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bucknastysbabe · 10 months

Note

it's still me, sorry.

ancient rome with viserys III (he just has that twink senator build, I am telling ya)

YES TWINKY SELF IMPORTANT VIZZY III YOUR BRAIN MAKES MY GO SPLOOSH, also I took a while bc 1. Work 2. I get wayyyy too invested into research! So I hope you enjoy xoxoxoxxo

AU Bingo - Ancient Rome - Viserys III

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Imperial Rome setting, Viserys is an angry lil asshole, too much background building, aphrodisiacs, arranged marriage, pnv!sex, enemies to lovers, hate sex, they’re both bottoms they’ll figure it out later, background Jorah and Illyrio, dany living her best life!, orgy time, I hope that was a good offering to Cupid

A/N: Tumblr is full of smart people but I still marked stuff that might need a translation or explanation:)

Viserys Targaryen. The third. Bred well from a long line of Emperors. The dynasty had ended when his mad father was struck down by the Praetorian* guard meant to protect the man. He was a mere senator now, the Baratheon family forcing him into submission. Damnatio Memoriae* for Aerys and his eldest son Rhaegar.

Everyone knew you could flip a coin to decide if a Targaryen would be mad or not. Viserys, although smart and a respected senator, definitely leant towards the unwanted side of the sestertius*. Regardless, the man had enough allies to secure his position in aedileship* and keep the family estate. His little sister had been married off to some obscenely rich warlord king outside of Roman lines, further padding the man’s pockets.

He walked around like an inflated peacock with his purple striped toga, dreaming of revenge and retaking the grand palace. Not married, still young, and quite mean from all accounts. Rumors flew that he was the passive cinaedus* of his longtime Gaulish slave. But you had your eyes on the fool regardless of who said what.

Recently arrived from the ever growing Hispania Baetica*, your father, a powerful proconsul* had sent you with a retainer to find a husband. Your aunt was married to Rhaegar Targaryen, and there was a promise for your hand to Viserys.

There was a catch. Viserys was not made aware of this pact. All of the details ands plans were burnt up during the violent overthrow of mad Aerys. Greek fire everywhere from the accounts. Your sister and her babes had perished from the Lion of Rome’s horrid beast of a soldier.

Elia was gone now, you reminded yourself. Oberyn kept her memory alive much too much but you grinned and bared it. He accompanied you with his lover and only two of his many bastards. Viserys was to be hosting you all in his grand manse upon the Esquiline Hill*. He knew the power of your family and sought to gain more status.

A plethora of slaves tended to your baggage and personal goods. A fat man with a thick accent, Thracian* of sorts, welcomed you all with an ecstatic smile. “Good evening, I know you all must be weary from your travels, our busy Senator will be home late tonight and plans to sup in the morning. Please call me Illyrio, I am the steward here.”

He outstretched a jiggly arm and beckoned you all, “Come, come, dinner awaits.” Oberyn sniffed and sauntered in, viper eyes darting around suspiciously. He had become quite bitter and distrustful after dear Elia’s death. Rhaegar, a wonderful general, had found some Briton barbarian’s daughter while putting down an uprising and squirreled her away. Much to the anger of the Novantae*.

Robert Baratheon also took offense to the affair, having eyes for the same girl. Add on Aery’s madness and rising tensions against the imperial family. Well. That’s what led to now. It’s bad when the Roman army has to enter Rome. Slimy Lion of Lannister, Tywin, a once trusted Consul* and general settled the fighting quite quick. His son, a Praetorian guard, struck down the Mad Emperor.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, weary from all the travel. Dinner and chatting was a blur, Oberyn interrogating Illyrio up quite intensely about Viserys. You retired early to a sumptuous room, dreaming of frolicking in the paintings until slumber met you at last.

In the morning you had two girls attend your bathing, dressing, and other attending. You felt quite beautiful in your immaculate yellow stola, embroidered with gold. Your headband and jewelry was also gold and citrine. They smudged your eyes with kohl, painted your lips a darker color with berries. All to hopefully ensnare.

Padding to the triclinium* you readied yourself. Being a proconsul’s daughter, you knew how to behave. Hispania Baetica was extremely romanized, it wasn’t like you came from Judaea* or Asia Minor*. Your family was mostly seated, Oberyn and Ellaria looked tired. They may have treated themselves to the pleasure of Rome last night.

Illyrio beside a big man in armor and the distinct silver haired of a Targaryen graced your vision. Viserys was quite handsome, lengthy waves, strong features, and long limbs. No warrior like Rhaegar but self assured in his own right. You gave obeisance and sat down. Viserys intense lilac eyes bored into you, pretty lips curling up in pleasure.

He hummed, “Martells. You have been good to the Targaryens for many a moon. I hope the trip was fair, nice to see you Oberyn. I hope Doran is doing well.” The senator’s smile was stiff lipped and frigid.

Oberyn snorted, “The place smells of pig shit and is overcrowded. But a fine city I suppose. The streets of pleasure are wondrous. How is the usurper doing?”

An awkward hush enveloped the room. Viserys’ eye seemed to twitch. His pallid cheeks reddened, “The fat oaf is fine. The Lion does his dealings after the Arryn man passed.” Oberyn hissed, “Detestable fucker.”

You cleared your throat and gestured to Illyrio, softly stating, “I’d love to reminisce on the injustice of our past but we did not travel to Roma for nothing, Senator.” Viserys seemed a relax a smidgeon, eyes narrowing at Illyrio’s wide frame. He drawled, “Was there something not to my knowledge? As the leader of my family this could be treason.”

The big man placed a hand on his sword.

Illyrio laughed it off and boomed, “No, this is all good tidings. A proposal lost in the fire.”

“Go ahead, Mopatis.”

You nervously popped some grapes into your mouth, eyeing the silver haired man’s heady gaze. He was entranced— for what gain you did not know. Illyrio opened the scroll and read of the marriage pact hastily made after the downfall. You would marry and join Viserys’ household.

The Senator remained quiet, the guard muttering something along the lines of, “That’s a first.” Viserys finally hummed, “What will I receive if I am to marry your girl? Gold, allies, men? I will become Emperor again dear Martells. You burn with the same injustices!” A vein on his forehead twitched.

Oberyn bristled, “You will receive a handsome sum and my gorgeous niece. Have patience, little Targaryen, lest the people might think you’re madder than your father,” he sharply grinned, “Excuse me, the emperor before Robert. Damnatio memoriae is a bitch, hm?”

Viserys barked, “Quiet your tongue, red viper! I accept the girl, shall pay the dowry, but I need allegiance. My sister awaits with her warlord husband, powerful screamers on horseback.”

Oberyn settled back down with a shit-eating grin, placing his sandals on the table, throwing an arm around Ellaria. You nodded and added, “All good things come with time, Aedile Targaryen. We shall plan, and I will do anything in my power to asssist.”

He was quaking with anger, long and thin fingers almost shredding the purple edging of his toga. Illyrio hummed, “Very well, we shall have the wedding, small, and pay the dowry. Then you may return to Hispania.”

Oberyn stated, “My daughter Obara stays as her personal guard, then we shall leave in the morn.” Viserys glared at the strong woman, lips thinning in annoyance. You glanced down at your hands, quite unsure what to do with an unstable temperament.

You’d find a way, always had. Nothing cunt couldn’t fix. Unless the Senator didn’t prefer that. But that could be arranged too.

After the wedding, you felt alone and bored. Viserys had held intercourse with you once, a banal affair. Strange for a Roman, a Targaryen one at that. Obara and Jorah as you learned, were mainly your company out and about. Viserys spent most of his time on the Capitoline Hill*. Planning events and city works, whatever Aedile’s did.

One day you’d had enough. You decided to snoop around Visery’s personal quarters, he’d be in hearings all day. Illyrio turned a blind eye with a small smile. Coming to a bronzed desk you found a half-unrolled paper. Wonderfully decorated with Pan and his nymphs.

Fingering the scroll open your eyebrows raised. It was an invitation. Tomorrow night. To a secret party with masks only. It was likely to be an orgy once you placed the masks, Pan’s* turgid cock, and the syrupy invitation. Your fool husband wasn’t going to even let you know.

“Illyrio!,” you hollered.

Heavy footsteps and breathing came closer and closer. Mopatis wiped the sweat from his brow. He panted, “My lady?” Padding over to the large man you shoved the invitation toward pudgy hands.

“Was my dear husband planning on inviting me?”

He stared at you with a strange expression, mouth twitching. You held his gaze before he broke. “No. He was to go alone. Felt stifled recently.”

You snarled, snatching the invitation back, Mopatis now leaning on a doorway. You murmured, “Say Illyrio, dear steward, could you perhaps get me into this sordid soirée?” His fleshy face erupted into a smile.

“I have friends in the lowest and highest of places, I’m sure we could arrange your arrival. A surprise for your husband. I’ll have to send one of the girls to the mask maker.” Patting a shoulder you mused, “Hmm, I cannot wait to see the look on the asshole’s face.”

Jorah snorted from afar.

You gained entrance into a vast complex of gardens and smokey rooms, smelling of herbs. Petals littered the ground at every turn. You fixed your mask and stola, quite lost. You’d heard of these debauchery laden gatherings high up in the echelons of Rome.

It wasn’t like that in your household, definitely in Oberyn’s with all the boys and women he could fuck until dawn. A man with a deep voice sidled next to you, offering a goblet of wine, “Here sweet one, this brew will make Cupid himself bless you.” You took it and asked, “Where is the main gathering?”

“Follow me nymphet,” he hummed.

You downed the wine, unsure if that was a horrid idea or not. But Jorah was waiting on the outskirts in case you may need help. Citizens of Roma were fucking and kissing all over as you drew near the sounds of wailing and drums. The mysterious man hummed, “This is where the show is, where you find your lovers for the night.”

He disappeared as fast as he had met you. Eyes scanning through the fog you spotted silvery hair. Viserys was sprawled with some ladies, idly watching the erotic show on the dais. Sucking in a breath you sat on some cushions directly across from him.

Heat began to slither up your belly, the haze and glistening skin of the erotic dancers making your cunt ache. Pulling at your stola you stifled a whine, chewing on your lip under the mask. It must have been that brew that man gave you, some sort of Aphrodisiac. Venus herself must have dipped her tits in the brew, you were on fire.

Transfixed in the low hum of the droning singers, the sensual beating of the drums and the escalating cries of pleasure— you were not prepared for a rather smug voice in your ear. Yelping and sliding away, long fingers wrapped around your upper arm, jerking you close. Viserys lilac eyes were a bit hazy as he murmured, “You aren’t secretive you know that? Thinking I don’t know that you’re going through my belongings, sending my steward around.”

As his thin face began to erupt into a sinister smile you grew a bit fearful. Maybe you’d crossed the line. Targaryen’s were notoriously unpredictable. You gulped out a weak, “I apologize, maritus*, I do, please!” Viserys only smiled more and pulled you flush atop his thin hips.

“I’d prefer dominus*, my sly little Baetican,” he drawled, dragging fingertips across your overheated skin. Nosing along your slick neck he continued, “Almost as slithering as that viper of your uncle,” his soft curls tickling you issued a full body shudder and whimper.

“Dominus, I simply wished to- ah- find out what pleases you! You show me no attention,” you wheedled, overwhelmed with groping hands and wandering lips. Viserys cruelly mocked, “Dear, you were a pact, a bag of sesterces, a pretty little something that makes me look good when I get my birthright back.”

Anger seized through your veins at his callous words, shoving him off with a hiss. Viserys smug look turned to shock as he called, “I wasn’t done yet! Come back here!” You shook your head and stumbled through the clouds of burning incense, past the degenerates contorted and fucking, howling to Lūna.*

Slinking through to doors, not to make any noise, you arrived on a much quieter plaza of sorts. A fountain, some beautiful columns, and a small worship temple. Probably Venus. You ran toward the temple, seeking to hide from your vile husband.

Inside everything was painted a rosy, gorgeous color. A statue of Cupid* surrounded by candles and offerings sat at the head. You decided to sit against the wall, staring at the little cherub from the side. You filtered through your robes to throw a coin at the shrine. No one had shrines to the son of Venus*. That you knew until now.

“Strike him, will you,” you asked out loud.

Viserys. What a wretched ass. You knew this was a pact. He showed desire but nothing else. Doomed to a loveless marriage with a power-hungry maniac. You wanted to make him cry, make him hurt like you were. Throwing your mask off your hands clenched into balls of fury. Then took a deep breath, holding the tears back.

“I said I wasn’t done, now you ran off to weep?,” Viserys snapped as he entered the shrine. You stared at him coldly and replied, “No, I didn’t want to hear your vile words. I’m sure you had some great insults coming up, dominus.”

The blonde scoffed and leaned against a pink column, crossing his sinewy arms. He drawled, “Whatever, I was going to say, that you have proven yourself to be strong and dedicated. I like that. Ask me next time and I’ll take you along to my affairs.”

You crawled forward on all fours, holding his piercing gaze until you sat back in front of cherubic Cupid. Gesturing to the god you said, “I’m glad then, I have your approval dominus. Now fuck me. Prove it. Prove your power over me.”

Viserys sputtered for a second, pale cheeks blotchy. His cock was hard enough you could see it through the layers of his toga. You needed this, didn’t care if it was the Minotaur of days of old fucking you open. Anger and lust coursed in your veins, the drink wracking your system.

He mumbled under his breath and padded over to shut the doors to the shrine. Just leaving you two and marble Cupid. He knelt down in front of you, looking composed but sweat beaded along the high points of his face. You leaned back, revealing your legs and bare cunt, pulling and undoing your stola*.

Viserys sat like a dolt. Obviously he did not have the upper hand in this situation, Face getting redder and redder. You purred, “Dominus, or should I say, Caesar?” The blonde moaned softly, trembling hands undoing his expensive garments marking the man’s station. You were naked and waiting, smirking to yourself. Viserys, now just as bare didn’t move.

“How do you want me Caesar?,” you hummed with a cock of your head. Visery’s swollen prick could rival Priapus* currently, leaking and red. He rasped thinly, lips agape, “Ride me, ride me, hispanus.” Stifling a laugh at the suddenly submissive acting senator you prowled forward like a tigress, placing your jeweled hand on his pale chest, pushing the man back.

Straddling yourself across lean thighs you rolled your slick pussy across his length, moaning lowly in satisfaction. Big hands clamped down on your thighs, a strangled noise leaving Viserys’ throat. Suspiciously close to a whine.

You leaned forward to press your tits against his flat chest, breathing against his pink lips, “Caesar, why are you bowing to such a simple whore him? One from Hispania, probably not even a citizen. Tsk tsk” Viserys thrashed some, face pouty. His free hand clamped down on your neck as the blonde hissed, “This is no time to jest, your Caesar wants you to ride his cock. Get to it.”

He wouldn’t let go until you heaved for a breath, sliding onto his long cock, the protrusion deep and nestled on your sensitive upper walls. He let go, hands now groping your breasts, that irritating look back on his face. You coughed wetly, sucking in breath as you clumsily began the first few thrusts, but it felt wonderfully divine.

Your pussy, lips, and nipples were hypersensitive and swollen, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting off over your body. You rode harder, seeking more and more. Viserys gasped, “Gods, fuck, you’re different tonight.” Slapping him across the cheek while simultaneously squeezing his turgid length made the made shout, eyes fluttering.

“I may be your, hng ohhh, wife, b-but I can be your equal! Fah-fucking lackwit! Jaehaerys and Alysanne ring a godsdamned bell?” Your cunt grew slicker and slicker with your arousal, sweat rolling down your back, between your bouncing tits. The small shrine was growing warmer, the sounds of fucking echoing in the small temple.

Viserys mewled hungrily around your chest as you reached back to grab his overfull balls, squeezing ever-so gently. His eyes flashed open, mouth opening and body arching as he cried your name passionately. He managed to string together a broken sentence, “I- Ifffff- you beast, keep it up, ah Cupid you little shit! I will rethink my behavior!”

You plastered yourself to the man, luridly slapping your plush hips against him, moaning uncontrollably. Viserys was right along with you in pitch, desperately jerking his wonderful cock into your needy cunt. Sloppy sharing lips you growled, “Good boy.”

Your foggy mind expected another bout of anger.

No. Viserys outright whimpered and seized your lips, skinny arms holding tight as he planted his feet and pounded your cunt. He licked into your mouth, tongues dancing together in a style much older than Rome ever was. The senator caressed and sought to drive himself into you, besides his cock of course.

Pulling free from slobbery lips you rasped, “You like that? Dominus just wants to be my good boy? Ah-ct like one and I’ll give you ah-ah-alll the praise you want oh pretty silver!” He nodded fervently, lilac eyes searching your own, whimpering unintelligibly.

His blunt cock head was massaging your most tender spot, driving you to grab Viserys hand and guide it to your swollen Pearl. He picked up easily, eyes lidded with heavy satisfaction at your carrying on. You began to shake, the pleasure heightening to the realm of the gods.

“Ah! Caesar, Viserys, Dominus! I’m gonna,” you convulsed and crumpled atop of him whining when your clit was rudely pinched. Another one wracked your frame when a flood of hot spend filled your warm cunt. You babbled deliriously in your own dialect, Viserys panting and heaving through his heavy unload.

Flattened atop of him now you warily eyed Cupid, little cheeks puffed as he smiled. With a scoff and a residual tremble you said, “I did pray he would strike us. Not sure if it’s love, but I felt the lust.”

Viserys hummed gently, carding fingers through your sweaty curls, “He might have mad contact, I would kill any other woman this brash. Take that as a compliment, you are quite special my baetican vipera.”

“I’ll take it. Do you think our fucking was a good enough offer?”

He barked a laugh, stealing your lips for a peck, “Very much so. We should built a shrine in the manse.”

Translations/Explanations:

* Praetorian Guard: Guard of the Imperial family, Caesar, and special agents

* Sesterce: Roman Coin 1/4 of a denarius

* Denarius: silver coin

* Aedile/Aedileship: Senator of public office, Job that involved maintenance of Public buildings in shape and regulation of public festivals. Also keeping city life in order and that needs are met.

* Cinaedus: Male willing to be the passive partner in a homosexual relationship

* Hispania Baetica: Third province of Spain. Rich and romanized, they are citizens of Rome. Eventually brought up now named cities of Cádiz, Seville, Cordoba.

* Pro-consul: Governor or military commander of a province

* Esquiline hill: One of the seven hills of Rome. A upper class residential district.

* Thrace/Thracian: Area of people spanning between Bulgaria, Greece, and Turkey.

* Briton: Roman conquered England

* Novantae: powerful Celtic tribe in the north of Briton.

* Consul: Highest senate position, has the emperors ear

* Triclinium: a dining room with couches on three sides and a table.

* Capitoline Hill: Name says all they be doing government shit up there

* Pan: Greek name for a forest god with nymphs. A horny goat okay

* Cupid: God of lust/love, son of Venus

* Maritus: Husband

* Dominus: Lord, master, owner