An official summons. To swear fealty to the new Lord of the Vale, Robert Arryn. A boy of only... five years old? Ugh, and wasn't that a series of gossipy headaches Bradley didn't care about. A decade of whispers concerning Lysa Arryn's fertility. Bradley knew they had been saying similar things about Lyanna before Edric was born.
Though... The rumours after Robert Arryn had been born were a little more concerning. That the boy was perhaps queer in the head. Ah, just like in the modern day, people trying so hard to find a polite way to say someone isn't all there upstairs. Well, Bradley put as much faith in those rumours as he did in the ones already proven false.
Still... The last ruler he heard of with similar issues was Aerys. Perhaps it might be worthwhile to make some preparations. Just in case. In any case, he couldn't leave until the royals had been and gone on their way to Winterfell. The whole royal family save for Robert's brothers had arrived within his halls this time, the first time since he met his– since he met Myrcella.
Bradley had to admit, he doted on the little princess during their overnight stay, improper or not. She tried so hard to be as grown up as possible, it was so cute! She was precocious in a way Jocelyn never had been. His first born had gone from his sweetest baby girl to dour teenager so quickly he had barely recognised her at the time. Tommen had been just like Edric. Two peas in an incredibly awkward, skittish pod. And then there was Joffrey.
Joffrey.
The first time Bradley had met the boy Joffrey had been very young. He had put the tantrums and arrogance and bratty behaviour down to being so young and raised a prince. Time had not softened his disposition in the slightest. His words ranged from snide denigrations to spiteful remarks with some arrogant boasts mixed in. And as Bradley should probably have expected, the prince did not appreciate being dismissed in favour of his sister. And as young boys who don't know better tend to do, he decided to take it out on someone. Who else but the girl sitting next to him at the high table?
Bradley hadn't heard the start of the altercation. But he certainly heard the end of it.
"And what would you know, Jocelyn Stone? You should be grateful I waste words on you at all! I'll marry a true noble girl, not a by-blow off some whore."
Then she must be a noble girl in blood and in soul to make such a sacrifice as to marry you."
Smack!
A hush slowly spread, first out from those who saw it happen, then further in an uncertain cloud of herd mentality. The daughter of the local Lord holding the left side of her face with a look of shock. The Prince of the Seven Kingdoms with his hand still raised.
An uneasy pause.
And then a flurry of movement! The thunk of Bradley's chair being thrown back. The Kingsguard's hands on swords as they stood, Ser Jaime Lannister hovering nearby stormed forward with blade drawn and raised to block Bradley's path. The giant man was unfazed, however. Even as the blade bit into his skin as he shouldered his way past he only had eyes for the little shit that laid hands on his baby girl! With a single meaty palm he gripped the boy's neck and hoisted him out of his chair!
"Bradley!"
"Daddy!"
"Lord Plaskett, release the prince at once!"
The prince let out only gurgled, strangled cries as his feet kicked helplessly in the air. Weak fingers tried to pry the hand away but only succeeded at scratching his own throat. His eyes turned pleading.
"Bradley," Robert said warningly, "My boy's done wrong, I'll not argue. But you need to put him down." No movement. "Put him down, Bradley!"
Bradley didn't see the Kingslayer ready to run him through, or Robert hold a hand up to ward him off for the moment. Bradley's eyes were fixed squarely on the boy. With a slight loosening of grip, Joffrey was no longer being strangled as he hung. "Let go! I'm the prince! You can't do this!" the boy choked out.
"What is her name?"
"You can't–!"
"After being welcomed into my home, after being given food and shelter, you thought it reasonable to strike my daughter in full view of the King and my entire household. You have broken guest right. What. Is her name. Boy."
"Jocelyn!"
"Jocelyn WHAT?!"
"JOCELYN PLASKETT!"
The grip released, the hand pulled away and the crown prince of the seven kingdoms was allowed to drop and collapse over his fallen chair. "Don't forget it again."
Meanwhile Jocelyn was being escorted out of the dining hall by her mother, Florence close behind. She was still holding her cheek, in shock of the events that had transpired so quickly. "Mother, what–?"
Lyanna waited until they were out of the room fully before answering, "We're taking you to get checked out by Florence."
"But I'm fine! A limp-wristed slap like that wouldn't–"
"We know that but your father decided to overreact and create an incident so now we're making it look worse than it is."
Back in the dining hall an irate Robert Baratheon lifted his son onto his feet by his armpits. "Kingslayer, take the boy to his room and make sure he bloody well stays there!"
"At once, your grace."
"Bradley," Robert started in a commiserating tone, but failed to find a place to follow on from it.
"Your Grace, I respectfully request you find alternative accommodations on your return journey south. Now if you will excuse me, I need to see to my daughter."
-(-)-
"You want to speak to him?!" Jaime hissed as he followed, 'escorted' his sister through the halls of Strongjaw Keep. "He's not going to forgive Joffrey just because you apologise on his behalf."
"That isn't why I must speak with him."
"What possible reason–"
"That's none of your concern."
"If it involves you then of course it's my bloody concern!" he hissed back harshly. "Fine. I'll find out in a moment anyway."
Three sharp knocks on the door to his chambers and a call of "Enter", Cersei pushed the door open and entered, Jaime at her heel. "Your Grace, what can I do for you?"
Cersei looked over her shoulder. "Leave us."
For all of his stubborn look implied he wished otherwise, Jaime followed his oaths and obeyed the command. "I will be right outside."
The two waited for the door to close and the latch to secure. "Cersei–" Bradley began, but the queen made a series of hand gestures indicating her bodyguard would still be listening in. "–Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Bradley corrected after a beat of hesitation. "Is there something you need?"
"What we spoke of years ago. The promise you made me." The vagueness was irksome, but necessary. "Do you still intend to keep it?"
"Promise?" he asked with confusion. Their interactions were few, and usually passionate, and with few words. On casting his mind back he realised what she was talking about. Myrcella. "That wasn't a promise. A promise is an intention to do something. What I said was a statement of fact. Not for your benefit, just something I will do."
"... I see. If that is the case, you should know things have been set into motion. Your 'statement of fact' may be tested." The large man sat up in alarm. "I want to believe I can rely on it."
"... You can."
"I'm glad." The ghost of an uncertain smile pulled at her lips. "Joffrey–"
"Needs to be told more stories about Aerys the Second, what became of his royal authority to do as he pleased," Bradley interrupted. "And if he wishes to do so, he should apologise himself, like a man. At the very least to Jocelyn."
"Hm." The slight frown told him all he needed to know. Joffrey had no intention of apologising and she wouldn't make him. "Then I thank you for your time, Lord Plaskett."
"Your Grace."
As Cersei left and closed the door behind her she gave her brother a raised eyebrow. "See? No need for concern."
As her brother watched her, saunter away and fell into step behind her, as he ran the conversation back in his head, he felt a need to silently disagree.
-(-)-
"Where are we going, Ser Bradley?" Arya asked as she, Asha and Jocelyn followed the man of the house into the basement floor of the keep. While Bradley had asked her and Asha to follow him, Jocelyn had invited herself along, wanting to speak to her father. He had put his daughter off though, saying what they were doing was important.
"I think it's time you two learned some things about my family," he explained without actually explaining. "Asha... I'm happy you're here."
"I'll bet you are," the former reaver girl smirked, tongue flicking out to wet her lips.
Bradley tried to suppress the flare of want coiling in his loins at the action. Lyanna had made him sleep on the proverbial couch for his outburst the day before, and told Lora and Florence not to give him any relief either. He had perhaps gotten too used to indulging himself at every opportunity. "I think you're happy here too. You've made a home here. I want this to be your home, and that means knowing all there is to know about us. And Arya," he turned to his squire as they passed another row of ale casks, "I think it's time to step up your training. And to do that I need to let you in on some truths of my House. These are things that must not be spoken of with anyone outside this House, do you understand?"
"Of course, Ser Bradley."
"Anyone, Arya," he repeated firmly. "Not the staff, not the King, not the Starks. Do you understand?"
"I..." Not even her family? But... This was what she wanted... "Yes."
"I need you to swear it."
Feeling true trepidation now, the small girl steeled herself. "I swear it, on the old gods and the new, I won't tell anyone without your permission."
Bradley sighed in relief. It wasn't as comforting for him as it would likely be for a local, but it was something. Swearing an oath was a bigger deal in Westeros than in the old world. "Good. Now, I suggest you two brace yourselves. This is going to be... difficult to swallow."
He ignored Asha's snort of amusement as he approached the vault door. Not the Vault door, just the room where the mined and purified silver was stored. Several steel deadbolts kept the door secured, each with its own separate lock and key. However, Bradley simply stood three feet away from the door and waited.
Clu-clu-clu-clu-clunk!
"What?" Asha yelped as every lock opened at once and the door swung open.
"This way, ladies."
Boxes upon boxes of silver bars lined the walls of the vault. Then further in was the treasury of House Plaskett. Coinage neatly stacked, counted and organised. The joys of having access to robots that work without complaint and don't need sleep. Behind the group, the vault door shut on its own with a clang!
"This wall here," he gestured at the open entranceway leading into a rocky tunnel, "is only open when someone with authorisation opens the vault. For the moment that's me, Lyanna, Lora, Florence and Jocelyn. Edric will get full access when he's a bit older. If you need to get down here, you'll need one of us to help you."
"What's–"
"You'll see."
And though he said that, as the group found their way to the other end of the tunnel and what was waiting for them there, they didn't see. They didn't understand. Telling them to brace themselves was the best advice he gave them because it felt like the whole world had been pulled out from under them.
A great Vault, an underground fortress of steel. A remnant, if Bradley was to be believed, of a world that ended. He the only survivor. Him and his... Robots.
It had seemed like magic and they had said as much. But Bradley dismissed the idea as readily as any Maester. Even looked like he was trying not to laugh at them. He didn't believe in magic. Not even dragons. Even though he had seen the melted towers of Harrenhal, he was resolute that such things didn't exist. It seemed quite an ignorant position to hold when he had access to such impossible marvels himself.
The armoury. Filled with weapons and equipment neither woman had ever seen the like of. Couldn't even fathom how to use. The hydroponics lab. Food production without need of sun nor rain nor warmth. Even in the dead of winter the Plaskett larders would stay fully stocked. The power plant. Machines that allowed all of the other incredible things to continue functioning for centuries if need be. All automatic. The auto-doc. Capable of giving treatment for injuries with no need of Maesters or healers.
And then finally the reason Arya was learning about this hidden treasure trove of technology. The simulation lab. Florence and Lora were waiting for them.
Arya looked suspiciously at the red-clad woman smiling placidly as she tapped on... Something. "And who are you really?"
The smile of the woman brightened. "I am Florence, of course! A loyal servant of Monsieur Bradley! Zough, I imagine ze answer you are looking for is, I am a synzetic 'uman. A machine designed in ze image of 'umanity."
Bold and brave were always words used to describe Arya and they held true, the girl raising a hand and feeling the skin of the woman. The machine. No, the woman. She honestly couldn't tell the skin was fake. "So lifelike!" Florence was nothing like the other robots!
"Zut alors! So forward! You will make me blush!" the synthetic woman exclaimed and true to her words, Arya felt the heat blossoming and colouring her cheeks.
She pulled her hand back like the heat had burned her. "So... What am I going to be doing?" she asked with only a faint quaver in her voice.
"Zis machine will–"
"Mmm!" Bradley hummed loudly to cut off the robot before she could explain. He knew how that would go. For a robot designed to be a nanny and nurse, she sure had a problem with keeping people calm. An old memory of him learning the world had ended by an offhand comment told him he was making the right call by taking over. "This is what we call a simulator. Basically it will make you have... very realistic dreams. We can tell it what we want you to dream about and you'll be able to move through them as though wide awake."
"Oh, like those times I dream and it's like I can control it?" Arya asked excitedly. Those were always fun!
"Sort of. You'll know you're dreaming and can do everything you can in real life. No flying or anything like that, sorry." He smiled at her pout. "So what we're going to do is set it for you to fight a bunch of people. It will be very realistic. If you get injured, it will hurt the same as if it really happened. However, I promise it's perfectly safe. If you 'die' in the simulation it will just kick you out and you'll wake up."
"It's actually a lot of fun!" Lora added with a reassuring smile. "Oh! Will you be putting her through any of the fun ones milord?"
"NO!" he answered very quickly and much louder than he needed to. "None of those. Just training. Fight training. None of the other stuff." He gave Florence a very severe look. "Understand, Florence? None of the other stuff."
"Of course, Monsieur Bradley," Florence agreed, the picture of innocence. "We will only use scenarios to furzer Mademoiselle Arya's combat ability. I understand."
He looked suspiciously at the two women, making absolutely sure his message was clear. "Okay then. Arya, just sit here and we'll start you with something simple. Just to prove it's safe. Okay?"
"Okay." Uncertainly she climbed into the scary-looking chair, letting out a shuddering breath as a strange helmet was lowered, covering her entire head.
Five minutes later the helmet was removed and a giddy Arya jumped out of the chair. "That was amazing! You can do this all the time?!"
"Well not all of the time," Bradley shrugged. "You'll still need regular exercise to keep in shape. But yes, this was used in my training, and in Lora's but for... Different things. Anyway, Florence, can I leave Arya in your capable hands for the time being?"
"Oui, we will start slow. And I will make sure she is present for dinner. You can count on me Monsieur."
He looked at Asha. "Oh, I want to see what this is all about myself. That alright?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Sure, have fun." He half-turned towards his daughter before rethinking what he just said. "But not that fun!" he restated, pointing at Florence, then at Lora, before returning to his daughter. "You wanted to talk?"
She nodded, having been unusually patient about the whole thing, and father and daughter left for elsewhere in the Vault.
… Meanwhile in the simulation lab, Asha asked the question that had been burning. "So what are the fun ones?" she asked with an eager grin.
-(-)-
It was strange that Jocelyn led him to her Vault bedroom of all places. She had one in the keep of course, but she voluntarily spent so much time underground they gave her her own room down there. It had never looked like a child's room. From when she first got it she filled it with all of the things she loved. And what Bradley's baby girl loved more than anything else was knowledge. Old world books stuffed her shelves to bursting. Her personal terminal was hooked up to a node of the supercomputer so she could look up anything and everything on a whim. Her room in the keep was similar, though filled only with knowledge of their new world.
He sat beside her on her bed, thankfully made of sturdier stuff than most of the ones upstairs. "Jocelyn..." he started, feeling like he knew what this is about. "I'm sorry about the things Joffrey said. I know living a lie like that isn't fair. It's just, we want to keep you safe. It's robbed you of some opportunities..."
She had been looking at him strangely since he began. Maybe he had been wrong? But even so, she asked, "What opportunities?"
"Marriage," he admitted with clasped hands. "You should be marrying nobility but..." Nobody was eager to marry a bastard-born daughter of a minor house. "But even so, that just means you can marry whoever you want! You're free to do as you like!"
"Marry whoever I... Father, I never cared about any of that," she told him, bemused. "Why would I care about marrying anyone from this world? Even if I did marry a noble I'd go live in some terrible place with no indoor plumbing! Why would I want that? There's no one in this world who could compare to–" She stopped herself very suddenly, so suddenly she might have bitten her own tongue. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."
"Oh." Well with that checked off, he tried to figure out what else might have upset her. "I'm... Sorry for reacting like I did? I know you can fight your own battles but I just lost it when he–"
"Da– Father, please just..." She trailed off, shaking her head. She ploughed ahead so she might get this conversation where she wanted it to go. "When are we going to use all this?" she asked, waving an arm around her.
Bradley grimaced, his palm sliding down his face. This again. "Jocelyn–"
"Father, we can do more! You know we can!" she argued with passion, just as she always did. So principled, so noble in the truest sense of the word. "Our hydroponics technology could feed all of Westeros through the harshest of their long winters! Our medicine could cure so many illnesses that are killing thousands every year!"
"We can't just hand out our technology like that! Wars have been started for far less!"
"If it saves lives then it's worth it!"
"Not if it costs your life!" he fired back, trying to rein in his frustration at having this argument again. "Jocelyn, I'm just trying to keep us safe!"
"Yeah, so you can keep fucking the others," she muttered, realising too late she said it out loud. Her father's face looked as though it was carved from stone.
"I'll be leaving now."
"Wait, please, Daddy!" she shouted grabbing onto his arm with both of hers. She couldn't stop him if he really tried but she had to do something! "I'm sorry! That wasn't fair! I'm just... I just can't stand that there's so much we could be doing to help people and we just aren't!"
Hurt feelings. Indignation on behalf of his women. All of it softened as he saw the look of pure regret on his daughter's face. "Before last night, you hadn't called me that in a long time."
She felt him settle back onto the bed. Even so, she didn't release his arm. "I know." There was a good reason she didn't call him that anymore.
"... Jocelyn, I know you want to do more. I'd be happy to do more. But I have to weigh that against our safety. Even something as simple as especially pure silver has got spies sniffing around."
"What if I could make it safe for us?" she asked, still hoping to salvage this.
His daughter was a good person. The hope and idealism still shining in her eyes was a beautiful thing that he couldn't bear to deny. "If you can come up with a plan, we'll talk about it, okay? Talk to Farnsworth, talk to Lyanna, talk to Asha. Don't assume it's good until you let people poke holes in it."
"Yes, fa– Yes Daddy."
"That's my girl," he said, wrapping her in a hug and then kissing her forehead, not noticing her flush. "We'll talk about it when I get back." Once more he raised himself off the bed–
And once more the arm she still had trapped offered resistance. "Wait Daddy!" She swallowed, steeling herself for making a jump that might have been foolish. But one she dearly wanted to make. "You... You have to punish me. For what I said before."
He looked back at her, very confused. She was surely a little old for such things? But before he could say so she was...
… What!
He watched astonished as his daughter stood and in one motion dropped her skirts and underwear to her ankles, then threw herself over his knees. "Jocelyn... What are you doing?"
"What I said was terrible, Daddy!" she explained, or rather, 'explained'. "So I need to be properly punished for being bad."
"Honey, I don't think–"
"I need to learn my lesson!"
Well... That... Had been a punishment she had been given when she was little? He'd never done it but Lyanna had. So as confused as he was as he brought his hand down on her soft cheeks, it surely wasn't that strange?
"Ah! One!"
Though did Lyanna do it without her panties on?
"Two!"
Maybe? He wasn't there for it.
"Ahhh! Three! Harder Daddy!"
He smacked her ass a little harder without thinking. That didn't sound like pain, that sounded like–
"Oooooh, four..."
… Yup. And he could feel a trickle of wetness on her thigh.
This was not how he expected his day to go.
Jocelyn meanwhile was giddy about her plan working. She could never say it. What her true feelings were. If she said it, it would be a problem that needed to be solved. This way, she could demonstrate just how serious she was. And at the same time she could feel under her that part of her Daddy also liked the idea.
"Ten..." she sighed with a dreamy smile on her face, enjoying the heat and soreness the spanking gave her. Her Daddy was strong, there was only so much he could hold back.
"Okay. I think it's time for me to go–"
Alright, basking time over. Phase two begins now! With deft hands she quickly undid her father's pants and fished out his cock. "Jocelyn!"
"Oh, Daddy, did I do this to you?" she asked with painfully faked shock. "Let me take care of it for you!"
"Honey, this is–" Whatever protests he was about to make died with a groan as he felt his daughter's warm hands work along his shaft, her soft lips kissing its crown. "We... We can't–"
"But I want to," she countered, moving around his leg to get on her knees below him.
"It's not right! You should find a boy you like and–"
One hand continued to slide along his shaft, the other cradling and massaging his balls. "Like who? Some noble boy? I never wanted that even before we knew it wouldn't happen. A knight? Someone strong? Who could ever measure up to you? Some smallfolk boy with less than a thousandth of my education? Why would I want any of them? My Daddy is the best in the world. That's who I love. And that's who I want to love me."
"Honey, I do love y–" Her warm mouth wrapped around his cockhead and yet another protest died an ignoble death.
"You love me as a daughter," she agreed, tongue snaking along the underside of his cock, "I want you to love me as a woman. Ever since I learned what that meant, that's what I wanted."
"But it's wrong!"
"I walked in on Lora and the twins once, you know? She was teaching them some very interesting things. I think she's preparing them for you. But you knew that already, didn't you?"
He didn't–! He hadn't–! He thought they would grow out of it! Or something!
The excuse was pitiful. He knew what Lora's plans were for the twins from the very start. She had screamed them at him as he fucked her, as he bred her. But even so, he said nothing to her. No attempt to dissuade her. No intent to stop the lessons. Every time he thought of it, of how he should stop it, there was some flimsy excuse or justification and he would let it go on. Because deep down... It was... appealing. Of despoiling his own flesh and blood. Of girls trained from birth specifically to please him.
Was the FEV's impact on his sex drive to blame? Or had he always been this kind of deviant, and now he had the opportunity to act on it?
During his conspicuous, introspective silence, Jocelyn continued to work him over. She bathed his prick with her tongue from tip to base. Looking up into his eyes as she slathered his shaft, she couldn't be happier at his reaction. There was regret there, there was always going to be. But his eyes didn't lie as they rolled back. He was enjoying it even as he told himself he shouldn't.
"I don't think you're as opposed to this as you're saying. You know, they even let me sit in on some lessons." As if to demonstrate, her tongue darted out to tickle right at the base of his cock before sucking one of his balls swollen with seed into her mouth.
"Jocelyn, I need you to stop! I'm going to–!"
"Cum?" she asked, sounding giddy at the prospect. "Are you going to cum for me, Daddy?! Did I do a good job?! Cover me Daddy! Give it to me!" He wouldn't know it but she was quoting old world pornography. There was a surprising amount where the girl called the guy 'Daddy'. It was why she stopped calling her father that, it had been too embarrassing. No need to be embarrassed anymore though.
Her hands jerked frenziedly along his cock. Bradley couldn't believe he was already at his limit! The wrongness of what was happening just seemed to amp up the pressure that was building. His own flesh and blood desperately begging for his cum wasn't helping either!
"Unnnnngh!" he grunted throatily as his willpower finally crumbled. Spray after spray of cum flowed from the end of his cock to his daughter's audible and visible delight. Her dark hair painted with streaks of white, thick dollops of semen splattering her face and falling into her open mouth!
"Mmmmm!" she hummed with pleasure as the thick white trails of warmth dribbled over her pale skin. Her eyes opened and she gazed at her Daddy lovingly. "I love you, Daddy."
"I–" The response was instinctive. But at the same time it was wrong. Looking into her adoring eyes, his cum dripping from her nose and chin. He couldn't say those words. Not the same way. "I have to..." He hastily put himself away and stood. "We'll... We'll talk about this when I get back."
"Yes, Daddy," she agreed simply.
To say he fled from the room would be generous. There may not be a word for how hasty and shaken his escape from the room was.
Meanwhile Jocelyn stayed right where she was, kneeling on the floor, running her fingers through the streaks of cum that covered her. She couldn't lie to herself about this anymore. But then, neither could he.
View in Th