I've played with dozens of different Cerseis before. Women like Cersei. Powerful women that have to be in control of everything in their life. So much power, that they must dominate the world around them to avoid being hurt, by loss of control. In the bedroom though... Dominance must be forceful with a feeling of sheltering protection for her psyche's type.

By play, I speak in the BDSM sense. A 'play', is the term for a session of sadomasochistic power exchange and mind-subversion of the funnest sort.

Thats what play is to me anyway. It is what you make it. Just one of the many general terms used by kinky people to hold a conversation without confusing each-other.

In the BDSM 'scene' in my former life, I had played for years. Not just with women like Cersei, but hundreds of other people too.

Some people spend their spare cash on electronics and video games. I on the other hand... Hundreds of feet of two dollar per foot hand-twisted hemp rope. Floggers. Dragon-tails. Snake whips. Chains. Finger talons. Gags. Padded cuffs. Knifes. Cat-o-nines. Leashes. Costumes of all kinds... The list is never ending.

Many people fake dominance as a facade to hide their true selves. Selves that they sometimes never knew existed. The ones that do know on the other hand... Lets just say I've had my share of fun.

Sex needs skill.

Fire-play and Needle-play need far more skill than sex.

I started lighting the designs I drew on people's skin aflame, safely, at the age of eighteen. I started using needles as anchors to tie corsets of people's skin at the same age. Cutting, Cell-popping, Varied role-playing skills, etc.

I learned from very experienced masters in their arts. I remember it all. How to straddle the thin line between pleasure and pain. How to make one extreme feel like another. Playing the human body like a harp.

To put it lightly, Cersei really has no idea who the fuck she is dealing with.

666 666 666

After a bath, I was led to a guest's chamber. It was all antique wood furnishings and four post bed. Red trim on the elaborately carved walls and red curtains to draw my balcony/window shut. It even had it's own privy closet.

I left the curtains open to let in the cool nights ocean's breeze. I still had a problem with the scent that reeked from the humans of this world. A fine red vintage set on the smooth and polished table. A bowl of fruit next to it. A few chairs set around the table.

Definitely a room for an aristocrat. My cleaned armor lay on the floor near my bed. My saddle-bags and sword with it.

I opened the saddle-bags and started my nightly precess. Powdered limestone and salt were rubbed on my teeth. A sip of fortified wine was swished trough my mouth and spit over the side of the balcony. Fine silk thread flossed my teeth. More powdered limestone mixed with rosemary oil slapped under my arms.

I removed a needle and a glowing green crystal vial of liquid. 'Blood Of The Dragon'. Used by Ser Gregor in his youth, now in mine. He had taken too much, I think, and was left with the side effect of harsh migraines. I limited my daily usage to half of what he took at my age and size.

With it, you will continue to grow larger and stronger. When you stop taking it, you will cease to grow. If you piss off the Alchemist's Guild, they will switch it out for wildfire without informing you.

I filled the needle half way and corked the vial. I set the needle's tip in my mouthwash, as I rubbed some on my thigh. I stuck the needle deep into my thigh and pushed the stopper down. The wine of courage dulled the fire spreading from my leg to my entire body. It ended after a few minutes.

I opened the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and ran my hands through the gold. The clinking sound and luster of the glimmering metal gave me a thrill you can't believe. Power in solid form. Leverage over the less powerful.

So many Ideas...

I started to but my armor back on.

Sleeping was difficult without it and a helmet on. It, like the bar over the door are faulty security. Better than nothing though. Everyone has something to make them feel safer, in a wild and random world.

A knock on the door. I hadn't but the bar on. Only my steel boots and legs were plated. I drew my sword from it's sheath.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

It could be Thieves. It could be Baelish, or worse.

I stood behind the door, sword raised. “Come in.”

The door opened and light footsteps entered. I watched through the door's jam.

Ah... The Queen, alone.

Dragonslayer lowered, silently. I slammed the door shut with a loud *BANG* as soon as she passed the closing door's arc. She startled with a shriek and whirled around with a frightened look.

“I'm sorry if I scared you, Your Grace.” I lied with an apologetic expression. “I don't know my own strength sometimes and shut the door too hard.” I continued, lying.

The fight or flight instinct's release of hormones had already occurred. I used any advantage to destabilize my opponents in preparation of spars. Mental or physical.

I could see her pulse speed up as her carotid artery visibly throbbed on her neck. Her natural fear gave way to her learned behavior of manipulation. She put on a smile and visibly relaxed. The chemicals were still there, biding time.

“No harm done, Tyrek. I came to talk and see how you were settling in. I heard from Joffrey that you were going to swear your sword to him. I must, as a mother, ask some questions.” She said in her melodic and deceptively benevolent voice.

“Then speaking to a mother, please, have a seat.” I took advantage of her open statement by pulling out a chair in front of the table. The chair faced the balcony and the view of the night's stars. I pushed the chair in as she sat.

Step one. Establish trust.

I moved over to another chair and moved it to her left. My chair, faced her. Her chair, faced the table. Subtle and unnoticeable physiological cues subconsciously enter the mind.

You are the center of my attention. You are wanted here. You are safe here.

All of these I must convey before I may begin seduction, and subversion thereafter.

Her heart still raced from the shock of the door slamming. The hormones secondary effects should kick in momentarily.

“As family, I will do everything in my power to protect my cousin and see him to a long and successful reign as King.” I said while looking into her eyes.

Step two. Establish intimacy.

I brazenly took her hand and held it gently in my own scarred palm. My thumb rubbed softly between her thumb and forefinger, without her notice. Very important to increase the Oxytocin release.

I was fairly certain, the scare would make her overlook the unspoken taboo of touching royalty.

“He is lucky to have a mother as caring as you to look out for his interests.” I continued

Step three. Flattery.

“ My own gave me away to the Mountain when I was a child without a care and died years later without ever speaking to me again.” I spoke in a lower and quieter pitch, leaning closer. She responded positively to the increased intimacy and leaned in herself. Pheromones work wonders.

Step four. Cast attention on one's self without bragging.

Her chest blushed red as the chemicals did their work. I leaned in even closer and spoke in a low tone. “I wish I had someone like you, back then.”

Step five. Increase intimacy.

Her body temperature rose. Eyes dilated.

Strike at the moment of greatest weakness!

I leaned closer and brought my lips to hers. Her head tilted as my hand cupped the back of her neck. Her tongue prodded my lips. My free arm slid her chair closer and rested on the small of her back.

AN. For the record. Tyrek in his first second in this world before stubbing his toe is authentic me. My actions depend on my situation, brain chemistry, and many other factors. Four years with the Mountain however changes anyone into someone else. I find writing and reading a situationally shifting character's morals more fun than a 'monotone moral' one. I'm not good at writing lemons, its too fucking boring to me.

I can explain the seduction process, though. That is always very fun.