wanderingwolfwitcher

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel watched it all carefully, savoring the orgasms the stranger drove the Queen into, her reactions welcome... there was something about seeing pleasure in her, regardless of whether he gave it to her or not, the way she looked at him. All the royal manner discarded, and only showing the woman of desires beneath it all. And then before he knew it, at the whisper of the man, their positions were exchanged, with Cersei moving around on her hands and knees, grasping and drawing his own hard cock inside her. He uttered a low moan as she encompassed him again, as she tended to the other man's cock with her mouth, and it went on that way for a time, until she had finished their guest off... when a sudden and unexpected disaster struck, in the heat of the moment from the stranger. Accidentally exposing her for what she was. She moved quickly, pulling away from his manhood again before he could finish inside her, taking up her knife and threatening, issuing an ultimatum, while he rose from the bed as well, looking between her and the startled man quickly.

He had little desire to violate the minds of others, to abuse his magic, as mages were like to do, unless necessary or the person deserved it. Unlike Robert, this one didn't, to his knowledge. Even so, he believed fully she would open his throat otherwise, so was trapped between a rock and a hard place, as usual. Cursing under his breath, he did what was necessary, and liable to cause the least amount of bloodshed or draw unwelcome attention to either of them. Raising his hand, he cast a powerful Axii Sign on the man, maintaining it, the glowing Sign appearing on the air. The stranger's eyes went blank beneath the mask, and he sensed the man's dimming thoughts... becoming pliable, open to suggestions. When he was, in a stunned state, Eskel looked back over to the Queen, speaking up to her again quietly so only she could hear him.

"Back into our original positions, before I issue him a command, so it seems to him like no time has passed when he comes to. Like the pleasure simply overwhelmed him for a moment. Part of the illusion. Hide that knife again and put your wig back on."

He moved back to kneel on the bed where he had been before, while maintaining the Axii Sign, and waiting for Cersei to follow suit. Once she had put her disguise back on, hid the blade, returning to the bed, he pressed up against her fine ass from behind, still entirely hard for her, sliding back into her wet, tight cunt with an aroused breath. Despite the sudden shock, and the having to think quickly, the burning heat in his blood for her remained as it had been before. More now, with the risk of being caught, if anything. The thrill of danger. Then, looking up, he spoke some instructions to the docile man more loudly and clearly, looking between him and her as he did so.

"Forget what you saw before. This woman is not your Queen. She is simply a beautiful stranger seeking pleasure, like you and me, and you have satisfied her well. You had an orgasm, and the pleasure disoriented you. Now, wake up."

The Witcher's deep, calm voice commanded and informed the mysterious stranger firmly... editing his memory carefully, before letting the Sign dissipate into thin air again, along with their mental connection. He began moving within Cersei again, hips thrusting against the Queen's, the wet sounds filling the room, hands gripping either side of her waist tightly. Watching him beneath the mask, he made sure the man was alright, had received the instructions clearly. He was disoriented for a moment alright, in the wake of his release as well as being released from the Sign... but then, blinking beneath the mask, the disorientation was gone within moments, shaking his head a bit. As if it had never happened, finding himself standing before Cersei, her face stained with his seed, in the wake of his own orgasm, breathing deeply with pleasure. Fortunately for all parties, it seemed to have worked, and Eskel breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher { as discussed }

The music swells around her as she remains seated upon the dais, overlooking the sea of guests all hiding behind their masks. She’d never heard of such a tradition before, hiding one’s face at a feast. Robert had told her that he’d heard the tale from an Essosi woman, no doubt one of his whores, and he had thought it a fascinating theme for his nameday feast. And so, here she sits, face concealed by an elegant golden mask adorned with carvings of each great house’s sigil. Her golden tresses are expertly concealed by a flowing auburn wig. She intends to remain completely anonymous tonight.

Emeralds instantly fall upon him seated alone across the room. Despite the wolf’s head mask he wears, she knows it is him. She knows not his name, nor had she spoken to him since his arrival in court three weeks ago. But there is something alluring about him and the mysterious air that surrounds him. Even with that hideous scar that marrs his face.

It does not take her long to spot her husband, who is leaving the hall with a woman on each arm. She knows he will be gone for the rest of the night. And so, she rises, approaching the man in the wolf mask.

“For a man wearing such an elegant mask, you seem to be far from enjoying yourself,” she says as she settles beside him. “You aren’t from here, are you? I’m sensing that feasts are not truly your idea of fun.”

#gcldenlioness #phew #crisis averted with magic lol

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel gladly lost himself in the embrace with the golden haired Queen, the touch and tempos of their bodies as they made love. It was a familiar but never predictable or boring dance they naturally shared, the rest of the world growing distant even to his enhanced senses. There was only their heated murmurs of encouragement, the sounds of their flesh, touches and scents as they embraced over and over, shifting between positions now and again. Gradually, the time came to fill her once more with his warm seed, losing himself in the waves of pleasure that hit him as he gave her what they both desired, remaining deep within her. In the wake of their shared pleasure and release together, kissing Cersei intimately, did he start to relax with her, getting more comfortable in the bed. With his broad arms enveloping her, hands trailing along her sweat soaked body soothingly, the Witcher waited until she slipped away into rest before doing likewise, uttering a contented breath. Sleeping another peaceful sleep he was coming to know more often with her, as he rarely ever did on his own on the Path. All his troubles evaporated, if only for that time together.

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher liked for a starter (as discussed).

Skeletal hands claw at silks, at bare skin. Each time the queen swats one away, another takes its place. Soon enough, all she can do is lie back, accept her face, accept the fate of the babe as it is torn from her.

She sits bolt upright, nightdress drenched in sweat as reality slowly returns to her. She is in her chambers, alone. Yet one horrid truth remains. A hand pressed to the flat of her belly confirms it. She had lost the babe two moons ago, the final piece of Jaime that she clung to.

Her nightmares had grown worse since and now, most nights, the dead came for her. Jaime had left to fight them but…what if the living lost and the dead march south?

When Jon Snow had came to King’s Landing to tell Cersei of the threat, Qyburn had insisted on finding a Witcher for court. She had heard tales of Witchers, both good and bad. Still, he might be of use, especially as her fears are beginning to worsen.

And so, later that day, she sends for him, giving him audience in her chambers. When he does arrive, she rises from her seat, holding out a hand so that he might kiss it.

“Eskel,” she offers a smile. “I’m thankful you could join me. We have much to discuss.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel's talented tongue and fingers worked the eastern lady steadily closer to release, feeling her hand slip into his hair and grasp it firmly, silently pleasing him with the pleasure he knew he was giving her. His viper eyes did not leave her writhing body as he built her up ever closer to her release... before pushing her over the edge into it gladly, lapping at her juices and savoring her womanhood. Guiding her through the orgasm steadily. In the wake of it, when she had control of herself again, she drew him back up to kiss her lips, sharing the taste with her, tongue meeting hers and dancing with it. At her quiet prompting, voicing her desire, his marred visage simply smiled and nodded reassuringly, before she drew his manhood slowly and deeply within her. A moan escaped his lips for her, muffled by her own kisses and moans, and her tightness encompassed him firmly as he sank all the way to his base slowly. The Witcher gradually began to move with her, finding a good tempo and sticking to it, broad arms wrapping around Rhaena and holding her closely, their sweat stained forms intertwined, his paler, scarred flesh and her smooth, olive flesh alike, becoming one. Like the foreplay he felt no sense of urgency or hurry, wanting to draw it out for as long as she could handle it, not wanting to overwhelm her, wisely holding back a good deal of his enhanced strength. Being as gentle as she desired of him.

@rhaenaofmyr

@wanderingwolfwitcher [as discussed]

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

“Th-thank you, Ser…” she says with as much bravery as she can muster, words heavily accented. “Forgive me but…I have no coin for you…”

#rhaenaofmyr

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel remained where he was on the bed, watching with a smirk on his masked and marred visage as the stranger took her hand, kissing her before undressing her entirely, catching her soaked undergarment with his quick reflexes when they were tossed his way, setting them aside. With his enhanced senses he could smell her welcome scent and excitement, sensed her quickened pulse... could tell she was already looking forward to this. It seemed to him already that he had chosen well for her, thankfully. Then the masked eastern man carefully settled her down on her knees before the bed, near where he sat, taking charge and spreading the Queen out, exposing her glistening, inviting cunt. Then he moved forward and began tending to her with his mouth and tongue... and soon his fingers joined in, slipping within her. The pleasure was immediate and evident from the Queen, writ large on her face, her fiery emerald eyes... her moans escaping her lips, to the Witcher's growing arousal as well, taking the time to start stroking his hard length at the view. The show. Murmuring heated encouragement to her.

Soon her hips were rocking back against the tongue and fingers tending to her, and he leaned forward as well to kiss her, muffling her moans for a moment, tasting her. Then he drew back to keep enjoying the view, stroking himself absently, savoring each moment of it as her mysterious lover built up her first orgasm of the evening, and sent her over the edge into blissful release, Cersei's cries filling the room, juices flowing. The stranger was attentive, lapping up at her juices, cleaning her up, before replacing his tongue with his sizable cock, moving in closely behind her perfect ass, aligning them. He pressed slowly and deeply within her welcoming cunt, stretching her out and starting to fuck her skillfully, even more pleasure than before evident from the Queen, ass bouncing with each thrust, pressing herself back against him. Then, before he knew it, she turned her gaze back to him, and moved over closer, taking his own manhood into her mouth while being pounded from behind, her moans vibrating against his cock as she tended to him, eliciting a moan from the Witcher as he joined in, slowly grinding his hips back against her mouth.

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher { as discussed }

The music swells around her as she remains seated upon the dais, overlooking the sea of guests all hiding behind their masks. She’d never heard of such a tradition before, hiding one’s face at a feast. Robert had told her that he’d heard the tale from an Essosi woman, no doubt one of his whores, and he had thought it a fascinating theme for his nameday feast. And so, here she sits, face concealed by an elegant golden mask adorned with carvings of each great house’s sigil. Her golden tresses are expertly concealed by a flowing auburn wig. She intends to remain completely anonymous tonight.

Emeralds instantly fall upon him seated alone across the room. Despite the wolf’s head mask he wears, she knows it is him. She knows not his name, nor had she spoken to him since his arrival in court three weeks ago. But there is something alluring about him and the mysterious air that surrounds him. Even with that hideous scar that marrs his face.

It does not take her long to spot her husband, who is leaving the hall with a woman on each arm. She knows he will be gone for the rest of the night. And so, she rises, approaching the man in the wolf mask.

“For a man wearing such an elegant mask, you seem to be far from enjoying yourself,” she says as she settles beside him. “You aren’t from here, are you? I’m sensing that feasts are not truly your idea of fun.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel uttered a low breath of pleasure as the golden haired Queen drew him closer down against her, and guiding his hard, aroused cock into her wet, anticipating cunt, stretching the Lioness out once more. His broad arms around her tightened their grip carefully, and leaning down he kissed her as their hips began to move together slowly, starting their intimate dance once more. His viper eyes looked back silently into those fiery emerald ones, no words needed, speaking together in another language they had quickly become fluent in together. The Witcher's tongue danced languidly with Cersei's, sharing his burning passion and desire with her, showing her what she meant to him, the effect she had. What he felt for her. He intended to do all he could to give her a child and heir, a demonstration of his love for her, in the form of what she desired the most. But if it happened, it would be a child made from love, instead of merely lust, and he focused on giving her all the pleasure and satisfaction she could handle. His movements within her remained slow but deep, not hurrying their pleasure in the least. As it always was with her, the rest of the world became distant even to his enhanced senses, as he fixed them all upon her, along with his attention.

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher liked for a starter (as discussed).

Skeletal hands claw at silks, at bare skin. Each time the queen swats one away, another takes its place. Soon enough, all she can do is lie back, accept her face, accept the fate of the babe as it is torn from her.

She sits bolt upright, nightdress drenched in sweat as reality slowly returns to her. She is in her chambers, alone. Yet one horrid truth remains. A hand pressed to the flat of her belly confirms it. She had lost the babe two moons ago, the final piece of Jaime that she clung to.

Her nightmares had grown worse since and now, most nights, the dead came for her. Jaime had left to fight them but…what if the living lost and the dead march south?

When Jon Snow had came to King’s Landing to tell Cersei of the threat, Qyburn had insisted on finding a Witcher for court. She had heard tales of Witchers, both good and bad. Still, he might be of use, especially as her fears are beginning to worsen.

And so, later that day, she sends for him, giving him audience in her chambers. When he does arrive, she rises from her seat, holding out a hand so that he might kiss it.

“Eskel,” she offers a smile. “I’m thankful you could join me. We have much to discuss.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel's viper eyes looked back up along her perfect, nude, olive toned body... savoring every reaction he drew from her, just as he savored her taste on his tongue, and the sensation of her smooth flesh. His hands wrapped firmly but gently around her legs as she moved them to either side of him, and his tongue steadily teased her clit and slid within her, roaming, pausing now and again to suckle her. He worked to build Rhaena up steadily towards the first orgasm of the evening, but took his time, wanting to enjoy it all for as long as it lasted. Even so, it was a bit difficult not to hurry things along, the more the fire in his blood grew for her, but delayed gratification just made it all the better, as the foreplay went on. steadily picked up the tempo, feasting on the beautiful eastern woman, appetite seemingly unable to get enough. The Witcher's fingers soon joined in, carefully slipping within her to add to the pleasing sensations for her... the way her accented voice murmured his name only encouraging him further, marred features smiling heatedly as he tended to her. Intending to give her what no other man had before, an experience not only to enjoy but to remember, in case destiny didn't join together their paths again, as it seldom did others he met and came to care for.

@rhaenaofmyr

@wanderingwolfwitcher [as discussed]

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

“Th-thank you, Ser…” she says with as much bravery as she can muster, words heavily accented. “Forgive me but…I have no coin for you…”

#rhaenaofmyr

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Orphaned image by @mellorian-art​ / MellorianJ

It’s amazing how images your recognize from certain artists can pop up in random places, but aren’t on the artist’s own page. lol

But this is yet another beautiful Eskel image from a truly very talented artist.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel gladly went with her as she took the lead by the hand, drawing him over to her bed and sitting him down at the edge, before turning her attention to his red shirt, undoing and removing it off him, exposing the myriad of body hair, muscle and scar tissue beneath. There had been a time long ago where he was hesitant about exposing his entire scarred body to an outsider, especially a lady, but such times were long past, too old for insecurities. He unbuckled his pants simultaneously, and his viper eyes watched her pleasurably as she slipped off her robe in one motion, exposing her bare, olive flesh entirely... her full breasts and curvy form. He looked her over from head to toe appreciatively, the heat of desire in his blood only growing with each passing moment... scarcely able to recall the last times he had seen eastern ladies, and certainly none that looked as perfect as she did. Looking back up to those dark eyes as she sank down into his lap, his smile deepened, broad arms enveloping her as she spoke, murmuring right back to her with reassurance, nodding.

"Mmm. And then some. Don't see beauty like yours often enough, on the Path. So I'm always sure to appreciate it thoroughly when I do..."

At her words of desire for him, the Witcher's smile deepened, and he silently kissed her again, speaking without words, holding her tighter, guiding her hand down to his pants, while his other trailed along her back, roaming her perfect body. There was no hurry to the intimacy, as there hadn't been during the course of the evening. He helped her undress him as well, and soon was as exposed as her, save the silver wolf head medallion. Rising up, muscled arms enveloping her again, he picked her up and lay her down on the bed with ease, joining her atop it between touches and kisses, one hand settling down between her legs to find her already wet for him, but slowly teasing her with his touch all the same. A hand rose to stroke through her dark strands as well, and he leaned in to kiss her with his tongue, tasting Rhaena some more intimately. Then gradually moving to kiss along her neck, and continuing to lower still, trailing them down along her body until he was between her legs, kissing and teasing her womanhood, gliding his tongue over her and tasting her, heated serpent eyes looking up and watching her all the while.

@rhaenaofmyr

@wanderingwolfwitcher [as discussed]

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

“Th-thank you, Ser…” she says with as much bravery as she can muster, words heavily accented. “Forgive me but…I have no coin for you…”

#rhaenaofmyr

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Appearances can be deceiving. I've learned that lesson more than most. And that no matter how much experience I have in the world, how long I've been around it, destiny has a way of making the unexpected happen. At least it's never boring."

Eskel's deep, faintly amused voice returned quietly as Cersei stroked his cheek and he traced his hand along her back, looking into those emerald eyes, and returning her kisses when her lips met his. And he listened silently as she spoke up again. The Witcher was quietly pleased she seemed to understand his reasons, realistic and ideological, for not being able to wed her. That it didn't change what they had or could have, that what they had was between them, and not the entire world, kingdoms or governments. That he would not abandon the Path that other Witchers had, just as she would not abandon her throne. Her words touched him... and he intended to show his gratitude for them, and her own feelings. Between kisses, hands roaming down to her fine ass appreciatively, alternating between kissing her mouth and along her neck, hard manhood pressing against her, he murmured back to the golden haired Queen enticingly. Feeling the heat and desire in his blood growing all the more again, already.

"As I am yours... and I love you as well. Think it's about time I showed you just how much, again..."

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher liked for a starter (as discussed).

Skeletal hands claw at silks, at bare skin. Each time the queen swats one away, another takes its place. Soon enough, all she can do is lie back, accept her face, accept the fate of the babe as it is torn from her.

She sits bolt upright, nightdress drenched in sweat as reality slowly returns to her. She is in her chambers, alone. Yet one horrid truth remains. A hand pressed to the flat of her belly confirms it. She had lost the babe two moons ago, the final piece of Jaime that she clung to.

Her nightmares had grown worse since and now, most nights, the dead came for her. Jaime had left to fight them but…what if the living lost and the dead march south?

When Jon Snow had came to King’s Landing to tell Cersei of the threat, Qyburn had insisted on finding a Witcher for court. She had heard tales of Witchers, both good and bad. Still, he might be of use, especially as her fears are beginning to worsen.

And so, later that day, she sends for him, giving him audience in her chambers. When he does arrive, she rises from her seat, holding out a hand so that he might kiss it.

“Eskel,” she offers a smile. “I’m thankful you could join me. We have much to discuss.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

The Witcher took his seat on the bed, remaining close as he watched the powerful masked islander tend to the disguised Queen, feeling arousal all the while, stroking himself for her to see. The way her emerald eyes looked at him, and the fire in them only made it that much more enticing, the cries escaping from her lips, the sizable dark manhood stretching her inviting pink cunt out, each thrust making her breasts bounce, unknowingly fucking his Queen furiously. His viper eyes lingering on her and smirking as well throughout, kissing her as she took it now and again. Yet it was over sooner than expected, no varied positions, and she did not allow the stranger to finish within her, spilling instead on her stomach... or for him to join in, yet. It soon became clear when the other man had departed and she cleaned herself off and came to kiss him, a smirk touching his own lips at the challenge. Of course, physically capable or not, the stranger had not been brought up to speed on her pleasures, had focused more on himself. He was hardly dissuaded, he saw the naughty game, the challenge she was posing. It would be too easy for her to choose her own preferred sort... it was up to him to discover it. He kissed her back again, looking over her perfect glistening form with her sweat and the previous man's seed. It seemed her appetite desired ever more.

"Selecting men is more your field of expertise than mine, your highness. But... you make a good point. In that case, I shall return shortly. Intend to earn that... and more."

Eskel murmured back to her with a knowing viper eyed wink, gripping her bottom, before withdrawing and departing the room to explore the rest of the brothel, upstairs and downstairs alike. This time he took more of his time with the selection process, speaking to a number of the others around. In the end, he decided to select another outsider sort not of the land, an eastern man with dark good looks and a similar accent as her handmaiden Rhaena, also masked and physically impressive, yet this time, he took the time to point out the Queen's desires from past experience, how important it was to focus on her pleasure instead of their own. To start upon her with foreplay and oral pleasures, bringing her to a first release that way, before moving on to the main event with her, and fucking her hard and good, with kissing if she desired it. He explained it all while slowly making their way back down to her chamber, slipping within and closing the door after them... going down towards her to rejoin her on the bed once more while the masked stranger likewise prepared himself for the beauty, already appreciating her with his eyes within the mask, sizable manhood already quite hard for her. Leaning in to press another kiss to the disguised Queen's lips, smirk growing, Eskel murmured in her ear naughtily once more.

"This one I have informed of your tastes... hopefully proves more up to your exacting royal standards. If not, maybe I can simply leave the door open and invite them all to enter, to receive your approval or disapproval. See how well you can handle being the center of attention. Would be good practice, for when I send the other Witchers to you..."

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher { as discussed }

The music swells around her as she remains seated upon the dais, overlooking the sea of guests all hiding behind their masks. She’d never heard of such a tradition before, hiding one’s face at a feast. Robert had told her that he’d heard the tale from an Essosi woman, no doubt one of his whores, and he had thought it a fascinating theme for his nameday feast. And so, here she sits, face concealed by an elegant golden mask adorned with carvings of each great house’s sigil. Her golden tresses are expertly concealed by a flowing auburn wig. She intends to remain completely anonymous tonight.

Emeralds instantly fall upon him seated alone across the room. Despite the wolf’s head mask he wears, she knows it is him. She knows not his name, nor had she spoken to him since his arrival in court three weeks ago. But there is something alluring about him and the mysterious air that surrounds him. Even with that hideous scar that marrs his face.

It does not take her long to spot her husband, who is leaving the hall with a woman on each arm. She knows he will be gone for the rest of the night. And so, she rises, approaching the man in the wolf mask.

“For a man wearing such an elegant mask, you seem to be far from enjoying yourself,” she says as she settles beside him. “You aren’t from here, are you? I’m sensing that feasts are not truly your idea of fun.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel took the time to enjoy his meal and drinks, joining a card game or two and some idle conversations... but the evening didn't last that way. He had only just finished his dinner, sipping some wine, when he was joined by another, smelling her familiar scent even over all the others at the bar. Looking away from the other folk nearby, part of himself was surprised when he spotted her... and all the more when she came up to murmur in his ear, feeling her hand along his thigh. It didn't take much for his arousal and desire to return, his manhood hardening against her teasing hand, especially where she was concerned... and her tantalizing offer. He wasn't sure what it was that had made her change her mind, perhaps desire... but it didn't much matter, it was behind them, and now they could enjoy the rest of the evening together, and with others. A misunderstanding averted, perhaps. No sense in not making up for the lost time... or wasting the energy the meal had provided. He was certain between the two of them, there was no shortage of ideas and experiences they could share together, that evening. Taking another sip of his drink, leaning in to her ear, he spoke up again quietly.

"If that's what you really want as well, your highness, I will. Best go get yourself ready for us. Our night's only getting started..."

The Witcher murmured back to the hooded woman, a smirk touching his masked, marred visage. Patting her on the behind appreciatively, his snake eyes within the mask watched her alluring form depart. Well now, the evening had just gotten a good deal more interesting than further games of cards. Then, when she was gone, he rose from the bar and took the time to look among the prospects around the brothel... there were many, and it was difficult to choose... she would have probably been better off choosing instead of him, but she had entrusted the task to him. If she was not satisfied with his choice, she could always choose herself. He was tempted to bring down more than one man for her... but perhaps another time, if she found this occasion enticing enough for a repeat. No sense overwhelming her too much the first time. At last he decided to choose a tall, dark, well built and endowed, masked Summer Islander, with a warrior physique and manner like she seemed to enjoy the Witcher's.

The man in question reminded him in manner similarly to the Skelligers back on the Continent, quite capable and strong, especially with ladies. She had seemed to take to Eskel quickly, at his being an outsider not of Westeros, like her eastern handmaiden, so perhaps she had a favorite type... and could do with another of them for the evening. Telling him a bit of vague detail about the lady they would be tending to, he brought the islander downstairs to the young Queen, who lie waiting for them on a bed, perfect body fully nude already, her wet cunt exposed. A woman was already there with her, tending to her and getting her ready for them. While the islander got himself ready for her as well, showing the disguised Queen how well built, endowed and aroused he was for her, the Witcher moved over closer to the bed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips, looking over her perfect body and to her fiery emerald gaze. Anticipation building to see her being pleasured for him. Murmuring enticingly in her ear again so the others couldn't hear, and reassuring her.

"Figured this was only fair, with how generous with your handmaiden you were. Nothing but the best for royalty. If you are truly fine with this, we're all yours... however you desire us. He only knows you are a mysterious, married noblewoman with deep carnal desires... and will never know he has had the Queen... our secret is safe."

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher { as discussed }

The music swells around her as she remains seated upon the dais, overlooking the sea of guests all hiding behind their masks. She’d never heard of such a tradition before, hiding one’s face at a feast. Robert had told her that he’d heard the tale from an Essosi woman, no doubt one of his whores, and he had thought it a fascinating theme for his nameday feast. And so, here she sits, face concealed by an elegant golden mask adorned with carvings of each great house’s sigil. Her golden tresses are expertly concealed by a flowing auburn wig. She intends to remain completely anonymous tonight.

Emeralds instantly fall upon him seated alone across the room. Despite the wolf’s head mask he wears, she knows it is him. She knows not his name, nor had she spoken to him since his arrival in court three weeks ago. But there is something alluring about him and the mysterious air that surrounds him. Even with that hideous scar that marrs his face.

It does not take her long to spot her husband, who is leaving the hall with a woman on each arm. She knows he will be gone for the rest of the night. And so, she rises, approaching the man in the wolf mask.

“For a man wearing such an elegant mask, you seem to be far from enjoying yourself,” she says as she settles beside him. “You aren’t from here, are you? I’m sensing that feasts are not truly your idea of fun.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"More like non existent. The fathering part, at least. I have serious doubts I am the first Witcher to share a bed with a Queen... though I have certainly been fortunate enough to share one with the best of them."

Eskel's deep, amused voice returned to Cersei languidly with a chuckle under his breath at the thought, muscled arm wrapping around her slender form as she settled against his chest and drew the covers over them. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of the Queen's golden head, savoring the closeness between them along with the wine he absently sipped. At her words... her likely concerns, the Witcher's viper eyes lowered to her emerald pair, and he smiled a bit wistfully back at her, hand still trailing along her back slowly. Funny he should have such ease in slaying the deadliest monsters, hunting them... but the normality he shared in the present with her was something he was unfamiliar with. Still learning. Being around someone else who cared for him... and wanted him for more than just pleasure. Even at his age, it seemed he had as much to learn as he did to teach, from the lessons he had already learned over a long, difficult life. Hand rising to stroke through her long strands, he found his words and voice again gradually.

"Should destiny allow such a miracle to come to pass, it will certainly be different for me... something I never expected... but that's life. Full of surprises. Things change... you live and you learn. I'll approach it as I do my own profession, doing my best. All anyone can do. I just hope you have not chosen poorly, with me for a father. I will require your patience and help, that much is for certain."

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher liked for a starter (as discussed).

Skeletal hands claw at silks, at bare skin. Each time the queen swats one away, another takes its place. Soon enough, all she can do is lie back, accept her face, accept the fate of the babe as it is torn from her.

She sits bolt upright, nightdress drenched in sweat as reality slowly returns to her. She is in her chambers, alone. Yet one horrid truth remains. A hand pressed to the flat of her belly confirms it. She had lost the babe two moons ago, the final piece of Jaime that she clung to.

Her nightmares had grown worse since and now, most nights, the dead came for her. Jaime had left to fight them but…what if the living lost and the dead march south?

When Jon Snow had came to King’s Landing to tell Cersei of the threat, Qyburn had insisted on finding a Witcher for court. She had heard tales of Witchers, both good and bad. Still, he might be of use, especially as her fears are beginning to worsen.

And so, later that day, she sends for him, giving him audience in her chambers. When he does arrive, she rises from her seat, holding out a hand so that he might kiss it.

“Eskel,” she offers a smile. “I’m thankful you could join me. We have much to discuss.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel looked back silently into her dark, enticing eyes, listening as she spoke... and as she made her move closer towards him. Anticipating the action, his arms moved around her in turn, hands trailing slowly along her back as their lips came together. The kiss came slow and natural, seemed right... there was heat and arousal to it, but not animalistic, nothing rushed about it. The relaxed evening together had helped, he was certain, getting to know her a bit better. Time had passed by quickly, the hours together feeling like minutes. Above all, it felt right... natural... and he found himself desiring ever more. Evidently, so did she, when her fingers found the laces of his shirt, the kisses deepening in passion, and she murmured her suggestion to him. The smile on the Witcher's marred visage deepened, viper eyes appreciating the eastern woman... desiring to see her devoid of her own attire and on a bed awaiting his touch. Exploring one another's bodies and desires. Taking her hand into his own, with a nod, he rose up from where they sat together, finding his deep, aroused tone and murmuring back to her.

"Mmm. Perhaps so. Just lead the way... and show me what you desire, Rhaena. Your house, your rules. And I'm big on returning such refreshing hospitality..."

@rhaenaofmyr

@wanderingwolfwitcher [as discussed]

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

“Th-thank you, Ser…” she says with as much bravery as she can muster, words heavily accented. “Forgive me but…I have no coin for you…”

#rhaenaofmyr

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"They tend to spot me faster than most, and not just the snake eyes or scars, but the two swords and medallion. Being noticed is part of the Witcher's life on the Path, ain't no avoiding it. Why they trained us so hard, for the inevitable. Though sometimes I wish the Mages of Kaer Morhen had taught us invisibility magic. Would have been handy. Alas."

Eskel's deep, faintly amused voice returned to her languidly as he worked at setting up the camp, laying down his things, as well as starting to gather and arrange stones in a circle for building them a fire. There were plenty of fallen branches and the like around the forest, at least, he likely wouldn't have to go out and chop some wood himself. He kept his enhanced senses around them, still detecting no people or monsters, but plenty of curious animals nearby. Even so, it would be foolish of him not to magically ward up the camp, when the time came. Set up some Signs as traps. He'd not survived this long by making stupid mistakes... he had already learned from the ones he had made, long ago on the Path. Scorpion in the meanwhile went off to graze after he removed the horse's saddle bags, though remained close to the camp. As the Witcher worked away, while she did, his viper eyes returned the young island woman's way when she spoke up, considering her words and nodding at her story, a trace of a smirk touching his marred visage as he spoke back to her again in the midst of arranging the fire.

"Saw my share of storms at Skellige, back in the day. The weather is almost as hazardous as the sea monsters... but I prefer even the rain, wind or snow to the sunny south... the Nilfgaardian Empire. All that glitters is not gold. Most of their cities and towns won't allow Witchers to do business in or enter them anyways, so not much incentive to head down that way. The weather sure as hell ain't enough. Give me the islands any day. Plenty of brawling, monsters, coin, Gwent, dice, ale, meat and Skellige ladies. Not necessarily in that order. Not much better in a life like mine. I'm a simple Witcher with simple tastes."

@deathswcrn

"To be fair, if I smelled alcohol in the distance it'd probably be either Skelligers or Witchers. Course the monster entrails and fluids tend to drown out even the stench of liquor, in our case."

Eskel's deep, faintly amused tone returned to the island woman with a smirk on his marred visage, viper eyes looking from her and back to the town, towards the inn. Listening to her and her suggestion while keeping his senses trained for any others. Fortunately, most were either asleep at this hour at the the inn... and they still had not been followed. He looked back her way, contemplating the suggestion to stay outside until the ship was ready... her offer. The more he considered it, the more it seemed the wisest course of action, under the circumstances. The company wouldn't hurt, for a change, and he would be having to spend a good deal of time with her on the voyage to Skellige anyways, best he get started. It was early yet, but he could already tell this contract was shaping up to be a job out of the usual... but then, not much ever tended to be usual on a Witcher's Path. With a nod of agreement, grasping Scorpion's reins a bit tighter, looking out towards the woods nearby, he spoke up to Breina again languidly.

"Wouldn't say no to that offer. Sounds like a plan. Prefer camping out in the woods under stars anyways to most inns. Not in the mood to be gawked at and whispered about all evening... flattering as a certain amount of attention can be at times. Besides the murder attempts, of course. Can make camp over there in the meanwhile, a decent ways off the road. Right this way."

The Witcher beckoned for her to follow, leading Scorpion past her, off the road and into the woods, passing among the trees while his senses mapped out their surroundings within a radius of miles. There was no sign of any monsters out in the woods, but a fair share of animals, who were keeping their distance. In time they found a good clearing, and he stopped them on the spot, looking around it, before going to Scorpion, patting the horse and starting to unpack his necessities. Just to be on the safe side, he would cast some Sign traps around the perimeter of the camp when they were settled in, magically ward it up, in case the men hunting her were lucky enough to stumble upon them. Strangers to the mainland or not, Skelligers were as capable hunters as they were sailors. Almost certainly a big part of the reason they were one of the few types of folk with any respect for the Witchers. On that thought, he spoke up to the young woman again with a glance in her direction while they both set up the camp for the evening.

"Slept in far worse places than this. Try haunted graveyards, crypts and sewers. Might not have your sea legs, but I'm not half bad at sleeping on boats either. Adaptation, the biggest necessity in my profession."

@wolfsbarbaren

#deathswcrn #when she's 100+ she can say it too lol #and gotcha lol

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel leaned back and relaxed where he sat, finding himself at ease, even as he knew he couldn't be entirely so. As far as impressions of people went, and he was a decent judge of character after all his years, trials and errors... she seemed trustworthy. Almost certainly was. But he could never entirely relax or let his guard down, at least anywhere but up at Kaer Morhen. He could see how easy it would be to do so with her, though... especially when her hand unexpectedly rose to his face, fingers trailing tantalizingly over the scars Deidre had left there long ago. The Witcher's viper eyes looked back at her dark pair silently... before a slow smile touched his visage, a hand rising to return the touch, albeit stroking through her long, dark strands, before finding her olive toned cheek. He felt arousal and interest towards the eastern beauty, but in a more remote, less urgent way. No hurry to anything, if it went that way or not. It was a welcome sort of feeling... a relaxed pace, not feeling any pressure from her or the situation they were in. Rare, in his experience. Nodding, he voiced his agreement at last.

"I'd say so too. Had more than enough experiences with cruelty to tell the difference between the two. Far fewer experiences that were kind... but that just makes them all the more memorable when they happen. All the more worth savoring, while they last."

@rhaenaofmyr

@wanderingwolfwitcher [as discussed]

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

“Th-thank you, Ser…” she says with as much bravery as she can muster, words heavily accented. “Forgive me but…I have no coin for you…”

#rhaenaofmyr

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel uttered a low moan against her womanhood between lapping her up, feeling her cleaning him up attentively with her mouth and tongue in turn, in the wake of their shared release. He remained hard in her mouth and hand, but the fire in his blood had abated a bit, if only for the moment. Then he watched as she rose up to gather them some wine and a rag, his viper eyes appreciating the golden haired Queen's perfect nude, sweat soaked form, a pleased smile remaining on his marred visage. When she returned to the bed, taking the wine and rag from her, he used the latter a bit, took a sip from the wine and wrapped a broad arm around Cersei's form, smile deepening at her words, looking back to her fiery emerald gaze. Pleased by the look in them, the way she looked at him. Already the Witcher looked forward to the next round, but knew she would need time to recover from their passion. When she kissed him, he kissed her right back, hand trailing along her alluring body, appreciating it all the more. Deep, contented voice returning to her languidly as they lay back together among the pillows.

"Mmm. Right back at you, Lioness. All that time just made it even better, when we could do this again. Not that it doesn't get better every time. Whether my potion works or not, putting a child inside you... at least we can say we've tried. And it don't hurt to keep doing so."

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher liked for a starter (as discussed).

Skeletal hands claw at silks, at bare skin. Each time the queen swats one away, another takes its place. Soon enough, all she can do is lie back, accept her face, accept the fate of the babe as it is torn from her.

She sits bolt upright, nightdress drenched in sweat as reality slowly returns to her. She is in her chambers, alone. Yet one horrid truth remains. A hand pressed to the flat of her belly confirms it. She had lost the babe two moons ago, the final piece of Jaime that she clung to.

Her nightmares had grown worse since and now, most nights, the dead came for her. Jaime had left to fight them but…what if the living lost and the dead march south?

When Jon Snow had came to King’s Landing to tell Cersei of the threat, Qyburn had insisted on finding a Witcher for court. She had heard tales of Witchers, both good and bad. Still, he might be of use, especially as her fears are beginning to worsen.

And so, later that day, she sends for him, giving him audience in her chambers. When he does arrive, she rises from her seat, holding out a hand so that he might kiss it.

“Eskel,” she offers a smile. “I’m thankful you could join me. We have much to discuss.”

#gcldenlioness

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"If you had any wits yourself, did your research, you'd know Witchers are alchemists. Could brew something to prevent that in my sleep. But if you want to play it like that, by all mean, your highness. Have yourself a pleasant evening. Will be upstairs at the bar for a time, if you require a true professional."

The Witcher murmured quietly for her alone to hear, scarred visage smirking back at her with a shake of his head and slight chuckle as they parted, manhood slipping from her wet cunt. Paying little heed to her insults, and countering them. His viper eyes looked her over again as the young woman rose and gathered her things to leave... showing more of her true immaturity, behind the crown and air of power and seduction she usually wore. Raising a brow at the display from her, he nonetheless found he wasn't too surprised... royals and nobles were usually the same, whatever land they hailed from. Willing to do something like this with him in front of so many, but acting like a chaste, virginal Priestess the moment unintended offense was perceived. Haughty blue bloods had another way of thinking and acting, in any kingdom. When she had departed with another woman, he shrugged absently and took the time to gather his own things and get dressed again.

Eskel was not much in the mood to seek out another among the onlookers, despite some visible interest from some of them. Perhaps later in the evening. Instead, he adorned his mask and robe and made his way back upstairs, for a good meal, some drinks, and perhaps some of the local card games and such... before he would make his way back to the inn for some rest. No sense letting the entire evening be a complete wash. He would just have to be careful about not spending too much... likely the time was coming that he would have to be on his way back to the Continent. One verbal misstep was all it took to lose one's head in royal company... though he was probably safe, she wouldn't want to risk details getting out. He wasn't especially put off by the unexpected turn of events, met all sorts of temperaments on the Path. Reaching the upstairs section, he took the time to take a seat and order a meal with some wine, reclining a bit and relaxing... aware of all the eyes that remained on him, but as used to it as any monarch.

@gcldenlioness

@wanderingwolfwitcher { as discussed }

The music swells around her as she remains seated upon the dais, overlooking the sea of guests all hiding behind their masks. She’d never heard of such a tradition before, hiding one’s face at a feast. Robert had told her that he’d heard the tale from an Essosi woman, no doubt one of his whores, and he had thought it a fascinating theme for his nameday feast. And so, here she sits, face concealed by an elegant golden mask adorned with carvings of each great house’s sigil. Her golden tresses are expertly concealed by a flowing auburn wig. She intends to remain completely anonymous tonight.

Emeralds instantly fall upon him seated alone across the room. Despite the wolf’s head mask he wears, she knows it is him. She knows not his name, nor had she spoken to him since his arrival in court three weeks ago. But there is something alluring about him and the mysterious air that surrounds him. Even with that hideous scar that marrs his face.

It does not take her long to spot her husband, who is leaving the hall with a woman on each arm. She knows he will be gone for the rest of the night. And so, she rises, approaching the man in the wolf mask.

“For a man wearing such an elegant mask, you seem to be far from enjoying yourself,” she says as she settles beside him. “You aren’t from here, are you? I’m sensing that feasts are not truly your idea of fun.”

#gcldenlioness