Jasmine smiled and had to hold back a laugh as she saw the face he had made when she called him out by his hair. She waited until he came close, before setting the goblet down for him to fill. “Viserys.” His name rolled off her tongue so easily, warm like honey. She moved closer, cupping his face between her hands, stroking his heated skin.
“I know your name, but they can’t know that I do, you know that. For me to call your name so easily, it will cause rumors.” The warmth was spreading through her, and she was finding it harder and harder to resist. So she moved closer, pressing her lips to his soft skin. “If I had it my way, you would always be close by. So we wouldn’t have to hide as much.”
The princess knew it was wrong, this relationship, but she loved it too much. She loved how he made her feel. It had started not too long after he came here. Jasmine had been all too curious about the man, and one day, she found herself pressed against him. Her lips locked over his, and she couldn’t draw away easily. “Drink up, you look like you could use some.” Jasmine then laid back on the pillow, watching him.
She was so warm and inviting, it was hard not to wonder what effect she had on him for all these months and when she said his name he felt his heart skip a beat. His name had made him touch starved in a way. He rarely heard it and he longed to hear it come from Jasmine’s lips so when she pressed her lips against his skin he found his hands moving to bring her closer to him and pressed his lips to her forehead. This was the little power he could find here in this country, the little freedom he had beyond that of a royal slave.
“I would love that as well Jasmine.” He replied as he looked at her, he never thought he would find love here not in his situation nor happiness. He still wasn’t sure how and when it had started but he had noticed how she had looked at him when he was first brought to the palace and slowly over time, over small fleeting looks and touches that brushed or lingered for far too long and he covered her lips with his greedily, pushing for another moment longer before she drew away and he did as she said, drinking from a goblet and tasting the sweet drink.
It was almost as sweet as Dornish wine and it brought back memories of home and he wondered what Daenerys was doing now but pushed her out of his mind as he sauntered closer to the Princess, extending his hand to give her, her goblet before he laid down to join her “You know back home I’m a Prince…well, a King. My father and brother killed and our tittles usurped from the throne by rebels, my pregnant mother and I forced to flee to safety. She died giving birth to my sister, Daenerys.” He didn’t speak of home often but he’d been feeling home sick as of late and wanted to tell someone his story, his culture and life.
Goldnwulf 