aFireFist
A Life in Westeros
Chapter 13 - Part 4
Viserys paused, breathing hard, his narrow chest rising and falling rapidly. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, violet eyes narrowed. "You speak like a commoner. Merchants and coin. Not like a knight."
"I speak like a survivor," Adian replied evenly, tapping the boy's sword with his own to reset the stance. "Knights die pretty deaths in songs. Survivors live to see another day. You should learn both. Now again — slower this time. Control it."
They continued for nearly an hour. Viserys asked questions between bouts — about how Adian had killed the pirates, what the boarding felt like, whether the axe hurt much. Adian answered honestly but carefully, never glorifying the violence, always circling back to practical lessons.
Nearby on a stone bench, Rhaenys sat watching everything with wide, curious eyes. She asked questions constantly, her young voice bright and inquisitive.
"What does the sea smell like up close?" she asked during a break. "Is it different from the canal? Did the pirates have black sails? How many were there? Did you cut their ropes yourself?"
Adian answered patiently between drills, describing the Titan, the salt spray, the chaos of the fight without making it sound like a heroic tale. When he mentioned the arrows whistling overhead, Rhaenys's eyes grew even wider.
"You're nicer than the other tutors," she declared at one point, swinging her legs on the bench. "They talked down to us. Like we were fragile little birds. You don't do that."
Adian gave her a small nod. "You're not fragile. None of you are."
Daenerys refused to be left out of anything. The toddler kept toddling over on her chubby legs, grabbing onto Adian's leg with both hands and demanding "Up!" again and again. Each time he lifted her carefully onto his good arm, mindful of the fresh bandage. She played happily with the leather cord around his neck, babbling in her mix of words and pointing at the lemon tree or the fountain.
"Sea man funny," she giggled at one point, patting his cheek again. Her laughter was bright and infectious, cutting through the courtyard like sunlight.
Rhaella watched from the doorway the entire time. She leaned against the frame, arms crossed loosely under her breasts, her expression soft and almost wondering. Every so often her eyes would meet Adian's across the courtyard. Something unspoken passed between them each time — gratitude, curiosity, and a growing warmth that neither of them tried to hide.
At one point, when Viserys was catching his breath, Rhaella called out gently, "Don't push him too hard on his first day. He'll wear himself out trying to impress you."
Viserys protested immediately. "I'm not tired! I can keep going."
Adian chuckled under his breath. "He's got spirit. That's good. We'll stop soon."
Rhaenys hopped off the bench and came closer, holding out a small bundle of herbs she had gathered while watching. "For your shoulder," she said proudly. "These ones help with swelling. You can crush them with honey."
Adian accepted the bundle with a serious nod. "Thank you. I'll use them tonight."
Daenerys, still in his arms, reached out and patted Rhaenys's head, making her sister laugh. The simple, domestic scene felt strangely right in the quiet courtyard — the fountain trickling, the lemon tree rustling overhead, three children who should have died in fire now safe and lively because of choices he had made years ago.
Rhaella's gaze lingered on him again, softer this time. The weight of years spent in hiding seemed to lift just a little from her shoulders as she watched her children interact with the man who had kept them alive. For the first time in a long while, the courtyard felt less like a cage and more like a home.
***
That evening they ate a simple meal together in the small dining room overlooking the canal. Roasted fish with herbs, fresh bread still warm from the oven, olives, cheese, and watered wine. Nothing extravagant — just honest food that filled the belly. The table was lit by two oil lamps that cast a warm, flickering glow across the wooden surfaces.
The children chattered nonstop, their energy undimmed by the long day.
Viserys sat straighter than usual, clearly still buzzing from the training. "I landed three hits on his shield today," he boasted between bites of fish, waving his fork for emphasis. "And I would have gotten more if he didn't keep moving so fast. Next time I'll be better. You'll see. I'll make you proud when we train again tomorrow."
Adian chewed slowly, nodding. "Three is a good start. But speed isn't everything. You leave yourself open when you swing that hard. Tomorrow we'll work on control. Power means nothing if you can't hit what you aim for."
Viserys frowned but didn't argue. Instead he leaned forward, eyes bright. "Did the pirates really try to board your ship? How many were there? Did you kill them all yourself?"
"More than I wanted," Adian answered honestly, keeping his tone even. "Twelve of us against three ships full of them. We cut most of their ropes and sent them swimming. Fighting on a deck is different from the yard. Everything moves. The blood makes it slippery. You have to stay calm or you die tired."
Rhaenys listened with wide eyes, chewing on a piece of bread. "I don't like pirates. They sound mean. But you're here now, so you must be very strong." She tilted her head, studying him again. "Does your shoulder still hurt? I can make another poultice before bed if you want. The herbs I gave you earlier should help by morning."
"Thank you," Adian said, giving her a small smile. "It's sore, but your herbs will do good work. You pay attention to details. That's important."
Rhaenys beamed, clearly proud. She launched into a long, winding story about the gulls she had named earlier that week — one she called Stormwing because it flew through the mist like it was angry, another she called Silver because of how its feathers caught the light. She spoke with such earnest detail that even Viserys stopped interrupting to listen.
Daenerys, sitting in a raised chair, mostly smeared fish and olive oil across her face and hands, grinning the whole time. Every few moments she pointed at Adian with a sticky finger and declared "Sea man!" or tried to offer him a half-chewed olive. When he accepted one with mock seriousness, she laughed so hard she nearly toppled sideways.
Rhaella watched it all quietly from the head of the table, eating slowly. Her violet eyes moved from one child to the next, then settled on Adian more often than not. There was a softness in her expression Adian hadn't seen before — a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, more vulnerable. She spoke little during the meal, content to let the children fill the room with noise, but every so often she would ask a gentle question.
"Was the training too much for you today, Viserys?" she asked once. "You look tired."
"I'm not tired," the boy insisted immediately. "I could train all night."
Adian chuckled under his breath. "We'll see how you feel tomorrow when your arms are sore."
After the meal, Rhaella rose gracefully. "Time for bed, little ones. Say goodnight."
Viserys grumbled but obeyed after a pointed look from his mother. Rhaenys gave Adian a quick hug, surprising him. "Goodnight. Dream of nice seas, not pirates." Daenerys reached out sleepily for another "up," but Rhaella scooped her up instead, kissing her forehead.
Adian waited in the solar while Rhaella put the children to bed. He stood by the window, staring out at the dark canal below. Lanterns from passing boats reflected on the black water like scattered stars. The city sounds drifted in softly — distant singing from a pleasure barge, the gentle lap of water against stone, the occasional call of a boatman guiding his pole through the night. It was peaceful, but his mind kept turning over details: the new trade contracts, the whispers about Viserys, the letters waiting back in Westeros.
The door opened quietly behind him. Rhaella stepped inside and closed it softly. The room suddenly felt smaller. She had let her hair down; it fell in a thick silver-gold wave over one shoulder, catching the lamplight. She wore a simple nightgown now, the fabric soft and clinging gently to her fuller figure. She looked at him for a long moment, violet eyes steady but full of emotion.
"I know who you are," she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "The man who has kept us alive all these years. The man who risked everything while the rest of the world forgot us or wished us dead."
She stopped in front of him. Her hands came up slowly to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart through his tunic.
"I have thought about you often," she whispered, her fingers tightening slightly in the fabric. "Wondered what kind of man would do this for strangers. What drove you to send ships and gold and messages for so long. Tonight… I don't want to wonder anymore. I want to know you."
Adian slid his hand around her waist, pulling her closer. His injured shoulder protested the movement, but he ignored it. "Then stop wondering."
He kissed her slowly. Not the rough hunger he gave the others, but deep and deliberate, giving her time to feel every second of it. Rhaella melted into the kiss with a soft, trembling sound, her fingers curling tighter into his tunic. Years of loneliness, fear, and careful restraint poured out of her. She pressed closer, body warm and yielding against his. When they finally broke apart, her cheeks were flushed and her breathing unsteady, lips slightly parted.
"Take me to bed," she said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes dark with need. "Please."
Adian took her hand and led her to her modest chamber. A single lamp burned low on the side table, casting a gentle golden light across the simple room. A large mirror stood against one wall, reflecting the soft glow and the two of them as they entered. Adian sat on the edge of the bed and drew her gently between his knees, his hands resting on her hips. His thumbs traced slow circles over the fabric of her gown, feeling the warmth of her body beneath.
Rhaella stood there, trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from the sheer weight of the moment. Years of loneliness, of lying awake wondering if she would ever be touched again, crashed over her. She looked down at him with wide violet eyes as he reached up and began unlacing her gown with deliberate care. The fabric slid down her body in a soft whisper, pooling at her feet. She wore only a thin shift underneath, the material worn from many washings but still soft against her skin.
Her figure was beautiful in the lamplight. Motherhood had changed her in ways that made her even more womanly — fuller hips from bearing three children, soft rounded thighs that pressed together nervously, and heavy breasts that strained against the thin linen, her darker nipples clearly visible and already stiff.
Adian ran his hands slowly up her sides, savoring the warmth of her skin through the shift. He cupped her breasts gently at first, weighing their fullness in his palms, thumbs brushing over her stiff nipples in slow circles. Rhaella gasped sharply, her back arching into his touch as a shiver ran through her entire body.
"They're still sensitive," she breathed, voice shaky. "From nursing Daenerys… they never fully stopped. Sometimes they ache at night when I think too much."
Adian didn't speak. He simply pulled the shift down over her shoulders, letting it join the gown on the floor. Rhaella stood completely bare before him now. Her tits were full and heavy, swaying slightly with her quickened breathing. The nipples were a deep rose color, already glistening. When he squeezed one breast gently, a thin bead of warm milk appeared at the tip and slowly trickled down the soft curve.
Rhaella moaned softly, her cheeks burning with a mix of shame and desperate need. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering half-closed.
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