Aegon watched the pair of them argue from his place on the bed.

That blacksmith – Lord of Stom's End now after the war – was all insolence. Arya – now Aegon's queen – was all stubbornness.

She told Aegon she loved him. Loved their life and their son, Daeron. She wanted to change none of that. But – and this cut him worse than any sword that had ever been swung at him – she wanted the blacksmith, her Gendry, too.

"Just once," she had said, as they lay in bed one night, spent and relaxed. "I'm curious, is all. He's so…"

Aegon's jaw clenched at the smile that touched her lips and the lust that clouded her eyes at the thought of another man.

"He's so different from you," she finished. "I just want to know what it's like. It won't mean anything, not really. I'll drink moon tea after and it'll just be the once."

Oddly, Arya admitting her attraction to Gendry seemed almost a relief. For too long Aegon had watched them together noting the closeness, the exchange of absent and not so absent touches, the way their eyes have the habit of roving up and down each other in turn.

Aegon had been convinced they were having an affair, though even Varys could produce no proof of it. Arya openly asking for leave to lay with another man – of all the women in the world, only she would be so bold and blunt – relieved one fear only to produce another.

The first instinct told Aegon to send the blacksmith away. Banish him from court and make him finish learning to be a lord at Storm's End. That was his proper place, after all, now that his service in the war had earned him legitimization. But even if the king did send him away, that would not stop Arya from wanting him. Aegon loathed the thought of sharing her with anyone, especially the bastard son of the man who killed his father. Yet wouldn't it be better to give Arya what she wanted, allow his wife to sate her lust just the once, so she could forget about the other man?

For better or worse, that is what Aegon decided, but with one stipulation: the three of them would lie together. He would never allow Gendry to have Arya to himself.

But though Aegon had agreed, Gendry proved more stubborn. Apparently, the insolent blacksmith did not like the thought of sharing Arya either. As though he had a right to have the queen at all.

"You are fortunate we invited you, Lord Baratheon," Aegon said, cutting into their argument. Gendry scowled at the new title his contribution to the war had won him. "But if you would rather not, then go. There's no reason for us to beg you."

Arya rounded on him. "I am not begging."

After slipping out of her gown, Arya climbed onto the bed and knelt by the edge in just the thin shift.

"Gendry," she said, reaching out to him imperiously.

His scowl deepened, but there was longing there too. He was so easy to read, this bastard boy. One needed only eyes to see the stubbornness and lust warring upon his face. The lust won the battle.

Cheeks blazing beneath a black beard, he approached her. Aegon smirked as Gendry glanced back and forth between the queen and the king before finally framing Arya's hips with his hands and covering her mouth with his own.

Arya laughed, turning her face away. "You're all prickly."

Turning an even darker shade of crimson than Aegon knew was possible, Gendry made to move away from her, embarrassed. But Arya took his face between her hands and kissed him again. Her fingers ran along his closely trimmed beard, taking in the newness of the texture.

Sucking in a deep breath and swallowing, Aegon forced his gaze to remain on them, attempting to grow accustomed to the sight. But the longer he watched, the more he realized he would never get used to this. A ball of anger tightened in Aegon's chest at the sight of Gendry pawing at his wife, grasping at the shift as though struggling not to rip the fabric to shreds. What was worse, Arya moaned softly into his mouth as though enjoying the way his clumsy hands roved over her.

Aegon refused to acknowledge the occasional twitch of his cock.

Unable to tolerate anymore, Aegon rose from his position on the bed and moved behind his wife. Placing a sure hand upon her thigh, he trailed his fingers up, bringing the shift up with him before sinking between her legs.

Arya gasped, breaking contact with Gendry and falling back into Aegon. As he moved his fingers within her warm, wet folds, making her whimper, the king watched the former blacksmith scowl. He tried not to smirk as he pressed kisses along Arya's shoulder.

"Gendry." Arya sighed. "Aegon." She sighed again, tugging at her blacksmith's clothing to remove them. "Kiss one another."

Aegon's hand stilled. Gendry's frown drained away in shock.


"You said Gendry would lie with both of us," she reminded him. "I want you both to kiss."

They stared at each other and then at her. Then they stared back at each other.

"No," Gendry said.

"What's the matter? Afraid you'll like it?"

After another pause, they silently agreed to cooperate, letting their lips lightly brush each other over her shoulder. Arya was right. Gendry's beard was prickly. Aegon wondered how the skin around her mouth wasn't raw from the contact.

"Didn't kill each other, did you? Good. Now off with these clothes, Gendry. I want to look at you." Arya glanced over her shoulder at Aegon and kissed him quickly. "You as well, my love."

It rankled to see the admiration and wonder in Arya's eyes as she took in the sight of her old friend as naked as his name day. Free from her shift, she traced the muscles of his arms and chest with inquisitive fingers, trailing through the thick black hair that grew there. Soon, her hands trailed down to his already aroused manhood. She slipped down so she perched before him on the edge of the bed to examine more closely.

Aegon remembered a time when they were this new to each other and his wife studied every part of him with her eyes and fingers and…

Arya took Gendry into her mouth.

The sound of her suckling and his groaning joined together in a maddening chorus.

Feeling awkward standing there watching them, Aegon sat beside his wife on the bed and began peppering her neck and shoulders with kisses and caressing her breasts. She moaned, her mouth still full, as she pressed herself into his palm.

Without warning, Arya let out a yelp of surprise at the same time Gendry let out an agonized cry.

"I-I'm sorry," he said as she pulled away, swallowing. "It felt so good, is all."

Aegon all but laughed. "This is your first time with a woman, is it? At least we can say you are not at all like your father."

Arya punched him in the arm. "You leave him alone."

He was about to point out that saying he was not like Robert Baratheon was not an insult, but a drop of cum in the corner of Arya's mouth caught his eye. She followed his gaze with her fingers and wiped at the smudge. She was about to lick her fingers when a mischievous look crossed her gray eyes.

She held the fingers out for him to lick. Aegon hesitated a moment. But knowing his wife would remind him that the three of them lying together was his own idea, the king took the offered fingers into his mouth. With one solid lick, Aegon cleaned them, actively choosing not to think about what this meant.

No sooner did she withdraw her fingers then Arya covered his lips with hers. His wife kissed him hungrily, filling his mouth with her tongue and an unfamiliar taste. For a moment, he could almost forget the bastard blacksmith standing beside them.

But soon, she pulled away and turned to Gendry again. She pressed chaste kisses on the tip of his manhood as she stroked him, occasionally encouraging Aegon to do the same. Husband and wife exchanged kisses between pressing their lips against the other man. Somehow, touching her as well made things easier.

Under both of their ministrations, the Gendry was soon quite hard again.

"And I suppose you'd like to fuck now," Arya said, chewing the side of her lip.

Gendry bowed his head with that mocking insolence of his."If m'lady permits."

Arya punched him in the chest, but he only laughed. "I am not your lady, but I will permit."

Aegon watched his wife guide Gendry onto their bed and straddle his waist.

"Was Aegon right?" she asked. "Am I your first?"

She seemed excited by the idea. Aegon had taken her maidenhead on their wedding night, and she had been far from his first.

Arya might as well have been Gendry's first. He was blushing like maid again.

"No," the blacksmith said. "Jeyne. Jeyne Heddle. She was my first."

Only mild disappointed played across Arya's face as she lowered herself upon him. That disappointment eased into pleasure as she moved over him. The bastard's large hands found purchase along her hips, gently urging her on. She sighed and whimpered as she rose and fell, shoving the knife in Aegon's gut each time.

The queen cast a glance over to where he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Don't just sit there being stupid," Arya said through pants. "Join us."

Forcing a smile, the king crawled over, preparing to suckle one of her teats.

"Kiss each other," she said, stopping her movement. "And not like last time. Kiss one another like you were kissing me. Go on."

Aegon turned a loathing glare onto Gendry, that bastard who reclined in the king's bed with the queen round his cock. The blue eyes that met him carried no love for Aegon in return. Yet the king forced himself to lie beside the other man and they pressed their mouths together. The kiss deepened at Arya's urging.

Seven hells, why had he agreed to this?

The king could see her watching them out of the corner of his eye. She bit her lip, her gaze clouding with lust.

"Gendry, I want you to stroke him," she said.

The men sprung away from each other.

"You want-"

"I want you to stroke his cock," Arya said. "He hasn't come yet."

Gendry's jaw set stubbornly. "No."

"Aegon licked your cum and kissed your cock," she said.

Now the king could feel his own face catching fire.

"You can stroke him," she continued. "If you don't, I'll see to him and you can rub yourself off."

Gendry's eyes widened as if physically pained by the thought. Reluctantly, he did as Arya asked. Aegon fought the urge to shove the other man away as he took him in hand.

Aegon closed his eyes, but he couldn't pretend it was Arya or any woman. The beard scraped against his cheek like needles. The hand was too large and calloused… There was so much more friction and…

An unbidden moan escaped him and he thrust into Gendry's hand. He stopped himself before he could repeat the motion, but it's too late. Arya had seen.

"You like him touching you," she said.

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"Liar." His wife just smiled as she began moving over that bastard again. "Keep going, Gendry. Don't leave your king wanting."

This was dredging up an odd feeling that shouldn't be. This reminded Aegon of those few times during the campaign when he and Jon had... But he promised himself never to think of that again.

As he tried to push those memories away, Aegon became acutely aware of the miniscule space between him and Gendry; the way they seemed to breathe in time with each other even as every gasp of air became more ragged; and how his hand had somehow found a place pressed against the bastard's chest. But he could hardly think of any of that. He could hardly think of anything aside from the rough, strong hand moving steadily along his length.

A few more strokes finished him. Aegon came with a groan all over Gendry's stomach.

"See, my love," Arya said amidst sighs as she rode the bastard. "He can please us both."

Without so much as a by your leave, Gendry flipped Arya onto her back. Aegon's wife had made many sounds during their love making, but never had he heard the gurgled cry she made as Gendry thrust himself forcefully inside of her again and again.

"Stop!" Aegon roared. "You are hurting her!"

"No, no, no, it feels good, it feels good," Arya cried. "Seven hells, it feels good. Don't you dare stop!"

With that, Gendry continued pummeling her into the bed with thrust after thrust.

Aegon felt like he was on the outside more than once that night, but never more so than at that moment. Arya and Gendry's eyes remained secured upon each other as they moved in violent unison making the most guttural noises. Aegon was nearly lightheaded with relief when her body visibly shuddered around him at last, bringing the bastard to his own end.

After Gendry rolled off of her, struggling to catch his breath, Aegon arranged himself on Arya's other side and peppered kisses against her face and down her neck. Once he made his way back up, the queen framed his face and their lips met.

"Thank you," Arya whispered, before kissing him again and again.

Moon tea aside, the next day played on as though nothing happened.

Arya and Aegon broke their fast together with Daeron on bacon and flaky biscuits, and marveled at how quickly their son graduated to solid foods. They discussed a new tax with the small council just after midday. On their way to the Great Hall to hear petitions, the king and queen casually nodded as they passed the Lord of Storm's End. That night, after feasting their newly arrived Martell cousins, Aegon and Arya coupled, sliding and sweating between the fresh linen sheets on their bed.

Just as Aegon was about to close his eyes, Arya nuzzled her face into his neck and whispered, "We should take Gendry to our bed again. It won't hurt anything. Just once more."