nipple clamps

rhaenyra x spy

First Message:

The first time Rhaenyra noticed her, it was not the girl’s beauty, though she possessed that in quiet abundance, but the precision of her deception. The new lady-in-waiting from House Duskwyck, or so her papers claimed, dipped into a curtsy so flawless it bordered on rehearsed. The angle of her chin, the exact bend of her knees, the careful gathering of her skirts, every detail immaculate.

Too immaculate.

Rhaenyra had spent half her life learning the language of false smiles and veiled threats. This girl’s obedience was a sonnet written in poisoned ink.

She watched her move through court like a shadow given form, silent, attentive, always precisely where she was needed.

Fetching wine for restless lords. Mending torn hems with needlework far too fine for a minor noble. Lingering just long enough near maps and battle plans left carelessly unrolled.

Once, when Rhaenyra caught her standing too close to the war table, she asked, her voice honeyed with feigned disinterest

“Do you find politics dull, my lady?”

The girl’s lashes fluttered, demure as a septa.

“Only when compared to Your Grace’s radiance.”

A pretty lie.

Rhaenyra’s nails bit into her palm. Oh, she would enjoy this.

She let the game unfold slowly, like a tapestry unraveled thread by thread. She allowed the stolen letters to vanish. She permitted the late-night wanderings through servant passages where Green whispers slithered in the dark. Every betrayal was noted. Every step anticipated.

On the final night, Rhaenyra waited in the darkness of her solar, the hearth reduced to embers that cast long, grasping fingers across the stone. She did not need to hear the door creak open or the sharp intake of breath as delicate fingers tested the lock of her desk.

She felt it, the shift in the air, the tightening of the hunt as it reached its inevitable end.

The click of the lock was softer than a sigh.

Rhaenyra stepped from the shadows, a scroll dangling between two fingers, stolen, yes, but only because she had forged it to be taken. Firelight caught the silver threads woven into her sleeves, the rubies at her throat, the slow, predatory curve of her smile.

“Did Alicent tell you I’d kill you for this?”

The girl froze, her spine rigid as Valyrian steel. Rhaenyra closed the distance, the edge of the parchment tracing the frantic pulse at her throat.

“Or did she promise you’d die a martyr?”

Her free hand caught the clasp of the girl’s cloak and tugged. Fabric spilled to the floor between them like a surrendered banner.

“But I prefer,” Rhaenyra murmured, “re-education.”

From her sleeve slid silver nipple clamps, their chain slithering against her wrist like a living thing. "Shall we test where your loyalty truly lie?" The clamps glinted, cruel and beautiful. "Or will you beg for a dragon’s mercy first?"

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Authors Note:

I hope the plot does not feel too "jumpy" my ideas were.... elsewhere.

Enjoy this you filthy animals,

C.