Miners, Bertrum. They work hard for us, do them the courtesy of speaking of them with at least the minimum of respect." He had always hated that nickname for the silver miners. Especially because it felt like a failure on his part that he couldn't do much to protect them from their ailment. Argyria might not be a dangerous affliction but the fact that he couldn't really protect his workers from it even with more modern mining procedures annoyed him greatly.
"As you will, milord." And how Bertrum didn't seem to care only made that annoyance worse. "As for other business–"
"Excusez-moi!"
The entire group stopped halfway through the entrance hall at the voice that was only familiar to a few of them. Bradley saw flashes of his whole world crashing around him. Turning around much slower than everyone else had, he was at least pleased that he didn't see a hovering robot with tentacle limbs.
What he did see... Well...
Spoiler: Florence

She was... Wooden. Not literally. But her movements as she waved beyond the guards blocking her path, they were rigid like a puppet's. Or like a robot's. She was pale of skin, pale of hair, her eyes an unusual shade of red that matched her coat. Her expression was neutral and unmoving as she continued to wave. "You are Lord Plaskett, correct?" Bradley wondered whether anyone else would notice, but the words didn't quite match the movements of her lips. "I 'eard you do not 'ave a trained physician in your employ! I was 'oping I might be able to offer my service!"
"Should I send her away, milord?"
… So this was probably the rest of his day now. "No, I'll speak to her," Bradley denied, waving the guards to let her in. "Lyanna, if you could–"
"Show Arya to her new room, of course."
"Lora–"
"Come along children, Lord Bradley has business to attend to."
… He looked around for Asha only to realise his harbourmaster had already fucked off. Thank God his women were so wonderful.
"Dad, why is Florence a person now?" Jocelyn whispered to him urgently.
"I will answer that question for you as soon as I know the answer."
At the very least, Florence's walk was better than her other movements. Her steps appeared precise instead of inhumanly stiff. Having led the 'woman' to his chancery, he shut the door behind them and, "Florence, what the actual fuck?!"
"Ah! Monsieur Brad! You 'ave seen zrough me so quickly!" the robot exclaimed, affecting a shocked look which only made the out of sync lip movements worse. "You are as impressive as always!"
"Florence, you have the same voice, same accent (that does not exist in this world) and you still move like a machine. Not to mention your lip movements don't match your words."
"Ah, vraiment?" Her shoulders drooped mechanically. "I will 'ave to improve zese zings."
"Florence," his tone reeked of defeat as he sank into his chair, "Just... Why?"
"Monsieur Brad..."
She sounded sad, genuinely so. It was as she was trying to arrange her face to look it that he stopped her. "None of that. You don't have to... Just tell me. Make me understand."
The jaw closed, the face stilled. And her voice continued. "I just... I am to look after you, Monsieur Brad. It is what I was made for! But more and more, it seemed you did not need me. At first I was 'appy, to see you doing so well. But zen..." She paused for far too long. Long enough it was clear there was something she decided not to say. "I saw you wiz ze queen and it seemed so foolish. I decided your sexual drive must be making you do foolish zings! So... I started building zis," the synthetic body waved an arm over itself, "so zat I may make sure your urges are controlled! I must–! I... wish to... look after you, Monsieur Brad. Like I used to."
Well if he needed any more confirmation of rampancy, he had it. Florence had developed her own wants and desires even if those desires were centred around her programming. It might be hard coded into her to want to make sure his needs are met but that in no way required her to be the one to meet them. Her directives were still being met, but she wanted to personally be the one to meet them, or at least contribute to it.
And... Bradley didn't believe he had it in him to refuse her. She had quite literally given him everything he ever wanted. She made him strong, she made him handsome, through those things, she allowed him to earn respect in this new world. A wife, multiple lovers, children he wouldn't trade for all the worlds. And in the end, it was all thanks to her efforts.
And so... There was no other answer he could give. "Okay." Of course, it wasn't simple enough to just leave it at only that. "You'll need to get better at looking human."
"Oui, I will begin designing subroutines for such zings immediately!" she readily agreed with a grin that was just a little too wide on her face. "But... I would also like to show you 'ow I can attend to your needs, Monsieur Brad." With steady but stiff movements she dropped to her knees in front of him, opening her coat and shirt to reveal the flawless skin of her cleavage. "I worked very 'ard to make it seem as lifelike as possible." Taking one of his hands, she pulled it towards her chest, allowing his fingers to run along her synthetic skin. "See?"
He did. He very much did. She was soft to the touch, and warm. If it weren't for her current inability to play the part, he could mistake her for human. "Yes."
"May I?" she asked, reaching for his pants.
Possibly against his better judgement, he inclined his head slightly, giving her permission and not an instant later her fingers were unfastening his pants and pulling out his already stiffening cock. "Not fully 'ard yet," she noted unnecessarily fingers wrapping around it and starting to slowly stroke it. "Am I so strange, Monsieur Brad?"
"A little," he admitted with a sigh as his prick came to full attention. "The not breathing or blinking is–"
"Ah, oui! I neglected zose zings!" she exclaimed, blinking and breathing a puff of hot air over his cockhead, making him shudder. "Bien?"
"Yes," he nodded firmly, "Very bien."
"Merci!" she said and just for a moment she looked truly alive, smiling as she said it. Her mouth opened and sealed over the crown of Bradley's penis, then she began to slide down.
And down.
And down.
Her throat bulged outwards as she took more and more of his shaft down it without complaint. No one had managed to take him this deep before! The heat and the suction was an impossible, blissful experience as her oesophagus clenched and massaged his shaft. His breathing came in harsh pants as his cock was devoured by the synthetic human.
"Ah!" she spoke despite her mouth being quite occupied, "I 'ave taken all of it! Zis is quite ze accomplishment, non?"
"Don't–" he gasped, "Don't talk with your mouth full!" Never did he think he would say that and mean it quite so literally.
"Ah, oui." Agonisingly slowly, Florence drew her lips back up the shaft, vacating him from her throat and trying to suck his soul out through his dick the whole time. Her lips came off with a pop as she started jerking him with both hands. "Would you like to, 'ow do you say it, fuck my face?"
"God yes," Bradley answered without hesitation. Florence quickly positioned herself to accommodate him, leaning over as he stood, keeping her lips wrapped around his 'spit' covered crown. Seeing the long braid running down her back, he wrapped it around his hand and used it to drag her forcefully down to take all of his meaty cock in one thrust! Florence offered no complaint, even offering encouragement in the form of moans that were probably for his benefit only, but still gratifying. Back and forth he slammed her head down onto his meat, thrusting forward at the same time, his balls hitting her chin with a slap. All the while Florence only focused on making it more pleasurable for him, constricting her throat around his cock on each thrust almost like she was gagging.
It was soon too much for him and with a shuddering moan he spilled his seed down her throat, holding her in place as she was pumped full of the sticky white substance.
He practically fell out of her as he slumped back down into his chair. "That was... Wow," was all he managed to say.
Florence scooped up and swallowed what little semen hadn't already gone down her throat. "I made certain I would be able to service your needs Monsieur Brad. Would you like to pound my anus next?" Bending over the desk, she flipped up her skirt and dropped her panties to show him her lower holes. "I know you 'ave not found anyone capable of taking you to ze base." To show her readiness, she pulled her cheeks apart to put herself on full display for him.
She didn't need to ask twice! Breathless moment forgotten, Bradley leapt from his chair and put his cock up to her pucker and drove in with one push! It was ridiculous! No woman had been able to take him in her ass like this! Reaching around he could feel the bump as her body was rearranged to fit his massive shaft. If he were to go this rough or this deeply into even Lyanna or Lora he would probably send them straight to the auto-doc. He would never give up real women, Florence could try but he doubted she would ever be able to match the real thing. But she certainly had charms of her own!
"Monsieur Brad! I am so glad I can service you like zis! I will do all I can to service your needs!"
"Call me Bradley."
"Ah! Oui! Zank you, Bradley!"
-(-)-
Once more, years passed.
Arya took to her training like a fish to water. More than that, having experienced exactly how not a pushover her aunt was first hand, Lyanna ended up participating in more and more of the girl's training. The young Stark was clearly not fit for most of the traditional knightly armaments due to her smaller stature. Spears would be robbed of their advantages, the classic broadsword a little too large for her frame, shields generally too large also. Instead they ended up equipping her with short blades and shields ranging from bucklers to the Ironborn round shields. While she might grow into using larger weapons, stranger things had happened and Bradley was living proof, it was better to start her on weapons she could feel comfortable with rather than ones that would be unwieldy at the outset.
Of course she was overjoyed at moving to a place where she could become the warrior she always wanted to be. But she also had to make peace with other... adjustments to her world view. Like when she went to Bradley's chancery to drag him to the training yard only to find him ravaging Asha's backdoor to the Ironborn's inexplicable delight. Or the time she went down to the pantry to get a snack and found Lyanna fingering Lora while drinking from her obscenely large breasts. Or the time–
… Let's just say there are a lot of things she walked in on that she rather wished she hadn't. It had been a distressing conversation for her when her aunt and uncle sat her down to talk about it. But she took the lesson to heart, if she heard moans and lewd squelching, just turn around and walk away. And that's absolutely what she did... Most of the time. She could understand why Jocelyn had been uncomfortable with such things, it usually involved her father, after all. But for a growing girl not quite as closely related it was something that certainly piqued her curiosity on occasion.
Though... There was one situation she decided to watch that she probably shouldn't have as she quietly followed the queen through the halls, watching through a crack in the door as the haughty Lannister entered her aunt and uncle's chambers without knocking.
"Were you waiting for me?" the queen asked, shrugging her robe off of her shoulders to hang on her upper arms.
"You're the one thing I look forward to on these visits," Bradley answered as he rose from his chair.
"I never doubted that for a moment," she purred, her robe dropping to the floor as he approached her, her undeniably beautiful body proudly displayed for him. And unknowingly for Arya.
The girl stifled a gasp! Even the queen?! As her uncle guided King Robert's wife to his bed and laid her atop it, Arya almost squealed when something tapped her on the shoulder!
Looking behind her, she saw her Auntie Lyanna with a finger up to her softly smiling lips, her other hand held out for Arya to take. Blushing furiously at being caught peeping, the girl took the hand and allowed herself to be led away for what would certainly be another awkward conversation.
Meanwhile Bradley laid his very occasional lover down on his own marriage bed. He knew Cersei always got a little thrill out of that. Pulling her down so that her legs hung over the edge he once again had to marvel at her beauty. The queen certainly liked to call herself the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms. He had a hard time reconciling his love for his wife and the fact that yes, Cersei was probably entirely correct about that. She had been remarkably beautiful when he had first fucked her. But like all of the women who bore his children, getting bred by him agreed with her. Breasts that had begun to sag suddenly regained their perkiness even with the rigours of a second and more recently third pregnancy. The few imperfections of her sun-kissed skin had cleared up. Her body soft from inactivity was enhanced with a layer of firm and toned muscle beneath. He couldn't deny, Cersei Lannister possessed the body of a goddess made flesh.
And even better, "I see you did as I asked," Bradley noted as he sank down to his knees, one hand trailing over her thigh, the other toying with a neatly trimmed tuft of blonde hair at the apex of her pussy.
"It seemed an amusing diversion," she sighed, pretending she did it for herself and not because he had requested it. "Obviously you approve."
"It's beautiful," he praised, fingers running along her already moist lower lips, up the left, not quite touching her button, down the right. Round again, and again, on the fourth time lightly grazing her clit.
"You're teasing me," she accused but didn't tell him to stop.
He hummed in agreement, toying with her folds for a little while longer. Suddenly, he hooked his arms under her thighs and pulled her towards him, diving down to replace his finger with a quivering tongue!
"Oh!" she gasped, "That, that feels quite... Pleasant," she moaned out, doing her best to not reveal how truly good his wriggling tongue felt against her nether lips. But any attempt at playing coy ended when his own lips closed around her button as he sucked while flicking it with his tongue. "Ahh!"
And that was the signal for him to stop playing around.
Cersei's body writhed for a full quarter hour as Bradley feasted on her cunt, tasting every inch of it he could reach and sucking down her juices as she squirted them onto his waiting tongue. "Hah... Hah... I suppose I can keep grooming myself this way if it allows moments like this." Even as intense as it was, even as she had gripped at his head to force him deeper, Cersei considered it a relaxing experience compared to the brute ravishing her like she was used to. It was a pleasant change of pace.
But... It wasn't what she craved. It wasn't the reason she had come to look forward to these visits, as baffling a possibility as that might have seemed a decade ago. And as he rose from his knees, as he titanic cock appeared between her legs and was lain atop her mound, she couldn't hide her excited, eager smile.
Judging by the smug look on his face, maybe she should have tried harder. "Tell me what you want, Cersei," he demanded as his cock slid agonisingly slowly across her pussy lips.
"Just get it over with already," she said, trying to put on a strong front that was in reality as fragile as glass.
"Hmmm, I don't know, I could always go and find Lyanna. I'm sure she'd be happy to take care of this for me." Putting action to his words, he stood fully, his hardness pulling away from her.
It galled her that that was all it took to break her. "Fine!" she snapped, "I want it! Just give it to me!"
"What do you want, Cersei?"
"I want you to fuck me! I want you to use your beastly cock to pound me into your wife's bed! I want you to ravish me like the hulking brute you a–" No warning, no more teasing, right in the middle of her frustrated rant Bradley drove himself home into her welcoming cunt with a squelch. "Ahhhh!" she squealed, her back arching as her overeager quim clamped down on its invader in an intense climax. Bradley was merciless as he took her legs and folded them up to her chest, slamming into her gushing cunt with wild abandon.
"Ha! Ha! YES! Yes! Needed this! Needed this!" she squealed. Just as she demanded he pounded her into the mattress with the kind of fury she had longed for! Ever since she had beared his child he no longer treated her like glass. Instead he rutted her like she was his woman to be fucked, like a thing to slate his lusts on and Seven help her this was what she craved.
Suddenly, his arms hooked under her legs reached under her back, lifting her up and carrying her to the wall. She let out a gasp as she slammed into it and he got right back to plugging her cunt as hard and fast as he could, even deeper now that she was trapped between him and the wall. Her hands futilely clawed at his back hoping to find some kind of purchase but quickly gave up, relenting to the waves of pleasure crashing against her mind. She felt an odd sort of pride as she felt his seed swelling inside her belly before unconsciousness took her.
The quiet alarm she felt as his lips captured hers was likewise washed away...
… It was only moments later that she awoke. She could tell. She could feel his seed dribbling out of her gaping pussy. Every time. It took at least a week for her body to fully recover from the treatment Bradley gave her, but even so she always considered it to be worth it.
Still... "You shouldn't have kissed me."
"No?" he asked, having returned to his chair with a goblet of wine. "I'm fairly sure of all the things for Robert to be mad about, kissing you would be pretty low on the list."
"Not because of–"
She stopped speaking far too late. Bradley regarded her, looking a little sad all of a sudden. "I see. No, it's not surprising. If you're unhappy with Robert it would be foolish to think I'm the only arms you find comfort in. Well, I suppose you don't come to me for 'comfort' in the first place. I guess I overstepped my bounds."
She sniffed. "Yes, you did," she rebuked him though there was little heat in it.
"I see. Then I'm sorry. But," he took a sip of wine, "If I could ask one thing? Are you angry because I kissed you? Or are you angry because you think this other man will be angry that I kissed you?"
…
"Goodnight, Bradley," she said, not answering his question as she quickly redressed in her robe and sashayed toward the door on unsteady legs.
"You'll come by tomorrow night," he said as she left. It wasn't a request. Nor a question. It needed no response.
Both knew it was the truth.
-(-)-
"A letter for you, Lord Bradley. With the seal of House Arryn."
House Arryn? That was strange. Jon basically never wrote to him, too busy managing the whole of Westeros to deal with little old him. And Lysa definitely wouldn't send him anything. The only letters he expected to receive from Hosue Arryn would be reminders about tax season that came around every damn year, as though anyone could forget.
Sighing, he took the letter, ripped the wax seal and began to read.
Lord Ser Bradley Plaskett, Lord of the Northern Peaks
With my deepest regrets it is my duty to inform you that Lord Ser Jon Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East has tragically succumbed to illness and passed into the waiting arms of the Seven.
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Last edited: Dec 20