hh

The challenge comes to Renly Baratheon.

-x-X-x-

He'll never admit it out loud, of course, but Renly Baratheon isn't really a martially minded person. He finds the thought of hauling himself down to the training yard to spar day after day thoroughly exhausting. Fortunately, as a Lord Paramount, he's never really had to worry too much about that.

Oh certainly, there are appearances to be kept up. He knows how to put his armor on and how to hold a sword both in a sheath at his side and in his hands. But beyond that… well, he preferred not to bother.

In fact, one might even say he's a bit rusty… but it doesn't matter because you don't need to be the greatest knight in the realm in order to lead an army… or even to lead the realm itself.

Still, for all that Renly himself didn't much like crossing swords of the steel variety with his fellow knights, he had to admit that he was a sucker for watching others do it instead. He'd always loved how much Robert enjoyed tournaments, because it allowed him to indulge that favored pastime to his heart's content.

Of course, there were no tourneys right now… they were at war after all. However, they were also quite frustratingly in a stalemate at the moment. Renly's forces had put King's Landing under siege, but for now he couldn't take the city. Meaning he was forced to sit on his ass and wait for something to change.

Hence sitting on a slightly raised wooden stage with his Queen seated to his right and Loras stood to his left as all three of them watch two of his Rainbow Guard, Lady Brienne of Tarth and Ser Parmen Crane, duke it out for his pleasure.

Renly knew that many, even among his own men, questioned Lady Brienne's appointment. The woman was… everything a noblewoman should not be. She was tall, muscular, and altogether homely. Her mouth was too big and her nose crooked from being broken and set more than once.

He still remembered the first time he'd met the large woman, all those years ago. Even back then, Brienne had bucked every trend imaginable, and she hadn't remotely comported herself as a noble lady should. This, in turn, had led to no small amount of scorn being heaped on her by her peers, especially when her ugly appearance was combined with her caustic attitude.

… But what did Renly care what others thought? He was the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, and she was as much one of his vassals as anyone else. Besides, even at that point Renly had known he was just as different as she was. His 'affliction' and 'abnormality' was merely easier to hide than Brienne's.

So yes, he'd treated her with courtesy… and in turn, she'd apparently fallen in love with him. Brienne did not know that Renly knew this, of course. She'd been sent to Storm's End by her father, Lord Selwyn Tarth, with a sealed letter for his eyes only that she had never read.

Lord Selwyn's letter had been clear… Renly was the only man who Brienne had ever loved and she would likely never be wed due to not just her appearance, but also her unwillingness to put down her sword and comport herself as a proper noblewoman.

The Lord of Tarth had begged Renly to take Brienne into his service as an extra sword, and to treat her with the same respect that he'd treated her the first time they met.

Here they were, all these years later, and Renly had to admit… Brienne was probably one of his most loyal, steadfast warriors. She wasn't a knight of course, because women couldn't be knights… but she was still a member of his Rainbow Guard, and she'd more than earned her title 'Brienne the Blue' in Renly's eyes.

Case in point, the fight in the grass comes to an end as Brienne manages to knock Ser Parmen Crane in his ass. Renly makes sure to smile and clap and Margaery does the same at his side, even as Brienne offers Ser Crane a hand to help him stand. It pleases Renly when the knight actually takes the hand and lets Brienne assist him.

Before he can speak up and congratulate both warriors on a hard fought battle, however, there's a commotion from off to the side that draws his and everyone else's attention. Renly blinks as a good half dozen of his men escort what looks to be a messenger into the clearing. He leans forward with interest when the messenger is then announced to be from King's Landing.

Bowing at the waist, the messenger straightens back up and clears his throat.

"I bring word from Axel Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Loras takes a step forward, no doubt to say or do something inadvisable, but Renly cuts him off with a raised hand that stops him in his tracks and keeps him quiet. Smiling gently, feeling the weight of his crown upon his brow, Renly tilts his head to the side.

"And what word does my bastard nephew have for me? Is he ready to meet and discuss the terms of his surrender?"

There's a flash of anger in the messenger's eyes… mm, completely loyal to his nephew then. A shame.

"No, my Lord. The King-!"

A blow to his back from an angry Brienne sends the messenger to his knees. Unfortunately, the Maid of Tarth had been too close and moved too fast for Renly to step in like he had with Loras.

"You will address His Grace as King, not Lord!"

Sighing, Renly shakes his head.

"Brienne, please. We don't harm messengers. We're better than that. And the man can hardly deliver his message if we're smacking him around."

Eyes widening in surprise, Brienne steps back and bows her head in shame.

"I… forgive me, Your Majesty. I acted without thinking."

Renly just smiles and nods.

"All is forgiven. Right, my friend?"

The messenger slowly pushes himself back to his feet, eyeing Brienne with narrowed eyes and no small amount of derision. He doesn't bother acknowledging Renly's words either. In the end, he just straightens up and looks back up at the wooden stage.

"King Axel does wish to meet with you. But he does not intend to surrender, nor does he ask for you to surrender either. He has sent me here today to issue a challenge, Lord Renly."

Renly's brow lifts as those in the clearing stir.

"A challenge, you say?"

"Yes your lordship. The King challenges you to a Trial by the Seven."

The stir turns onto a full on rippling as everyone in the area reacts to those words, each in their own way. Plenty of wide eyes, a couple of sharp intakes of breath, and several shifting from foot to foot. Renly himself barely reacts at all outwardly, though inwardly his mind is racing as the messenger continues on, barely hesitating.

"It is King Axel's most fervent belief that no great amount of blood should be shed for what he calls a pointless war. That is why he offers you this opportunity to have your conflict settled before the Gods themselves. Let the Seven Who Are One see justice done."

At his side, Loras scoffs under his breath. Renly, of course, does not. But he does share his paramour's sentiment. He's never really cared much for the gods. Obviously, as a Southern Lord with Andal and Targaryen blood flowing through his veins, he'd been raised on the Seven Pointed Star and taught the Faith from an early age.

It just… hadn't really stuck. He knew better than to piss off the Faith, so of course he paid lip service to the Seven… but the idea that they would bless a Trial by Combat or a Trial by the Seven to make sure the ones most worthy of winning came out on top was… ridiculous to him.

No, such things were always won by those with the strongest sword arm. There was no question about that.

At his side, Margaery leans in close to him, whispering in his ear.

"They're desperate. They must not have enough food stores to last out the siege now that the Redwyne Fleet is coming into play. We have them right where we want them, a Trial by the Seven would only risk everything we've achieved so far."

The only one besides him to hear Margaery's words is her brother. Leaning in from his other side, Loras whispers into Renly's other ear.

"If you wish to accept, know that I would win the Trial for you beyond a shadow of a doubt. With Selmy and Jaime dead, I am the best swordsman on either side of this conflict. No matter who your nephew fields, they don't stand a chance."

Margaery, of course, hears her brother's words and sucks in a sharp breath before scowling mightily and whispering heatedly right back.

"But what is the point of risking it? For glory? Glory is no use to any of us if you die, Loras!"

Loras scowls right back, the two siblings basically having a heated discussion right over the top of Renly at this point as everyone else watches but can't quite hear what they're saying.

"It's not just about glory, Margaery. If Robert's bastard has sent this challenge, it means he's probably consulted the High Septon at this point. And if the High Septon has signed off on it, then all of King's Landing will have heard about it. From there, news will travel throughout the entirety of Westeros. Everyone will call our King a coward if he turns down a Trial by the Seven that has the Faith's backing."

Now that…that was a fair point. Cutting Margaery off from responding with a raised hand that causes both of the Tyrell siblings to pull back into their previous positions, Renly looks down to the waiting messenger. Why worry about 'what ifs' when they can just ask directly?

"Tell me… what does the High Septon say of this challenge? We are, all of us, devout adherents to the Faith after all."

Grinning, the messenger juts out his chin as he responds.

"The High Septon's been preaching that it's a blessed idea, your lordship. He says it's the best way to end this with the least amount of bloodshed and that the Seven will surely look down favorably on whichever side wins it."

And just like that, Renly is trapped. It's a beautiful maneuver on the part of his nephew, he has to admit. Either he rejects the challenge and further ruins his already somewhat tarnished reputation in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms' Great Houses, or he accepts and gives Axel a chance to end this war without having to wait for the rest of his forces to arrive.

But then to be fair, this is also a boon for Renly, in a way. What Margaery doesn't know because she hasn't been told is that Renly's latest scouts report his brother Stannis used the Royal Fleet to sail multiple shipments of food into King's Landing's harbor before the Redwyne Fleet could arrive. From all up and down the Narrow Sea, Stannis had brought in supplies to keep King's Landing safe.

Now, even a fleet of ships aren't enough to feed the entire population of King's Landing forever, especially with House Redwyne finally making it to the party… but they might allow Axel to hold out until the Vale, Riverlands, and North are finally able to make their way down South. At which point, Tywin Lannister might choose to stop dragging his feet and come join the winning side… which would no longer be Renly's.

In a way, Renly appreciated this offer because it took the power away from the Great Houses and put it squarely in the hands of him and his nephew. Only one side would emerge victorious, and the other would be forced to concede because to do otherwise would be tantamount to blasphemy in the eyes of the Faith.

And while Loras could be a bit boastful at times… Renly was inclined to believe that his Knight of Flowers was correct in his assessment of the relative skill level between their two sides. With Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister both dead, Loras truly was the best knight left in the region, if not the best knight in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Not to mention the last Renly had heard, Axel hadn't even refilled his King's Guard yet. Meanwhile, Renly fully believed that his Rainbow Guard was made up of the best seven warriors in his entire army. With all of that in mind…

"I accept."

Loras grins a vicious grin while Margaery slumps a little in her seat. Leaning forward, Renly laces his fingers together as he gives the messenger a smile.

"Return to my bastard nephew and let him know I agree to his challenge. If the High Septon himself believes that a Trial by the Seven is the most blessed way to end this conflict, than who am I to refuse? Let it be known that I, Renly Baratheon, Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, will humbly accept whatever outcome the Gods deem most just."

The messenger bows and backs away. Renly watches him go, knowing that the actual details such as day and time will have to be hashed out through either letters or more messengers over the next few days. But one way or another, this is happening now. It's been set in motion and can't be taken back anymore.

As soon as the messenger is out of sight, Loras places a hand on Renly's shoulder.

"I won't let you down, my King."

Placing his own hand atop Loras', Renly smiles up at him and nods.

"I know you won't, Loras."

From his other side, Margaery lets out a disgruntled, unladylike noise.

"Please just tell me that you won't be so foolish as to fight in the Trial yourself."

Letting out a laugh, Renly shakes his head.

"Of course not, my Queen. Why would I when I have seven of the greatest warriors that the Seven Kingdoms have ever produced right here in front of me!"

Every member of his Rainbow Guard hears his boisterous words, just as intended. All of them straighten up, square their shoulders, and preen a little at his praise. Brienne in particular looks absolutely gobsmacked before a beaming smile spreads across her face, only matched by the one she'd had the first time they met.

Renly meets her eyes and the eyes of each member of his Rainbow Guard, smiling and nodding at them individually to show his faith in every single one of them.

It would hopefully help to quiet the discontentment among the Storm Lords when they themselves heard that he wasn't taking part. Renly knew his vassals well and while he had carefully cultivated their affection all his life, he also knew some of them would think him craven for not fighting in the Trial himself.

But if he framed it as him refusing to sideline any of his 'noble' Rainbow Guard, than they might be willing to accept it. No, they would accept it, especially when the Rainbow Guard won the day in the Trial and showed themselves all to be some of the best warriors that the Seven Kingdoms had to offer.

Of course… he wasn't JUST going to be relying on their skill at arms to carry this Trial by the Seven. No, even as he settles back into his chair and gestures for another sparring match to begin, Renly's mind drifts to a letter back in his tent. It's a letter he'd received over a week ago now… one he had honestly thought to ignore. But now that the entire war will be decided on one battle between seven of his champions and seven of Axel's, Renly can't help but think about it.

Is he really going to do it? Can he truly afford the cost of such a thing? But then again… can he afford the cost if he doesn't take the offer and his champions lose? If Loras died in this upcoming Trial, Renly would never forgive himself. No… he had to do whatever it took to make sure Loras came out on top.

-x-X-x-

A/N: And so the Trial is confirmed and Renly is scheming to make sure his side wins. But what does he have in mind? And what's this about a letter? Hmmm…

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-x-X-x-

A/N: Leave a Like if you enjoyed please, would mean a lot!

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multi POV showing the true feelings of Axel's Small Council to the news of a Trial by the Seven.

-x-X-x-

With Renly agreeing to the challenge, a date for the Trial by the Seven is pinned down in just a few more messages and like that, it's confirmed.

Truthfully, Jon doesn't know how to feel about it. Part of him can't help but wonder where Axel got the idea in the first place. Had the Most Devout whispered it in the young King's ear during one of his daily visits to the Great Sept? Or was it someone else with even worse intentions than the High Septon?

Frankly, the Lord of the Vale doesn't know whether to be relieved or worried now. At this point Renly has already lost, he just doesn't know it yet. By agreeing to let things be decided by a Trial by the Seven, Renly has effectively forfeited his claim to the Iron Throne.

After all, it's not like Axel is going to lose. Jon still remembers in vivid detail what Robert's son had done to those treacherous Baratheon Knights that day on the Kingsroad. He'd barely seemed human with how fast he'd moved and how strong he'd been. Cutting men in half with his sword, punching jaws clean off with his fist.

None of their enemies had been safe that day. Only those who had fled the moment they realized the tide was turning had survived and Jon suspected if Axel hadn't had to look after him, they too would have been run down and killed. He'd seen how swift the younger man was after all. Jon didn't doubt that Axel could have run down even the fastest horse in Westeros.

But that brought up the issue of what came next. Renly would lose and either surrender to take the Black or be executed for his traitorous actions. That part was all but set in stone now, with the only thing left to choose being the men Axel would fight with on the day.

But that was Axel's choice, not Jon's. More than a dozen knights staying in the Red Keep had been helping Axel hone his skills with a sword ever since his coronation. All of them had volunteered to participate in the Trial by the Seven once it was announced.

Even after Axel had told them he would be naming the survivors of the Trial to the Kingsguard, no one had retracted their offer. To be fair, being a member of the Kingsguard was one of the greatest honors a knight could strive for, regardless of how restrictive their vows were.

As well, much like Robert before him, Axel was capable of inspiring great loyalty in people. His stature, his strength of arms, and his personality had led to the men he'd been training with all wanting to follow him to the ends of the earth and back.

The young King would know who the best of those knights were, so Jon left it up to him to decide who would stand by his side the day of the Trial. Jon himself was far more concerned with what would happen afterwards.

For instance, there was House Tyrell to be considered. Renly would either die or take the Black, but as frustrating as it was, Jon would not be advising Axel to remove House Tyrell from their seat in the Reach. It wasn't like there was anyone else in the Reach who had stayed loyal to elevate to their position, to be fair. The Reach Lords had sided with their Lord Paramount to a man, leaving them with little options.

However, Margaery Tyrell had apparently traveled with Renly on this war for some reason, so once the Trial was won, they would at least have her as a hostage. Jon would suggest that Axel keep Margaery in King's Landing for a time, to make sure that her family stayed in line.

On top of that, the Reach would almost certainly be forced to pay reparations for a good long while for this. At least a decade, perhaps more if Axel was feeling particularly vengeful. That might even be able to help them start working on the Crown's debt too.

Frankly, Jon wished that they could do the same with House Lannister, especially since so much of the debt was owed to the Lions of Casterly Rock. Unfortunately, Tywin had threaded the needle and remained just shy of being blatantly disloyal.

If nothing else, that was another thing Jon liked about this Trial by the Seven… it took all the power out of the hands of opportunistic men like Tywin Lannister and put it back where it belonged, in Axel's hands.

But speaking of Axel's hands… well, Jon couldn't truly prepare yet for that part. They would have to wait and see just how much of his true nature Axel had to expose in the Trial before Jon would know what damage control he needed to run. Fortunately, the Faith was still on their side for now… and the somewhat open secret of Renly's preferences should keep the Faith and the Most Devout on their side once Axel won.

Still, it was only going to be as clean as Jon made it. So even though the war was pretty much already over… the work was only just beginning.

At least Jon could rest easy knowing that Renly had seemingly ignored the tales from those survivors on the Kingsroad and had absolutely no idea what the fuck he'd just agreed to…

-x-X-x-

Stannis Baratheon knew what people thought of him. He knew that he was not a well-liked man. A combination of being a hard man with a strong sense of pride had led him to run afoul of many people over the length of his life.

That, together with what he believed to be a completely reasonable sense of duty and justice, made him a pariah among the nobility of Westeros. No more so than with his late brother, Robert too.

Stannis had done everything that was asked of him and more. During the Rebellion, he'd successfully held Storm's End against Mace Tyrell's siege, even as he and his men had starved. Following the Sack of King's Landing, he'd built a Royal Fleet at Robert's behest to seize the Island of Dragonstone, the last stronghold in the possession of House Targaryen.

Through events outside of his own control, the Mad King's last remaining children had escaped Dragonstone even as Stannis had taken the island castle. But even though it wasn't his fault, Robert had blamed him all the same.

He'd gone on to name him Lord of Dragonstone, while Renly had been given Storm's End. To make matters worse, Renly had been made Lord Paramount of the whole of the Stormlands, a position that should have been Stannis' by birthright.

Even still, Stannis toiled at Robert's behest all these years. Decades of service as his brother's Master of Ships. Not a single ounce of appreciation in return.

Unlike Renly, since Stannis was away from the city at the time, news Robert's death had come with the news of his bastard's legitimization. Truth be told… it hadn't surprised him, not really. One last knife in the eye before his older brother finally met the Stranger.

If anyone had a right to be angry about being supplanted, it was Stannis. With Joffrey and Tommen dead, Stannis should have been Robert's Heir. Sure, Myrcella technically had a claim as Princess… but the Lords of Westeros would never abide by a Queen upon the Iron Throne and Stannis doubted that even Tywin Lannister would have tried for such a thing. Not that it had wound up mattering in the end. Instead, his fat oaf of a brother had made sure with his dying breath that Stannis would never sit on the Iron Throne.

Funny then that his legitimized bastard, Stannis' new king, was giving him a a chance at the throne anyways. If Axel Baratheon lost the Trial by the Seven, then Stannis fully intended to push his claim. He certainly wouldn't let Renly have the city or the throne while he still drew breath.

… But even if Axel won, Stannis didn't think he would mind, much to his own surprise. His nephew had shown more gratitude and affection towards Stannis in the short time since he'd arrived in King's Landing than Robert had all of his life. And sure, part of that was because the Royal Fleet was bringing in food that was keeping the city going through the siege. But even still, Axel seemed to truly appreciate that Stannis was loyal where Renly was not.

It was his duty, in the end. He would serve his new King just as he'd served the last, regardless of his own personal feelings in the matter. And if Axel should fall, than it was also Stannis' duty to make sure that his traitorous little brother never got the chance to sit on the Iron Throne.

Duty and justice. These were principles that Stannis had lived by all his life, no matter how difficult it was at times. But he had to admit… recently, it had been far easier.

x-X-x-

At the Small Council meeting, Petyr had of course said what he felt needed to be said… but his true feelings were a different story altogether. A Trial by the Seven was the last thing Petyr needed to happen at this point in time, and now that a date had been set and the Trial confirmed, Petyr was left scrambling against the sands of the hourglass he'd just been saddled with.

Even though the Master of Coin would have preferred more of an actual war and a whole lot more bloodshed, the siege had been extremely lucrative for his side businesses all the same. Specifically, Stannis turning the Royal Fleet towards supplying King's Landing from the water had given Petyr a rather massive opportunity.

Every single ship in the Royal Fleet that was currently transporting foodstuffs from other ports over to King's Landing was one less ship that was patrolling the Narrow Sea looking for pirates, smugglers, and other clandestine sailors who might be on his payroll.

In fact, a few of those ships from the Royal Fleet were now on his payroll as well, though their Captains didn't really know it. With some coin in the right hands and a few words in the right ears, it wasn't always just food that the ships were transporting into King's Landing. Nor did they always leave with cargo holds that matched their documentation either.

However, just when Petyr felt like he was really starting to gain momentum, it was all going to have to come to a crashing halt. If only the siege had lasted a little longer… or even graduated into a full blown war outside of the city once the armies from the Vale, Riverlands, and North arrived. If that had happened, then Petyr could have continued making golden dragons hand over fist.

But no. No, one way or another, the show was over and Petyr would be damned if he would be the one left holding the bag. It would probably require burning a few of his smuggler contacts in the process, especially with the speed that he had to move to get it all done in a timely manner, but that was just how the game went sometimes.

As soon as the Trial was over and a victor was decided, things would start to go back to normal. And that would mean a lot more scrutiny of… just about everything. Bribes would still work, but they would almost certainly go up in price and not be as effective as they were before. And ultimately, Petyr wasn't willing to risk any of it. No matter who won, he needed to be ready to take advantage of what came next.

There was, of course, some difference in the two outcomes. If Renly won, Petyr wasn't sure whether he would manage to keep his position or not. He was technically Lord Arryn's appointment, after all. At the same time though, if he could manage to stay on as Master of Coin, then the new Hand of the King would be Mace Tyrell and that utter buffoon would be perfect for Petyr's purposes.

On the other hand, if Axel won, then while Petyr was confident he would remain Master of Coin, things would be… much less perfect. In that scenario, he would have to tread carefully once Jon's focus was no longer caught up in a starving city and an army on their doorstep.

There were benefits and costs to both outcomes. And either way, there would be opportunities for Petyr to weigh when the time came. He just had to be ready for them... and make sure that he was playing the game to the fullest of his abilities.

One way or another, Petyr Baelish would weather the coming storm, no matter what form that storm took.

-x-X-x-

Varys had to admit, this Trial by the Seven… was precisely what he wanted. Oh sure, he'd been careful to give a somewhat neutral response in the Small Council Meeting, but the instant he'd heard the words from their young King's mouth, the Master of Whispers had been absolutely elated.

Not only would this limit the bloodshed drastically, but it would also give Varys a chance to see Axel Baratheon in a live combat situation. With men actually trying to kill him, the young King would no longer be able to hold back quite so much, Varys hoped.

After all, having watched Axel spar each day, he's noticed several oddities about the young man that others seem to be ignoring. Such as the fact that Axel has never received a single injury in the yard. He's never been winded, nor knocked down. Not even once.

Now on the face of it, one might assume that part of this was because of Axel's position. He was the King of the Seven Kingdoms after all. That, combined with his powerful physique and youth made him not just a formidable opponent to fight, but also a dangerous one. Nobody wanted to be the knight who put their King on his ass. Nobody wanted to be the knight who drew blood from their new King so soon after the last King had died.

However, that wasn't what was happening. Oh sure, initially some of the knights that Axel had sparred with had very clearly held back. But just as Varys had noticed, so had Axel. And he'd quickly disabused them of their belief that they couldn't go full strength with him.

No, instead, over the weeks, Axel Baratheon had begun pushing the men he fought harder and harder, dragging them up with him as he steadily learned from them, and taught them some things in turn. Varys wasn't much of a fighter, but even he had to admit that there was something awe-inspiring about watching the young King do battle. Like poetry in motion, really.

However, was it poetry in motion… or sorcery in motion? Because Varys hadn't just noticed that Axel was never injured, winded, or knocked down. He also noticed that the young man never seemed to even break a sweat. Oh, he made an effort of pretending to of course. Wiping his brow when necessary, even pretending to pant from time to time.

But Varys' little birds were often able to get ahold of Axel's clothes after a long sparring session once he'd stripped them off in order to take a bath. Those clothes told the true story. They weren't soaked through even a little bit. Either Axel Baratheon didn't perspire at all… or he simply hadn't encountered a tough enough fight to push him to that limit yet.

So yes, Varys was very, very interested in seeing Axel in the upcoming Trial by the Seven. Especially since the correspondence between the two Baratheon Kings had allowed him to slip a few of his little birds into Renly's camp… and deeper still, into Renly's tent. Varys had received copies of all of Renly's correspondence, and was kept up to date on what sort of letters the man was sending out.

One of those letters was quite intriguing. Not just the contents, but the recipient as well.

It would seem that Renly Baratheon was intent on arming his paramour and Lord Commander with a secret weapon. Loras Tyrell was already bound to be one of the stronger combatants in this upcoming Trial by the Seven. It would be quite interesting to see just how he might fair against Axel Baratheon… especially when armed with Valyrian Steel.

-x-X-x-

A/N: Dun dun DUUUUUN!

Feedback is GREATLY appreciated, every comment helps me shape the story with a Daily Free Write like this one!

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-x-X-x-

A/N: Leave a Like if you enjoyed please, would mean a lot!

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Axel visits the Great Sept to see one of his favorite women, before going and visiting his other favorite woman.

-x-X-x-

Axel finds that he most prefers to visit the Great Sept of Baelor in the mornings, just as the sun is rising over the city. If he goes any later in the day, then he risks displacing other worshippers with his mere presence, since of course as King he absolutely needs to have the main chamber of the Great Sept all to himself for some reason.

He had tried and failed to convince the High Septon that this wasn't necessary, and that he didn't really want anyone to inconvenience themselves on his behalf. But the leader of the Faith had in turn explained to him that nobody was even under orders to clear out when he appeared. Instead, they were doing so of their own accord out of respect for both their pious King and the Seven Who Are One.

Axel wasn't sure if he believed the somewhat corpulent man, but outside of starting to interrogate everyone who fled the moment he showed up, he didn't really have a way of finding out for certain.

And of course, if he went even later still, after the day was over, than while the Great Sept might be emptied out, it also became a little… disturbing. Dark, really. Oh sure, it was still lit by plenty of candles scattered all over the place, but it felt somewhat eerie, if Axel was being honest.

Not that he was afraid of ghosts or anything like that. Or maybe he was. Specters were the one thing Axel couldn't just punch to death, after all…

Regardless, coming in the morning not only ensured that he would both be largely undisturbed while at the same time not BE a disturbance himself, it also had the benefit of giving him the best lighting. With the rising sun coming through the upper balcony of the Great Sept's main chamber, the whole place was awash in that beautiful morning light. It really was wonderful.

Moving from statue to statue, Axel prays in front of each of them, as is his usual preference. He always starts with the Smith, a statue of a man holding a blacksmith's hammer. Tall and proud with a strong back and a bald head, he represents ingenuity and craftsmanship.

Axel then skips the Stranger, as is tradition. Of the Seven, the Stranger is not meant to be worshipped, which is why his statue faces away from the center of the room and over towards the wall.

After the Smith, he goes to the Crone, a visage of an old woman holding a lantern. From her, he comes to the Warrior, an armored knight holding swords crossed over his chest. From the Warrior, he comes to the Mother, her dress tantalizingly revealing and her arms held open, her hands empty. The Mother is then followed by the Father, who holds the scales of Justice aloft as he towers over Axel just like the others.

Finally, last but certainly not least… is the Maiden. Axel moves in front of her statue and stares up at her in wordless silence for a time, pretending to pray as he… enjoys the view.

Technically, there are better 'routes' for particularly pious individuals to take across the six inward facing statues of the Seven. And most of the time, visitors to the Great Sept don't even bother praying at each statue, preferring to focus their time on one or two of the Seven that they most need guidance from on that day.

As a young King who needs to be seen as particularly pious, Axel doesn't have that sort of privilege. And so, every single day, he comes to the Great Sept and starts his route with the Smith… because if he starts with the Smith and works his way around the circle, spending several minutes gazing up on the visage of each of the statues, then it's not particularly strange if he spends an extra few moments staring up at the Maiden.

The Maiden… is Axel's treat, one might say. Because the Maiden's statue within the Great Sept of Baelor depicts her as completely in the nude. She's quite shapely too, with full breasts and curvy hips and a tight cleft right between her thighs. Truly, whoever sculpted her was a visionary of a man.

… Yes, the Maiden is definitely not the least of the Great Sept's statues… and she always leaves Axel feeling a certain sort of way as he ends his circuit of the Great Sept and leaves to head back to the Keep. A certain sort of way that he carries with him for a time, until he can get things… taken care of.

-x-X-x-

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

"F-Fuck! Yes! H-Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Hands on her shoulders, squeezing down but not so hard that he bruises her flesh, Axel slams his cock into Cersei Lannister from behind time and time again. The Queen Dowager is no maiden, yet her body, even after giving birth three times, could certainly give the Great Sept's statue of the Maiden a run for its money.

His hips crash into her ass as he plows her from behind, his prick pistoning in and out of her gushing wet cunt with seemingly reckless abandon. Obviously, he doesn't go hard enough to harm her. If he used his true strength, Axel isn't sure there's a woman alive who could survive him. Certainly not Cersei.

So instead he holds back a considerable amount, even as he lets her think that she's getting everything she can out of him. The Queen Dowager certainly seems to like it rough during these experiences, always egging him on, always goading him further.

"Pull my hair! Smack my ass! Or are you not MAN enough to do what your-gah!"

SMACK!

Like that. Sometimes Cersei tried to bring Robert up, just to piss Axel off. He's gotten good at interrupting her though, laying a palm strike across her ass that makes her choke on her own spit. Of course, to make sure she doesn't try again, he then reaches for her hair, gathering it into a fistful and pulling her head back roughly.

Cersei groans and moans in equal measure as Axel redoubles his pace, driving in and out of her cunt with powerful thrusts. Her pussy walls try and fail to squeeze the life out of his pulsating prick, even as she cums for him, time and time again.

Finally though, he can feel himself getting close. However… their relationship has evolved since their initial encounters. Oh, he still doesn't cum inside of her. But these days, he also doesn't cum in the nearest rag he can find either.

"Here it comes."

As he warns her, Axel pulls out of her cunt and uses his grip on her hair to help bring her around. Cersei doesn't resist him, the Queen Dowager spinning on her hands and knees until she's facing his rock hard cock. Staring up into Axel's eyes, Cersei takes him in her mouth, sucking in her cheeks and swirling her tongue along the head of his shaft.

With a heartfelt groan, he tips over the edge and delivers his load into the Lannister woman's waiting maw. She swallows greedily, drinking down his seed like there's no tomorrow. She's an excellent cocksucker, though most of the time he can tell that she prefers he just fuck her. However, ever since the first time she'd dropped to her knees for him, she's at least taken to having him do this at the end of each and every one of their… encounters.

His balls empty down the Queen Dowager's throat, preventing the possibility of any unwanted accidents as she guzzles his cum like a Flea Bottom Whore. Finally though, it's done and Axel releases his grip on her hair. Watching her pull away for a moment, he eventually drops down onto the bed, laying on his back.

Cersei joins him of course, curling up beside him and pressing her bosom into his chest. Her breasts might sag a bit more than those of the Maiden's statue, but to be fair… one is marble and the other is flesh. And despite Cersei's age, her tits have held up extremely well, maintaining their heft and size quite admirably.

He certainly finds himself enjoying the way they feel pressed against his bared skin, even as Cersei leans in close, her lips tracing a handful of kisses along his jawline for a moment before she finally speaks.

"The Trial by the Seven fast approaches. Do you think you're ready, Your Grace?"

Axel resists the urge to derisively snort, instead smirking a little bit as he wraps an arm around the Queen Dowager.

"Worried for me? It was your idea, you know."

Cersei rolls her eyes at that, lightly slapping his chest.

"I merely wish to make sure that your head is in the right place. You know you cannot show the traitor any mercy, right? If you leave Renly Baratheon alive, he will only find a way to weasel out of things and come back later to continue being a thorn in your side."

Axel keeps his face carefully composed, hiding the frown that wants to stretch across his features. It was always the same thing with Cersei. They fucked and then she tried to whisper honeyed words into his ear. Once in a while she had excellent ideas… such as the Trial by the Seven. But most of the time, she seemed oddly focused on making sure he killed his uncle. Or rather, his uncles.

"And Stannis… he's only biding his time, Axel. You can't let your guard down, not with either of them. They want your throne… and they will stop at nothing to get it."

Now Axel does frown, because while he has absolutely nothing good to say about Renly Baratheon, he can't help but want to defend Stannis' honor.

"I'm not sure you're right about Stannis. Everyone else says he doesn't have a single subtle bone in his entire body, and that he's lawful to a fault. Frankly, having spoken to the man myself several times now, it sounds like he should have been Master of Laws instead of Renly all along!"

In fact, there's a reason the Master of Laws position has remained vacant all this time. For his loyal and leal service, Axel intends to make Stannis both Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and Master of Laws once this is all over. He also plans to let the man choose his own replacement as Master of Ships, because Stannis should know better than them who the best of his subordinates are.

Axel has already discussed this idea with Jon and his Hand has agreed that it sounds wise. Sure, Stannis might not be well liked by the Lords of Westeros… but he'd performed admirably in this war that wasn't a war. His loyalty, along with the way he turned the Royal Fleet towards shipping in food to King's Landing, had saved countless lives and deserved recognition and reward alike.

Of course, they're not planning to tell Stannis any of this until after the Trial is won. And Axel's certainly not about to tell Cersei either. Especially since even his lukewarm defense of the man provokes her into pulling away from his arms with a huff.

"Be careful not to be blinded by fools and sycophants, my very young King. They will all tell you what you want to hear, and make sure to reinforce what you want to believe. Someone like me who has nothing left to prove or aim for will tell you the truth. Keep that in mind."

Axel makes a face behind Cersei's back as she turns away from him, climbing off the bed. Really… did she think he didn't see through her? Sure, maybe the Queen Dowager didn't have anything left to prove, but it was obvious she still had things she wanted.

Her hatred for his uncles was especially clear, even if Axel didn't fully understand it. Still, she couldn't think that he would just execute Stannis on nothing but her suspicions… could she?

"You should prepare yourself for Renly to not take direct part in the Trial by the Seven as well."

Wait, what? That catches Axel off guard and makes him sit up, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"What do you mean? Of course he'll take part, his honor is on the line."

Cersei just scoffs, giving him a disappointed look.

"You think after everything that he's done, Renly Baratheon cares about his honor? The man is a sword swallower who, despite having never had any thoughts of being in line for the Iron Throne, clearly started plotting to take it for himself even before Robert was fully dead. More than that, he is soft and a coward. He won't fight because the Trial does not demand it of him. He'll have this 'Rainbow Guard' of his fight in his stead, the seven of them against you and whoever you pick."

That… hm, once again Axel is reminded that not EVERYTHING Cersei says is completely brainless. Certainly, it's almost all venomous, but she has SOME good ideas. And the more he thinks about it, the more Axel thinks that Cersei might be right. Of course, she's not done explaining exactly what she believes will happen tomorrow.

"When all is said and done, once you've won, Renly will either try to find a way to declare the Trial a farce and continue pushing for the Iron Throne, or he will surrender and offer to take the Black in exchange for his miserable life. You must gird yourself for either outcome, Axel. And no matter what, you must take his head. You cannot allow him to escape your clutches or he will only come back later, as I said before."

Right. One tidbit of useful information, followed by more insistence that he absolutely needs to make sure his uncles die by his hand. That was Cersei to the hilt, wasn't it? Truthfully, if it were in the Trial itself, Axel wouldn't mind killing Renly in one-on-one combat for the headache that the other man has given him with all this nonsense.

But afterwards? If Renly does surrender, if he does swear to take the Black… Axel would allow it. To do otherwise would be too close to Kinslaying for his taste.

His silence is telling apparently, because after a long moment Cersei just scoffs.

"It feels like nothing I say seems to get through that thick head of yours. If you're not going to listen, you might as well leave. You've already had your fill of me, clearly."

Well… she's not wrong. In the end, Axel wordlessly gets up and gets dressed, leaving Cersei's chambers with one final lingering glance in the Queen Dowager's direction.

On the one hand, he's grateful for the warning she's given him. Much like suggesting the Trial in the first place, he's pleased now that he can prepare himself for the likelihood of his uncle's cowardice. This way he won't be too surprised, nor will he make a fool of himself if Renly truly doesn't participate in the Trial on the day.

But on the other hand… Axel was beginning to think the deaths of the Queen Dowager's loved ones had done more damage to her mind than he'd previously suspected. Her sons, her husband, her brother. Too many deaths too close together had left her spiteful and lashing out.

Axel didn't know what to do about it, but now wasn't the time anyways. He had a Trial to win, after all. And with that victory… this entire damn war would finally come to an end. Hopefully ruling the peace would be easier.

-x-X-x-

A/N: Axel continues to have Cersei's number. Poor Cersei, she just wants him to murder his uncles for her, is that really so much to ask in exchange for copious amounts of MILF pussy?

Feedback is GREATLY appreciated, every comment helps me shape the story with a Daily Free Write like this one!

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-x-X-x-

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The day before the Trial, Renly has a gift for Loras while Margaery watches on.

-x-X-x-

"Are you truly not even a little bit worried?"

Loras looks over at her from where he's making sure his gear is ready, preparing both his armor and weapon for the Trial by the Seven happening tomorrow at midday.

"Should I be? We already know from our spies just who the bastard intends to bring with him to the Trial. None of them are a match for me. Sure, I doubt we'll win without casualties… but I don't think for a second that they have a chance of victory."

Margaery wasn't so sure. In fact, she was more than a little afraid for her brother, especially since she'd been doing some digging of her own ever since Renly accepted the challenge.

"What about Axel himself though?"

Furrowing his brow, Loras sets down his breastplate and gives Margaery his full attention.

"… Have you been chasing rumors, sister?"

Flushing just a tad, Margaery huffs and rolls her eyes in response.

"I've simply been doing my own research, brother."

With a scoff, Loras waves a hand dismissively as he returns to his work.

"I'm sure you've heard the same thing that everyone else has. That the bastard's prowess in the training yard is second to none and he's been tearing through his sparring partners at an insane rate. They even say he routinely has three to five knights challenge him, only to beat them all without suffering a single scratch."

Loras turns and spits on the ground, making it clear what he thinks of all of that. It's a bit of a crude thing for the Knight of Flowers to do, but they're alone right now and for all that her brother is a very beautiful man, he can be a bit crasser than most think of him as.

"Hogwash, all of it. They're letting him win, Margaery. There isn't a man alive who can take on five fully armored knights and come out the victor without at least taking a few bruises here and there. It's all part of the myth that Jon Arryn is trying to build around his puppet, see? Don't let yourself fall for it."

But Margaery isn't convinced.

"That's all well and good, but what about the reports from our own men?"

Loras furrows his brow in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

Really? Was he just playing dumb or… no, he wasn't playing dumb. He'd probably just completely forgotten about it. Typical of her brother. His head could be so empty sometimes. Huffing, Margaery throws her hands into the air.

"The survivors from the ambush on the Kingsroad, Loras! Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think Grandmother wouldn't hear about it and warn me?"

Her brother's face goes pale and he opens and closes his mouth for a moment before hissing and shaking his head.

"Don't talk about that, Margaery. And honestly, those men were craven… nothing that came from their lips can be trusted."

She wasn't so sure about that.

"They're the only ones on our side who have seen Robert's bastard fight for real though, Loras! They had twice the numbers and still lost somehow. Doesn't that lend some credence to their words? Sure, it's hard to believe that he moved like a demon and slaughtered half of them faster than they could blink, but its equally hard to believe they lost with such an overwhelming advantage!"

Loras rolls his eyes and fully turns to her, placing his hands on his knees as he looks her straight on.

"Sister, you will never understand battle the way I do. You're simply not built for it. Those knights… its obvious that they gave the game away somehow. For instance, perhaps Ser Emmon Cuy considered the idea of an ambush dishonorable so he initiated a disastrous charge the moment that they came into sight of Lord Arryn and his forces. Whatever tactics they employed were clearly such a failure that they felt the need to make up a fanciful story about one man managing to turn the tide and force them into retreat."

Sneering, the Knight of Flowers grits his teeth.

"Frankly, they're lucky that Renly showed them any mercy at all after their failure. The only reason I didn't counsel him to take each and every one of their heads was because their cowardice is the only reason he was able to escape King's Landing unscathed."

Shaking his head, Loras' tone gains a distinct note of finality.

"Their words, beyond the part where they confessed that they failed, were nothing but gibbering panicked nonsense. Neither Renly nor I have given them any weight and you shouldn't either, dear sister. Axel Stone is only a man… and after tomorrow, he'll either be a dead man or bound for the Wall. There is no other possibility."

"Well said, Loras! Well said!"

Margaery flinches and Loras straightens up as Renly suddenly steps into the tent, a jovial smile on his face. She definitely hadn't intended to voice her concerns anywhere where Renly could hear them, despite technically being his Queen. But admittedly, Loras would probably have just told him anyways over pillow talk later on.

Looking between the two of them, Renly just grins.

"Not to worry. I share your concerns about the battle tomorrow, my Queen."

Blinking in surprise, Margaery sits up a little straighter.

"Y-You do?"

Nodding, Renly lifts up what he's brought with him… a long package that even Margaery can tell is clearly a sword wrapped in cloth.

"Indeed. That's why I come bearing gifts. Something that will make sure the tides of battle tomorrow turn decisively in our favor. For you, my loyal Lord Commander."

Loras flushes as Renly gives him a wide grin and a wink, striding over and holding out the package across his palms. Rising to his feet, Loras steps forward and takes the wrapped sword from Renly, furrowing his brow in curiosity and intrigue.

Renly steps back as Loras begins to unwrap the thing, quickly doing away with the cloth and rope to reveal that it is indeed a sheathed sword. A beautiful, sheathed sword by Margaery's estimation. The pommel is unadorned but nevertheless gorgeously crafted, and the sheath has stags running through flowery meadows all along its length.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't get the pommel itself finished before tomorrow, but the sheath is a rush order. I hope you like it."

"I love it. It's beautiful, Renly."

Margaery watches Renly grin as he in turn watches Loras look over the sheath, running his fingers along the designs covering the leather.

"And what do you think of the blade itself?"

Humming, Loras carefully pulls the sword a few inches free of the sheath… only to freeze in place, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping open in disbelief. Margaery furrows her brow at that reaction, craning her neck to see what he's reacting to.

Interestingly, the sword itself looks strange. It's hard to tell from where she's sitting, but she thinks she sees rippling patterns in the metal. What did that mean?

"Renly this is…"

"Valyrian Steel, yes. Only the best for my Lord Commander."

Wait, what?! Now it's Margaery's turn to be shocked, her jaw dropping open as she jumps from her seat and all but rushes over to see the sword Loras is holding more closely. Her brother pulls back at her approach.

"Whoa there, sister. This isn't the kind of sword to pull out too close to a lady. I'm going to have to ask you to step back so I can fully unsheathe this beauty."

His teasing tone and the dancing amusement in his eyes make it clear he's at least partially having a laugh at her expense. At the same time though, he makes it clear he's serious when he beckons for her to back up a few steps. Gritting her teeth, Margaery does as she's told by whirling around and advancing on Renly.

"It can't possibly be real Valyrian Steel, can it? Where would you even get something like that?"

The sound of a sword being drawn from it sheath causes Margaery to turn back before Renly can answer, her eyes beholding the incredibly beautiful sword with its distinctive ripples all along every inch of its surface. Renly chuckles from behind her.

"It's very real, I assure you. It had better be, given what it cost me."

That… this was insane. Margaery may not be a knight or anything like that, but even she knew the value of Valyrian Steel. Especially a full Valyrian Steel Sword. They were said to be lighter, stronger, harder, and sharper than even the best Castle Forged Steel. They never dulled either, with people claiming that Valyrian Steel Swords hundreds of years old were as sharp as the day they were forged.

They were also ludicrously, prohibitively expensive given that the place where they'd originally been forged hadn't existed for hundreds of years. It was in the name. Valyrian Steel came from Old Valyria, which had fallen long ago to the Doom. These days, as far as Margaery was aware, there was nobody left who knew how to forge more of the stuff. Instead, there were just a handful of blacksmiths in the whole world who even knew how to rework Valyrian Steel.

To put it into perspective, the only Great House in all of Westeros that had a Valyrian Steel Sword was House Stark up in the North. Even Margaery had heard about Ice, the ancestral two-handed greatsword of the Dire Wolves. Just as she also knew about Tywin Lannister's obsession with obtaining a Valyrian Steel Sword for his own House.

The Lord of House Lannister was said to have offered amounts of coin to smaller houses that would damn near beggar even most of his peers, but to no avail. People weren't selling and while one might assume that a Great House would just be able to take one of their vassals' Valyrian Steel Swords if they wanted one, it wasn't quite that simple. In the end, there was such a stigma of dishonor around the concept that even the greedy Lord Tywin hadn't gone that far yet.

All of this was to say… where the fuck had Renly gotten a Valyrian Steel Sword? And what exactly had he paid for it?

His words about what it had 'cost him' hang in the air and even Loras, for all that her brother's head can be so empty at times, pauses and tears his eyes away from the sword he's holding to give Renly a look.

"… What did this cost you, Renly?"

Raising an eyebrow, Renly lets out a bark of laughter.

"Oh? How quickly the gratitude fades!"

Loras flushes at that, looking ashamed of himself and ducking his head.

"Apologies my King, I… I am extremely grateful for this gift. I don't know how I can possibly repay you."

Renly just scoffs, waving a hand through the air.

"Repay me? You are my Lord Commander, Loras. You are sworn to protect my personhood until the day you die. Shall I ask my crown to repay me as it sits upon my brow? Shall I ask my clothes to repay me as they rest upon my body? You are as much a part of me as anything else. All I've done is make you more useful."

Margaery tries not to wrinkle her nose at Renly's words. She supposed they were supposed to be romantic, and given the way Loras is now making eyes at Renly, it seems that they might even have landed with her martially inclined brother.

Still, she doesn't think she would be nearly as enthused about being compared to garments of all things. And… even if Loras wasn't going to press the issue, Margaery felt like someone had to.

"This is truly a Kingly gift, Your Majesty. Fit for the Lord Commander of your Rainbow Guard. And as his sister, I fully believe that Loras is worthy of this trust…"

Loras puffs up at her words, even as Renly lifts a single brow and smirks, waiting for the 'but' to drop.

"… However, I do have to ask where this sword came from. On such short notice too…"

After all, it's obvious that Renly had gotten Loras this sword for the Trial by the Seven. How though? How had he managed to source Valyrian Steel in such a short amount of time when neither House Baratheon nor House Tyrell had had an Ancestral Valyrian Steel Sword between them for ages at this point.

Not to toot her House's own horn too much or anything, but House Tyrell was easily one of the wealthiest, most powerful Houses in the Realm. Sure, the Lannisters were said to shit gold, but when winter came and bellies growled, it was the Reach that supplied food, and that could be worth far more than gold.

Meanwhile, House Baratheon had been ascendant since the Conquest, having long had connections to House Targaryen that saw them elevated even above the other Lord Paramounts from time to time. And yet, the Baratheons also could not claim to have an Ancestral Valyrian Steel Blade.

Renly's smile becomes a little bit fixed as he shakes his head.

"Ah, that is where your confusion stems from, my Queen. You see, it was not on short notice that I procured this blade for your brother. No, I've been working on this for quite some time. As for the cost… do not worry too much about it. I will tell you both more once we win tomorrow. Until then, it is best that we focus on the Trial ahead. And, of course… naming this fine blade."

Loras' eyes widen all over again as he looks down at the Valyrian Steel Sword in his hands.

"It doesn't have a name yet?"

Grinning, Renly shakes his head.

"Not one that matters, no. I leave it's naming up to you, Loras. You are it's wielder, after all."

Wielder… not owner. Margaery catches it, even if Loras doesn't. Perhaps Renly thinks that the sword will one day revert back to House Baratheon but doesn't want to say as much right now. Her lips purse, but she's not about to ruin the moment by accusing him of such a thing.

Loras hesitates for a long moment, staring down at the nameless blade reverently. Finally…

"Rosethorn. It will be called… Rosethorn."

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Shall we go see what it can do, hm? I'm sure we have some surplus or already damaged armor lying around to outfit a wooden post with so you can give it a few swings before tomorrow!"

With that, Margaery watches as Renly leads Loras out of the tent. She bites her lower lip as the two men depart. Truthfully, she's been left with more questions than answers… and was more uneasy now than ever before. For Renly to deflect not once but twice… just how much had that Valyrian Steel Sword cost?

Or rather, how much would it cost them down the road once the throne was secured? Because Margaery wasn't stupid. She knew full well that Renly didn't have access to the coin needed to buy such a thing. So what exactly had he offered instead?

And… even if Loras said it was all just cowardice and lies, Margaery can't help but wonder about Axel Baratheon and what he's truly capable of. One way or another, they'll all find out tomorrow… but that doesn't exactly give Margaery any peace of mind.

She could only hope everything would work out tomorrow. It had to, or they were all ruined.

-x-X-x-

A/N: It seems like Margaery is the only smart one in the enemy camp. But what DID Renly promise for that sword? And to who? Hmmm…

Feedback is GREATLY appreciated, every comment helps me shape the story with a Daily Free Write like this one!

Plug: If you're interested in reading more ASAP, you can sign up over on my Patreon right now to read FIFTEEN chapters ahead!

(The base price of my Patreon also increases from $3 to $5 at the end of July but if you get in now you keep the $3 price as long as you want, so now is a great time to sign up!)

-x-X-x-

A/N: Leave a Like if you enjoyed please, would mean a lot!

Spoiler: Patreon and other Links