Margaery v. Doreah by Amy Summer

A Comment on Age

All characters in this story are 18 years or older, despite their ages in the original fiction.

You Can Find and Hire AmySummer to write your own sexy fem fight fiction at Fiverr!

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is Cersei-1024x316.png

Cornered on all sides with nary a way to turn. Margaery sighed, steeling herself as best she could. Her chambers were dark, anybody watching from the outside would have long since decided she’d gone to sleep. She had waited for a good hour, her mind racing through the same thoughts over and over again. Did she wait long enough? There was always a chance that somebody was still watching, but she was all out of options. Besides, even the most vigilant spy will get some sleep if they think they can get away with it.

She made her way over to the large doors of her chamber, slowly opening them just enough to see through. It annoyed her, the fact that she, the rightful Queen of all Seven Kingdoms, had to slink around like she didn’t even belong in one of her domains. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. Margaery stared at the almost suffocating darkness outside, before nodding to herself. It seemed about as safe and quiet as she was going to get.

Margaery looked over herself again, before finally sighing. She was wearing her lowest cut dress, a gorgeous dark blue piece that seemed designed to stick to every curve she had. It was really only a slight tug, a small breeze away from showing off what a woman should only show to her husband. This was the boldest thing she’d worn so far, the kind of thing you’d find on common whores in brothels, not on a Queen. It really has come to this, huh?

She pried the doors open slowly, closing them behind her once she made sure no-one was on either side of the hallway. With a silent prayer, she was off, walking quickly down the halls. She’d worn a small shawl over her head at the last moment, the small brown cloth looking almost comical next to the rest of her attire. It didn’t need to look good, it just needed to give her a better chance of getting in and out unrecognized.

No man had ever compelled her this far, but Aegon had. Margaery was backed into a corner. Her one meeting with Sansa had been a resounding disaster, with the young Stark more likely to jump at her rather than accepting any offers of an alliance. That was a shame, she’d been the only one Margaery had been hopeful on. The rest were…well, they were all some degree of awful.

If Sansa would have leapt at her barehanded, Myrcella would have done it with a dagger. Daenerys was half mad -only half, Margaery hoped- and it was unlikely she would have made a decent ally. Arianne was vile, the woman acting like the whole castle belonged to her, despite her being from a land of savages and brutes. No, she was truly on her own, away from her seat of power and any armies that might have raised their swords for her.

And it’s all that damn Aegon’s fault, isn’t it? Maybe she might have been able to win over someone, even if it was someone she despised. They were all Queens, people who knew that you sometimes had to put yourself aside for the good of what you wanted. Yet, every time, something always seemed to go wrong. Everyone always seemed like they were a little too on edge, every situation seemed a little too contrived to make sure they went at each other’s throats. It was never Aegon who was anywhere near any of these ‘incidents’. Never Aegon. That as good as singled him out.

Margaery stared at the small, open field separating her wing of the castle from Aegon’s. Well, separating almost everyone from Aegon, in fact. That had been another hint. They were all living in rooms as far away from the Prince as possible. Oh, their rooms were luxurious enough as to not be insulting, but the fact was that they were all living near where the castle’s many servants and guards lived. It was supposed to be an accommodation fit for a lesser noble, not fit for a Queen.

And yet, it kept them all out of Aegon’s hair and close enough together. It also made it almost impossibly hard for any of them to try and visit the Prince without all of them knowing. Every visit, every chance meeting, had only made tensions flare. It didn’t even have to be directed at you, anyone meeting the Prince put all of their hopes in jeopardy. Faced with that, it was only natural that all of the women had started lashing out at each other. It was hell.

Well, for anybody but Daenerys, anyway. Daenerys had somehow managed to take lodging in Aegon’s wing, however. Apparently, that was some bit of added courtesy due her as a fellow Targaryen. The fool woman was stupid enough to accept too, she probably actually believed every single lie the prince had been feeding her.

In truth, she was possibly the most dangerous person here. Being a fellow Targaryen, one with a claim to the throne at that, she needed the least support to pry away the Seven Kingdoms from him. Keeping her close meant Aegon could make sure she never met anyone without him knowing. She would never even think of an alliance without Aegon knowing it almost the same moment she’d thought it.

Aegon might as well have not bothered. Daenerys was both insane and obviously smitten with the prince for much more than political gain. Still, that was the last straw. The prince was a formidable man, much more formidable than she had thought when she’d first decided to make her way all the way over to Storm’s End. Now, she had to seduce him.

No matter how formidable he might be, he is a man, after all. Margaery had never met a man who did not lust after her, in some manner or other. Everyone from the chastest priest to the most lecherous courtier had all ogled her, some when she thought she wasn’t looking. Now, she had to hope it would be enough. Besides, he’s hardly an unappealing man himself. 

With one look around her, she started making her way through the field. This was a training yard, and the incessant clattering of swords that always came from here had been the source of more than a few headaches this week. Thankfully, it was blessedly empty, and she hurriedly made her way through. Every now and then, she could see a small torch moving somewhere in the distance, doubtless one of the castle’s many guards out on patrol. None of them came near her, and she hid whenever one looked like it might.

Finally making her way to the other side, she took a deep breath. That had been the real danger. From this point on, things should go a lot more smoothly. Now that she was in this wing, getting to where she needed to be was a lot faster. The Prince’s rooms were just down the hall. She peaked around the corner, sighing as she saw a lone guard standing outside his chambers. There was nothing for it, now that she was this far in already, the only path left to her was straight ahead.

Mustering all the courage she didn’t feel, she walked her way over to the door, unwrapping her shawl. There was no point to that rag now. Her eyes lit up in recognition as she caught a good look at the guard. Sir Duck, was it? That was good, he was someone who directly confided in the Prince. He was someone who wouldn’t speak of this, not unless Aegon ordered him too. For all of Aegon’s plotting and scheming, he was at least trying to make them all kill each other quietly, so she was safe there.

“Greetings, Sir Duck.” She put in all the charm that came with being a Queen as she approached him, before standing in front of him. Ser Duck looked alert, even at this hour of the night. He gave her a look over, nothing lecherous, just to make sure she really was who and what she appeared to be.

“Your Grace.” He nodded, making a bow that was fit for a great hall. “His Lordship isn’t here at the moment. Some troubles with a few of the guards he wanted to attend to, you see.” He looked apologetic and maybe he was. Still, that worked out perfectly for her.

“That’s quite alright. I think I can wait inside. Please, don’t let him know I’m waiting for him. It’s supposed to be a surprise, you understand.” She motioned at her dress, piercing him with her gaze. After a long moment, Ser Duck swallowed and finally nodded. Good, it seemed she had that effect on him too.

Without another word, he stepped aside and opened the door, gesturing her in. Margaery strolled inside the chambers as if they were her own. The doors made a loud thud as they closed behind her. Away from any prying eyes, she couldn’t help but hug herself. This was dangerous, possibly one of the most dangerous things she’d ever done. Still, she had done it, and now she would finally get what was hers.

Composing herself, she looked around the rooms again, thinking. Her gaze made her way over to a small door leading out of the room, a privy. That was what she needed. She needed to catch the prince when he was at his most vulnerable, in a moment where he definitely would not be able to think, let alone resist her. Steeling herself, she glided to the other end of the room and opened the door.


Aegon yawned, trudging through the halls. Being a King definitely had its moments of splendor and joy. This was definitely not one of them. Still, I suppose it’s a good thing that they would come to me first. Yes, being a Lord and even more, a King, brought more responsibilities than he knew what to do with.

Two of his fool guards had been too deep in their cups, not a rare thing for guards at all. They had also started gambling with dice, again, not a very uncommon thing at all. Still, they’d drunk one cup too many and wagered one coin too many. Soon enough, they’d both drawn knives on each other and blood had been spilt.

Now, it was up to him to deal with the mess, before one or the other of the guard’s fool friends thought it a great idea to get revenge on the other. That kind of thing could easily get out of hand, until the walls of the castle were little safer than the villages outside.

Still, it was indicative of a much larger problem. Storm’s End was on edge. While the plan had been to make all of the Queen’s hate each other, maybe even take each other out, some of that had started spilling out amongst the common staff. That just wouldn’t do, couldn’t do. I need to find some way to make things happen…faster. Oh well, it’s a thought for another time.

It had to be something decisive, and yet also something that couldn’t really be linked back to him in any way. Shaking his head, he rounded the corner to his own rooms.

“Greetings again, Ser Duck. It seems some of these guards are even more foolish than I’d thought.” It barely took the other man a second before he was bowing, his gauntlet clasping against his breastplate. Aegon moved to put a hand on his doors, before his faithful guard spoke up.

“Yes, Your Grace. It seems…guards aren’t nearly the only ones acting the fools tonight.” Aegon raised a curious eyebrow, before looking over at the door. Surely not. He sighed and looked over at the man again. “Really? Who?”

“Margaery Tyrell…or is it Margaery Baratheon now? I never could keep up with this kind of thing. Anyway, My Lord, she came in thirty minutes ago, dressed almost as bare as the day she was born,,,err, pardon, Your Grace.” Aegon nodded and waved the man’s concerns away. So, Margaery Tyrell had just tried to ambush him in his bedchambers, of all places? 

“Very well, please rouse Doreah. Tell her I personally want her in my rooms. Oh, and please, get one of the maids to prepare my second chambers for me.” Aegon grinned, and Ser Duck nodded. Satisfied, Aegon started walking away, wondering how this new event would turn out. He supposed he would have to wait until his spies let him know. Still, the wait was going to be long. Ser Duck coughed slightly as he started walking away, and Aegon turned to him curiously.

“Uh…Pardon my transgression, my Lord, but weren’t you…you know, tempted?” Aegon blinked for a moment, that was a surprising question. Though he supposed it wasn’t really that surprising, wars had been fought for much less than Margaery Tyrell. 

“Of course I was. That, my dear Duck, is the difference between a King and everyone else.”


Doreah was pacing in circles. That wasn’t something she had done in a long time, years in fact. It came from her being a slave, someone whose life was at the whims and mercies of others. When you lived a life like that, it was easy to always be a little on edge. Why hasn’t he called for me yet? Surely he’s wanted to.

All of this had come at the head of Aegon’s refusal to ask to bed her. He had never seemed very reluctant before, calling on her almost every night, to the point where she’d hardly gotten any sleep at all. That was better than now, where he seemed like he’d apparently forgotten all about her. Surely not, I made sure no woman would ever satisfy him after everything I did. 

That begged the question though, did he learn something? Did he somehow find out about her spat with Arianne? Would it matter if he did? She had too many questions and not nearly enough answers. Besides, thinking about Arianne only led her down a different but equally alarming train of thought.

Outside of Aegon, her main source of support had been Myrcella. The girl wasn’t nearly as clever as she thought she was, but she was exactly as powerful as she believed. That was a deliciously useful combination of traits to have. It had taken some effort, but she’d somehow managed to ingratiate herself with the young Lannister. Even if Aegon cast her out, she would still have that. Should have still had that.

That was all until that bitch Arianne had started meddling between the two of them. She had no illusions about who Myrcella might choose, if given the chance, especially now. That meant her time was numbered, she just didn’t know how many days she had. Losing Aegon at the same time would be a catastrophe, possibly ruining everything she had spent years and years working for.

I will not go back to serving in taverns! That was the last thing she would do. Doreah had seen that hell, and she knew well enough not to go back. If she had to go back to that, she would sooner cast her off from the walls of Storm’s End. She had to find an answer and find it soon.

A loud knocking on her door jerked her away from her thoughts. “Yes?” She called out, her heart fluttering for a moment. No, that was stupid, Aegon wouldn’t have knocked. Besides, no maid would come to bother her at this hour of the night. That just made her even more curious.

“His Grace wishes to meet you in his chambers.” The voice said simply, she recognized it was Ser Duck. He didn’t bother to hear her reply, and she vaguely heard the thudding of his boots as he walked away from her door. She was shaking, or rather, she wanted to shake. He did remember. He always had. She had been worrying all this time for nothing.

She raced over to her closet. This was an important night, a night that she had to make better than all the rest. After tonight, the Prince would demand she live in his chambers. Yes, she would fix everything today. Everything.


The smell was far from pleasant, but Margaery was out of sight. The private room meant she would have the prince all to herself the next time he came to relieve himself, sweeping him off his feet with her seductive charms. She eased the door shut, leaned against a wall as provocatively as she could and waited. Fortunately for her, she didn’t have to wait long. She heard footsteps outside the door and the removing of soft clothes and clasps. She was certain that the undressing prince was ripe for the taking. Between her anticipation and the building smell of feces, she couldn’t wait any longer. The door open and Margaery threw herself at the naked figure, embracing them and pressing her lips to theirs in a passionate kiss. She didn’t have the time to moan or press her embrace deeper before she froze. They certainly didn’t feel like Prince Aegon… and the mysterious figure’s breasts were certainly not very princely. While neither could see the other’s face in the darkness, Doreah had come up with the same plan.

Both women gasped and lost their footing, stumbling over each other and falling back into the privy. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving them completely enveloped in darkness. They had nothing but the touch of another naked woman and the foul smell of royal dung. “What are you doing here?!” Margaery demanded. “This is the prince’s quarters!”

“I could ask you the same thing, you conniving whore! The prince is mine!” Doreah replied curtly. Even as close as they were, they couldn’t make out anything more than the subtlest of features. Margaery would be more likely to recognize the woman by touch and than on sight at this point, but that didn’t keep her from blowing up at her immediately.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Margaery hissed, grabbing a handful of Doreah’s hair. “But you have plenty of competition!” She tried to shove the later intruder her away, but she merely hit a wall an inch or so behind her. The room was as well-made and spacious as one would expect from the crude but royal restroom, but it was built to house one person at a time for short periods. Not two intruding temptresses who refused to budge.

“You just stay out of my way!” Doreah shot back. Margaery picked up an exotic accent on the shadowy stranger, but not one that she could pinpoint to any certain region, let alone a certain visitor. Doreah shoved Margaery, aiming for her upper body. She ended up grabbing her breast in the fumbling dark. While it gave her a grasp on where her various targets were going to be, Doreah stuck with what she had and gave Margaery’s chest an aggressive squeeze.

Margaery started to shout for her to get out, only to realize the problem with that. At the moment, neither of them recognized each other. If one of them were able to escape, they could easily bar the door to the privy and go to fetch the guards (or perhaps worse, those gossiping maids). Margaery tried to pull herself free and dart past Doreah, but the cramped spaces alone proved to keep them trapped. They could barely squeeze past each other if they coordinated their efforts, but that was clearly out of the question right now. Doreah tried to shove her was past her, clearly getting the same idea. Her legs were to tightly entangled with Margaery’s, so she could only squeeze a few inches along as she rubbed her pussy along her fellow intruder’s.

“Get off me you little whore!” Doreah snarled, turning to shove Margaery away. It knocked her about as far away as she could go, which sent her foot sinking right into the privy’s hole. The thick and unsettlingly cool muck stuck to her skin and seeped between her toes as she grimaced in disgust. Her hateful wail and the scent of stirred feces told Doreah all she needed to know.

“Serves you right, you shit-stained harlot!” Doreah scoffed. She tried to make a run for the door but she was still within Margaery’s reach. She reached around Doreah’s waist and grabbed her tits, dragging her back into the shallow depths of the privy. Her shoot shifted in the muck with a sickening squelch as she roughly handled Doreah’s breasts, holding her against her lap while she started to paw at her crotch.

Doreah gave a furious snarl and kicked at Margaery’s leg, but in the pitch darkness even that simple a strike went wide. Not only did she miss but her leg pushed its way past Margaery’s, joining it inside the privy’s shithole. She let out a disgusted shriek, the distinct feel and smell of dung in the dark bringing back awful memories from her prior battles. The noise made her any easy target, but Margaery was more concerned with keeping her presence a secret than she was with hurting her. She pulled on Doreah’s hair and kissed her to seal her mouth with her lips, stifling her cry for her. While it helped keep them hidden, Doreah failed to appreciate the gesture as she answered by burying her fingers into Margaery’s pussy. Margaery grunted hard into Doreah’s mouth, passing their frustrated noises back and forth through lips and teeth as she started to claw at her bush and lips in return.

The women had even less space to move as both of their legs struggled to escape the same privy. The slick legs would occasionally escape the much just long enough to kick and slip against the other and nearly fall over, just to cling to the other woman tighter. They shoved each other when they had nowhere to go, quickly changing tactics. Their attacks became more and more intimate, grinding their chests together while scratching cruel patterns around and inside the other woman’s vagina. Doreah pinched and pulled the opposing pussy lips as she let her pinky nail gouge and scrape the insides, but Margaery was simply ramming as many fingers inside Doreah while still holding a graceful stroke to her fingertips, a painful mockery of a fingering lover. Their kissing stifled their cries, but that had the unfortunate side effect of forcing them to breathe through their nose. It was bittersweet at best when, after the long and painful treatment of their clits, they both orgasmed amdist the pained grunts and putrid smell. The stink of feces easily overpowered the subtler scents of sex.

“You get away from me, you filthy cow!” Margaery seized Doreah by the hips, shoving her roughly aside and into one of the stone walls beside them. While the short shift did little to actually hurt her, it had the unforeseen effect of removing her leg from the actual hole in the privy. Both could hear the wet slap of her soiled foot hitting the floor, the pungent stink even closer now. It was a small favor that she couldn’t see the mess that had been left behind; even as Margaery removed herself as well, their shit-soaked limbs were caked up to the thigh.

Margaery sent an irritated kick into Doreah’s clean leg, connecting with a dull wet slap. Doreah’s nostrils flared as they detected the fresh scent of shit and she lunged at Margaery. They were at a point where they were so cramped they couldn’t possibly miss each other anymore, knocking Margaery back so sit on the edge of the privy’s lid. Doreah pulled back on her unknown rival’s hair and started to bite at her neck, the blind nibbling not causing much damage but accompanying her rough fingering nicely. Margaery grunted and growled as she tried to resist, finally realizing that she could use her disgusting situation to her advantage. She wiped her hand along her leg, gathering a thin layer of the filth and starting to shove it into Doreah’s face.

The offended screech of disgust told her it had paid off, but not before Margaery shook with another orgasm. She tried to thrust the filthy fingers into her rival’s mouth as one last disgusting offense, but a quick snap of teeth pinched them away before she could get properly inside her. She kicked at the recoiling Doreah, connecting with her belly before pushing her foot into her pussy. She rubbed and ground her toes into her snatch, attempting to keep her at bay as much as she was forcing another draining orgasm from her. The darkness was taking its toll on them as Doreah started to groan. Her vision was absent, leaving her to focus on her sense of touch and smell (neither of which she was especially pleased with). She raked her claws at Margaery, leaving some freshly stinging scratches on her skin before Doreah shook, her cum swiftly running past her toes.

At long last, Doreah slumped back against the wall. Margaery did the same from her spot on the privy itself, their heavy breathing filling the room. They were starved for air despite the rancid smell of it all, and they were left reconsidering their position. If they kept this up for long, they would be more likely to get caught. The orgasms had worked their clits into their full size, leaving them hard and tender. Even just shifting her legs sent a surge of pleasure through Margaery’s body. There was no escaping the other in here, which meant that their attacks would become more vicious when they were already just starting to draw blood. Most of all, they were going after each other’s vaginas. Even if they left victorious, any real damage done to their nethers would defeat their entire reason for being here. Prince Aegon would ask questions if they were showing signs of a struggle, and a woman with a scratched up face and a useless womanhood would not make for the most promising bride.

“Walk away now and I’ll spare your miserable twat,” Margaery threatened, trying to bluff her way into a victory.

“Your puny clit is doing no better. I think I’ll keep it for a souvenir,” Doreah replied defiantly. She couldn’t see her rival, but the heavy breathing and the feel of her rapid pulse were sure signs that she was getting exhausted as well. There was a tense silence as they saw through each other, realizing at the same time that the veil of their bluff had been pierced.

“Then we walk away,” Margaery offered coldly. “You open that door and leave. I’ll give you twenty seconds before I do the same.”

“A draw,” Doreah noted, weighing the word on her lips. The signs of sweat and shit encouraged her instincts to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Then you had best hope that we never cross paths again.”

With that, the other woman left almost as quickly as she’d come. She then followed behind her, trying to be as careful as she’d been on the way here. Still, even as she was walking down the halls, she wasn’t paying attention to anything. Her mind was racing. This was Aegon’s doing, as sure as anything could be. Aegon had deliberately set her up to be,,. what, humiliated? Knocked down a few pegs? Whatever the answer, it didn’t really make too much of a difference.

Aegon was even more formidable than she had thought, more formidable than she had imagined. She had mis-stepped, taking a step faster than she should have and he had punished her for it. Doubtless anything else she tried wouldn’t go over much better, even if it wouldn’t fail as spectacularly as this had. It seems I’m as forced to play these stupid games as anyone else. It was a bitter thought, when she’d spent a long time trying everything she could to not get drawn into things. Still, it was the truth, and all she really could do was accept it.

Making her way down the barren field -still empty, thankfully- another thought took her. Who was that whore she’d contended with tonight? It wasn’t one of the queen’s, couldn’t have been one of them. She knew what they all sounded like, what they all looked like. It was dark, but she could have hardly failed to recognize any of those women. Then, it must have been some kind of paramour. It wasn’t that surprising, a King had needs greater than most men, after all. Still, when she did win this twisted game, when she did bury all the other women beneath her, she would reserve that one a special place in hell. It was what she deserved, meddling where she didn’t belong.

The End

Thank you for reading! For More GoT Tales, Click The Image Below!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This Site is a Labor of Love, Set Up for the Benefit of the Fem Fight Community. No Money is Generated in Any Way From the This Site or its Content. In Fact, This Site Costs Me (Rival's Rapture) Hundreds of Dollars A Month Just To Stay Online.