrance to the cabins.
“Fool girl,” the captain hissed, taking advantage of a slight lull in the storm to help her to her feet. “You’ll catch your death out in this. Go back to your cabin and stay there.”
“I just wanted to make sure we weren’t going to sink,” Arya huffed, shivering in the wet cold as she went inside.
“This isn’t my first storm, and neither is it this ship’s,” the captain assured her, and Arya just nodded before scrambling to her cabin.
Her clothes were soaked, and she quickly stripped down, drying herself off with one of the blankets that had been given to her. Figuring that she was already awake and up for the day, she spread her things out carefully, hoping that they would manage to dry out quickly enough, only to pause as she felt around for the pair of coin purses she kept, only to feel her heart stop as she realized that one was missing.
“No, no, no, no,” Arya begged as she opened it up and found that it wasn’t the one she hoped it was.
This purse contained a number of coins ranging from copper to gold, but what it didn’t contain was the iron coin Jaqen H’ghar had given her. She felt her heart sink into her stomach as she realized that she had lost the most vital treasure she still owned.
*****
She wept bitterly at the memory, recalling how she’d searched for it again as soon as the storm stopped, not caring at all that her clothing was still soaked through, but she’d already known what had happened. That coin purse had been on her when she ventured out into the storm, and it must have fallen off when she nearly tumbled off of the ship, sinking into the sea. It hadn’t contained anything other than the iron coin, and she doubted it was stolen, given the limited value, though she had asked around. Without it, she had nothing, and the hooded man she’d just spoken with didn’t seem to even know Jaqan H’ghar. Scowling down at the ground as she continued on, she passed through the Isle of the Gods and glared up at the various temples that littered it.
“Which one of you did I piss off so badly?!” she shrieked, her fists clenched at her sides as she drew more than a few glances. “Who was it?!”
“Excuse me?” a soft, very lovely voice asked in Valyrian, and Arya whipped around, half-primed to launch herself at whoever had disturbed her, when she froze in her tracks.
Even through her misty eyes, she could tell that the woman was easily the most beautiful she’d ever seen. Tall, with light brown skin, long dark hair that tumbled to her lower back in ringlets, and the most startling, bright blue eyes she’d ever seen, she was even lovelier than her voice. Arya let her eyes roam over the woman, taking in her curvaceous figure, which her blue gown clung to like a second skin, and gorgeous, heart-shaped face.
“I’m sorry for disturbing your...prayers, but you look terribly familiar, and I wanted to get a closer look,” the woman said, and Arya felt her heart quicken in her chest as she looked more closely at her.
Her cheekbones were high and prominent, her button nose was small and pretty, and her full lips were red, pouty, and inviting.
Arya swallowed thickly and replied, saying, “Trust me, I’d remember if I had ever met someone like you, and at any rate, I only just arrived in Braavos.”
The woman laughed, and Arya thought to herself, “Gods, even her laugh is pretty.”
“Oh, I know we haven’t met,” the woman smiled. “You’re from the North, right? In Westeros?”
“Yes,” Arya replied warily, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword, Needle.
“You have the same accent as my husband,” the woman explained. “You look a great deal like him too; the same hair and long face. Have you ever heard of a Jon Snow?”
“Y...you’re his wife?” Arya stammered, taking a step back in shock. “Bell...something, right?”
“Bellegere,” Bellegere replied. “Are you Sansa or Arya? I can’t recall which one had his coloring.”
“Arya,” Arya replied. “Arya Stark. How…”
“He’s mentioned you all before, and a few years ago, when he started writing to his father again, he mentioned all of you by name again,” Bellegere explained. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
“Why did he never come?” Arya demanded. “We needed all the help we could get. We…”
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” Bellegere asked, and Arya just blinked at her.
“I could find an inn, I’m sure,” she replied, though she knew she didn’t have the coin to stay anywhere long.
“Nonsense,” Bellegere said firmly. “You’re family, and you can stay with us. Come with me, and I’ll explain as much as I can, and then I’ll introduce you to your niece and nephews.”
“N…” Arya trailed off, her eyes going wide again as Bellegere extended her hand towards her.
She felt her lower lip tremble as she took it, and the dark-skinned goddess pulled her in for a hug that made her stiffen. It had been so long since anyone had touched her with any sort of pleasant intention, and it took her only a moment to realize how much she’d been craving that. As she melted into Bellegere’s embrace, her mind raced with questions.
“Is Jon here?” she asked.
“No,” Bellegere replied as she let her go and smiled down at her. “He’s away, sailing to Yi Ti, though she should be close to returning now.”
“Yi Ti?” Arya asked incredulously, and Bellegere chuckled.
“That’s part of that explanation I promised you,” she replied. “Come.”
As Arya followed her, they were soon joined by a pair of guards, who didn’t acknowledge her at all. It had been a long time since Arya was followed around by guards, and she had almost forgotten what that was like, though as their party traveled through the streets of Braavos, it did make her wonder just how wealthy her brother was. While merely having guards was a sign of wealth, that was nothing compared to their destination.
Braavos was a city built across a number of small islands and smelled infinitely better than King’s Landing did, perhaps as a consequence. It was still divided between visibly poorer and wealthier regions, though, and in the only truly free city, the wealthiest parts lay in the northeast. This was where the Sealord’s Palace was, as well as the Purple Harbor. It was to this section of the city that Bellegere took her, and Arya’s jaw dropped when she saw just where they were going.
“You two live here?” she asked, blinking in confusion.
It wasn’t Winterfell, but it was large, a sprawling manse surrounded by high walls. It was built of dark stone and featured numerous towers that looked almost defensive in nature. They had passed the Sealord’s Palace on the way and Bellegere had pointed it out. This place wasn’t quite as grand as that, but it was closer than pretty much any other manse they’d passed.
“We do,” Bellegere replied. “Please, come in. Did your father tell you much about what Jon does when you received your gifts a few years ago?”
“He just said that he’d become a trader of sorts,” Arya replied, marveling as she looked around.
The interior of the manse was beautiful, a sea of marble and gold, and she boggled at the almost obscene display of wealth.
“As a boy, Jon was fascinated by the tales of the Targaryen King Daeron I, but when he was fostered at White Harbor, he developed an interest in a different historical figure from your lands,” Bellegere explained. “He read The Nine Voyages by Maester Mathis so many times that I swear he could recite it.”
“That’s why he’s in Yi Ti?” Arya asked. “He’s recreating Corlys Velaryon’s great voyages?”
“Not recreating, per se, but he was deeply inspired by them,” Bellegere replied. “When we first wed, he had only one ship and a crew to his name, a gift from the lord of White Harbor. He sailed to the Summer Isles, determined to show me the lands of my famous ancestor’s birth. We brought a great deal of iron with us, knowing that the Summer Islanders coveted the metal, and brought back with us a fortune in gems and spices. That bought a half a dozen more ships, which he sailed to Qarth, bringing home an even greater fortune in spices, which paid for this place.”
“Wow,” Arya marveled, following her further inside. “Father didn’t really elaborate about what he’d gotten up to. I always got the sense that he was annoyed Lord Wyman gifted him his ship and let him sail off.”
“He saved his life,” Bellegere explained. “Jon always downplays it when he tells the tale, but according to him, Lord Wyman was throwing a feast one night when he started to choke on a piece of chicken. Without thinking, he punched him right in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and sending the piece of half-chewed chicken in his throat flying across the room.”
“Really?” Arya laughed.
“The maester there chastised him for it, saying that he was lucky that didn’t make things worse and it probably wouldn’t work again if he tried, but Lord Wyman was quite grateful and offered him anything he wanted. Jon asked for a ship and a crew to sail it and so he was given his gift.” Bellegere grinned.
“Mother! Mother!” a little boy shouted as he ran into the room, and Arya’s eyes widened.
His skin was tanned, being a fair bit lighter than Bellegere’s, and he was tall for a boy who couldn’t be more than three, yet his striking feature was his hair. Silver-gold ringlets fell to his shoulders, and Arya couldn’t help but gawk at him.
“Arya stole my knight!” the boy hissed, stomping his right foot.
“Oh, there, there, my little dove,” Bellegere soothed, kneeling and wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sure we’ll get your knight back. Come greet your aunt Arya.”
“Arya?” he asked, blinking in confusion at the brunette. “Like my…”
“Like your sister, yes,” Bellegere replied, looking up at Arya, who was still staring at the boy in confusion. He stared up at her with big purple eyes, confusing her further.
“You have such lovely hair,” she murmured, smiling down at the boy while glancing across at his mother, who just chuckled.
“Some of my ancestry coming out,” Bellegere explained. “I actually descend from your old royal family.”
“Really?” Arya asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.
“An ancestor of mine was a sometime paramour of Aegon IV,” Bellegere explained. “I’m actually named after her.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Arya replied, and Bellegere just giggled. “Shall we retrieve your knight, er…”
“Balerion,” Bellegere replied.
“Alright,” Balerion shrugged, eager to get his toy back.
He led them to the nursery, where a pair of servants were watching hawkishly as a young girl with hair just like Balerion’s cooed down at a sleeping babe. Balerion bolted inside, grabbing the wooden knight that his sister had apparently forgotten about the moment he left the room, and glared at her before smiling down at it.
“Lady Bellegere,” one of the servants nodded as she spotted her. “We had just about stopped them from arguing when he spotted you through the window and ran off.”
“I figured,” Bellegere replied, smiling down at the babe. “Has he woken?”
“The wet nurse fed him while you were out,” the servant replied, “and he tuckered right out after his meal.”
“A little man already,” Bellegere whispered, beaming down at her babe.
Arya looked down at him, noticing that this one had hair the same color as hers, though as his eyes fluttered open for a second, she saw that they were blue like his mother’s.
“Let’s let Ned rest, Arya,” Bellegere commanded softly.
“But he’s so cute,” the little girl pouted.
“He’ll still be cute later after his nap,” Bellegere replied. “Orna, take them out into the gardens to play.”
“Yes, milady,” Orna replied. “Come along, children.”
The two of them, who Arya realized had to be twins, both perked up at that and followed the servant woman outside.
“He’s Ned?” Arya asked, swallowing thickly.
“He is,” Bellegere replied, smiling sadly. “Named for your father.”
“Why did Jon never try to help us?” Arya asked, keeping her voice quiet for the babe’s sake. “I’m sure that Robb wrote to him.”
“If he did, the letter never came,” Bellegere replied, leading her out of the nursery and towards a richly furnished sitting room.
She directed her to sit in one of the comfortable-looking chairs there while she poured them both a cup of a pale wine that Arya took a sip of the moment she handed her her cup. It was pleasant and not sweet, which she enjoyed.
“Word of what happened in King’s Landing was slow to reach Braavos,” Bellegere explained. “By the time word had come, weeks had already passed, and Jon had just left for Qarth when it did. That’s a long journey, and by the time he finally returned, word had come that your mother and brother had been killed as well.”
“It was too late,” Arya sighed, drinking deeply from her cup.
“He was devastated by the news and vengeful, but though we’re wealthy, we have no armies at our command, and with your people not caring for those born of unwed couples…” Bellegere replied.
“What about sellswords?” Arya asked.
“Sellswords are loyal only to coin, and we couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t be swayed by the Lannisters,” Bellegere replied. “We also have certain other considerations to make.”
“Your children,” Arya nodded. “Fuck, I’m sorry I…”
“Don’t be,” Bellegere replied. “Jon did hire men to try and track down you and your sister. You proved entirely elusive, though Sansa managed to escape King’s Landing. Last we heard, our men believed that she’d been ferried away to the Vale.”
“We do have a cousin who, theoretically, rules the Vale,” Arya replied. “Our aunt is dead, though.”
“So we heard,” Bellegere nodded. “Jon’s going to be thrilled beyond words to know that you’re safe here.”
“I don’t think I remember what safe is,” Arya spat, downing the rest of her wine.
“You’ll recall in time,” Bellegere assured her, placing a hand on hers. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”
“Thank…” Arya trailed off as a large bird flew in then and landed atop the chair next to her, fixing her with a most curious stare.
It was a frightening-looking thing, with ink-black feathers on its head, back, and wings, and red feathers on its chest. Its long beak looked sharp and strong, as did its talons. Its beady black eyes regarded her with a strange intelligence that made it look even more unsettling.
“Who’s this?” the bird asked, and Arya jumped out of her seat in shock.
“How bloody strong is this stuff?” she asked, glaring at Bellegere, who just laughed.
“This is Silverwing, one of our parrots,” Bellegere replied. “They’re birds from the Summer Isles who can actually speak, or at least, they can mimic words. Silverwing, this is Arya Stark.”
Silverwing’s eyes shot right to her in shock, as though she actually understood what Bellegere said to her. Arya looked at the bird warily, getting the sense that there was a little more to her than there appeared, though she wasn’t sure what.
“Why’s she named Silverwing?” Arya asked.
“The other parrot is named Vermithor,” Bellegere replied. “He’s with Jon, as is Ghost, the direwolf your father sent us after Jon sent you all your gifts. Is that the sword he sent you at your hip?”
“It is,” Arya replied, drawing it just enough to show off the blade. “Needle.”
“Do you have any possessions other than what’s on you?” Bellegere asked. When Arya shook her head, she added, “We’ll have to get you new clothes, though that can wait until tomorrow.”
“Milady, the chambers for your guest have been set up as you asked,” one of the servants announced as she entered the room, and Arya looked at Bellegere in surprise.
“I asked one of the guards to relay my orders,” Bellegere explained. “If you’d like to freshen up and/or rest, feel free, and we can dine later.”
“That sounds amazing, thank you,” Arya replied.
“Lead her to her chambers,” Bellegere ordered, and the servant gestured for her to follow. As Arya left, she heard the woman say, “I found her in the Isle of the Gods, yelling at the temples.”
She turned her head as subtly as she could and saw that Bellegere seemed to be speaking to Silverwing. Shaking her head at that, she followed the servant, desperate for a chance to wash up and get some rest.
*****
“I will never tire of that sight,” Jon breathed as he gazed up at the Titan of Braavos.
The gigantic statue of granite and bronze was just as splendrous then as it was the first time he saw it. It was early in his fostering when he accompanied Ser Wylis to Braavos. The Northern knight had taken a liking to him early on, seeing what a talent he had with a blade, and had taken him on as his squire. It was one of the proudest moments of Jon’s young life then, and though he’d still missed Winterfell terribly in those days, he did appreciate being able to display his true talent for once without fear of drawing Lady Catelyn’s wrath for overshadowing his trueborn brother.
“Aye,” Calon, one of the original men sent to crew his first ship, replied. “Even the wonders of Yin paled next to that behemoth.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jon chuckled, thinking of the fortune in jade and other goods he was bringing back with him.
“I do so love making a rich man richer,” Calon drawled, and Jon cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You say that like you’re not getting your cut,” he said, making the other man chuckle. “Maybe if you don’t spend it all on gifts for the Nightingale and wine it will last a little while this time.”
“We can’t all be lucky enough to go home to a woman like yours, Jon,” Calon grinned. “I don’t think there’s a man in your entire fleet as eager to get back as you are.”
“Eager is the word,” Jon breathed, looking back up at the titan as they passed under him and letting his mind wander.
He was eager to get back, and not just because of Bellegere and the children, though he couldn’t exactly tell the others why else he would be, since that would mean explaining how he knew. His wife was the only one he’d ever confided in about his ability to peer through the eyes of his parrots and Ghost. The others thought he was just blessed by the gods, with how he always seemed to know when trouble was brewing nearby. As though summoned by his very thoughts, Vermithor flew over and landed on his shoulder.
“Home,” the parrot croaked, and Jon chuckled.
“Aye,” he murmured. “Home.”
Home was something that he’d taken a lifetime to find, though he hadn’t realized until he met and wed Bellegere just how much he’d craved it. Looking out towards the manses built around the Sealord’s Palace, he remembered how he’d come to realize that.
*****
“White Harbor?” Jon asked, aghast. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Son,” Ned replied.
“But, then why me?” Jon asked, his young mind unable to fathom why he would be sent away. “Why not Robb, not that I want him to go either?”
“I think it will be good for you,” Ned replied. “I was fostered in the Eyrie as a boy, and they were some of the best years of my life. This will give you a chance to grow and prosper in an entirely different environment.”
“I don’t want to go, though,” Jon whined. “I love it here in Winterfell with you, and Robb, and…”
“Son,” Ned cut him off, a flicker of something he didn’t recognize flashing across his grey eyes, “I need you to trust me on this. You’ll like White Harbor, I promise.”
Jon looked away, feeling like the world around him was slipping away, and caught sight of Lady Catelyn, staring at the pair of them with a look of satisfaction on her face.
*****
“Oh gods, he’s choking!” Wynafryd cried as she stared at her grandfather in horror, watching the man’s face turn increasingly red as he clawed his throat, standing up and trying in vain to breathe. “Someone do something!”
“Maester Galbar?” Wylis asked, desperately looking to the learned man, who stared wide-eyed at his choking lord.
“We need to force him to exhale,” Maester Galbar replied, forcing his voice to remain steady as he frantically tried to think of something that would work. “I read of a technique once that…”
“Do it!” Wylla demanded, her eyes growing watery as her grandfather’s face started to turn blue.
“I...I would need to wrap my arms around Lord Wyman and, well…” Maester Galbar stammered, trying not to say that his lord was too fat for it to possibly work.
“Wait, we just need to force the air from his lungs, right?” Jon asked.
“Yes, but...wait!” Maester Galbar exclaimed as he realized what the freshly knighted young bastard had in mind.
Jon paid him no heed, knowing all too well that punching a man in just the right spot could force the air from him. He drove his fist into his lord’s stomach, barely dodging in time as a piece of half-chewed chicken spewed from his mouth, flying clear across the room.
“Damn it, Snow, that...worked?” Maester Galbar asked incredulously as Lord Wyman started to breathe again, leaning against the table as he tried to calm himself.
“Thank...you,” Wyman panted, his face returning to normal as he managed to breathe again.
“Fuck me,” Lord Wylis marveled as both his daughters frantically hugged his former squire.
“Thank you, thank you!” the pair of them cried almost in unison, and Jon wrapped his arms around them both, thanking every god he could think of that that actually worked.
“Ask...anything of me...and I’ll grant it,” Lord Wyman panted as he slumped back in his seat, making the wood creak almost dangerously.
Jon only had to think about it for a moment to know what he was going to request. Having lived for four years in White Harbor, he’d learned much and more of the sea and his many times reading through Master Mathis’ work on Corlys Velaryon’s voyages had instilled in him a desire to sail further than the Manderlys ever did. He would miss White Harbor, but he could always return someday, and he yearned to see more of the world. His first destination, though, would be Braavos, a city he’d been to before and wanted to explore more thoroughly on his own.
*****
“So this is a tourney of sorts?” Jon asked the man nearest to him, who just rolled his eyes.
“Listen for yourself, kid,” the man muttered.
“...a test of skill and daring, to see who among you bravos is truly the finest sword in our fair city,” the announcer continued. “The Iron Bank is hosting this tournament, and the prize offered is every bit as rich as you would imagine; some treasures are far greater than others. The winner will receive not just a small fortune in coin but also the maidenhead of Bellegere Otherys, only daughter of our own famous Black Pearl.”
The crowd erupted in jeering applause at that, and Jon furrowed his brow as a girl who couldn’t have been any older than him stepped forward. She was stunningly beautiful from what he could see and smiled at the crowd, but something about the smile struck him as forced, and she appeared quite tense. A beautiful, somewhat darker-complexioned woman stood behind her with a smile that looked just as forced, and he rested his hands on the pommel of his sword as he quickly made a decision.
“Where do I sign up?” he asked one of the men in the crowd, and he burst out laughing.
“You?” the man chuckled. “I think you’re a little young.”
“You’d be surprised,” Calon grinned. “Are you sure, though, Jon?”
Looking back up at the girl, he knew the answer to that.
*****
“There’s no need for that,” Jon said quickly as the Bellegere went to sink to her knees the moment they were alone, and she cocked her head at him in confusion.
“What?” she asked.
“I entered the tournament because I wanted to prove myself and because I saw that you were plainly uncomfortable with being used as a prize,” Jon explained. “We don’t actually need to do anything.”
“Who are you?” Bellegere asked.
“Ser Jon Snow,” Jon replied, and she kissed him.
Jon stumbled backward, his back pressing into the wall as she pushed her tongue between his lips, and he returned the kiss hungrily. Her body was warm and plush as she pressed herself into him, and he groaned as he felt his cock grow rapidly in his breeches.
“Jon, I just watched you beat men twice and thrice your age with ease,” Bellegere purred. Leaning in, she whispered in his ear, “I’m wetter than I’ve been in my entire life, and you’re utterly mad if you think I’m not fucking you after a performance like that.”
“I...oh!” Jon gasped as she started nibbling on his earlobe and undoing his belt. “So long as you actually want to.”
“I want you,” Bellegere whispered in his ear, tracing the arc of it with her tongue. “My mother is one of the finest courtesans in Braavos, and though I’ve never had a man inside me before, I’ve been very, very well-trained. There isn’t a single thing I’m not prepared to let you...what the fuck?”
“Oh gods,” Jon groaned as he felt her palm his cock.
He’d had a whore just before he left, with Ser Wylis managing to convince him to trust the wonders of moon tea, but though she’d been wonderful, she wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of him, and he hadn’t made him feel nearly as much desire as he did then. After a moment, he noticed that she’d stopped moving and was staring down at his breeches-covered cock with her jaw hanging open.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This is…” Bellegere went to ask as she removed his belt and stared down at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“What is it?” Jon asked. The whore back in White Harbor had had the same odd reaction, though she’d dismissed it as being nothing and quickly begged him to fuck her, something that they’d ended up doing repeatedly over his last two days in the city.
“You’re huge,” Bellegere breathed, sinking to her knees and staring at him in wonder.
“Really?” Jon asked, and the girl just giggled.
“Let me be on the top, alright?” she asked. “I think I can take this but fuck it’s going to be a tight fit.”
“Alright,” Jon replied, eager to have her however she liked.
*****
“Oh gods…” Bellegere panted hours later, clinging to him as she shook like a leaf.
Jon held her tightly, his brain swimming in pleasure as they both came down from their latest peaks. He’d had her in every way he’d ever imagined having a woman and a few he’d never even thought of. They were exhausted, dripping with sweat, and half-delirious, lying together in a thoroughly soaked, possibly ruined bed. He tightened his grip on her still-quivering form, wishing that he’d never have to let her go. No one had ever inflamed his passions like her or made him feel anything like he did in that moment, and before he knew it, words he never thought he’d speak were tumbling out of his mouth.
“Be mine,” Jon breathed, burying his face in her mane of dark hair and licking the salty sweat from her neck. “Be mine, and I’ll be yours forever. Be my wife.”
“A...alright,” Bellegere panted, too cum drunk to fully understand what he’d said, though it still made tears form in her eyes and an ear-to-ear smile form on her face.
The next day, as she soaked in a warm bath, trying to ease the soreness in her thoroughly battered holes, she’d consider the proposal properly and what it would mean if she agreed, but in that moment, all she knew was that she wanted to wake the next morning in Jon’s arms.
*****
“A letter from your father?” Bellegere asked a couple years later as she saw her husband sitting in his solar and reading over the letter in his arms.
“Aye,” Jon replied, scratching at the full beard that she thought made him look even more handsome than he did without it. “We’ve been writing to each other for a little while now. He’s been amazed to learn how well I’ve done for myself.”
“I’m not,” Bellegere purred, wrapping her arms around him from behind and kissing his cheek. “I always knew you’d be great.”
Jon chuckled at that and kissed her hand.
“How are the twins?” he asked.
“Asleep, finally,” Bellegere sighed tiredly, yet with a smile on her face. “Are you thinking of visiting Winterfell?”
“I’d like to introduce you to them, but it wouldn’t be an entirely pleasant visit,” Jon sighed. “He hasn’t outright said as much in his letters, but I get the sense that Lady Catelyn was less than pleased to learn how wealthy I’ve become.”
“You’re probably richer than her illustrious family,” Bellegere grinned, not exactly fond of the woman who had done so much to make her husband feel unwelcome in his own childhood home.
“I’m thinking of getting my siblings all gifts,” Jon said. “Swords for Robb, Bran, and Arya, silk for Sansa that she can have dresses made from, and wooden toys for Rickon.”
“That would be really nice,” Bellegere smiled.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen them, and I never actually met Rickon,” Jon sighed. “I just want to remind them I exist and I still think of them.”
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate the gifts, my love,” Bellegere whispered.
*****
“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Bellegere whimpered as her husband wept in her arms. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I just don’t understand,” Jon sobbed. “How did so much fall apart so quickly?”
“It seems they were beset by enemies on all sides,” Bellegere replied. “I’ve hired more guards for the manse in case their enemies turn to us and was thinking about hiring sellswords to try and track down your sisters, but…”
“No,” Jon cut her off, wiping his eyes. “I’ll send men I trust for that. Gods, I could tear that cunt king’s throat out with my teeth!”
“What are you thinking?” Bellegere asked, instantly concerned.
“I’m not going to war, love,” Jon assured her. Glaring out at the titan, he added, “I am a man of some means, though, and there are plenty of ways to cause others harm without war.”
*****
Jon shook his head as the ship neared the port and moved to dock it with practiced ease, his mind stormy as he considered his enemies. Getting Arya safely in his custody was an unexpected boon, as the last report he’d gotten about her said that she’d not been seen since their father had been murdered. It left Sansa to be found, as she’d apparently disappeared not long after Joffrey was killed, but he remained hopeful that she’d be found, and at any rate, he had one of his siblings nearby, and that was something to celebrate.
Peering out at the rest of his fleet, which was close on his tail, he knew that he’d be at the dock for much of the day, but years at sea had taught him patience, and he smiled at the thought of seeing his family again soon.
“Ghost,” he said softly, getting the giant wolf’s attention, “go home, boy. Let Belle know I’m on my way.”
The silent wolf blinked at him before running off along the dock. A few people jumped at the sight of him, but most of Braavos were familiar with the direwolf by now and knew that he was well-trained and relatively friendly. Eyeing the dockmaster, who had come out to look at the small fleet, he took a deep breath and set to work.
*****
“Gods,” Arya breathed as Jon walked inside and Bellegere brought little Ned to him, and he hugged them both.
She’d not seen her brother in so long that she scarcely remembered him. Having been a young girl when he was first sent away, she had only a few memories of him, but she recalled liking him, and she recalled him having hair the same color as hers. Because of that, she’d expected him to look like their father, and he did to an extent, but Ned Stark was the last thing she thought about as she gazed up at what had to be most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on. He was taller than their father had been and broader, with a fuller beard and a jagged scar across his left cheek and eyebrow that looked like he’d only barely avoided losing the eye. Vermithor flew in, going straight to Silverwing, who chirped happily at the sight of him.
“Arya?” Jon asked, and she looked up at him.
He’d knelt down as she was watching the birds, hugging the twins, and stood up as they marveled at the gifts he’d gotten them.
“Her name’s Arya too!” his daughter exclaimed, and Jon chuckled.
“I know it is, my girl,” Jon chuckled, ruffling her hair. Turning to Arya, he smiled and said, “Gods, I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were here.”
“I have a hard time believing it myself some days,” Arya replied, stepping forward. “You look so much like Father.”
“Come here,” Jon breathed, pulling her in for a hug, and Arya let herself melt into his embrace.
Living in their manse over the past few weeks had been like a dream, as she enjoyed luxuries that she’d either taken for granted or scoffed at as a girl, only to find that she really, really liked them. It had taken over a week for her to lose the fear that she was going to wake up in the middle of the woods back in Westeros somewhere, learning that this entire episode had been one long, cruel dream. She couldn’t say that she was used to her new situation yet, but she’d started to accept it.
She looked up at him and thought to herself that he had to be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Her face flushed slightly at that thought, and she almost looked away, not exactly needing any more confusing thoughts about her new home than she’d already had about Bellegere. As he stared down at her with such tenderness and affection, though, she felt her heart flutter in her chest.
“My heart shattered when I heard what had happened,” Jon whispered. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“I don’t know how I am, to be honest,” Arya replied quietly, burying her face in his muscular chest and inhaling his masculine scent.
“You’re a survivor,” Jon smiled, running his fingers through her hair, which was only a couple inches shorter than it had been when she cut it by then. Spotting the blade at her hip, he murmured, “You kept the sword?”
“I’ve used it,” Arya replied, staring up at it. “It’s saved my life more than once.”
“Blades will do that in skilled hands,” Jon smiled.
“She’s sparred with some of our guards,” Bellegere murmured. “She’s good.”
“I’ll have to see for myself,” Jon grinned, and Arya returned the look.
“Darling, you received a letter while you were out,” Bellegere commented, and Arya cocked an eyebrow at the odd emphasis she’d placed on that.
“This will concern you too,” Jon whispered. “Orna, get the children ready for the feast. We’ll be dining soon, I imagine.”
“We will be,” Bellegere replied.
“But Father…” Balerion went to object.
“I’ll be along shortly, I promise,” Jon cut him off with a smile, “and then I’ll tell you all about the wonders I saw in Yin, including the tigers.”
“The big, orange cats?” Balerion asked, perking up at that.
“Of course the big, orange cats,” little Arya scoffed, earning a glare from her brother.
“Come along, you two,” Orna said firmly but gently as she took Ned from Bellegere.
“So what’s this letter?” Arya asked, and Jon tapped a finger across his lips before making his way to his study.
On his desk there was a large pile of correspondence, on top of which sat a letter sealed with black wax, imprinted with the sign of the crescent moon. He unsealed it and read the letter quickly, barking a laugh as he did so.
“Tywin Lannister is dead,” he declared, and Arya gasped, “as is his son.”
“The Kingslayer?” she asked breathlessly.
“No, the imp,” Jon replied. “I hired men to kill them both, though as it turns out, they only needed to kill Tyrion, as he’d already seen to his father.”
“The imp killed his own father?” Arya asked, her eyes going wide.
“So they claim,” Jon replied. “They know I’d pay either way, but I doubt they’d just make that up.”
“Why him, though?” Arya asked. “Why not Ser Jaime or his cunt of a sister?”
“I had men investigate that family thoroughly when I learned what had happened,” Jon replied. “Tywin Lannister was the one holding them all together, the only one, and out of his children, only Tyrion had the intelligence to replace him. With them both dead, they’re doomed.”
“How can you be certain?” Arya asked.
“Because I know how few mistakes it truly takes for an entire dynasty to collapse,” Jon replied. “Cersei Lannister is every bit as malignant and stupid as her eldest son and Aerys Targaryen were. She is poison, and without her father and youngest brother there to hold her in check, she will fuck everything up, trust me. Westeros will collapse into anarchy soon enough, a fitting punishment for what happened to our family.”
“What about Winterfell?” Arya asked, and Jon sighed.
“Do you want to rule it?” he asked simply. “Do you want to be Lady Arya and be responsible for both the entire North and popping out an heir or two to take your place in time?”
“No, but you…” Arya went to reply.
“I have no desire to rule it,” Jon replied, “and I wouldn’t be accepted if I tried. I’m a Snow, not a Stark. Now, I have hired assassins to poison the next feast thrown at the Twins, so hopefully House Frey will cease to exist soon enough, and I’ll have the Boltons killed in time, but there’s no one left who could actually take Winterfell properly. If Robb were still alive, or Bran, or Rickon, that would be different, but they aren’t.”
“I see,” Arya sighed, having expected more or less that answer. She was still too thrilled by the news of the Lannisters’ deaths to be too disappointed.
“I’ve made a home here, Arya,” Jon continued, smiling at Bellegere, who had remained quiet through that entire conversation, “and in time you could too.”
“You are, as I’ve said, more than welcome,” Bellegere assured her.
“I know, and...thank you, truly,” Arya smiled. “Is it safe hiring assassins like this? What if it gets traced back here?”
“None of the assassins know who they’re working for,” Jon replied. “My correspondence with the men I’ve been working with is all funneled through Pentos. They think they’re working for a man there named Treagor. The man forwarding our letters back and forth in Pentos is paid very well for his discretion and thinks that he’s working for a Braavosi ally of Daenerys Targaryen.”
“I suppose we would share more than a few enemies,” Arya muttered. “Have you met her in your travels?”
“No,” Jon replied. “I’ve never been to Slaver’s Bay, and though I think we might have just missed each other at sea when I went to Qarth, that would be the closest we’ve come to meeting.”
“I think that’s enough talk of assassins and slavers,” Bellegere said, cupping Jon’s cheek. “We’ve not seen you in moons, my love. Tell me that this voyage was worth it at least.”
“More than,” Jon rumbled, resting a hand on her right hip and grinning down at her. “The fortune I managed to bring back this time will make our family possibly the wealthiest in Braavos. I’m not planning to leave again for at least two years.”
“Two whole years with you?” Bellegere purred. “How lucky I am!”
“Oh hush, you,” Jon chuckled, slapping her arse before reddening slightly as he remembered they weren’t alone.
“I think that’s my cue to check on my niece and nephews,” Arya piped up, trying not to look at good sister’s arse through the tight-fitting red gown she was wearing or to imagine how much it must have jiggled just then when Jon struck it.
“No, that’s alright,” Bellegere giggled. “This ravenous beast I wed just hasn’t been able to touch me in a while.”
“Every day was torture, my love,” Jon rumbled, gazing down at her with undisguised hunger, and Arya shivered as she felt heat pool low in her belly.
Shaking her head she turned to leave, eager for the feast to come.
*****
“Yes, yes, yes, YES!” Bellegere squealed from the next room over that night, and Arya groaned to herself.
“Gods, I mean, I get it, but still,” she muttered, shaking her head and getting out of bed.
The two of them had been at it for hours and didn’t seem like they’d be slowing down anytime soon. Pouring herself a cup of wine, Arya sat down on the bed and listened to the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin and Bellegere’s passionate cries of pleasure. Living in Braavos had been a dream after so long spent on the run, but it hadn’t been without challenges. She had never in her life found another woman attractive; she barely found any men attractive, but something about Bellegere had changed that, and living with the goddess in question had been more than a little difficult at times. As she continued to overhear Jon fucking her hard and fast and tried not to picture the position she was being taken in, she recalled an incident from just a few days after she arrived.
*****
“Ahh,” Arya sighed to herself as she soaked in the large, over-sized tub she’d had the servants fill with hot water.
It was a bronze thing, so large that it almost reminded her of the hot springs of Winterfell, and she smiled to herself as she let the heat relax her body.
“Arya?” Bellegere asked, and Arya’s eyes shot open in shock as she saw the older woman standing in the room, draped in a robe.
“Bellegere, I…” Arya spluttered, instinctively covering her small breasts, even though she was under the water.
“I asked the servants to fill the tub earlier,” Bellegere replied. “Did no one say anything to you?”
“I asked them to fill it,” Arya replied, confused. “You said I could use it a few days ago.”
“I guess there was a miscommunication,” Bellegere chuckled.
“Hey, it’s your manse,” Arya said, sitting up. “Give me a moment, and I’ll get out of here.”
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Bellegere smiled. “You got here first, and I know well how enjoyable it is to soak in that, though...if you don’t mind, I could join you. We are both women.”
“Insofar as knives made of Valyrian steel and wood are both weapons,” Arya thought to herself as she stared up at her host. “I should say no. I should just leave and let her be.”
“If you don’t mind,” she said instead, rushing to get the words out quickly, and Bellegere immediately opened her robe, revealing that she wasn’t wearing anything under it.
“By the gods,” Arya thought to herself.
Bellegere was easily the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her life, surpassing her mother, Sansa, and Cersei with ease. Lights seemed to shine more brightly when she was near them, and she’d thought from the first time she laid eyes on her that she was stunning, but seeing her and seeing her naked were two very different things.
Her breasts were large and full, sitting surprisingly high on her chest considering that she’d carried children twice, capped by large brown nipples that made the Northern girl’s mouth water. Her stomach showed signs of her pregnancies, being a little soft and just slightly round, but that didn’t take away from her beauty at all, and with how wide her hips were, her waist looked even narrower than it was by comparison. Arya let her eyes wander up and down along the other woman’s form, unable to help herself, only to stop abruptly as her gaze passed back up along her long, shapely legs and paused at her sex.
“Do Summer Islanders not grow hair there?” she asked, flushing as she did so, and Bellegere giggled.
“They do,” Bellegere replied, “and even if they didn’t, I have enough blood from other peoples in my veins that I surely would. I shave it.”
“Why?” Arya asked as the dark-skinned beauty stepped into the tub and let out a sigh of pleasure that made her cunt flutter.
“I prefer the way it looks, and so does Jon,” Bellegere replied.
“I can’t imagine putting a knife anywhere near...there,” Arya replied, and Bellegere just smiled as she started scrubbing herself down in the scented water.
“It isn’t so bad once you know what you’re doing,” Bellegere replied. “What did you put in this?”
“I found oils that smelled like the woods,” Arya replied, and Bellegere smiled.
“I got those for Jon,” she replied. “Most men don’t bathe in heavily scented water, and I do have to remind him when I want him to, but I like it when he smells woodsy.”
“I guess it did kind of remind me of home,” Arya said softly, and Bellegere looked at her sympathetically.
“Would you like me to shave you?” she asked and Arya’s eyes widened at the thought of the other woman touching her so close to her cunt.
“I guess, if you’d like,” she replied before she could stop herself, and Bellegere just grinned. “I’ve been meaning to ask, where did you get this thing? It’s huge.”
“It was my mother’s,” Bellegere replied. “It used to be a fixture of her pleasure barge. Her servants would fill it with pot after pot of water heated on shore and carried over if one of the men she was entertaining wanted to bathe with her. When she died, I inherited everything, and after Jon and I bought this place, I had it brought in.”
“Entertained?” Arya asked, and Bellegere just nodded.
“She was a courtesan,” Bellegere replied. “She used to entertain all manner of men.”
“She was a whore?” Arya asked, her eyebrows shooting to her forehead, and Bellegere shook her head.
“Of a different sort,” she replied. “I descend from a long line of courtesans, starting with Bellenora Otherys, the eldest daughter of my famous namesake. She herself was the daughter of a Sealord of Braavos and a priestess of the goddess of love in the Summer Isles.”
“Wow,” Arya gaped, genuinely shocked. “Um, were you…”
“No,” Bellegere replied. “I had planned to follow in my mother’s footsteps, but she ended up with some fairly dire gambling debts, and the Iron Bank gave her a way to repay them by offering my maidenhead as a prize in a tournament. Jon won it, took me, and after one night with him, I knew that I never wanted another man as long as I lived.”
“You fell in love that night?” Arya asked, thinking that was an oddly sweet ending to a story involving a woman trading a night with her daughter to settle a debt to a bank.
“No,” Bellegere chuckled. “Love takes time to develop, and though I did fall quickly for him, I had to get to know him first. He just completely ruined me that night.”
“Huh?” Arya asked as she watched Bellegere bite her lip and stare off into space with rapidly darkening eyes.
“Your brother is a very, very special man,” Bellegere purred. “It took only a single night of enjoying his endless passions to know that no other could ever hope to satisfy me. Gods, I miss him.”
Arya suppressed a quiver at the sheer lust and desire in the other woman’s voice. “So you two bathe together in this a lot, huh?”
“Oh, yes,” Bellegere grinned. “I think little Ned was made in this.”
Arya choked on her spit at that, and Bellegere rushed over to make sure she was alright, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” she asked as Arya coughed, and the brunette just stared into her eyes.
“Y...yes,” she replied and Bellegere smiled.
“You’re really quite beautiful,” she murmured, and Arya froze.
“What?” she asked.
“You,” Bellegere replied, looking her up and down. “You’re very pretty.”
“No, I’m not,” Arya replied automatically. “You’re beautiful; you’re practically a goddess.”
Bellegere laughed at that and said, “Thank you. You are lovely, though.”
“I guess I look a little like Jon,” Arya muttered.
“You have his coloring, and there are a couple other similarities, I’ll admit, but trust me, Arya, that’s where it ends,” Bellegere smiled. “Stand up for me.”
“Alright,” Arya replied breathless, figuring that it was only fair since she’d seen all of her.
“Mmm, do you really think it so impossible that I might find you beautiful?” she asked.
“No one finds me beautiful,” Arya replied, and Bellegere looked at her sympathetically.
“If you were awkward as a child, that awkwardness has passed,” she replied, standing up and gazing down at her. She cupped her cheek, making her quiver, and stared down at her, tracing a thumb over her as she added, “You have lovely eyes, nice lips, and a cute little nose. Your body has developed nicely too.”
“Please,” Arya scoffed. “My breasts are small, and my legs are short…”
“Your breasts are perky and your legs are shapely,” Bellegere countered, cupping one of her breasts. Arya gasped at how oddly good that felt as the taller woman continued, saying, “Your hips are quite wide for your figure, and your bum rather round. You might have gotten used to thinking of yourself as unattractive when you were a girl, but I think that changed when you weren’t looking.”
“W...why are you doing this?” Arya stammered, staring up at her lustfully. “You’re my brother’s wife.”
“I am, and that makes us sisters of a sort,” Bellegere replied softly. “I cannot imagine letting a sister of mine believe she’s ugly when she’s beautiful.”
“Sansa and her friends used to call me horseface,” Arya admitted bitterly, and Bellegere tutted.
“They were cruel and wrong besides,” she whispered, leaning in close. “You’re gorgeous, Arya Stark, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
Arya stared up into her eyes and leaned in, not sure what she wanted but wanting it very much.
“Now, would you like me to shave you?” Bellegere asked, shifting back a little, and Arya blinked in confusion at her before shaking her head.
“If you wish,” she replied, and the older woman grinned, stepping out of the tub and offering her hand.
*****
“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” Bellegere cried. “Gods, I love your fucking cock!”
Arya pressed her fingers between her legs through the nightgown Bellegere had had made for her and slapped a hand over her mouth to suppress her moan. Hiking the gown up, she felt her bare mound and gasped in pleasure. She and Bellegere had had numerous interactions like that since, and she’d shaved the hair that had once covered her cunt multiple times since then. She never touched her nether lips themselves and hadn’t touched her breasts since that day, so Arya had come to think that she was just really affectionate, but that didn’t stop her, much to her shame, from wanting her to.
Sitting down on the bed, she rubbed her throbbing little nub hard, closing her eyes and imagining what Jon and Bellegere were doing just then. In her mind he had her on her hands and knees, his large hands grasping her wide hips as he rutted her like an animal. She pictured him, his powerful muscles glistening with sweat as he took her hard and fast. Even through the rich blue doublet he’d worn, she could see his powerful physique during the feast and knew that he had to be strong. The thought of the pair of them together was more sinful than anything she’d ever known, and she moaned into her hand as they continued to fuck loudly.
“JON!” Bellegere shrieked, and Jon roared afterward, clearly seeding her.
Arya rolled over and bit her pillow as she came too, pleasure thundering through her, and she prayed that her brother and his wife never learned about it. She didn’t even want to think about what they’d say if they did.
*****
“You’re...a...god,” Bellegere panted as she basked in the afterglow of their coupling.
“Then you’re...my goddess,” Jon rumbled as he nuzzled her neck, making her cunt clench around his softening length.
He pulled himself from her depths and rolled onto his back, pulling her over with him until her face was lying on his chest.
“That was quite the welcome home,” he murmured after a few quiet minutes and she giggled.
“I think I got more out of it than you did,” Bellegere grinned up at him.
“In terms of numbers, maybe, but…” Jon went to reply when her grin turned wicked.
“You know what I mean,” Bellegere purred. “I imagine she’s still rubbing her tight little cunt as we speak.”
“You are wicked, my love,” Jon grinned, pulling her in for a kiss. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear, “Do you really want to fuck my little sister that badly?”
“I do want her, but I want you to fuck her more,” Bellegere replied, reaching down to stroke his twitching length.
“Gods,” Jon groaned, feeling his cock harden again in his grip. “I can’t believe I agreed to that.”
“Oh hush,” Bellegere chided. “You make it sound like I had to do much to convince you. You took one look at her through Silverwing’s eyes and agreed that she was a gorgeous little thing.”
Jon grinned at her at that. One benefit of warging with a creature who could speak was that it made keeping in contact with his wife when he was away at sea easy. When she’d first proposed bringing Arya into their bed, he’d been ashamed at how hard the thought made him. For her part, she just found her pretty and liked the idea of having a pair of siblings who looked so much alike at the same time, but for him it was somewhat darker. There was an appeal to the idea of seducing one of Lady Catelyn’s daughters after how hard the woman had worked to drive him away from their home, but beyond that, from the moment Bellegere first posited the idea, he’d felt like there was something deep inside him that yearned for her specifically because she was his sister.
“How are things with her?” Jon asked.
“She wants me desperately,” Bellegere grinned, “and from the way she was looking at you during the feast, I daresay I’m not the only one.”
“I’ll believe that if I see it,” Jon replied. “If she wants me, I’ll happily seduce her, but what are the chances that we’re both like this?”
“Leave that with me, my love,” Bellegere grinned, kissing him softly. “Now why don’t you go get the oil, and we can let your sister hear me really scream?”
“Fucking hells, how did I get this lucky?” Jon asked, and she smiled softly at him.
*****
“I’m losing my bloody mind,” Arya thought to herself a couple moons later as she crept through the halls of the manse towards Jon and Bellegere’s chambers.
A servant had come by earlier announcing that the two of them wanted to see her, and she’d nearly screamed in fright. She had been in the process of beginning her nightly ritual of stripping naked and getting herself ready for when they started having sex, something that they did most nights. It was shameful, she knew, but she was so far past caring at this point. The two of them kept her up all the time with their loud, passionate lovemaking, to the point that she’d adopted their schedule almost entirely. She said nothing, not wanting it to stop, and had decided that if they wanted to be that loud, she could enjoy herself without care, which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when the servant girl had knocked and said that they wished to see her. Their chambers shared a wall, but the doors were actually rather far apart, and it took her several seconds to reach them.
“Come in,” Jon called out the second she knocked, and she let herself in, coming to a halt as she did so.
Bellegere was sprawled on the large bed, wearing a robe that she knew from experience she had nothing on under, and Jon was wearing nothing but a pair of breeches, exposing his muscular chest and abdomen. She let her eyes rake over his form, taking in every scar and wishing that she could trace each one with her tongue before she shook that thought away.
“Gods, what’s wrong with me?” she thought to herself. It turned out that listening to a man fuck the life out of the most beautiful woman in the world every night could make you make a girl want him too, even if he were her brother.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked.
“I just received news,” Jon replied, setting the letter in his hands aside. “The operation at the Twins was a complete success. My assassins poisoned the entire feast with something slow-acting, and their servants were horrified to find them all dead in their beds in the morning. House Frey is no more, and Robb and your mother have been avenged.”
Arya’s jaw dropped at that. He’d mentioned wanting to deal with the Freys, but she hadn’t thought that he’d actually pull it off, and before she knew what she was doing, she was running towards him, jumping into his lap, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you,” she breathed, shivering as his powerful arms wrapped around her. “Thank you so...oh!”
If she’d been thinking more clearly, she wouldn’t have just plopped herself in his lap like that, especially with him only half dressed, but she hadn’t been, and she froze as she felt something very large and very hard press into her. She was about to jump away from him when she caught sight of his eyes and froze again. His dark purple eyes were trained on hers, dark with what she’d spent enough time around him and Bellegere together to know was lust and hunger, and she shivered at the look.
“Jon, I’m so…” she went to say when she felt Bellegere press herself against her back.
“Does Jon look like he wants an apology?” she whispered in her ear, and Arya looked back at her in shock, finding the same hunger in her eyes.
“Belle?” Arya asked, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. “Jon?”
“It occurred to me the other day that Bellegere and I have been doing you a terrible disservice,” Jon grinned, drawing her attention back to him. “Your chambers are right on the other side of that wall, and you’ve surely been able to hear us all these weeks as we fucked.”
Arya blushed brightly as she stared at him slack-jawed.
“Is that true, Arya?” Bellegere asked, pressing her large breasts more firmly against her back, with nothing but her robe and the brunette’s gown separating them. Leaning in, she whispered, “Have you been able to hear as Jon fucked me?”
“Wha...what’s going on?” Arya asked, feeling heat pool rapidly in her core.
“We realized that we’ve been teasing you,” Bellegere replied, “making you listen in night after night as Jon and I indulged our every desire, and never offering you the slightest hint of relief.”
“Relief?” Arya squeaked. “What relief?”
“That would depend on you,” Jon replied, cupping her cheek. “If you want, we could go back to how things have been the past several weeks. You could continue listening to us as we make love, rubbing yourself raw as you do, or…”
“You could join in,” Bellegere finished, kissing Arya’s neck and snaking her hands around her middle. Arya looked back and forth between them, clearly stunned as the Braavosi woman added, “We overheard you a couple times, and honestly, we found it exciting to know that we had turned you on so much you just had to make yourself cum.”
“Jon, you’re my brother,” Arya breathed, and he just grinned.
“That’s not a no,” Jon replied, “and it’s not a problem for me if it isn’t for you. Say the word, little sister, and Bellegere and I will show you everything you’ve overheard over the past couple moons.”
Arya’s breathing grew quick as her cunt flooded and her heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to say yes, more than anything she did, but there was a little voice in the back of her mind that sounded suspiciously like her mother’s saying that doing this would be an affront to both their gods.
“Feel how hard he is, Arya,” Bellegere purred, taking her hand and putting it on his length through his breeches. “Feel how much he wants you.”
“What have the gods done for us anyway?” she thought to herself, leaning in and pressing her lips against his.
Jon chuckled and pulled her in more tightly, kissing her hungrily. Arya had never kissed anyone before, and she quickly decided to follow his lead, copying what he was doing back to him. When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she slid her own along it and moaned at how good the deep kiss felt. Bellegere was far from idle during this, immediately shedding her robe and peppering Arya’s neck with hot kisses as she reached around to remove Jon’s belt. When Jon let her lips go, Bellegere captured them, and Arya moaned into her mouth as he immediately started kneading her small breasts through her gown.
“You’re overdressed,” Jon rumbled. “Help her with that, Bellegere.”
“Gladly,” Bellegere replied, pulling her back out of his lap and leading her to the bed.
She pulled her dress up as she went, quickly exposing her bare arse and cunt, and Arya gasped when she felt the other woman knead one of her plump cheeks. She fell backward and scrambled to help Bellegere undress her, wanting nothing more than to explore the dark-skinned beauty’s curvaceous form. It was something she’d wanted since she first saw her, a desire that felt entirely alien when it first occurred to her but that she’d long since accepted. She felt Jon join them on the bed and looked over Bellegere’s shoulder only to gasp when she saw his fully nude form.
“What the...how the fuck does that fit?” she asked, and Bellegere giggled.
“Very tightly,” she replied, pulling the gown over her head and tossing it aside.
“There’s...there’s no way it could…” Arya stammered, only to cry out as Bellegere brushed her fingers over her slick, pink folds.
“You’re so wet,” she purred. “Is this just from feeling your big brother’s big, throbbing cock under you, or were you already playing with yourself when my servant went to get you?”
Arya went to reply, but only a little squeak got out, and Belleger giggled.
“We women are a lot stretchier down here than you might think, though given that we have to birth babes, it shouldn’t be that surprising,” she added.
“I’m so much smaller than you, though,” Arya pointed out.
“He’ll still fit,” Bellegere assured her. “If I can take him up my ass, you’ll be able to handle him just fine.”
“Your…” Arya trailed off, staring at her in shock.
“You’ve heard her when I’ve buggered her,” Jon said, settling down next to them and grinning at her. “She always screams so loudly, but nothing makes her cum harder.”
“Doesn’t she have the cutest little tits, Jon?” Bellegere asked, cupping Arya’s breasts and grinning at her husband.
“They’re beautiful,” Jon replied, ghosting a thumb over one of her small, pink nipples, “just like the rest of you.”
“Gods, fuck me, please,” Arya begged. “Listening to you two has been torturous.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want to torture you,” Jon grinned. “Get her ready for me, Belle.”
“Gladly,” Bellegere purred, kissing a trail down along the valley between her breasts.
“What is sh…” Arya went to ask, only for Jon to kiss her again.
She returned it eagerly, feeling like her whole body was on fire as Bellegere kissed her way down along her flat belly. She spread her legs instinctively, anticipating that the other woman might start fingering her, only for her brain to go blank as she felt her kiss her clit.
“Wait, wha...ahh!” Arya cried as Bellegere started lapping at her sensitive folds.
Jon grinned down at her before leaning in and capturing one of her nipples with his lips. Pleasure sang through her body, making her feel like she was going to burst. Her late-night adventures had felt amazing, but this far exceeded anything that she’d ever made herself feel. Bellegere’s tongue danced through her folds, exploring every bit of her, save for the sensitive nub that throbbed at the top, and she held her head tightly, trying to nudge her higher. Jon switched from breast to breast, worshiping her with a tenderness that was as surprising as it was wonderful, and when his wife finally reached higher and started swirling the tip of her tongue around her clit, she screamed louder than she had in her life.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, gods, don’t stop!” Arya cried, quivering as she soared towards her peak.
“She tastes so good, Jon,” Bellegere moaned. “Come taste her.”
“If you insist,” Jon grinned, crawling over and kissing her deeply.
The two of them moaned into each other’s mouths, their tongues dueling for dominance, and Arya would have enjoyed watching the display if she didn’t feel like she was about to catch fire.
“Please!” she cried, and the two of them turned to look at her, their cheeks pressed against each other, and they grinned wickedly.
Arya gulped, feeling like a deer caught in the gaze of a pair of predators, and she desperately hoped that they were going to devour her. As though he could read her mind, Jon moved closer, palming her thighs and spreading them further apart as he gazed down at her fleshy, dewy lips. He leaned in, feeling his cock throb as he inhaled her scent and immediately wrapped his lips around her taut little nub.
“Yes!” Arya cried, throwing her head back and moaning loudly as he started sucking on her clit.
Bellegere’s ministrations had been amazing, but Jon was even better, and when he pushed two fingers inside her and curled them upward, she shrieked. He seemed to be searching for something inside her, and before she could even wonder what it might be, he brushed against a spot inside her that made colors flash behind her eyes. The pressure inside her built rapidly, growing more and more intense, and just as she felt like it was too much, it burst, and she came hard.
“JON!” she squealed, her back arching off the bed as pleasure beyond anything she’d ever felt before thundered through her entire body.
She convulsed and writhed as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of her, drawing out her orgasm further until she was sobbing at the intensity. It ended suddenly, and she collapsed on her back, staring up at nothing through glassy, unfocused eyes. Jon crawled between her legs and slapped his rock-hard cock down on her belly, making her jolt and stare down at him in shock.
“So...big,” she panted, feeling her insides clench at the thought of being stretched out by his monstrous length.
“He’s going to ruin you like he ruined me, Arya,” Bellegere purred, brushing her hair out of her face, “but I swear you’ll love it just as much.”
“Do it,” Arya begged. “Fuck me, brother.”
“Gods, why does that make me so hard?” Jon thought to himself as he fisted his cock and brushed it through her folds.
Arya gasped and stared up into his eyes, her own so dark with lust that they looked black. He pressed his cock against her dripping hole, wondering for just a moment if she might actually be too tight for him, but as he pushed forward, he felt her yield, and she cried out when the bulbous head popped inside.
“Fuck!” Arya gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to cling to something.
He felt impossibly huge, and her cunt burned as he stretched her inner walls wide, but she didn’t even consider telling him to stop. She’d broken her own maidenhead accidentally years ago back in Winterfell, when she slipped on a patch of ice and landed in the splits, so she didn’t have to worry about that. Staring up into his eyes, she felt her entire body quiver at the sheer desire in them. No man had ever looked at her like that, and the only other person who ever had was with them on the bed. She looked over at Bellegere, seeing her watch them with rapt attention, and smiled at the older woman.
“How does she feel?” she asked, wrapping her arms around Jon as she rested her head on his shoulder and looked down at Arya.
“So fucking tight,” Jon groaned, sinking another inch of his cock inside her.
“You’re just...horse-sized,” Arya grunted as she felt him stretch her further. “Fuck!”
“Do you need a moment?” Jon asked, caressing her cheek gently.
“No, it’s...ahh...alright,” Arya gasped. “It burns, but like when you really stretch.”
“Which you are,” Bellegere purred. “That burning will pass, I promise.”
“I figured,” Arya sighed. “You wouldn’t beg for him like you do if it didn’t feel really, really good.”
Bellegere giggled at that and reached down to stroke Arya’s clit, making her cry out.
“That’s it,” Jon smiled as he felt her relax around him. “Just focus on the pleasure, and your body will calm itself.”
Arya whimpered as he started fucking her with short, slow strokes, burying a little more of his shaft inside her vice-tight cunt each time he thrust forward. Bellegere kept rubbing her clit gently, not trying to make her cum, but just knowing that every little spark of pleasure would help her relax. The shorter girl stared up at them both in awe, unable to fully believe that she was where she was. Weeks of listening to Jon fuck Bellegere through orgasm after mind-melting orgasm, rubbing herself raw as she did so, had filled her with desires that she never imagined she’d have.
If she’d spent more years with Jon in Winterfell with her, perhaps she wouldn’t have ended up wanting him at all, but she’d still been so young when he left that though she remembered him, it wasn’t all that well. Looking at him, she saw not a brother but a gorgeous, powerful, dangerous man who lit a flame in her like no other ever had. She’d have probably still wanted Bellegere, though, and she was thrilled that she got to have them both.
“You’ve taken more than half of him now,” the dark-skinned beauty cooed in her ear. “You’re such a good girl.”
“He’s so deep,” Arya moaned, barely able to fathom where he’d all gone, much less how the rest of him would fit. She looked down, marveling at how many inches of cock as thick as her wrist were still left, when she noticed a visible bump low in her belly and gasped.
“Yes, you can see him inside you,” Bellegere grinned. “Your little cunt’s never going to be the same again.”
“Oh gods!” Arya cried, feeling her insides clench around his invading member at the thought.
“You like that?” Jon asked, pushing a little deeper. “You like the idea of your brother ruining your cunt for all other men?”
“I never liked any other men anyway,” Arya moaned, raking her nails down along his back as he brushed against something inside her that felt amazing. “My cunt’s all yours.”
“Your cunt, your mouth, your ass,” Bellegere grinned, leaning in close and nibbling on her earlobe. “Soon you’ll be utterly his, just like I am.”
“Fuck!” Arya cried, rocking herself up against him just as he thrust forward.
The last couple inches of his massive cock entered her, and her eyes went wide at the feeling. It felt like he was in her stomach, her cunt stretched to its absolute limit, and she clung to him desperately, completely overwhelmed. Jon smoothed her hair with his large hands and kissed her tenderly, making her heart flutter in her chest.
“Is this how Sansa felt when she looked at those pretty, southern knights?” Arya thought to herself, feeling like her heart might burst she was so happy and excited.
“After you’ve fucked me, you’ll need to show me how to do that thing you two did with your tongues,” she murmured, looking at Bellegere. “I owe my gracious host a lot for this.”
“If you wish to devour me, I’ll be more than happy to let you,” Bellegere purred. “Jon here made me cum so hard and so many times the first night we spent together that I wept.”
“You were the one who kept going on about how huge my cock was,” Jon chuckled, smiling warmly at his wife. “I figured it would help if you were even wetter.”
“It did,” Bellegere purred. Looking at Arya, she said, “We don’t actually have to wait until Jon’s finished inside you for you to taste me.”
“Oh?” Arya asked. “I mean, I guess if I were on my hands and knees…”
“Oh, trust me, little wolf, I’ll be taking you like that soon,” Jon promised her, making her shiver, “but there are other ways for you to feast on Belle while I fuck you.”
“I could sit on your face,” Bellegere grinned. “I’d be careful, I promise.”
“Trust me, Arya, Bellegere’s arse up close is a more magnificent sight than the titan,” Jon chuckled.
“I don’t doubt that,” Arya muttered, looking over at the other woman’s wide hips. Her gaze had been drawn to her arse multiple times since she first arrived. “Alright, do it.”
“I knew you’d be fun,” Bellegere grinned, crawling into place.
She hooked a knee over Arya’s head, and the Northern girl’s vision was suddenly filled with brown, round perfection. She reached up, digging her fingers into her goodsister’s fleshy hips, and licked her lips as she lowered her bare cunt towards them. She snaked her tongue out to brush against her nether lips, only to cry out as Jon pulled most of his cock from her depths, making her feel like he was going to pull her out with him. He was so thick and she was stretched so wide that it felt like he was brushing against every bit of her at once as he moved, and she mewled in pleasure at the intensity of it.
“Mmm, that’s it,” Bellegere sighed as Arya started to lap at her cunt. “You’re as much of of a natural as Jon, though that’s generally expected for women.”
Arya moaned into her as she explored her fleshy nether lips with her tongue and lips. She tasted salty and tangy, but it wasn’t bad in the slightest, and her pleasured sighs and moans made her own cunt quiver.
“We’re going to do this a lot,” she thought to herself, moaning loudly as Jon picked up his pace and she wrapped her legs around him.
“I must admit, my love, I underestimated you,” Jon whispered in her ear as the two of them fucked Arya together.
Bellegere just grinned. The truth was that she figured from the second she saw how Arya looked at her that this might be possible. After all, Jon was gorgeous, and the girl had been very young when she last saw him, so there was a chance she wouldn’t necessarily see him as a brother exclusively. Weeks of teasing her in baths and letting her overhear their loud, enthusiastic sex worked like a charm and as she ground her cunt on the girl’s face, she felt utterly pleased.
“Ahh!” Bellegere cried when Arya wrapped her lips around her clit and started sucking. “Mmm, such a quick learner. Be a little gentler there and don’t stop.”
Arya hummed happily, sucking on and licking her clit as she started rocking her body against Jon’s harder, trying to get him to be a little rougher. He took the hint and picked up his pace again, fucking her with long, hard strokes that made her see stars. The burning sensation that had come from being stretched by him had long since disappeared, replaced by intense pleasure, and she felt herself soaring towards another peak. Jon’s fingers dug into her hips a little harder as he shifted slightly, changing the angle he was thrusting into her at, and Arya shrieked as she felt him push against something deep inside her that felt incredible.
“I think you found the spot,” Bellegere giggled, grinding her cunt on the younger woman’s face harder. “Mmm, don’t stop. I’m getting close.”
Arya devoured her, to the best of her ability, but as Jon continued to fuck her hard, brushing against that insanely pleasurable spot inside her each time he drove deep, it became hard to concentrate. He slowed down after a moment, fucking her less deeply, and she growled in frustration, figuring that he wanted her to get Bellegere off first. She swirled her tongue around the older woman’s clit, making her cry out in pleasure, and sucked on the sensitive nub with short little pulses like Jon had done to her.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh, fuck!” Bellegere babbled, her orgasm building rapidly in her. “I swear this is in your blood.”
Jon chuckled at that, cupping his wife’s large, heavy breasts and bringing one of her nipples to his lips, sucking on the hard little nub. Bellegere moaned loudly, holding his head to her chest, and she jolted when Arya sucked her a little bit harder.
“Fuck!” she squealed as she came hard, writhing in Jon’s arms.
He grinned down at her, holding her tight as Arya lapped up his juices, drinking them down greedily. Picking up his pace again, he fucked her hard and deep, hitting that sensitive spot near the entrance to her womb each time he bottomed out inside her. Arya’s muffled screams grew louder, and he grinned when he felt her start to flutter around him.
“Cum for me, Arya,” Jon grinned, reaching down and rolling her little pink nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. “Cum for me, sister.”
“MMMMM!” Arya squealed against Bellegere’s arse as she came hard.
Jon groaned as he felt her spasm around him, and his eyes widened when he saw a gush of fluid burst from her cunt. Bellegere squirted often enough, but he thought that was unique to her, and he grinned as he realized that his sister was just as prone to it when she came hard enough. He fucked her through her orgasm, drawing out her pleasure as much as possible, and when he finally felt her go limp under them, he stilled and kissed Bellegere.
Pulling her up a little and staring down into Arya’s glassy, unfocused eyes, he asked, “Enjoying yourself?”
“Gods...that was...amazing,” Arya panted.
“Pull out of her, my love,” Bellegere grinned. “I want to feel you inside me, and I want to taste her sweet cunt again.”
“Gladly,” Jon replied, pulling his length from her clinging depths.
Arya whimpered at that, feeling terribly empty without him, but as she watched him move backward, his heavy cock bobbing with his every move, and watched Bellegere crawl away from her, she shivered in anticipation. The Braavosi beauty turned around and settled in between Arya’s spread legs, grinning down at her very pink cunt.
“Gods, you made her gape so wide,” Bellegere purred, grinning wickedly as she stared into her goodsister’s eyes. “I guess we’ll just have to keep and take care of you.”
“I hope so,” Arya breathed, crying out as Bellegere started soothing her nether lips with her tongue.
Jon buried his entire cock inside her to the hilt in one long thrust, making her scream, and Arya watched in awe as he took her more roughly than he’d taken her. She would never know what her life might have turned out like if she hadn’t lost that coin, but as the first of what she was sure would be many very pleasurable nights to come continued, she wasn’t exactly unhappy with how things had gone.