I knew it!
Bronn acted dumbstruck for a moment, staring at Elia Martell, the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the would-be Queen if Rhaegar wasn't the numbskull he was. And truth be told, he wasn't unaffected by her charm. That slender frame, that regal presence, her lovely, sharp face, her big eyes, and that desperation.
But he didn't consider it as taking advantage. If he were lying, it would have been. But his words were true. He could give her a tailored babe, just as she desired. The hair, the face, the eyes, all of those could be tailored.
"Seven bloody hells, Princess?" He exclaimed and moved hastily to ensure the doors were all locked and nobody could hear them. "They're looking for you out there."
Elia Martell nodded firmly, letting go of all hesitation and shame. Her eyes were filled with anger and assertive desire. She had a plan, and she wanted to do it.
"If what you say is true, Bronn, then I'll give you a son. He'll become the King in the future."
Bronn gulped, staring at the stunning Princess. He'd fucked the portmaster's wife. He'd fucked a few other smallfolk women as well. But a nobility of this level, he couldn't help but be excited. Of course, she was using him. But he saw it, if he played his cards right, he'd have a special connection with Dorne, and perhaps, the future King.
"By the Stranger's balls…" He bowed just enough to call it pious. "You nobles always want something rare dressed up as something holy. But I'll hear it. Usually, it's 'give me a son' or 'make the babe pretty', which only takes a single day to bless them. Some get picky—hair color, skin, or body, and that increases the time of the ritual. What is it that you desire, Your Grace?"
"A son with silver hair and violet eyes," Elia demanded firmly. "That much is not negotiable. If the gods are kind, let him be strong, not frail as I've been. Let him be clever, and hale in limb and spirit. That is all I wish."
Elia herself was in disbelief that she was believing in Bronn's words. It was absurd and insane that a man could simply hand over tailored seed to women. Yet, everything she'd heard and seen made her want to believe in him. He was no knight in shining armor, a face slightly above average, a mouth that was as crass as blessed.
"Hmm…" Bronn hummed and rubbed his chin, which had started to grow a stubble beard. "That's a tall order, Your Grace. Might take seven days of holy rites... and by rites, I mean…"
"I understand it." She stopped him from saying it.
"I shall have to make some preparations." Bronn still continued to give her details. "Day one, we give thanks to the Maiden, mainly her gift of your blessed… warm parts. I'll pray with my mouth, proper and slow. On day two, you show my blessed part some reverence. Day three, we do what the Gods made those bits for. Fourth day's special, back door opens in the Maiden's honor. Fifth, we give praise together with our mouths. And on the sixth and seventh? We do the whole blessed sermon again, just harder. May the Crone grant us strength."
Elia's eyes widened, her dusky skin a little flushed. Clearly, she wasn't expecting something so thorough and detailed.
"T-That… Is that truly the ritual?"
No, it's not.
"It is, Your Grace," Bronn replied sincerely. "Amidst the ritual, I shall be speaking prayers as well."
The truth was, Bronn only needed a single night. No, even that was a lot. He only needed one intercourse to give her what she wanted. But there was no joy in it, nor any mystery of a blessing. By making it elaborate, detailed, the illusion of grandeur was easier to create. Besides, when again would he get the chance to bed a Princess like a half-penny whore?
But of course, he was also going to be respectful about it.
"It is…" Bronn walked to the door and peeked out a glance at the sky. Then he closed it again, locked it for good. "Still shy of midnight, Your Grace. If we start now, we might shave a day. The longer we linger here, the more the Stranger squints your way."
Elia gulped, her eyes full of conflict. Yet, she nodded her head. She had lost everything already; what was her body in comparison? For her revenge and her hatred, she was ready to do anything.
"What must I do?"
"Remove your robes to the last piece, Your Grace. They still have some blood on them. I'll bring you a Septa's garb tomorrow. You'll wear it in our escape." Bronn said, and busied himself as well. He grabbed the censer he'd received from the High Septon, added some incense to it, and lit it up. "Lie down on your back on the bed. I'll start the ritual after a short prayer."
Elia felt slightly comforted by the fact that Bronn wasn't ogling her. He wasn't trying to force her down on the bed like a madman in heat. It truly felt like a ritual. She quickly got rid of her robes, letting them fall around her feet. She removed her smallclothes next and stood completely bare.
A few veins popped on her forehead and neck. Feeling the air on her skin, the moment felt far too real now. She unknowingly covered her breasts and loins and weakly moved to the bed. Even as she lay down, she kept her feminine parts covered.
She licked her pale red-brown lips, her mouth going dry. With her head propped on the pillow, her slender frame flat and straight on the single-person bed, she stared at Bronn's back as he prepared some items. The incense had already filled the candlelit room with soothing scents.
"O' Maiden, your servant is to perform the ritual of life. Bestow your grace upon me and the gentle soul that shall receive it." Bronn mumbled like he was giving a sermon, and finally turned around, holding the censer in one hand and a glass bottle with light red liquid in the other.
Fuck! She's… beautiful.
In an instant, he was hard. How could he not? When not just her beauty, but her status also tickled his arousal.
Elia was a sight to behold, an exotic beauty in flesh, all for him to devour the week ahead.
Oh? She's… nursing? Makes sense, the lad was too young.
As far as he'd heard about Elia before, the Septas in the city said that she was rather flat-chested. Now, as he saw her naked, that couldn't be far from the truth. While not swollen like a cow, she had beautiful, round tits he could greedily fondle and milk.
Those legs! Umm… It'll be an interesting week.
Like a Dornish rose stripped of thorns, exotic and divine. Her skin was a rich, sun-touched gold, unblemished, glowing in the candlelight. Her dark, waist-length hair was thick and wavy, sprawled around her noble face. Her eyes were wide, black, unsure, and yet, she didn't break. She lay still, vulnerable, watching him, arms still clutched across her chest and thighs tight together.
Slender, her collarbones jutted like wings beneath her skin. Her belly was tight, untouched. Her arms were thin, not weak, just… fragile. Her hips barely flared from her waist, the elegant curve of a woman who had birthed children, but had never been devoured.
Instead of forcing her to move her hands, Bronn walked to the side of the bed and started dangling the censer over the length of her body, keeping his expression serious as if he was unaffected by her nudity. Only his cock could tell the truth.
"O' Maiden fair with golden grace,
Guide my seed in time and place.
Let silver strands and violet flame
Mark the child that bears her name."
Flick! Flick!
He flicked the glass bottle he was holding, and let a few drops of the light-red liquid in it drizzle on her dusky body. It was just some scented oil he'd made.
But it seemed to do the job as Elia started to relax, taking the ritual seriously. On her own, she removed her arm from her breasts and let them stand bare.
Oh! I'll have fun savoring them.
For Bronn, it was not just about control, but also pleasure. Having noble women dance around his fingers was satisfying. And making them do his bidding in bed was even more joyous. He despised their blue-blooded kind, and this degradation was… payback.
He eyed her chest with hunger, watching those perfect peaks rise and fall with every breath. Her breasts weren't large, but round, high, and perfect for his hands. A noblewoman's tits, smooth and dusky, pale brown nipples standing firm against the cool air, tight with nerves.
The slight softness of motherhood was still there. He noticed the delicate, shallow veins around her curves. He'd heard whispers that she nursed her children herself. The thought stirred his cock to full attention.
"A boy she wants, so let him grow,
Strong of limb and mind to show.
Bless my touch, so soft, divine,
With your light, through flesh, align."
Flick! Flick!
Bronn drizzled more drops of the oil, covering her tits, then her belly. Finally, she removed her hand that covered her most sacred treasure, the cunt that no ordinary man could ever see. Now present to him to savor and devour.
Fuck! I'm hard. What a woman.