GOT: Rasputin of Westeros 10 - King’s Demand, Unella’s Devotion & Alerie’s Determination

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JVF3ldX4GWoovr7GOZBwAdkEu3I-sof4gHUwg0pnZFw/edit?usp=sharing

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Cersei was panicking. It felt as if the sky was falling. She bit her nails while pacing around, frowning and trying to think. She believed she was clever enough to do it. Yet in this case, no matter what, she couldn't find a way out. 

Septon Bronn had caught her with Jaime. And the matter of being caught worried her less than the fact that she had fallen out of Septon Bronn's grace. The seemingly magical, holy man with otherworldly abilities. She really needed him, and she had plans to make use of his influence. 

But now it was all ruined. 

All because of her lust. She couldn't find blame in Jaime. Although it was he who entered her chamber and almost begged her to give him what he wanted. She still had willingly agreed to do it. 

"W-What if the Seven curse me?"

That fear was also real. Ever since Lord Varys' death, it was impossible to ignore that threat.

She had watched Lord Septon storm out of her bedchamber, and then her brother also left while holding his bleeding mouth. 

Now alone, all she had left was fear, anxiety, and unease. 

####

"Ho! Seven’s blessings, Septon! Look at that beast I felled, a wild boar fit for a king! The cooks have roasted it proper. Let’s eat till our bellies burst!"

"..."

Bronn watched as the King ate, and the man really ate. In Bronn's eyes, Robert was the very personification of the typical King. Fat, big, corrupt, uncaring, whoring, gluttonous, and loud. Robert truly didn't give a damn about the realm or the people. Forget smallfolk, he didn't give a damn about the nobles. King Robert lived only for himself, even if he was slightly better than before having a son. 

At this rate, he'll be fat as a pig, ready to be butchered. Bronn watched a piece of meat get stuck in the King's beard. 

He held himself back from sneering. At this point, he was more loved by the King's Landing's smallfolk than the King. He was the one feeding them daily meals, twice a day. He was the one who hired ten teachers and placed them in large spaces across the city, where any smallfolk could come and learn to read and write, all for free. 

He was the Seven's Angel, showering them with the light of the Mother's mercy and Father's teachings. Though the Maiden part was best left unspoken.

"It’s a rare dish, Your Grace, near divine, one might say." Bronn ate small bites, acting polite. He needed to look grand and mysterious with the rise of his status. “Pardon, I wasn’t there to greet you at the House of Seven Blessings. I was walking the alleys of Flea Bottom, giving the Seven’s mercy to the hungry and the hopeless."

"I heard, good man you are. Seven hells, if half the realm were like you, I'd still have my crown sitting straight!" Robert barked, wine sloshing from his cup.

They were in a small hall for supper. There was nobody around but Robert, Bronn, and a couple of maids who served food and also got their asses groped by the lecherous King at times. 

I can see why he turns to whores, even with Cersei’s beauty at his side. Her rot must seep through any silk.

"But that won't be needed. I have you, after all, Lord Septon."

And here comes the request in the form of an order. 

Bronn internally sneered, seeing the way the King acted. The man wasn't scared of him in the slightest, but surely cautious. And that wasn't enough. Bronn wanted the likes of Robert, kings, or lords to shiver beneath him. Shiver from a simple curse from his mouth. 

"Speak your mind, Your Grace."

"It’s the bloody realm, that’s what it is. I fought the rebellion to kill the Mad King and his cursed line. Should’ve burned the lot of them. Now look at me, crown on my head and vipers at my feet. Elia’s whelp lives, Rhaella’s whoreson crawls through Essos, and I’m left with enemies on every side."

Thank you for the compliments. 

Bronn faintly smiled. "And you need my aid with…?"

"The Tyrells, that’s who I need. Keep the damn realm steady before it eats itself alive. War’s piss and ashes for the smallfolk, you know that well, Septon. Hunger, orphans, the lot. I’ve got a son, that flowery bastard’s got a daughter. Sounds like good sense to me."

Ah, makes the most sense. 

"And you want me to…?"

"Mediate. You're a great deal in the Reach. I heard Ser Barristan snatched you from the gates of Highgarden. Before Lo… Varys, that cockless shit died, he told me you were set to mend Lord Tyrell’s heir’s leg. A noble deed, aye. But…"

"Seven guide me, you want me to bind your firstborn to his youngest daughter? Both of whom are less than a year old?"

King Robert nodded with a proud grin. 

"Aye, that’ll make a damned strong realm. Cersei may sicken me, but she brings her golden lions. With the Tyrell girl, I’ll have two of the richest damn houses kneeling for the crown. Let Dorne piss and moan all they like, they won’t stand a chance."

And why is he sharing all that with me? 

This wasn't to Bronn's liking at all. Getting involved in royal politics was a pathway to doom. What he needed was to remain neutral in all scenarios so the smallfolk could rally behind him. So that lesser houses, who don't give a damn about royals, and great houses can march behind him.

"I shall bring this suggestion to their ears, Your Grace. Rest is up to them, who they choose to stand with," he replied diplomatically, just wanting to leave. 

Clearly, his time at King's Landing had come to an end. He was no longer welcome there without acting submissive to the brute of a King. His presence was no longer sought in the Red Keep; it was demanded. 

"Do that, Lord Septon. Just do that. If they've got the brains, they’ll back the man wearing the crown, not the whore dreaming of one."

With that, King Robert downed yet another cup of wine. Clearly, his motivations to stay sober didn't last long. His promise to give his son a working, strong realm had faded with his regression into old habits. 

Robert Baratheon was a strong man in arms, no doubt. But in my mind, he was the weakest. 

What else to expect from a fool who moaned another's name while rutting his bride.

####

It was time to pack everything and head to Highgarden. 

But it was also time to initiate his precious Septa Unella with the extremely 'holy' ritual. For four days, he hadn't touched Unella, and he was sure she hadn't touched herself either. And at last, the night of the full moon had arrived. 

After finishing his duties and ordering the guards around in proper places, he grabbed the censer and went to Unella's bedchamber while swaying it slowly. He knew how important all the pointless theatrics were. Sure, his magic was real, but he didn't want them to believe in that. What he needed was their blind approval that he was Seven's Angel. 

Knock! Knock!

After some knocks, he pushed the door open and walked inside. He didn't bother closing the door yet and made rounds around the bed, letting the incense fill the chamber, and his humming prayers echo. 

Stunning as always. 

He saw Unella sitting on the bed, still in her septa robes, yet she had untied her braided hair, seemingly ready for what was to come next. 

"O' holy Mother, let this chamber be a sanctity,
May the night bring blessings and your pity.
O' Maiden, let these hours be of the virgin undone,
Guide the journey this Septa has begun."

Oh? A blush? 

He eyed the gorgeous, tall, strong-bodied woman, her legs folded sideways, no quilt present. She had clearly followed his orders, having worn the septa attire and even worn some makeup. In his words, it was to please the Maiden. So, Unella wore a gentle coat of mascara on her eyes that he was sure would become runny soon. 

"O' holy Mother, let my vigor be tremendous,
For this union is a holy momentous.
O' Maiden, let lips of ours, loins of ours join,
In his holy ritual, we shall together conjoin."

Finally, he stopped walking and placed the censer near the bed, allowing it to fill the chamber with flowery scents. Then he walked back to the door and shut it calmly, locking it. Then he wasted no time to discard his clothes as fast and tenderly as he could, first came off his septon robes, then his thin cotton tunic, and finally his loose trousers. 

In mere blinks, he was nude, standing proudly before the septa on the bed. He watched her gaze wash over him, from head to toe. She'd seen him naked so many times already, yet she still blushed. 

And he was rather proud of his body. Unlike other septons who were either old or fat, he had kept his body in shape. While no knight or sellsword, he still stood tall, chest shapely, arms mighty, and cock throbbingly hard, bobbing in Unella's direction. 

Let's take this slow and savor it.

He crawled up onto the bed, his fat cock dangling threateningly. He noticed her gulp and smiled. She'd seen it before like this, but this time she knew it was coming for her. 

However, as much as he wanted to shove his cock into her mouth, he didn't. Unella wasn't a noblewoman deserving of his rough-handedness, nor Malora, who sought it. No, Unella was his precious septa, the very first. She was strict, faithful, and despite her strong body, a woman who deserved Lord Septon's undivided attention, as rare as it was.

"Come here, Unella. Let our tastes blend."

He crawled across the bed toward Unella, his movements slow, like a predator savoring the helpless prey. 

She reacted instinctively, her body yielding as she sank back, head hitting the pillow. Her wide eyes locked onto his, silent but brimming with a shy eagerness, her lips parted slightly as if already offering herself.

Bronn straddled her, his weight pressing the bed down, and leaned forward until his face hovered inches from hers, his breath heavy.

“Tongue out,” he commanded.

He hadn’t planned to fuck her face, but her instant obedience sent a jolt through him. Heat already prickling his throbbing length. 

Unella’s mouth opened wide, her pink tongue rolling out, glistening and vulnerable.

The sight of her submission nearly broke him. He wanted to shove his cock down her throat, to feel her choke on it, but he also wanted her to drown in his plundering kiss. His restraint was already thinning against her obsessive devotion.

“By the Seven, if you weren’t a septa, half the realm’s knights would’ve drawn steel for you,” he whispered, as his hands roamed her face. His fingers tracing her sharp cheekbones, then tangling in her loose blonde hair, tugging gently at her scalp. Her hair spilled like spun gold across the pillow.

Unella’s cheeks flushed, and she tried to turn her head, her voice trembling. “A-All… is… Seven’s will.”

Even ramming my cock in you? Bronn thought, his lips twitching with a suppressed smirk. The blasphemy of it thrilled him.

He loved how blindly she clung to her faith, how she saw him as the Seven’s Angel, ignorant of the lust in him. It was the same foolish devotion he’d seen in others, but hers was purer, sharper, a blade of piety he could wield.

“Aye, that is correct,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with assurance, coaxing her deeper into his web. He needed her to believe, to surrender fully.

His mouth descended on hers, open and ravenous, his tongue plunging into her warm throat. He kissed her with feral hunger, gulping her virgin dribble, their tongues clashing in a wet, messy battle. Hers yielded, soft and submissive, while his claimed every inch of her mouth, licking the roof, sucking her tongue, drowning in the slick heat. 

Their breaths melded, hot and panting, his cock throbbing against her clothed belly, his heavy balls pressed tight to her.

“Ummmmh~” Unella moaned, a low, throaty hum that vibrated against his lips, a hymn of surrender. 

The sound stoked the fire in his manhood. Her body was trembling under him, a tease that made his cock ache.

Unella’s mind was a haze of ecstasy, every touch of Bronn’s lips a sacred gift from the Seven. She was their septa, their vessel, and he was their Angel, his tongue a holy flame searing her soul. Each shiver that ran through her was a blessing, each pulse of heat in her core a sign of the Maiden’s approval. His weight on her, his taste flooding her mouth, felt like the gods themselves claiming her, filling her with purpose.

Her heart pounded with reverence, her body trembling under the divine weight of his touch, every sensation a prayer answered.

“Mmmmm…” Another moan escaped her as she melted further into him. 

Her hands roamed his bare back, fingers digging into his muscles, tracing the heat of his skin. She was lost in him, her chest heaving as he kissed her breathless, her body aching for more.

“Allow me to prepare you, my septa,” Bronn murmured, pulling back with a sly smirk. 

He slid lower, his body dragging against hers, the friction of her robes against his cock sending sparks through him. 

His hand grazed her belly through the coarse fabric of her gown, feeling the soft give. His fingers trailed lower, deliberate and teasing, until they caught the hem of her septa robes. Slowly, he pushed the fabric up, revealing her long, creamy thighs. Soft as churned butter, glowing pale white. They were flawless, untouched by labor or sun, a canvas of purity he was eager to mark.

“Oh, Seven. The Gods took their time making you.” Bronn prayed. His words thick with mock reverence, stoking her devotion while his eyes devoured her exposed skin.

He shoved the gown higher, bunching it at her waist, baring her legs in full. They were a marvel, long, shapely, with a delicate strength that spoke of her discipline, yet soft as if crafted for worship. Her thighs, thick and plush, quivered slightly under his gaze, their creamy paleness a stark contrast to the golden heat he’d tasted in others. 

Unella’s legs were pressed flat against the bed, squeezed tight in embarrassment, but Bronn’s hands found her knees, prying her open. 

He spread her wide, his lips parting as he drooled at the sight. 

And there, at their center, her cunt lay bare, no smallcloth as he’d commanded. It was a puffy, sacred flower, its tight pink gates a holy seam, untouched and pure. Older than him, a virgin still, her cunt was a temple of the Maiden, its delicate folds glistening faintly.

“Ah… Sweet!” he rasped, leaning down until his face hovered over her loins. 

Her scent hit him. Clean, floral, like rosewater and untouched petals, a sweetness that belied her years of chastity. Whatever bath she’d taken, it had preserved her fresh for him.

“Mmmh~” Unella moaned. Her eyes full of reverence, her body trembled, caught between shame and divine surrender.

Bronn smirked, his lips curling wickedly, and then he dove in. 

His tongue dragged a long, drooling swipe across her pussy, lapping at her virgin slit like a crouching beast at a spring. He rolled his entire face into her, unbothered by the mess of his own spit and her slick, coating his chin, his cheeks, his nose. 

He licked her folds wide and flat, fucking her tight entrance with his tongue, plunging into her untouched warmth. Then, he nudged her clit with the tip, circling it with relentless hunger as she trembled. His hands clawed at the soft undersides of her thighs, gripping hard to keep them splayed, her flesh yielding under his calloused fingers.

Unella writhed, her body twisting under him. 

“Ooooh! Seven… Mh-Maiden!” She cried out a desperate prayer. Her hips bucked against his face. Her thighs trembled, her pussy pulsing under his tongue.

“Yes, yes, take the Seven’s blessings. Hold no voice back,” Bronn mumbled, his mouth buried in her cunt, tongue lapping with fervent hunger. “Cry my name, Seven’s name, cry your heart out.” 

His words vibrated against her salivating folds, urging her to surrender.

He devoured her pussy in hunger, his tongue plunging deep, curling against her moist walls until he felt them quiver, her climax teetering on the edge. Sensing the tense clamp of her cunt, he pulled back, his face glistening with her juices, and sat up. 

He positioned himself between her spread legs, his cock throbbing, urging him to be quick about it.

“Let us begin the final ritual,” he declared, heavy with fake solemnity.

Bronn typically took seven days to unravel a woman, savoring their descent night by night, starting with just his mouth on their cunts. But Unella was different. A septa, pure and devout, not to be bred but molded into his loyal cockwarmer, his ever-willing attendant. He had no intention of planting a babe in her yet; her purpose was to serve him, body and soul.

Rip~! 

With a swift, brutal tug, he gripped her septa gown at the neckline and tore it apart. The fabric splitting like a thin veil, revealing her bare flesh to the cold air.

Seven’s tits! Bronn was nearly speechless at the sight of her nude body.

“So begins the eventual, the last gift to the Maiden,” he growled, as if the act itself were an offering to the gods.

The tattered gown clung to her arms, but her breasts, belly, and legs were bare. Round, heavy mounds tipped with cherry-red nipples, crafted to nurse babes and tempt sinners. Her skin glowed pale, a holy canvas begging for his touch.

He settled between her legs, his cockhead brushing her drooling petals, slick with her arousal. He locked eyes with her, her gaze wide with anticipation, her lips trembling. 

“I’ll be gentle, Unella. It’ll sting at first, but slowly, you’ll accept the Seven’s grace.”

Unella nodded, her breath uneven. 

Her heart pounded like a war drum, her body trembling with the weight of the moment. She felt the Seven’s presence in Bronn’s touch, his form a channel of divine will. 

She raised her head and caught a glimpse of his cock, thick and veined, pressing against her sacred gates. Every nerve in her body sang with reverence, her core aching with a mix of fear and holy expectation. This was no mere man; it was the Seven’s Angel, chosen to claim her, to fill her with their grace. Her soul burned with devotion, her body yielding to the sacred fire.

He pushed forward, his cockhead breaching her virgin slit, and Unella gasped, her breath catching in her throat. 

The sting was sharp, but she welcomed it. 

“Oh, I feel you… so deep. Maiden’s grace… filling me!” The stretch of her untouched walls around his girth felt like a sacred trial, a pain that promised salvation.

Her pussy lips stretched wide, hugging his shaft as he pressed deeper, and then came the snap…

A sharp, tearing tug that broke her maidenhead. Her eyes widened, tears spilling down her cheeks, mascara running in black streaks across her mature, gorgeous face. She was proud, so proud, to have saved herself for this moment, for the Seven’s Angel to claim her purity. The pain was a blessing, the crimson proof of her sacrifice painting her thighs. Her moans were a worshipful sob, her ruined makeup a mark of the holiest defilement, her face a vision of sacred surrender.

“Seven! Oh, you are… doing… great!” Bronn groaned, reveling in the snug warmth of her cunt. 

He pulled back, his cock coated with the red trails of her maidenhead. Smiling with pride, he slid back in, feeding her cunt an extra inch, her tightness gripping him.

Unella’s back arched off the bed, her cries a mix of moans and groans as she teetered on the edge of release. 

“Oooooooh! Gods! Maiden! Oh… Lord Se-pton!” she wailed, her voice breaking with ecstasy as her body surrendered to the rhythm of his thrusts.

He seized her wrists, pinning them down, her heavy breasts smushed between her arms, forming a sweaty, alluring valley. Her tight-tipped mounds jiggled with each movement, a sight that drove him wild. Using her wrists like reins, he fucked her with a steady rhythm, pulling her down onto his shaft with rough, plundering thrusts. His cock bottomed out, filling her completely, her body yielding with every slam.

He was close, too close. Her tightness and surrender pushed him to the brink. 

Plap! Plap! Plap! 

The wet slaps of his hips against her creamy thighs echoed, her knees raised high, legs spread wide to welcome his relentless pounding.

Her body was milky perfection, each pulse of her wet walls clamping over his shaft, inviting him to dive in deeper. Her tits jiggled between her pinned arms, her skin glistening with sweat, an unholy offering begging to be ravaged.

“Oooooh! I am so blessed… Maiden’s… warmth is… oozing from me-eeeeeh! Ah!” Unella cried out a fervent prayer as her climax tore through her. 

Her pussy clenched around him, her walls trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She felt his shaft diving into her flooded core, nudging her womb as if to awaken it. Each thrust squelched and churned her bursting nectar, her pussy singing lewdly as her body shattered in bliss.

Bronn watched her pussy grow slicker, a frothy mix of her juices and faint virgin blood coating her lower lips, a beautiful sight that fueled his thirst. 

Her moans grew louder, more desperate. “Oh, Maiden! I’m… I’m yours! Your Angel fills me… so full~~!” 

Her voice breaking as her climax peaked, her body shuddering under him, her mascara-streaked face blushing with worshipful surrender.

“I’m close… oh!” Bronn growled, releasing her wrists to lean down onto her entirely. 

His hips slammed down continuously, thrust after thrust. His lips latched onto her breasts, suckling her stiff nipples with a hunger that rivaled his need for Cersei’s maternal nectar. He suckled hard, bruising her sensitive tips, leaving them red and swollen as he feasted.

“Oh, oh, oh… Dear Maiden! Holy Seven!” Unella cried in delirium, her nipples aching. Each suckle a pulse of divine pain and pleasure that sent shivers through her core.

Bronn pounded harder, leaving marks along her neck. Then, his lips crashed into hers in a claiming kiss. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs locking around his hips, pulling him deeper as she played with his tongue, accepting her new role with fervent surrender.

He rammed her into the bedding, his hips bouncing off her smooth flesh, her body drowning in waves of pleasure. Her pussy was a pulsing, breathing temple, and he was its conqueror.

“Agh… There… it is… my… holy nectar! Take it, oh… my septa!” he moaned, bottoming out as his climax erupted. 

His cock pulsed, spilling thick, molten seed into her virgin core, flooding her untouched depths. The sensation was primal, the very first cock filling her with hot batter, a sinful violation she welcomed with every fiber of her being. 

Unella gasped, her body trembling as she felt his seed flood her. “So full… oh, Seven, I’m blessed!” 

His creamy essence filled her core. Her body quaking with the realization that she’d been claimed by the Seven’s Angel. The stretch, the heat, the pulsing fullness, was all overwhelming.

Bronn stayed buried balls deep, his cock throbbing inside her as he kissed her deeply, their sweat-slicked skin sticking together in the heat. 

Their tongues tangled, her breath ragged against his lips, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

As his cock calmed, he rolled sideways, collapsing onto his back. He slipped one arm under her head, pulling her close until she rolled into him, her body curling against his.

"Uh… Mind if I sleep here, Unella? Feeling tired." 

"Mm… You may, Lord Septon."

He noticed a new type of warmth in her speech. One he was looking for. 

"Lord Septon?"

He waited for her to continue. 

"Will I… Sire you… babes?"

Ugh… Don't tempt me, Unella. 

"If you’re willing, one day I’ll grant you that. A babe’s the Seven’s sweetest gift, the very reason we’re shaped as we are. But not tonight. The stars must give their nod first." He bullshitted. He just wanted to spend some time doing her first. "Sleep now, sweet septa. We’ll resume the rite come dawn."

####

Flea Bottom, 

Gendry didn't know who his father was. He remembered his mother a little, but that memory was fading as she had also left him alone in this world. 

"Gendry, let's go."

Life had been hell for the five-year-old him until a few weeks ago. Living in Flea Bottom and begging around the city just to survive wasn't easy. On good days, he'd receive a halfpenny, and on bad days, a kick to his stomach or a punch to his face. 

"What are we eating today?" Gendry asked, surprisingly tall for his age. 

"Seven knows, but it'll be something yummy, I know," said Tob, his best friend, who had survived begging with him. 

The two boys ran through the Flea Bottom narrow streets, barefoot, but neatly dressed in fresh clothes. As they ran, a few more kids joined along, running with him. In time, their number swelled to a dozen. 

And soon enough, they arrived at a large opening in Flea Bottom. There, many massive stewpots were sitting on fire, spewing steam and so many delicious scents. 

Gendry quickly got behind the line, his own bowl in hand. He could feel his stomach rumbling in hunger, and it didn't take long before he reached the kind old man dressed in a white apron marked with a golden palm and a seven-pointed star in the middle, the symbol of Seven's Angel. 

"Here you go, lad. Don't forget to take the apple."

"There's an apple?!" Gendry exclaimed and quickly got his bowl filled with meat stew. Then he got a loaf of actual bread, and finally got himself a real apple. And this one wasn't even rotten. 

But he didn't have too much time to waste. He found a spot to sit on the ground and ate his fill. He saved the apple for later, however. 

After breaking the fast, he ran again. This time, he held a black slate stone in his hand and a small bundle of chalks. When he reached another large opening, he saw that the teacher had already started the class, using a large chalkboard to teach letters and numbers. 

Gendry found himself a seat and studied. Not many of his friends did that, but he wanted to. He at least wanted to learn numbers. But in doing so, he also liked learning to read and write. The teacher was really patient, and that helped. Once again, the teacher wore the mark of Seven's Angel. 

That class lasted three hours. After that, he was free to do whatever he wanted. But instead of begging or passing the time, he ran into an old building, where he found many more children of his age, or even younger. 

"Gendry, you'll take the Street of Steel today."

Gendry nodded strongly and ran out right away. 

He had a job, after all. 

A very important job. One necessary to make sure he received tasty meals every morning and evening, and got to learn. A job that served the Seven's Angel himself. 

While he didn't like what his designation was, he didn't mind it either. 

Being a Little Bird wasn't that bad.

####

Plap! Plap! Plap!

It was the third day, and by now Bronn had fucked and spilled in Septa Unella at least a dozen times. And now, he had her in the bedchamber, on her hands and knees, naked as the day she was born, and his cock? 

"Mmmmmmmmmh!" Unella groaned, a worshipful hymn, as if each thrust was a prayer.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the sheets, her face contorted in a mix of surrender and raw sensation. 

Bronn’s girthy length stretched her anal hole, a forbidden temple now breached, the ultimate proof of her submission to the Seven. Each slow, deliberate slide of his cock into her tight, unyielding cave sent shivers through her.

“Yes, yes, that’s it… Loosen it!” Bronn growled with lust, urging her to yield completely to the “sacred act.” 

His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her moldable flesh, guiding her back onto him.

Bronn reveled in the sight. Her cunt already leaking his spunk, slick trails glistening on her thighs, and now her ass, ripe, wide, and perfectly round, surrendered to him. It was perfection, a plump altar crafted for unholy things, now his to claim. His perfect septa, molded by his hands.

“Ungh! There… we go!” he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he felt the tight heat of her ass clench around him. 

His cream surged, unstoppable, and he pumped hard, his cock pulsing with each thick spurt of his seed deep inside her puckering star. 

With a final grunt, he pulled out quickly, his breath ragged as he watched her stretched hole throb, slowly contracting, a slow trickle of his batter leaking from her defiled backdoor, glistening against her flushed, trembling skin.

Unella collapsed flat onto the bed, her body spent, her chest heaving as she lay prone, her once-pristine body now marked by the filth of their ritual. 

“Ummh~” Her moans lingered in the air, a soft echo. 

Her mind and body utterly surrendered to the Seven’s Angel.

####

By the seventh day, all shame was lost. 

"Lord Septon, what ingredient is this?" Malora asked, standing by a tall book-stand in the underground potions rooms. She was naked, her soft and plump body shimmering with sweat, a white trail of virile batter dripped from her cunt and slid down her cushiony legs. 

"Uh-uh-uh~"

And now, it was Septa Unella's turn as he fucked her from behind, all of them naked. He held her arms behind her while letting her lean forward. Her tits dangled, jiggled, as did her ass when he pumped each thrust with loud claps. 

The chamber was thick with the scent of sex and incense. 

“That? That’s… used to soften the effect, or else… one could… die-eh!” Bronn muttered, breath strained as he drove his cock into Unella’s sore cunt, each thrust a claim on her body, his words punctuated by the relentless plap of flesh.

Malora nodded absently, her eyes returning to the ancient tome, unfazed by the depraved scene unfolding beside her, as if the act were as mundane as her reading.

Bronn yanked Unella upright, pressing her sweat-slicked back against his broad chest, her skin hot under his palms. His hands clawed at her heavy tits, fingers sinking into their soft, cherry-tipped mounds, squeezing with greedy hunger as his cock battered her pussy from behind. 

Seven days of relentless fucking, nearly fifty times he’d claimed her. He molded her into his perfect septa, and now he reveled in ravaging both his devoted women together, their bodies a dual altar to sinful lust. 

“Nghhh! Hnnh!”

Unella grunted mindlessly with the rhythm of his thrusts. 

Her cunt throbbed around him, her body convulsing violently. Her climax tore through her, a shuddering wave of helpless surrender. Her walls clenching his shaft as her juices gushed, soaking his cock and dripping down her trembling thighs.

“Tongue,” he commanded.

Unella obeyed instantly, her tongue rolling out, pink and glistening, a silent offering to her Lord Septon. Her eyes were glazed, lost in the haze of ecstasy.

Bronn smirked, shoving two calloused fingers into her open mouth. She sucked them eagerly, her lips wrapping around them, her tongue swirling as if worshiping a sacred relic, her moans muffled but fervent.

Teetering on the edge, Bronn abruptly pulled his cock out, his shaft slick with her warm juices. He pushed Unella down to her knees, her face level with his throbbing, veiny cock. 

“Here, savor the nectar… hmmmh!”

He didn’t need to urge her. She opened her mouth wide, her lips trembling as she took his swollen cockhead inside. Too exhausted to bob her head, she let him take control. 

Bronn stroked himself hard, his hand a blur, and then he erupted, gushing white hot loads into her throat. Rope after rope of his creamy froth filled her mouth, the hot, salty batter coating her tongue and spilling down her throat. It wasn’t their first time in these seven days, but the act felt no less profane, no less divine.

Gluk! Gulp! Gulp!

Unella gulped it all down, her throat working in desperate, greedy swallows. Her lips smacked messily over his swollen flesh, strings of his cum clinging to her chin, dribbling onto her heaving breasts. 

Her sweat-streaked face glowed with depraved lust, a Septa defiled in sin. The sight was visceral, ungodly, her devotion a filthy hymn.

"May… the Seven." He watched her clean his shaft with dripping, wet licks. "Conclude this ritual… Oh, Maiden… let our bond be eternal."

Pop!

Septa Unella finally stopped sucking as he turned fully flaccid, and there was no spill left to clean. 

"Here."

He pulled her to her feet and aided her. She could barely stand. 

"Let me see you to your chamber, Unella. May the Seven forgive me if I bring too much warmth." He said and glanced at Malora. "Malora, join us when you're done."

And yes, he no longer slept alone. But rather with both of them.

Maiden's cunt! I bloody love being a Septon. 

####

Red Keep, 

"Ummhmm…"

"It's the Seven's curse." 

Bronn muttered as he stood right beside the Queen's bed, beside her pillow. 

"Mmmmh~"

Cersei was as bare as he, her milk-filled tits emptied, her cunt dripping copious amounts of white stuff, her belly rising and falling in pants. All the while, she had scooted closer to the edge, her face turned sideways so she could suck his half-deflated, filth-coated cock. 

"Ser Jaime will have to repent. For three years at least, he must not lie with a woman. Or else, his impotence will become permanent," he said, drinking wine from a cup while enjoying the Queen's tight lips. 

Slowly, Cersei finished cleaning him up. And since he became fully flaccid, he just pulled out. 

"But Lord Septon—"

"It’s the will of the Gods, my Queen," Bronn said as he pulled on his robes, calm as a still pond. "You too. Keep yourself from lying with another man. A husband’s hard to fend off, I know, but do what you can to keep him out of your… loins. Else the Seven may show a temper we’d both rather not see."

"Lord Septon!" Cersei jumped from the bed, stunningly nude, tits heavy. She hugged his arm tightly. "Please, I can't… I… I need it to stay sane."

Bronn sighed and looked at her face. While he felt disgusted by her relationship with Jaime, he really didn't care. She was known realm-wide to be among the most beautiful. Getting to have her in ways he already had was enough. 

"Very well. Six months without a man in your bed. Do that, and I'll see you housed in one of my Houses of the Seven’s Blessings. A moon there with me, and I’ll see if the Seven might forget their wrath."

"Oh!"

Cersei cried in delight and hugged him flat at the front, her feather-like soft tits smushed into his chest. 

Bronn's hands reached down and gripped her ass, round and just made to be filled again and again. 

Seven Cunts! I'll miss her tits and ass and…

He moved from her embrace and held her chin. 

…and this face.

He didn't bother to kiss, though. The corner of her lips was smeared in his spill. 

"May the Seven's light guide you!"

With that, he made himself proper and left the Red Keep. His time in King's Landing had come to an end. The free kitchens and schools would continue to run in his absence. 

####

Highgarden, the Reach,

"Quick, quick! Clean that corner!"

Bronn the Blessed, now Seven's Angel, wasn't just known in King's Landing. His fame had spread beyond, throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and even beyond the sea. Compared to the last time, Mace Tyrell felt far more nervous now. He was no longer just going to entertain a septon, but an angel of the Seven himself. 

"Why haven't you changed the flowers?!"

Mace Tyrell was busy ordering the maids around. 

From a distance, Olenna watched everything, while beside her stood Alerie Hightower, now a Tyrell. The woman was tall and beautiful with long silver hair. Her face, however, was like ice, rarely revealing expressions. Alerie was dutiful to a fault, and she loved her children so fiercely it'd put a lioness to shame. 

And then there was her fat oaf of a son. Olenna had no doubt that if Mace didn't have Tyrell in his name and he wasn't the firstborn, he'd never have gotten a bride like Alerie, who was many years younger than Mace. Let alone getting to bed her and producing four grandchildren. 

But that was Olenna's fault. She also loved her grandchildren to a fault. And for a while now, the crippled leg of Willas had soured her relationship with Mace, who forced Willas to take part in a tourney. Now, the fat oaf tried to mend everything with the help of a magical septon. 

"Mother, do you believe this Lord Septon can heal my son?"

Olenna fondly smiled towards her son's wife, whom she considered her daughter at that point. "I cannot say, my dear. But I’ll stay with you, see that he never makes fools of us. Still, I can’t bring myself to blame Mace. If there’s even a whisper of truth in that Septon’s healing, as they say of the Seven’s Angel, then no welcome could ever be grand enough."

"I wonder what he'll ask in return for healing Willas."

"Ask? What can he ask?" Olenna asked, amused.

"I received a raven from my sisters. He healed Malora and took her with him as a Septa. What if he seeks Willas as a Septon?"

Olenna snorted a short chuckle. "Please, my dear. Angel or not, he’ll have no such thing. Still, if he truly heals my grandson, we’ll see him rewarded. Gold, land, whatever his heart desires."

Alerie Hightower only nodded. After all, she'd learned something additional from the raven Lynesse had sent. The price to heal her son might just be very… personal. 

But again, to heal her firstborn, was any price too much?

####

Bitterbridge, 

Bronn had received a grand farewell. The smallfolk, merchants, and minor nobles had followed his large wheelhouse all the way to the King's Gate. Thousands were crying the entire time, thousands threw petals in front of his carriage, thousands shouted his name, tens of thousands prayed to him.

Now, half the journey done on Roseroad, they crossed Castle Bitterbridge. The seat of House Caswell of the Reach. 

BOOM!

And of course, the journey wasn't without troubles. 

"What was that?" Malora exclaimed inside the large wheelhouse. 

"Nothing." Bronn shrugged and grabbed Malora's head, guiding it back between his legs where his beautiful Unella was already hard at work, bobbing her head. They'd been at it for the past hour, and he really couldn't complain. 

This is life. 

"The Angelic Knights I recruited are enough to deal with whoever attacks us. I gave them a few wildfire explosives." Bronn explained and relaxed, legs spread, feeling Unella's warm lips wrap him whole. 

Seven Hells… She'll suck my soul out. 

Gluk! Gluk! Gluk!

The entire wheelhouse reeked of sex. There was nothing else to do on the long, boring road, after all. He took turns with Malora and Unella, occasionally taught them a few things about faith, and then occasionally had them suck him. 

Boom!

Outside, rare explosions rang. He already expected someone to attack him, so he was overprepared this time. The ten knights he had initiated in his newly formed Angelic Knights weren’t nobodies. 

"Ummppph~" 

He watched Unella choke herself without him even touching her. Meanwhile, Malora licked his balls. 

Hmm… The cult will keep growing as long as I keep feeding it. But what I need is loyal followers. Blind servants like these two. 

He pondered, listening to the two women choke and splutter, and the men outside battle.

Don't folk across the Narrow Sea kneel to all manner of strange gods? Might be worth a look once I’m done with the Tyrell lot.

Gluk–ughk!

And once again, he spilled. 

Can't I make fire? Those red witches are dementedly loyal to flame, aren't they? 

______________________

[Fun Fact - It was Varys who had Tobho Mott take Gendry as an apprentice. Now, as there is no Varys, what happens to Gendry?]