Chapter Text
And with a swift stroke of the headman’s sword, Petyr Baelish’s head left his body and rolled across the throne room of Dragonstone. It really was quite skillful, one swift action and a man lay dead. Brieanne hadn’t had cause to witness many executions on Tarth, her father usually gave such criminals worthy of death the chance to take the black.
The hooded man was busy wiping down his sword, and already leaving their viewpoint, the Silent Sisters cleaning the bloodstained block and floor where Baelish’s blood spurted upon his death. It was all very economic, no wasted movement, everyone moving towards the achievement of their goal, followed by quickly removing blood and the body. Dragonstone was in no way unused to death.
And now, after having been waylaid for nearly a week, the gathered lords and ladies turned back to their host, Prince Jonothor, as he sat upon the obsidian throne.
“Let it never be said that any man, lord or peasant, can run away from my brother’s justice. Slavery has but one outcome in Westeros, and that’s a sudden, sharp, end.” The prince announced.
Lords and ladies now sworn to Dragonstone had wondered why they weren’t given leave after the third day, as promised by Prince Jon. They’d all had the chance to speak with him, acquire as to what their singular duties and their duties as a whole would entail. But on the third day they were not permitted to leave, the household guards only saying that something had come up and that they would be required to witness what came next.
Many were rightfully worried. Few knew Prince Jon, he’d spent most of his young life squiring, or fostering with his mother’s family in the North. And the ghost of the Mad King still lingered in the thoughts of all those present.
However, a public execution took them all by surprise. Or would have if rumor had not already spread about Littler Finger’s wrong doing in King’s Landing. Many had wondered if he’d covered his tracks and skirted the King’s Justice.
Apparently not.
“Lord Monford, Aurane Waters, step forward.” Ysilla’s hand gripped Brienne’s as they stood together in the hall. The much taller woman had gotten to know the former Vale lady — quite closely over the last few days. Quite closely , Brienne blushed hotly just thinking about Jon calling Ysilla into the room after she’d been tied to the bed that fourth night.
Her buttocks & thighs were still red with welts from the beating he’d given her. The dark-auburn haired lady had then rubbed cool salve that smelled of mint on her aching backside. Before she’d leaned down, spread her cheeks and kissed her exit. Brienne had been too shocked, absolutely astonished and mortified, and unable to speak as another woman snaked her tongue within her.
When finally Ysilla relented her violation, Jon was already crawling across her legs and pressing his steely shaft at her exit.
For all the prince had done to her on those weeks he’d visited Tarth, Brienne had never been taken in such a way, truly not realizing a woman could be taken from her back entrance. Or that a highborn lady would so easily render aid to such a violation.
Brienne had gotten her revenge the following night, as it was Ysilla’s turn to be tied face down across the bed in the guest quarters. Ysilla who’s ass had been whipped red and burning by the prince’s expert hand, and finally it was Ysilla who’s most intimate opening had been harshly entered by Brienne’s tongue, her fingers, and finally Jon’s cock. Her cheeks burned just remembering those nights, and finally last night, in which Brienne & Ysilla took turns, one sheathing the prince’s manhood with their mouth, while the other licked at his dark starfish.
But the prince was speaking again, and Ysilla was smirking at her with an all too knowing look.
“--in the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you with protecting the young and innocent.” Aurane Waters was being knighted . Brienne cursed herself, had she really mused over the debauchery of the last few nights and missed what the devil was transpiring? Ser Goodwin would fill her in on any particulars she might have missed. Glancing at the old knight, she caught him beaming at her and Ysilla.
Apparently their friendship was much approved by him. As a child she hadn’t been close to any of the other highborn girls, being too tall and ungainly to feel comfortable in their presence, and the highborn boys weren’t fool enough to mock the lady of Tarth, but they withheld friendship just the same.
Any joking notion of his dotage had been quickly forgiven.
Between Ser Goodwin’s beaming pride, and Ysilla’s devilish smirk, Brienne focused on the proceedings, for they at least were a safer topic.
“Rise, Ser Aurane Velaryon, you are hereby awarded the former Lord Baelish’s holding in the Fingers. You are charged to rebuild the towerhouse located there, along with a new dockyard & port. House Velaryon of Driftmark & House Targaryen of Dragonstone will share the cost of construction and repairs. Ser Aurane, you are also charged with starting the Knightly House of Velaryon on the Fingers. Sigil and words, I leave to you.” Prince Jon spoke clearly, so that all those in the hall could hear.
A Knightly branch of House Velaryon? Baelish’s old holdings? To Brienne, it sounded as if these new docks would be a staging area for more of the Royal Navy. She didn’t know the details, but had heard hundreds of ships could sail from Dragonstone with ease. Depending on how large the newly minted Ser Aurane’s holdings actually were, House Targaryen might be doubling their Navy’s strength.
“Do you have the courage and fortitude to bear this burden, Ser Aurane? Or will you let the cup pass you over?”
“No, my prince. I will bear the weight of it. House Velaryon of the Fingers swears its allegiance, now and forever.” Lord Monford looked much like Ser Goodwin, beaming his pleasure for all the hall to witness.
It was not everyday that your brother, trueborn or bastard, became the head of their own House. That your own House’s strength would be expanding. But then again, House Velaryon and House Targaryen shared blood going back generations. They were cousins of the blood.
“Do you think the prince has much more to say?” Lady Ysilla whispered.
“--I don’t believe so?” Brienne whispered back, confused.
“It’s just that it’s getting late in the day, my lady. If there are a great many such topics then we won’t be heading out until tomorrow morning. Or even tomorrow evening .” Ysilla was still holding her hand, her delicate fingers caressing Brienne’s knuckles. She gestured for the taller woman to lean down.
“Do you think I could fit my whole hand in your ass?” Was her outrageous question.
Brienne’s butt may never recover.