[166] Mistress of Law

Chapter 166: Mistress of Law

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My solar offered a more intimate setting than the Tower of the Hand – rich artwork depicting dragon hunts, comfortable chairs positioned before a hearth where flames danced despite the mild evening, and a table laid with wine and delicacies from throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Lady Alysanne entered precisely at the appointed hour, still dressed in her burgundy gown though she had added a scholar's chain around her neck – not the maester's chain of the Citadel, but something similar, with links of various metals suggesting areas of expertise. I don’t think it’s anything official, is it? She just wears it on her own?

"An impressive display in the throne room," she said without preamble as she took the seat I indicated. "The lords of Westeros won't soon forget the image of their king conferring such authority on a woman."

I poured wine into two goblets, offering her one. "Does that trouble you? Being the symbol that challenges their preconceptions?"

"I've been challenging preconceptions since I chose books over swords at the age of eight despite my insane size," she replied, accepting the wine. "In a house known for producing brutes like my brothers Gregor and Sandor, a girl who preferred reading to fighting was already an aberration."

She sipped the wine, eyes appreciative. "Arbor gold, from before the war. Your Grace has excellent taste."

"Please, in private, call me Viserys." I settled into my chair, studying her. "Tell me about this choice you made. Most noble girls are encouraged toward feminine arts rather than martial ones. For you to have the option seems unusual."

A smile touched her lips, transforming her severe features into something unexpectedly appealing. "My father was... unconventional. He believed minds were as valuable as muscle, regardless of the body that housed them. When my brothers trained with swords, I was given the option to join them or pursue other interests."

"And you chose knowledge."

"I chose both," she corrected. "I learned swordplay alongside my studies. A mind needs a strong body to house it, after all. But I found greater satisfaction in solving problems through intellect rather than force."

She set her wine down, leaning forward slightly. "Now I've answered your question, allow me one of my own. Why appoint me? There are dozens of learned men who would eagerly fill this position. Men with connections to great houses or the Citadel itself."

I appreciated her directness. "Because those men would merely perpetuate the system that has failed the realm for generations. You see differently. Think differently." I gestured to her scholar's chain. "Those links – they represent your areas of study?"

She nodded, fingers touching the various metals. "Law, history, mathematics, alchemy, architecture, and several others. Self-taught, as the Citadel refuses to train women."

"Their loss is my gain," I said, rising to pour more wine. I moved closer than necessary, noting how she neither shrank from my proximity nor displayed the calculated invitation I'd grown accustomed to from courtly women. "And you're correct. Your difference is precisely why I want you. Fresh perspectives break stagnation."

"Is that the only reason?" she asked, her gaze direct and unblinking.

The question hung between us. It had a meaning that both of us were aware of. I set down the wine decanter, my hand deliberately brushing hers.

"No," I admitted. "I find your combination of intellect and strength... compelling. Most women I encounter are playing elaborate games. Seduction, politics, power. You simply are who you are, without apology or artifice."

"And you find that attractive?" She smirked, and a note of genuine curiosity colored her voice.

"Intensely." I held her gaze. "Don't misunderstand, your appointment is based solely on merit. But my interest in you extends beyond your qualifications for the council."

Lady Alysanne considered this, her expression thoughtful rather than offended or coy. "You're not what I expected," she said finally. "The stories paint you as another conqueror. Fire and blood, taking what you want through force."

"Do you disapprove?"

"On the contrary." She stood, bringing our faces level with each other. "Power recognizes power, Viserys. You've remade the world through will and flame.”

“And you?”

“I merely create on a smaller scale. Through law and reason. I’m glad you’re allowing me to extend that to a national scale. This is an honor. And a man who honors me… yes, he is attractive."

She was close enough now that I could detect the subtle scent of ink and parchment beneath the customary perfumes of court. Her eyes, I noticed, were a striking gray, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

"I'm aware of your... preferences regarding the women in your circle," she continued, her directness refreshing after months of courtly subterfuge. "I'm also aware I'm not like your queens or consorts. I lack Margaery's political connections, Sansa's ancient lineage, and Arianne's exotic beauty."

"You undersell yourself," I interrupted, reaching up to touch her face, a gesture that would have seemed presumptuous with anyone else, but somehow felt natural between us. "What you possess is far rarer than beauty or bloodlines. A mind capable of thinking different."

"Is that what you desire? An intellectual equal?"

Equal? I had to hold back a scoff. Only one person was equal to me in this realm, and even she would deny that if asked on her face. "Among other things," I admitted, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I've conquered seven kingdoms and bent the most powerful institutions to my will. Yet here you stand, unafraid and unimpressed."

She laughed then, a rich sound that transformed her face. "Not unimpressed, Your Grace. Merely resistant to blind worship. Dragonfire may compel obedience, but it cannot command genuine respect."

"And do I have yours? This genuine respect?"

"You're earning it," she replied, her hand rising to cover mine. "Though I expect you know this isn't the path to queenship. I have no illusions about competing with your current... arrangements."

"Don't say that," I replied, moving closer until our bodies nearly touched. "I'm considering this queen thing in a different way."

Her eyebrow arched skeptically. "Different how?"

"Perhaps the realm needs more than one type of queen," I suggested. "Margaery for politics, Sansa for compassion... and you for justice. Well, given I like you enough."

"A novel approach to governance," she murmured, her hand now resting on my chest. "Though I suspect the Faith might have opinions on such arrangements."

"The Faith serves at my pleasure," I reminded her. "As do the laws you'll soon oversee."

Her lips quirked. "Creating legal precedent for your personal desires? How tyrannical."

"Only if it lacks consent," I countered, my hands finding her waist. "Does it?"

Instead of answering, she closed the remaining distance between us, her mouth meeting mine with surprising gentleness. The kiss deepened as she responded to my touch, her strength matching mine in a way none of my other women could. It was not anywhere ‘equal’ of course, but the difference was drastic.

When we finally broke apart, her eyes had darkened to the color of thunderclouds. "For a man who commands dragons," she said, voice slightly breathless, "you kiss with unexpected restraint."

"Would you prefer fire?" I asked, pulling her closer.

"I would prefer authenticity," she replied. "The man, not the myth."

"Then you shall have him," I promised, claiming her mouth once more as candles guttered in the evening breeze, casting swaying shadows across the solar floor.

Power called to power, strength to strength. The night grew fun. I was really enjoying my Kingship.

Lady Alysanne's lips met mine with unexpected fervor, her height allowing her to kiss me without the awkward angle most women required. I pushed her against the bookshelf, volumes trembling on their perches as our bodies collided with unrestrained force. Unlike the delicate frames of my other consorts, Alysanne's sturdy form was enough to withstand my newfound strength at its default, her broad shoulders and powerful frame absorbing my passion without breaking.

"I suspected you'd be a little rough," she murmured against my mouth, her voice husky with desire. "Though I didn't expect such... thoroughness."

My hands found purchase at her waist, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath her gown. "Disappointed?"

"Ahn… Intrigued," she corrected, arching an eyebrow as she reached for the laces of my doublet. Her fingers worked with surprising dexterity for their size, making quick work of the knots.

I tore at her gown in return, the expensive fabric yielding beneath my grip. She didn't protest the destruction, only laughed, a deep, throaty sound that stirred something primal within me.

"These scholar's robes have seen worse treatment," she said, shrugging as the torn burgundy silk pooled at her feet.

Standing bare before me, Lady Alysanne was magnificent, tall and powerful, with none of the willowy fragility I'd grown accustomed to. Her body was a declaration of both strength and femininity, broad shoulders tapering to a defined waist, generous hips marked with scars that spoke of a life fully lived.

Sweat gleamed on her skin in the firelight as I backed her toward the massive desk, sweeping aside maps and documents with a careless arm. She sat on its edge, legs parting to accommodate my hips, strong thighs gripping me with delicious pressure.

"There. I don't require gentle handling," she breathed against my ear, biting the lobe hard enough to draw blood. "Don't insult me with restraint."

I growled in response, one hand tangling in her dark hair while the other explored the juicy cunt between her legs. She was already slick with want, her body honest in its desires.

"For a woman of law," I said, voice rough with need, "you have remarkably few inhibitions."

"Hnngh… well… Logic and passion aren't mutually exclusive," she countered, her large hands making quick work of my remaining clothing. "I simply reserve my enthusiasm for worthy causes."

When my hands replaced hers, sliding up her powerful thighs, she arched into my touch. Her head fell back, exposing the column of her throat, an invitation I gladly accepted, marking her pale skin with teeth and tongue.

Papers crumpled beneath her as I laid her back across the desk, her imposing frame displayed before me like a conquest almost more satisfying than any kingdom. Beads of sweat gathered between her breasts, tracing paths down her stomach as her chest heaved with anticipation. She truly was gorgeous.

"Take what you want, Dragon King," she challenged, her storm-gray eyes holding mine without submission or artifice. "This body can handle your fire."

I entered her then, watching her gasp at the perfect friction of our bodies joining. The desk groaned beneath our combined weight as we moved together, two titans finding rhythm in shared strength, neither yielding nor breaking.

I wondered how long before she'd moan like a wanton whore. Before she'd call me names she'd be ashamed the next day of.

The night had only just begun.

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