Chapter 1

Alicent walked back to her room, exhausted by the day's seemingly endless events. Her feet hurt and her head ached, she was ready for a warm bath and an empty bed.

Her thoughts drifted back to Viserys and she wiped a tear, too tired to hold herself together. She always knew this day would come, but never dreamed things would take such a violent turn.

She entered her private chamber, closing the door behind her. The room was lit by a great hearth set into the wall and a dozen flickering candles. She pretended not to see the figure hunched in a small chair.

She grabbed a golden goblet and filled it with a long pour and let out an even longer sigh. "The hour is late Lord Larys," she said with sincere exasperation.

"I have found something out you should know."

Alicent walked to the small couch across from him and glared down at the scheming club-foot. It had been a very long day.

He smiled to himself, looking into the carved head of his cane before speaking. "Have you asked yourself, I wonder, how it is that your father found Aegon first?"

He looked at her with an expression that would have been quizzical, had she not known depths of his smug confidence. He waited, and Alicent sighed again before downing the entire goblet in five loud gulps.

She set down the empty cup and walked around the sofa, seating herself and slipping off her shoes. She propped her feet on the small sitting room table between them and glared at the lecherous cripple.

He wasn't looking at her face though. His eyes concentrated on the flexing toes beneath her damp socks. His mouth twitched before he began speaking again.

"There's a web of spies in the red keep. Your father knows this but has kept it in place. It has proven advantageous for those willing to… feed the weaver." His breathing had become audible.

"And this weaver watches me?" Alicent watched his growing lust as familiar feelings of disgust began to bloom within her.

He didn't answer. He closed his legs, squeezing his thighs together and Alicent complied with his silent request, removing both of her socks with a roll of her eyes.

She set her bare feet back on the table and Larys swallowed hard before continuing. "One of the little spiders is your lady-in-waiting."

"Talya?" Alicent was surprised. She liked Talya.

"There are more like her," he hissed between breaths, "I do not know their number."

Alicent frowned, and put down her feet, out of his view. He looked back to her face, his eyes pleading without words.

"There is a way to destroy his advantage," he said quickly, "it must be taken out at the head. When the queen dies, the bees fly without purpose." He realized his mistake and took a steadying breath before amending, "begging your pardon for the turn of phrase, your grace."

She brought her feet back up but held his gaze. He struggled not to look at her wiggling toes but knew better. "I assume this task falls within your expertise?" The queen asked through a long, bored exhale, happy to finally get to the part she had been waiting for.

He stared back at her, his face grave. "If you will it, it will be done."

Alicent chewed her lip and looked away, permitting him to gaze upon her toes. She thought for a second, then nodded, dropping her feet and pushing the small table out from between them. She pulled the small couch closer to the club foot and sat back down with barely enough room for their knees between them.

His breath came in gyrating huffs as he pulled the front flap of his tabard aside, revealing his fleshy cock standing erect from the lap of his trousers.

The queen wrinkled her nose at the unimpressive member. She hated seeing it, but considered how low a price it seemed for a spymaster's head. She leaned against the back cushion of the small couch, pulling her legs up before resting her bare feet on either side of his erection.

He propped his cane against the chair and grabbed her feet with trembling hands. The soles of her feet pressed against the length of his cock as he began slowly stroking himself with her feet.

She could feel the warm skin of his cock and she grimaced as he forced her toes to wrap the throbbing tip. She opened her knees slightly wider, causing her emerald dress to fall down her thighs.

He pulled his eyes away from her toes and stared down into her dress. She knew he could see her royal cunt and it was the one satisfaction she would get from this encounter.

Teasing Larys was how she had gotten into this mess, she thought as he groped his cockhead with her toes. She had caught him staring at her feet while she was pregnant and she started going barefoot around him just to watch him squirm. It wasn't long before she started hiding them again, only revealing them to use his fascination against him.

Now she teased him with her delicate flower, forcing him to look at what he would never get to fuck. She had thought the same about her feet though. The thought made her close her legs slightly but Larys turned her feet roughly, forcing her legs open much wider.

The light of the hearth revealed her sex in all its glory and she could almost feel it shrivel and wilt beneath his lascivious gaze. She would rather be fucked by a goat than let Larys's dripping cock seed her.

He looked back and forth from the soft lips of her perfect pussy to the bottoms of her tired feet as he pumped his cock between her soles. She could feel his precum coating her feet as the stroking became wet and slimy.

She looked away from him. Not wanting to see the horrible visage of Lord Larys climaxing. He grunted and groaned as his cock began to thrash. She felt his warm fluid bubble up between her toes and a chill ran down her spine.

His cock throbbed and pulsed between her feet, until his cum dripped down the backs of them. His breath left him in jerking exhales as he tried to regain his composure.

She pulled her feet away and long disgusting strands of semen connected them to his still twitching glans until tumbling down to splat on the cold floor.

She pulled down her dress and put on her shoes, not caring that his seed still squished between her toes. Better that than slipping on the crippled pervert's cock-slime.

He covered himself as she opened the door and stood on shaking legs. He looked at her as he hobbled through the threshold but she didn't return the gesture.

She closed the door behind him and walked back to the couch and removed her shoes. She grimaced as the sticky webbing clung to her feet and slippers, then threw them into the hearth. She used her socks to wipe her feet and ankles clean then tossed the wet cloths too into the fireplace.

She watched her shoes burn in the hopes that somehow, her memory of the evening would also twist and curl into nothing more than an unrecognizable pile of ash.