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!

https://www.fiverr.com/amysummer2

It had been a hard and painful week, with one battle after another. Arianne sighed, she had been in more fights in this one week than she had in the rest of her life all put together. Still, it would not last forever. Even as she hurt, even as she grew sick of it all, this was all coming to some kind of end.

Time had run out. It was something Arianne had been fearing for quite a while, something that had kept her up more nights than she could count. Her fear was that sooner or later this castle would become a true warzone, and her or Myrcella would wind up dead. They had come up against that fear, brushed just barely past it. Time was up, and they had to make a decision, one way or another.

Arianne did not relish what she had to say right now. She was torn. Myrcella had hurt her deeply during the last…encounter. Hurt her almost as much with words as she had with her hands. In the moment that had been enough to make her own blood run hot, enough to make her want to abandon the woman then and there. Yet, the hours had passed, and she had felt that fury turn only to regret and sadness.

So, she had to try, had to try one last time. Besides, curse her but she still did love this woman, crazed as she might be. If nothing else, that would make everything hurt all the more.

“So, what brings you here, after what you…did?” Myrcella asked curiously. She was trying to stare a hole through her, her eyes fixed on hers. The woman wasn’t blinking, hadn’t blinked for a while. It was uncomfortable. Arianne of course knew that was the point, she had taught this to her, after all. She just wished it wasn’t as effective as it was proving right now.

“I want us to talk…after what happened. I feel like things might be spiraling out of control. If we don’t pause to consider them they might spiral out of either of our controls.” Arianne had spent hours thinking of what she could say, hours thinking of different arguments that could persuade the woman. In the end, she had chosen simple honesty.

“I…I know some things happened between us that shouldn’t have happened. I just hope we don’t let them come between us. I’ll admit I was angry, which is why I haven’t come here before now. But I was worried too, Myrcella, and I know this is more important than any squabbling that might have happened.”

She took a deep breath, looking at the other woman. There, now everything was out in the open. All she could do was wait now. She drew her gaze back to the other woman, who seemed to have not looked away for an instant. 

The silence drew on, and before long, Arianne was shuffling from one foot to the other. Arianne was almost about to walk away from the room. She didn’t like being made a fool off, after all. Right when she was about to turn to leave, Myrcella finally spoke.

“Certain things did happen, certain things that you cannot take back. You seem to think all of them were…minor, things I can easily look past and forgive. Maybe at some point I would have, but those times are long gone.” It started off as a whisper, the words getting stronger as Myrcella continued on.

“But, you don’t need to solve all of my problems. You still seem to think you have to look out for me, for some godsforsaken notion.” She stood up from her bed, sauntering over to her. Not until she was right in front of her did she finally stop. Those eyes seemed as cold as Arianne had ever seen them, it made her want to shiver.

“You don’t need to do any such thing. You never need to think of doing any such thing ever again!” The woman was shouting now, and Arianne stumbled back, the words stinging as hard as any blows ever could. “You made me look weak in front of the other Queens and you dare pretend to care now?” The woman raised her hand up, and Arianne braced herself. After a long moment, she let her hand fall back down.

“Get out. You’re no different than the rest of them and I am not going to have a Dornish viper at my back with enemies at my front.” Arianne felt the urge to slap the woman herself. She stifled it, stifled it as hard as she could. That was a mistake, the anger only gave way to bone deep sadness. Still, looking at Myrcella, she knew that the woman was serious, and that they would truly never again be what they once were.

Myrcella wanted to be treated like an adult, and had always desperately craved it. Arianne had never seen that part of her, never given it the attention it deserved. This was the result, and now she truly had no-one to blame but herself. Still, there was still one thing she could do now, now that she could do nothing else. She drew herself up, putting on the best glare she could.

“Very well then. I see even an idiot like you can see through things if they’re spelled out enough.” The woman’s eyes widened, but Arianne only shouldered on. “Still, I don’t suppose there’s any point in a dog that’s broken free from its leash. Very well then, the next time we meet, it will be as enemies. I hope you don’t come to regret this.”

It had hurt to say, but it had needed to be said. “G-get out!” The sun kissed woman screamed, pointing at the door. “Get out or I’ll kill you here with my bare hands!” That was all the invitation she needed. She all but glided to the door, closing it behind her with a loud bang. Is this really what you wanted? 

She looked around once in each direction, making sure the thick door was firmly closed behind her. Only then did she let the tears fall, and they fell as hard as they ever had. She had neglected the girl for so long, the least she could do was treat her like an adult -like a Queen- now. Seven it hurt though.

Still, for all that, Arianne herself was prideful. She wept as much as she needed to, grieved for the few seconds she could. That was the Dornish way, to embrace pain, not to run away from it. All the same, she wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her dress and now thought only of the future.

Now, she was all alone. In some ways, being friendless wasn’t very appealing; Storm’s End was a dangerous place for anyone these days. On the other hand, Myrcella had really been more of a burden than anything else. Arianne did not like thinking of her in that fashion, but it was the truth. No few times had Arianne been dragged into one conflict or another thanks to the fool woman.

On her own, she could doubtless navigate the political landscape here much better. Yes, everything seemed to be clearing up in her head, almost as if a great fog was lifting. Is this the madness that love brings? She did not want to think of that either. For now though, there was nothing to do but get something to eat and plan out her next few moves. Knowing how things were, they might be her last.

Luckily, the kitchens were still running full force, even this early. Cooks and maids bustled about, seemingly completely absorbed in their work. The few that did notice her seemed to jerk, practically tipping over their own bows and courtesies. Arianne did not have the time or the energy to indulge them, she just wanted something to eat.

That was when it happened. One of the maids seemed to gradually be making her way towards her. Oh, she didn’t walk straight towards her. Rather, she took to doing one menial task after another, each of them bringing her closer and closer to Arianne. At first, she’d thought she’d just been imagining it, but the woman’s knowing eyes left no doubt at all. Finally, when the maid was practically standing next to her, wiping away at a high cabinet, she abruptly turned and left, muttering about some task she’d forgotten.

Arianne blinked, staring after the other woman. She looked down, a small note on the ground where the woman had just been. She found a discreet moment to pick it up, shoving it in her sleeve as she ordered one of the cooks to bring her food to her chamber. Then, she made a straight beeline for her room. Her mind raced almost as much as her feet did. That hadn’t been one of hers, which meant that someone was trying to reach out to her. It could have been another Queen, yes, that was the most likely explanation. Then again, it could have been just about anyone else too, maybe even someone outside of Storm’s End.

All the same, it was dangerous, and Arianne wanted to be rid of the note as soon as she could. Only when she was finally inside her own room did she finally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She wasted no time getting out the note, reading it over. Arianne stumbled, slowly finding her bed. She read it over again, then again. Arianne read it until she had committed all the words to memory. Then, finally, she laughed until her sides hurt.

“While the dragon rises and watches from on high, the white wolf shall ride under the red sun sky.” It didn’t take her long at all to figure out who’d sent this now. So, it seems that she of all people wants an alliance. It was quite ironic, considering they were the first two here, and now it seemed that fate was slowly bringing them back together again. That thought alone made her start to laugh all over again.

Sansa had some courage to try to meet with her after everything they had done to each other this week, let alone this month. The last time they had met, Arianne had almost pulled out the woman’s hair and whipped her with it. Well…this was still an opportunity, even if it came from her.

It did wonders for her mood, and she quickly tore up the note, throwing its fragments into her fireplace. The door opened, and a couple of maids started coming in with her breakfast. They both bowed, but Arianne hardly even saw them. Now, they were playing a really dangerous game. With no-one to protect but herself, her blood seemed to hum in excitement. The ‘Game Of Thrones’ as they called it in this part of the world was as exciting as it was dangerous. This was the kind of thing she lived for, and it almost rankled her to think she’d forgotten.

This is who Arianne Martell really was, and it was time the world finally remembered that.

She stood in front of the doors to the chamber, pulling the cloak over herself again, just in case. This early in the morning, the castle might as well have been abandoned. Most of the servants had yet to awake, and the few guards patrolled the perimeter of the castle, determined to keep people from coming in rather than going out.

A few more secret messages, exchanged back and forth, had set the time and place for this meeting. Arianne certainly did not enjoy the idea of meeting in her enemy’s fortress, but she was desperate. Still, if her suspicions were right, then she had much more to fear than the woman on the other side of this door.

She had to stifle her nerves, this was dangerous, after all. She knocked once on the door, opening it when she heard the ‘come in’ from inside. Arianne hurriedly closed the door behind her and looked around. Yes, Sansa’s chambers looked much like hers, almost deliberately so. It seemed the Prince had gone out of his way to not slight them, real or otherwise.

Her eyes widened as she gazed at the two women, sitting on opposite seats in the centre of the room. “You! You never told me she’d be here.” She directed her glare at the other woman, who seemed completely unfazed.

Sansa Stark was a hard but beautiful woman who always seemed as composed as anyone Arianne had ever seen. Right now, she was sporting one of those passive looks she seemed to favour. Even in the dim light of the candles, Arianne could feel if not see those eyes weighing her.

“Well, the more allies the better. While I don’t personally care for…her.” Sansa continued. “These are dangerous times, and I would rather not have a single enemy more than I have to.”

Arianne only sighed. She knew the reasoning behind it even before Sansa had said a word, she’d just preferred to not accept it. She looked over at Margaery Tyrell -or was it Baratheon- the current holder of the Iron Throne. There were several titles along with it, but all of those seemed pointless given the current circumstances.

She had more than a few battles with these two women over the last week. It left a sour taste in her mouth, talking to them civilly after everything that had happened. Still, she did listen, they made sense.

Margaery always had a way of looking…coy. Like she was in possession of knowledge that you yourself desperately needed but would never have. It was infuriating and something that had only annoyed her more and more over the last few weeks. Despite being one of the most gorgeous women in the world, Margaery also happened to be as intelligent as they came – a dangerous woman.

“Indeed. I too wasn’t aware there would be…guests.” She drawled, looking Arianne up and down like she was examining an off-putting piece of meat. “Still, I suppose there are worse people that could have walked in through that door.” Her tone implied that it was only just. Arianne shook her head, she would not rise to this woman’s provocations.

“Well, now that we’re all here, we should get right down to the heart of the matter.” Sansa cut in before Arianne could reply. Grumbling, she went and sat on the side of the bed. This meeting was important, it would likely decide not only her fate, but maybe even the fate of all Seven Kingdoms. Gods, did it have to be so annoying even being in the same room as these two though?

“Indeed. I don’t think it needs to be said that we’re all sitting here to form an…alliance. I broached the topic once before as well, so, what changed now?” Margaery shot Sansa a knowing look, and Arianne frowned. She didn’t like not knowing. 

Sansa nodded, as cool as ever. “Well, circumstances are now more…tenuous than they were before. In our last…meeting, I was sure we would all kill each other then and there. I think if it keeps on, then we will, sooner or later. We’ll play right into his hands, and I for one would rather not dance to someone else’s tunes.”

Arianne nodded, she had been having much the same thoughts herself. Still, if it truly was that easy, she would have done something about it herself. “But meeting like this and forming an…alliance, only makes things more dangerous, does it not?” Now that Arianne had gotten some time to think, she’d seen it clearly. They were deliberately kept at each other’s heels, which meant any attempt to work together was…dangerous, at best.

Sansa seemed to take it all in stride, however. “That is correct. Just by meeting here, in this room, we’ve put ourselves under a time limit of sorts. Sooner or later, someone will report this to the wrong person and that’ll be that.” She drew her thumb over her neck as if to illustrate just how it would happen.

“And yes, I know you two were doubtless careful getting here.” She added, cutting off whatever Margaery had been about to say. “There are eyes and ears all the same. Even if none of them saw you, all it takes is just one curious servant saying something in passing and eventually, Aegon will know. The time to act is soon.”

Margaery let out a curse and Arianne couldn’t help but do the same. It didn’t need to be said, but she understood. By having her come here, Sansa had ensured they would have to listen if not accept any alliance she would propose. Otherwise, Aegon would find out and they wouldn’t have anything to fall back on. It was a clever ploy, and one Arianne hadn’t picked up on until just now.

From the look on Margaery’s face, doubtless she was having the same realization. “Well, I see the Starks do play the Game Of Thrones now, even if they were so woefully inept at it before.” Sansa gave no reaction to the jest at all, and finally Margaery sighed. “Well, this meeting of yours puts you in just as much danger as it does us, so that means you must have something…effective in mind.”

Sansa nodded slowly, getting up and walking towards the room’s lone window. She looked outside for a moment, before turning back. “How is it that one man was able to corner every powerful woman this side of the Ocean and get away with it? How is it that we are seemingly at his mercy, when it should be the exact opposite?”

“He’s no fool. He’s spent every moment here trying to make sure we were always at each other’s throats. I doubt he would shed a tear if we ended up killing one of our own.” Margaery said that as if it should have been obvious. Arianne only chided herself for not picking up on all of this sooner.

“Then, the answer is obvious enough, isn’t it?” Sansa arched an eyebrow and Margaery slowly nodded. Arianne looked between the two of them, before the realization dawned on her. It made her hair want to stand on end, but oh it made her heart race in excitement. Still, she did have her reservations.

“I see then that we are to confront him, together.” Sansa simply nodded. “Then, what’s to stop him from pitting us against all of the others? Surely then nothing would change at all, and we would be right back where we started. Except this time, Aegon would know that we see through him, and we’d be the first ones dead.”

“You are correct. At least, you would be, normally.” Margaery said slowly, before looking over at Sansa. “You intend to force him to choose, don’t you? To force him to choose or to slight us. He would not risk antagonizing three great houses. There wouldn’t be any place for him to run to.”

“Yes. I will admit, I don’t like this either. After all, it means there’s a fair enough chance that he won’t pick me.” Sansa sighed then, turning back to the window. “But that slim chance is more than the sure certainty of us all killing each other if we keep clawing at each other. I invited you two because I know you two can keep up a secret, and see through his true agendas.”

“Very well.” Arianne agreed, it wasn’t exactly the most complex plan she had ever heard. Still, under the circumstances, she didn’t see any other way at all. “Then, what, we are to confront him together and force him to choose on the spot? If the spies are as bad as you say, then surely he will have time to prepare.”

“She means to do it as soon as she can. Hell, she might mean to do it as soon as the castle starts to fall asleep. Isn’t that right?” Sansa nodded again, not bothering to deny anything.

“It’ll be a fair competition between the three of us. Under the present circumstances I imagine that’s the best any of us can hope for, wouldn’t you agree?” Sansa arched an eyebrow, as if asking them to refute her. “Then, I think we’re all in agreement. We all only have a few hours to get some rest. I…I don’t know what today will bring, but either way, it will be the end.”

Her blood was practically pounding in her ears now. This was all a fine mess Arianne had gotten herself into. Still, it was exciting, exciting in a way that reminded her of better times. Yes, Arianne would win out over not only these two women, but over everyone else in Storm’s End. She wasn’t doing any of this to get back at Myrcella at all. She wasn’t like that, was she?

Aegon sighed, looking up from the thick, leathered book he’d been reading, or well, had been trying to read. It was an ancient volume on the histories of all the houses of the North. It was a dull and boring affair at the best of times, but it was especially tedious right now. The words had stopped making sense a few pages before he’d stopped. He was meant to be a King, no he was a King.

He was no stranger to spending his time in tedious ways. Often, the more power you had the less freedom you had along with it. Aegon might have been the most powerful man in the world, but he might have also had less freedom than the lowest servant in his employment. It was a bittersweet thought, but one Aegon had been slowly coming to terms with. So, Aegon was definitely not one to shirk his kingly duties -never that.

Instead, tomes talking about the past seemed rather insignificant when history was being made before his very eyes. It had all started out simple enough. All he really had to do was make sure all the different women in this castle didn’t get too close to one another, lest they oust him from his own castle. He’d inflamed tensions one way, soured distrust others. All to keep them from forming an alliance that might throw him out of the Seven Kingdoms altogether.

Never even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined how far the different women would take it. These women were prideful, more prideful than even he had considered. Without their bannermen and their armies, it seemed they took to fighting these wars with their own two hands and feet. When Aegon had realized how these battles would take place, he had been shocked. Still, you couldn’t be a King without taking surprises in stride, and then using them to one’s own advantage. 

So, he kept on encouraging the women, always subtly. It had been a hard thing, but luckily some of them were so blind in their lust for him he could use them, even when he couldn’t use others. Myrcella and Daenerys had been most useful, the two of them rabid dogs he could point at any direction he wished. 

Thinking of his aunt did make him want to sigh, however. Daenerys was a Targaryen, and doubtless one of the most beautiful women in the world. She was also well, frankly, an idiot. It was a shame how far the Targaryen name had fallen in his absence. Still, he would fix it all the same.

Still, for all his planning and machinations, even he hadn’t thought things would go as far as they had at the feast. Why, the women had all but clawed at each other right under his nose! From everything he’d managed to learn about that night, it seemed the women had been little short of spilling blood, and to hell with the consequences. Part of Aegon was just amused; they’d all been pushed that far, so easily. There was a reason the Seven Kingdoms needed a King, not a Queen, after all.

The other part of him now knew that blood would be spilt soon. It didn’t matter if it happened tomorrow or in a week, one or several of the women would die. There were just no two ways about it. All Aegon could do was be watchful, and hopefully, with a little prodding, the right women would die. I’ll need to arrange a hunting trip soon, Aegon mused, I’ll take my entire entourage and spend a week or two in the woods. If the Gods are good, they’d all be dead by the time I come back, and I will be untainted by their deaths. If one of them survives… what a Queen she would make – hated by almost everyone, and easily disposable at a later date.

Oh, they were all dangerous to leave alive, of course. Still, to unite these Seven Kingdoms, he would need at least one of them by his side, at least at the start. That meant he had his pick, like a farmer buying a cow at a market. Personally, the Stark girl had impressed him the most. Between her keen mind and her gorgeous looks, any man would be mad not to want to bed her. Still, the same could be said about just about anyone here. All he could do was wait and see which way the dice would fall.

And all of that made this blasted book more annoying. He tossed it to his side with a sigh, standing up. He had no time to waste like this. He needed to find out everything as it happened, no matter how small or seemingly pointless. This was about the time one of his spies would be making his report. That was one thing he’d made sure of. Even if it was just to break water, he’d know everything each one of those women did while under his roof.

“You have some nerve to wear…that.” Sansa growled under her breath, staring at her. Margaery just smiled the way she always did whenever she wanted to be particularly infuriating. Sansa seemed to want to say something more, but she thought better of it. Doubtless she’d realized that Margaery did deserve to wear the makeshift crown she’d donned today. It was a pitiful thing, but it was about all the blacksmith could get done in an hour.

“Why do you say that? Am I not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? Do I not hold King’s Landing?” That seemed to make the other woman just as annoyed. Arianne seemed ready to slap her, and Margaery would have been more than happy to knock some sense into her herself. Arianne stopped herself, smoothing out her dress with her hands instead.

“This…alliance only goes anywhere if we trust each other to keep up their end of the bargain. Otherwise, we all fail. Worse, we all die.” Arianne said testily, before looking over at Sansa. “Though I hate to admit it, you look gorgeous.” 

And so she did. The Lady Stark was wearing an almost transparent white dress that seemed little more than a thin sheet of cloth than a proper garment. One breeze was all it would take to pry that off. Margaery didn’t recall the bitch ever wearing anything like that back in King’s Landing, even when it would have benefitted her. The woman was harder now, damn her. Still, it was of no concern. Margaery was of course the most gorgeous woman in the world, and she’d certainly dressed like it.

Her dress, well, it wasn’t really a dress at all. A thin sheet of green cloth was the only thing connecting the intricately carved shape of a rose around her breasts, her smooth skin peeking out from between its petals. The rest of the dress was more normal, if uncomfortably tight. The line between undergarments and dresses did get awfully blurry when you got down to it.

“Thank you. You look rather beautiful yourself.” Sansa said, reluctantly smiling back at the woman. If Sansa and Margaery had been wearing dresses, then Arianne could only be described as wearing an all too short brown robe, buttoned up neatly around the woman’s back. It wasn’t the kind of thing Margaery had personally seen before, it seemed the Dornish whore had some tricks of her own too. Still, it did catch the eye, and Margaery idly decided to get one for herself too, once she buried these two women beneath her.

“Well, if you two have stopped fawning over yourselves, then I believe we have a King to confront.” Margaery cut in. She really would rather not be polite one second longer than she had to, at least with these women. Oh, Margaery could be as subtle as the best of them, but that pretense had long since become unnecessary here. The two women looked at her as if she was the odd one out.

“I suppose you are right. Now, you two do know what the plan is, right?” Margaery had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Did this Stark whore think she was stupid? Margaery had been playing the Game Of Thrones when this woman was still swaddling. Well, she wasn’t that much older, but that’s besides the point.

“Yes, yes. We confront the Prince. Force him to choose. We make sure he bloody well stays put until he makes his choice. It’s simple enough, even an idiot would have a difficult time forgetting any of the details.” Margaery answered with a sigh. The infuriating woman had the audacity to nod, as if she had really thought Margaery might have forgotten. Oh yes, she was going to have a special cell all to herself when Margaery was done with her.

“We cannot decide who he will pick, but we are at least trying to make it as…reasonable for all of us as we can. That’s the only thing holding this alliance together.” Arianne added, looking right at her. Margaery raised an eyebrow, challenging the woman. Arianne only flicked her gaze upwards, doubtless towards her makeshift crown. Well, the Seven themselves would not make her take that off. She was the Queen, after all.

When it was obvious she wouldn’t budge at all, the two women sighed almost at the same time. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing to do but to go then.” That was something they all could agree with.

The castle was mostly empty, this time of day. Oh, it was never truly empty, even now, maids and servants scurried about like an infestation of roaches. Still, it was significantly less crowded than it would have been during the day. More importantly, everyone who was important, wasn’t roaming the halls right now.

All the same, more than a few people gave them odd looks as they passed down the halls. Margaery was bred to be a ruler, but even she didn’t have it in her to bother right now. Their fates were going to be decided soon, for better or worse. In the face of that, it seemed rather pointless to worry about pretenses at this point.

Margaery made the deliberate move to walk in front of the trio. Sansa gave her an exasperated look, but didn’t seem like she wanted to argue. Arianne tried walking beside her, before her robe almost came off trying to keep up with the fast pace she was setting. Good, the two should know their place. 

They made their way out of their wing and into the courtyard separating them from their destination. A few guards patrolled here and there. They were a grim reminder of everything they were risking. Margaery had to stop herself from walking faster, even as some of the men stared, many of them more openly than was proper. She kept her pace as a fast glide. Yes, it was a glide.

Before long, they were storming through the Prince’s wing. Each of them had been here often enough to know the way by heart. Almost there. Margaery mused, turning the corner. Just as the three had expected, Ser Duck was at the door, meaning that the Prince was in his chamber. He could always be found within shouting distance of the Prince. Doubtless, if things did not go well today, he would be the one to lop their heads off. Margaery shook her head of the thought. She would succeed, she had to.

Ser Duck took them in with a single look. He seemed startled, as well he might. “What are..err, Your Graces doing at this…hour?” He managed, even as Margaery crossed the distance between them. Sansa and Arianne weren’t very far behind.

“We’re here to see the Prince. I’m sure he would be delighted to meet with us.” Sansa said, as diplomatically as ever. That made Ser Duck pause, and he gave the door behind him a meaningful look, before looking back at them.

“I’m sure His Grace would be happy to meet with the three of you…at a more appropriate time. I believe His Grace had a headache, and he’s doubtless resting.” Margaery rolled her eyes, stepping in front of him until she practically stepped on his shoes.

“I am sure His Grace would not mind a short visit. After all, we did come all this way here.” Margaery said, adjusting her shoulders just so. It had the intended effect, and Ser Duck’s eyes wandered before he could help himself. He caught himself, staring at her face all too abruptly. He seemed even more torn than before.

“Ser Duck, it will only be a short visit. Besides, I don’t think His Grace would want to slight three of the Great Houses, when a simple meeting will suffice.” Arianne said, stepping beside her. Bloody bitch. Let me handle this.

Ser Duck seemed to sigh, before finally nodding. There was no way to make them leave, short of hauling them away by their hair, and he knew it. “Very well, I’ll see if His Grace wants to entertain visitors.” He walked over to the chamber doors, opening them and looking inside. He opened the door wider.

“Your Grace…err, you have vi-”

Margaery did not have time to let the fool finish. She was about to step past him, but Arianne was a hair faster, stepping into the room. Her head is going to make a pretty trophy indeed. Margaery frowned, stepping in behind her, walking past the man. Ser Duck seemed indignant, but his opinion hardly mattered.

Then she saw him. Aegon seemed momentarily surprised, staring at the door. He had on a plain, white coat, his bottom obscured by a woolen blanket. He had a dusty looking tome in his hands, doubtless he really might have been ready to go to sleep.

Still, he did look beautiful, even now. Aegon had been blessed twice, the first being born who he was, the second being so damn attractive. Yes, he would be hers, it was only a matter of time. He would be a decent King, by her side. Yes, he would doubtless be the only one who could live up to her.

“Apologies, Your Grace, we wished to speak with you and it just couldn’t wait until tomorrow.” Sansa said smoothly, entering the room and eyeing the two. Margaery rolled her eyes but nodded. Right. Polite. He is a King, after all. 

“Indeed. We simply have something that needs your immediate attention.” Margaery cut in, taking another step closer. Aegon had controlled himself again. He was a hard man when he wanted to be, and right now he did want to be. His face might as well have shown all the emotion of a stone. It was the manner of a King who didn’t particularly like what he was about to hear.

All the same, he turned his gaze to Ser Duck, who still seemed offended. “I believe I will see these women in…private. Do let me know if anything comes up. Besides that, make sure we aren’t…disturbed.” Margaery blinked. He’d had an odd twinkle in his eyes when he’d said those words. It was so subtle she thought she’d only imagined it.

For whatever reason, Ser Duck seemed to swell from the words. He nodded and made a deep bow. “Very well, Your Grace.” He turned and marched away from the room, closing the door behind him. Well, there wasn’t any time to pay him any mind, not when something or rather someone much more important was at hand.

“Now, what would you Ladies like to discuss with me?” Aegon asked finally, looking between all three of them in turn. They had argued over this part a fair bit as it were. 

They had to get their point across, to force Aegon to finally choose between them and stick with it. It was easy enough for them to give him an ultimatum, letting him know that they knew all about his schemes and games. 

It was also just as easy for him to call back Ser Duck and have him lop off all their heads. All three of them were defenseless, their armies far, far away from here. Aegon wouldn’t have a hard time pinning the blame on any of the other women here after that. So, they had to make sure to not disrespect him, to make him feel like they were confronting him more out of a need for his decision rather than self preservation.

“Your Grace, the weeks have been hard on all of us here.” Arianne began. “I think it’s no secret that every noble lady in this castle came here only to see you. Mayhaps some of them just wanted to get the measure of you, but I think we all just want to see if a match between our houses might be…possible.”

Aegon wanted to be a King, wanted to rule all Seven Kingdoms as surely as his father had. Aegon could kill them here and now and get exactly that, but it would be a rule in name only. His rule would go over much more smoothly if he had them to ease him in, that’s what they were counting on. Aegon would not have them killed just because. Besides, who could ease him more than Margaery herself?

“Indeed. However, in these past few weeks…we’ve been…confused. His Grace seems to favor many of us at different times, and that has been quite…difficult.” Sansa added cautiously. “We believe it would only be fair if you would finally tell us who you intend to court.”

That was her moment. “Besides, while His Grace might have initially seemed so interesting because of all the influence he might bring…I admit, that for me at least, His Grace has proven more interesting for many other reasons besides. While this might be a tad…improper, what woman wouldn’t want to finally put her mind at ease?” The other two glared at her, and she ignored their stares. That wasn’t what they’d agreed on.

Aegon for his part still seemed as impassive as ever. Still, his shoulders did seem to ease up, and the cold look in his eyes had softened considerably. He still had a deadly grace about him, of a man that had made many hard choices and would have to make many hard choices in the future. 

“I see. I admit this approach is certainly…unorthodox.” He began, walking over to his bed and sitting down on its side. “Well, in truth, it has been a distressing couple of weeks for me as well. While you might admire me for who I am, what man wouldn’t admire the three of you for who you are?”

Margaery frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “For one, let’s talk about you, Lady Stark. I am told that before I came to these lands you were betrothed to a King who gave you up for another. Surely that man was the biggest fool on this side of the ocean.”

Margaery froze. Time itself seemed to stop for a second or two for her. She looked at Aegon again, the man didn’t even seem to be looking at her. His eyes were all focused on Sansa. Sansa seemed as surprised as Margaery herself was. Still, she composed herself quickly, flashing a smile that might have been charming to most. At this moment, Margaery found it the most disgusting thing in the world.

“Yes, I was once betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon. Our betrothal was then called off.” Sansa said, making a small bow, before turning to wave at Margaery. “Margaery then took my place, and then went on to wed Joff- err, his brother. It was a tumultuous time.” Margaery wanted to slap the woman.

Joffrey had been an absolute cunt, more or less. Margaery had hardly wanted to marry him either, but it had been necessary to secure the throne at the time. Honestly, she was doing Sansa the biggest favor of her life. Now, the woman had the audacity to throw it in her face.

“Ah, yes. I have been taught the history of this land, though the fine details of it do get rather confusing, especially in recent times.” Aegon then turned that gaze on to her, and she bit down any of the annoyance that might have been showing on her face.

“Well, it was doubtless an…odd choice. That is why the Seven Kingdoms do need a strong King, someone who can undo all the mismanagement that has plagued this land.” She really didn’t like the implication of that. He was not only subtly questioning everyone that had come before him -her included- he also implied that Sansa might have been a better choice for a King. Maybe she was reading too far into it. Yes, that had to be it.

They had a plan, she just needed to stick to it. Still, it was bloody hard to remember that in present circumstances. She felt like she just wanted to slap someone, anyone. She glared at Sansa, doing what little she could to moderate her tone. “Well, they were all fine enough, and they did help me secure the Iron Throne for a time.” Yes, she would remind Aegon that she could help him in ways that neither of these two women could. 

Arianne was eyeing her now, doubtless concerned. Well, she had wanted to play nice, at least for a while. Still, now was the time to act. “Now, the throne stands empty. I hold the Iron Throne, but it demands a King, and I am alas, no King.” Aegon nodded, as if that was only natural.

“Well, doubtless there are many ways to secure the throne, some of them more…pleasant than others.” Arianne said hastily, taking a step forward. Aegon seemed more relaxed now. That was odd, they were all bumbling into each other and into him, but now he finally seemed more relaxed.

“Ah well, you can understand my predicament then. I have some of the finest ladies before me, and finer still taking up rooms in this castle. How then, am I to decide? What would be fair? What would be best? I fear I have spent weeks thinking over this problem, but I don’t have a solution.”

Sansa glared at the two of them, before finally sighing. “Well, either way, it would please us greatly if His Grace did end up reaching some kind of decision soon.” That made Aegon frown again. “That would only be fair, not only to us, but to the whole realm.”

“Well, you speak sense once again Lady Sansa. I see your mind is as sharp as you are beautiful. The rumors were right enough.” Aegon wasn’t even looking at the girl anymore. He was looking right at her. She felt a sharp pain run through her hands, she’d been digging her nails into her palms. Fine, she needed to prove that she was better than both of these whores. She could do that. Margaery was the most beautiful and the most capable woman in the world. 

So, Margaery did the only thing she could think of. She began to take off her dress.

“You have some nerve stepping back in here.” Doreah only grinned, even as the Targaryen tried to stare a hole straight through her. Once, this woman had looked impressive, someone to admire. Now, Doreah just thought Daenerys looked like a fool. Oh, but she’d come so far.

“Why, here I thought old…friends should check up on each other, every now and then.” Daenerys stood from her bed, starting to walk towards her. She really was too easy, it was almost boring trying to rile her up. Had the other woman always been like this? Once, Doreah had hated this whore, hated her with a burning passion. Now, that passion had faded, replaced only by pity and apathy. It had also made her annoyed by herself, to think that she’d ever served this…thing.

“Get out before I claw your eyes out.” She all but hissed. Daenerys was a head shorter than her, but for all the world she acted like she was the taller of the two. It was really quite amusing, when you noticed it. Besides that, Doreah was in the mood to be amused. Everything had worked out for her, and now she just wanted to lord it over someone.

“Careful now. I’m told you adore the Prince. It would hardly be appropriate now to harm his maidservant, now would it?” That made the woman stop in her tracks. Good. I love that look on your face. 

“Why, it’s such a surprise to see where we all ended up. The last time we parted ways, you wanted to kill me. A pity it didn’t work out, I suppose.” Daenerys looked like she was more than willing to still slap her, consequences be damned. Still, Doreah knew she really wouldn’t. She had seen the way Daenerys had simpered over Aegon during these few weeks, there was absolutely no chance she’d risk angering him.

“Well, I’m told that you’ve been trying to court Aegon. I suppose that’s how it’s always been with you Targarynens, has it not? Still, I can commend you for it…he’s certainly…worth it.” Daenerys seemed to pale slightly. Yes, she had thought that Daenerys might not have known, but it was something even she was struggling to believe. Was she really this blind?

“What do you know? What are you trying to say whore?” Daenerys pushed her back. Doreah had been more than ready for it, or she would have already fallen over. She couldn’t even be angry, this was all too much fun.

“Oh, just that I’ve seen a side of the Prince that you haven’t. A side that you might never, now that I think on it…He does have quite the appetite, like a dragon.” 

Daenerys let out a loud scream, before rushing over to her. Doreah was so surprised she didn’t even react before Daenerys had really slapped her. It didn’t make any sense. Surely this woman knew that attacking her was the worst thing she could possibly do now that she was directly under Aegon’s protection?

Daenerys raised her hand again, and Doreah caught the woman’s arm, trying to twist it. The two struggled, more or less evenly matched when it came to strength. Daenerys’ eyes were pure rage and Doreah finally understood. It wasn’t that Daenerys was broken, it was that she simply didn’t care anymore. She really did think everything would work out for her, no matter what she did. 

Doreah took the step back, she wasn’t prepared for this. Shaking her head, she steeled herself and drew herself up. Doreah knew Daenerys, knew that this was just a ploy to make her flinch. Well, she could posture with the best of them. Doreah would not be afraid of idle threats. All she was here to do today was to tease the woman a little. 

The look in Daenerys’ eyes told her that the Targaryen was more than willing to make sure that one of them ended up dead. She was good at pretending. Doreah blinked as she heard a loud knock on the door. That seemed to snap Daenerys out of it too, who now only glared.

“Open it.” She snarled. Doreah ignored her, but opened the door anyway. Ser Duck was standing just out in front. He seemed surprised to see her there, but nodded and took it in stride. He looked past her at Daenerys and made a small bow.

“His Grace wishes to meet with you. I believe it is rather important.” That seemed to sap all the rage out of the woman in an instant. She grinned wide, and Doreah had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Ser Duck seemed to hesitate a moment, before looking at her. “I believe it would also be best if you were to come to attend him. He has been…looking for you.”

Doreah didn’t know what to say to that, so she simply nodded. For some reason, she felt a pit in her stomach that had nothing to do with Daenerys at all. Ser Duck might not have said it, but Doreah’s long years of hardship gave it away. Something was wrong. Now, she just had to find out what.

She didn’t know why everyone was so surprised. The look of surprise on Aegon’s face was at least appealing. It was good to see that she could stun him so easily, just by taking off a few garments. He just gaped at her, his eyes roaming her body. Doubtless he would be thinking about her long past this day.

“My Lady…I see you are as gorgeous as perhaps any woman can ever hope to be.” It was an odd feeling, but satisfaction and delight raced through her. Yes, he would be a good match for her, a good match indeed. Aegon then turned away from her and she had to frown, was his self control back already? Aegon then eyed the other two women, almost dismissively, before turning that gaze back onto her.

Sansa and Arianne however, both looked furious. As if they didn’t see where this was going, or they wouldn’t have done the same in my place. Sansa even had the gall to look indignant, of all things. Arianne seemed to watch Margaery like a hawk, before finally stripping off her own robe.

Margaery blinked, seeing something she had never seen before. The woman’s bra and panties seemed to be shining in the light, almost gleaming. Was that metal? Margaery had heard a few tales of such clothing worn in Dorne, but she had never believed it until just now. After all, it seemed painfully impractical. On the other woman however, it looked stunning, something you couldn’t help but focus on. They accentuated Arianne’s curves.

Margaery must have been staring, before Arianne just smirked at her, before turning to Aegon. She was more than a little displeased to see the Prince’s attention now on that Dornish whore instead. I am going to bash her head in with her own undergarments. Yes, that is what that whore deserved for even beginning to think that she could show up Margaery of all people./

A slight ruffling to her side caught her attention and she turned just in time to see Sansa stepping out from over her dress. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. Sansa was a crafty bitch, so she would have something up her sleeve. Sansa wore normal stockings, pretty pink lace things that you could find just about anywhere. That wasn’t the oddity. The oddity was that they didn’t really cover, well, anything. Large holes were cut in the fabric, exposing her breasts and her pussy.

Oddly, her attire was somehow more arousing this way. Damn that bitch. That was smart, and something that Margaery herself should have come up with. Still, Margaery did not honestly think that Sansa had it in her to go that far, which is why she hadn’t even considered it herself. Not the innocent prude anymore are you, whore? 

“I don’t know what to say…I’m surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the world. It is all rather a lot to take in.” Despite that, Aegon seemed to be trying his hardest to take them all in, his head swiveling from one woman to the other every few seconds. His eyes seemed to be paying them all the same amount of attention. In fact, it was so precise it seemed almost deliberate.

“Well, Your Grace, I imagine this is all rather more forward than it is normally done.” Sansa said, folding her arms underneath the curves of her breasts. “However, I think we can all agree that circumstances are…odd.” That was putting it all mildly. Still, Margaery knew it was just a ploy to make Aegon look at her more, it would be rude not to, after all.

“Indeed. While this might even be too forward, this is what we were forced to do, after all. We hope His Grace understands. We are simply doing the best that we can.” Arianne chimed in, taking a step forward. That step forward was enough to make Aegon take a step back.

“Now, Your Grace. I believe that now that we have let our honest intentions show, it would be only fair if you make your decision.” She said calmly. “If His Grace has any…trials or inspections he would like to go through, he need only say the word.” The other two women were staring at her again, both sets of eyes rising in disbelief. What? They would go so far but stop in the middle? No, Margaery was committed to this now, for better or for worse.

That was enough to make even Aegon blush.  It was good to know that she could have that kind of effect on him. Well, they all did, but it had to be mostly her. Margaery smiled wider, noting Aegon’s obvious arousal. That look made Aegon notice his arousal too, and he only seemed to blush more. It was charming from one who was supposed to be so powerful and composed.

Still, Aegon was a King, and he recovered himself sooner than Margaery would have believed. He eyed the door behind them, almost as if he were waiting for something. “I think we need not come to any hasty decisions today. You are all beautiful women, and while my treatment might have been unfair at times, surely this right now is just as unfair for me.” His voice was mostly calm now, only the vaguest hint of a stutter.

“After all, all three of you each have your own charms. Charms that few other women in the world can rival. It would take any man a long time to decide, especially between equals such as yourselves.” Margaery blinked. Equals? Was that what he was seeing them all as. She turned and looked at the other two women. Arianne was clenching her fist, and Sansa’s face seemed a little too smooth.

Clearly they had all taken some offense to the comment, though perhaps for three different reasons altogether. “Your Grace, I believe I would offer you the soundest choice. Not only for what I bring but for what I represent. The Martell’s have always stuck by the Targaryens, through good times and bad. Even before the…usurper took the throne, it was us who stuck around as allies at the very end.” Arianne smiled warmly, that was a point neither of the two could contest.

“The Starks were instrumental in ending the reign of your house. Outside of the Baratheons, one might even say they were the most responsible.” Sansa’s face had broken out into a scowl now, somewhat marring her pretty features. “And the Tyrell’s…well, pardon me, but I do believe they were nowhere to be found when their King had need of them. Who can say if history won’t repeat itself yet again, should you ally with them?”

“Besides, even should they not prove loyal…well, the Tyrell’s have hardly been known for being very…welcoming.” She flourished the words with one hand cupping her breast. “I dare say a life with one such as them might be downright boring, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Margaery had to stop herself from slapping the woman. Shaming her house was one thing, even though that itself was a grave offense. Shaming her? She would make sure this Dornish whore died as slowly as anyone ever had. Really, if Aegon hadn’t been there watching, she would have already been upon her, propriety be damned. Arianne just smirked at her, as if she’d read her mind.

“Then again…the Martell’s are not only some of your staunchest allies, we also carry a certain…reputation. I would think I could show His Grace to pleasures he both hasn’t felt before, and is unlikely to feel elsewhere. I would hope my arguments have made the decision easier.”

Aegon seemed to be hanging on every word. He was staring at Arianne so intently you would think she was the only woman in the room. He finally nodded, as if he had acknowledged some great point. Did he actually agree with that drivel? No, he must not, too much depended on it. Margaery conjured up every objection she could in her mind, but they all seemed to slip away like too fine grains of sand.

Margaery used to be good at this. She had a way with words that few among the nobility could lay claim too. Some people had even complained that she was blessed twice by the Seven themselves, once for her wit and once again for her looks. Still, she hadn’t had a need for that particular talent in a long time. Her edge had dulled, much as she hated to admit it.

“Yes, Lady Arianne does raise an interesting point. However, I do believe that to be of no great merit to the Tyrell’s.” Sansa said softly, her words seeming to slice the air like a knife. “Indeed, the Martell’s were married closely to the Targaryen’s, and it would have destroyed them to do anything else. Indeed, one might even say that any house would have done the same thing, in their position.”

Now Aegon was looking at her, just as intently as he had at Arianne. Margaery had an odd feeling in her stomach. Something about the Prince’s demeanor just seemed a little too…exaggerated. For some reason, she was oddly reminded of a court jester, juggling too many balls at once and trying desperately to keep them going for as long as he could.

“As to her other claims, while Rhaegar Targaryen did marry a Martell…he loved a Stark.” This part came out even softer than the last, and Sansa slowly took a few steps forward, her hips seeming to sway with every step. “I believe it has been said often enough how closely I resemble my aunt. I think history itself would side with me, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sansa then seemed to nod to herself, as if agreeing with something only she could hear. “While I am sure Lady Arianne doubtless knows some things no-one here does, it does beg a certain…question. Where does one learn all these things, exactly? I believe His Grace would deserve no less than to have a woman he can be sure is…wholly devoted to him.”

She eyed him, looking for all the world like a wolf eyeing a particularly sheepish deer. “I am also sure there is a certain…appeal to knowing a woman is everything she claims, rather than what she’s left unsaid.”

Margaery had to keep herself from staring. That was absolutely brilliantly done. It was so enamoring that Margaery had to shake herself to snap out from whatever trance the whore had put her under. She looked over at Arianne, who seemed more furious than Margaery had ever seen the woman. Doubtless that was one part of history that should not have been brought up.

“I suppose that is correct. Rhaegar Targaryen did start a war for a Stark, in the end. Besides, it is my understanding that your House did end up paying a heavy price during those times.” Aegon nodded then, as if acknowledging one of his own thoughts. “Yes, have no fear that I hold the past against anyone here. Though, I suppose it could tip the scales of any decision I do end up making.”

Margaery couldn’t help but grin at that. Sansa was clearly furious at being reminded of the ‘price’ her family had paid. Oh, she controlled it well enough, but Margaery knew what to look for, and it was a pretty sight indeed. Still, all that aside, she wanted to regain control of this conversation. It was all very well to slight the other two, but more than that, Aegon needed to realize just how superior she was.

“Yes, our histories do alter…matters, somewhat. However, more than that…” She took a step forward, then another. She stifled a wince as a small jolt of pain went up her legs. Margaery was still bruised, even if no-one would ever know past the powder. “I believe we should look only at the present, and at the future.”

“As it stands, I believe that I could make your…inevitable succession to the Iron Throne rather painless. After all, not only have I ruled King’s Landing for some time, I have gone out of my way to establish my reputation among the common people. “ Good, everyone’s eyes were on her now. That was how it was meant to be.

“While doubtless you would secure your position sooner or later, with me, it would be sooner rather than later. The Targaryens are near mythical figures in the eyes of the common man, I would bridge the gap between them and their new ruler.” She then waved her arm at the other two women, as if taking them both in at the same time.

“Could they say the same? Both of them might as well be strangers to this land. The North and the South have little in common, and few men on this side of the Seven Kingdoms would want to be ruled by a Northerner.” She had to stop herself from squirming under the Prince’s fiery gaze. Still, it was also encouraging, she had his complete attention. “And say what you will about the Dornish, but they were never known for their…tact.” Both women seemed like they were ready to strangle her. Arianne even took a step forward. 

She grinned, before sliding a finger down her thigh. “You also run into a further conundrum, that of choosing a woman who knows too little,” She waves towards the Stark girl before waving towards Arianne, “or of choosing a woman who perhaps knows too much. I, however, happen to be the perfect middle ground. Experienced, older, but not overly so. Would that not be the best match, giving His Grace as good as he can hope for?”

“Experience is always a good thing. It’s just rather odd that you likely have more experience burying Kings than wedding them. How many was it again? Three? I believe I might have lost count.” Arianne added coldly, and Margaery glared. 

She didn’t miss a beat, however. Margaery had expected this, after all. “Well, those men were much too weak to stand beside me. I think any woman would pull her hair out surrounded by her inferiors. Aegon however, is different, as I’m sure we can all agree.” Good, fanning his ego would distract him. It was as good as she had.

Margaery ignored both of them, looking only at the Prince. He seemed to be considering, weighing her words. Finally he nodded to himself. “You raise some…interesting points. Points that I had not considered before.”

She had to stop herself from letting her smirk show. Was the Prince finally coming around to her? Would he choose her openly now? Aegon opened his mouth again, then paused. He seemed to consider again, before looking once again at the other two women. “But, it would be rather unfair to not hear a rebuttal, if there is any.”

It was all Margaery could do not to gape like a fish. After all of that, he still seemed reluctant? Both women were falling over themselves to answer him before someone knocked on the door. Then they knocked again, and again. Five straight knocks later Aegon called out. “Ser Duck, I believe you’d realize I would not want to be interrupted at this time.”

He turned back to the women, looking apologetic. “Apologies, a King does get many visitors, many more than he would want.” If he meant the three of them, then he did not let it show. “But…I suppose after this day, a more…practical demonstration of loyalty might finally help me come to a decision. Just a moment, I shall join you Ladies soon.”

Margaery didn’t know what to say to that. A practical…demonstration? He couldn’t mean…well, sex right here in the chamber now, could he? Doubtless the other two were thinking and mulling over the same thing, because no-one objected to him walking into the privy. The door closed behind him and all three women looked at each other, weighing and measuring.

Well, it certainly wasn’t the kind of thing Margaery had come here to do, but she would do whatever it took. So, it really didn’t matter to her what Aegon demanded, so long as he did choose her. He would choose her.

“You ruined our plan.” Sansa hissed before looking back at the door. Margaery had to stifle the urge to slap her.

That’s when the door opened.

Myrcella had a scowl set on her face that might as well have been permanent these days. These weeks had been hard and everyday tested her patience in ways she wouldn’t have imagined before she’d come here. Still, Myrcella had now fallen in love -she could admit that to herself- with Prince, no, King Aegon.

He would be the only man who would rule beside her, once she reclaimed the Iron Throne. Even just thinking about him in passing was enough to make her feel a little dizzy. She was no girl, but that man did have a way of making her feel like one at times. There was just one problem: the other vipers and vultures circling around her beloved.

The other whores had grown more and more bold as the days and weeks had passed. At this point, she hardly met anyone without confronting them. Even Arianne, who had once been so precious to her, had shown the world her true colors. Now, Myrcella was all alone, save for her Prince. Yes, they were all alone, surrounded by wolves looking to pounce at the slightest hint of weakness.

Myrcella was not about to show them that weakness either. She bore more scars and bruises than she ever had. It was hard for her to even walk, without feeling the small phantom pains and aches of battles. At this point, she was almost used to the way her whole body hurt. None of the wounds were particularly destructive on their own, but they all added together soon enough.

Of course, Myrcella had taken great pains to make sure no-one would ever be able to tell. Powder was a wonderful thing, and at this point that might as well be half her weight. Still, it was worth it. Her beloved Prince didn’t need to know all of the struggles and trials she had gone through for him. That was just what a wife did for her husband. If that wasn’t what they were yet, well, they would be sooner or later.

Besides, she was giving as good as she got. No, she was doing even better than that. That Targaryen whore had been positively stunned the last time they’d fought, as Myrcella had all but yanked a fistful of her pubic hair. Doubtless that was more than enough to mar her otherwise otherworldly beauty. Good, she deserved it. Still, remembering that did send another jolt of pain through her, that whore had done her very best to yank Myrcella’s nipple out.

All of her effort, all of her pains had finally borne fruit. The Prince had summoned her personally, at this time of day. Why would any man want to see a woman at this hour if not to bed her? Ser Duck had been rather brief, but Myrcella had understood. He just didn’t want to embarrass his Prince. Well, no matter, she liked a man with an appetite. 

She’d donned a richly woven golden robe, one of her mother’s most precious gifts. That would do much not only to highlight her beauty, but her station. She’d strolled all the way over to his chambers, waiting. Myrcella only waited for one reason. For some reason, Ser Duck had been rather insistent she only go in when he came back to announce her in.

Why then did he not just come with her? It was very odd, but Myrcella had much more important things on her mind than small trifles like that. She had already waited so long, what more was a few minutes? Still, the minutes seemed to stretch in her mind. Myrcella couldn’t help going over the scene in her head, as she had many, many times before.

Yes, she would let Aegon be in charge -he was a King after all. Still, if he was a King, then Myrcella was a Lannister. She would have to toe the fine line between asserting herself and being subservient. It was all so very thrilling in her own mind. She shook herself, thinking about that more would have made her barge through the door.

She couldn’t help but grin though. All those whores had done so much to try and gain the Prince’s affection, yet here she was, summoned right outside his personal chambers. None of them had any idea that Myrcella had already succeeded where they had all failed. Maybe she would let them all believe they still had a chance, before letting them know of this day. Yes, that would be most fun indeed.

She looked up at the sound of a pair of boots on the ground. Finally, Ser Duck would usher her in and then the rest of her life would begin. Ser Duck did arrive, but Myrcella had to stop herself from gaping at the two women who followed behind him. In truth, she could hear them even before they’d seen them. Daenerys and Doreah were arguing, presumably they’d been arguing for some time.

“Better than being born a whore only to die a whore.” Daenerys snapped as Doreah just grinned at her. Myrcella shoved their voices out of her mind, turning her attention to Ser Duck, who seemed rather pleased with himself.

“What is the meaning of this?” Myrcella demanded. Ser Duck seemed to notice her, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there to begin with. Myrcella had to keep herself from blowing up at the man. It was no secret that Ser Duck happened to be one of the few people Aegon kept in confidence. It would not be a good idea to antagonize him, even if he most definitely did deserve it.

“Apologies. I was under the impression that the Prince had called me…personally.” She said again, moderating her tone. The blasted man had the audacity to smile at that. Still, he did answer.

“I apologize if the way I summoned you might have given you that impression. In truth, the Prince wanted to summon all three of you. There is…err, there are important matters he would like you all to be a part of.”

That was enough to stop the other two from arguing too. So, Aegon had wanted all of them, had he? Well, no matter. All that really meant to her was another chance to show up all the other women at once. It was more efficient that way.

“Very well. We best not keep him waiting then.” Ser Duck walked up to the door and knocked, then knocked again. Myrcella heard the Prince’s dismissal from the other side and raised a curious eyebrow.

“It’s a signal. To let him know that the meeting is truly important. It’s for…” The man floundered before regaining himself, “For spies, you see.”

Well, that was definitely not something she’d ever heard of before. She would have grilled him more on it, but after a few seconds, Ser Duck opened the door. Her questions died in her throat as her eyes took in the three women inside the room.

It wasn’t just that the three women were there. These three whores were some of the most scheming wretches Myrcella had seen in her entire life. No, it was that coupled with the fact that all three were naked. Naked, in Aegon’s room! She shot her best glare at Sansa and Margaery, the two of them looking almost as stunned as she felt.

They gaped for a moment, before oddly looking back inside the room at a closed door. Sansa rushed over to the door, opening it. Whatever she saw inside made her curse loudly, before slamming the door shut and starting to pace. Margaery was watching the Stark girl, her face starting to pale.

None of that was important. Myrcella marched inside, heading straight for Arianne. She stopped in front of the woman, glaring up at her. “After everything you’ve done, after the way you’ve stabbed me in the back…you do this?” She hissed before looking down at the woman’s…undergarments.

“I thought there was no way you could betray me any further. What a fool I was to underestimate a Dornish whore. Tell me, did you just do this to try and hurt me? To try and get back at me? Was this some sick, twisted way for you to get your revenge after I spurned you?”

The other woman looked like a fish out of water. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she wilted under her fury. If Myrcella had her way she’d bury this whore six feet under the earth, and then scorch herself for ever having anything to do with her.

Her weakness lasted only for a moment before Arianne drew herself back up again. Her eyes now seemed resolved.

“I wasn’t aware I had to let you of all people know of my plans and my intentions. If I recall correctly, I believe that any alliance we used to have is now moot. So, I will only do things that benefit me and Dorne.” She looked down at herself before waving at her bra. “Well, I found that since you’ve been so…inept at wooing the Prince, it was about time that I had a try.”

Now she really had to keep herself from slapping the woman. It was one thing to insult her, though even that was infuriating. Deliberately getting between her and her Prince was a much graver offense, and one she would definitely not forgive, especially not from this woman. If there was one thing Myrcella knew, it was how to hurt Arianne. For anyone else she would have slapped them already, broken their nose, clawed off their nipples.

Oh, she would do all of those things to this woman soon enough, but there was one other thing she could do before that. “Oh, and where is the Prince then? Did he run from your decrepit cunt the same way I did?” Yes, that definitely hit the mark. Arianne’s eyes widened in fury. Myrcella only smiled coldly. The past wasn’t something she could take back, but it was at least something she could use now.

“I regret every single moment I spent with you. Frankly, whenever I think of it I feel sick. To think that a Lannister wasted their time on a Dornish whore.” She looked over at Doreah, who was shouting something at Daenerys. The two women didn’t seem any calmer than Myrcella and Arianne were.

“Honestly, looking back on it, even my time spent with Doreah was much more pleasant. She at least knew her place, though even she sought to use me.” The other woman recoiled, as if struck. That had been obvious enough. Arianne was always the jealous type, though the woman thought she was oh so good at hiding it.

“In fact, I frankly regret every moment we spent together. I suppose living in Dorne was preferable to being slain, but only just.” Arianne wasn’t even staring at her now, she was looking at the ground. Myrcella had the upper hand, and she stepped up to the woman, playing it for all it was worth.

Arianne then looked up, and in one deft motion, ripped her robe off from her. It almost made her topple but she held herself. “So, it is just as I expected.” Myrcella looked down at her own matching metallic underwear, the same as Arianne. The only difference was that hers was much more ornate. It was in the color of gold, the color of her house. 

“You say you regret your time spent with me, and maybe you do. You say you preferred your time with Doreah, and maybe you really are fool enough to think that.” Arianne’s voice was level, like a mother chiding a child that had stepped out of line. She then motioned to her bra, and then to her own.

“But I think we can both agree that you’re more Dornish than you want to believe. So, call me a Dornish whore all you want, but what does that make you? You always were like that, only learning our ways so you could corrupt them.”

She snaked one finger over the cup of Myrcella’s breast. “Well, I suppose it’s an odd irony. Instead of paying for a whore the whore comes bearing gold just to be bedded. Isn’t that interesting, coming from a Lannister?” Arianne’s smile was thin now, and Myrcella caught the woman’s arm with her hand.

“Don’t you touch me. You don’t get to do that anymore.” Oddly, saying that sent a sad pang through her, a remnant of something that once used to be there. Myrcella then realized she was stalling, words would not achieve anything here. There was nothing she could scream at the other woman that would make her submit to her. Honestly, even hurting the woman’s feelings likely wouldn’t get her very far.

Really, there was only one thing to do. Myrcella knew that from the moment she’d first seen Arianne here, though she was only now accepting it.

She trailed one hand on Arianne’s thigh, on the thin string that held her odd metallic underwear together. Arianne looked at her, before her own hand quickly did the same. This was going to hurt. Well, it was going to hurt the both of them, but Gods was she going to feel this.

Myrcella was hardly in the best shape. Her meeting a few days ago with Daenerys had left her wounded. Even now, her pussy throbbed just thinking about what the two had done to each other. The only reason her underwear was half as thick as it was was so that it wouldn’t chafe too much. Well, so much for that.

Myrcella looked into Arianne’s eyes, unblinking. The two only stared at each other for a long moment. It was as if the whole world was taking a deep breath, waiting.

Then, finally, Myrcella pulled.

“He’s not here.” Margaery whispered, trailing off. She stared at the empty privy. Sansa walked up behind her, looking inside. She didn’t know why she did it, she just didn’t want to believe. Yes, there was no-one there. Frankly, it didn’t even look like a privy at all, it seemed like it had never been used at all.

Sansa looked back at everyone else, at Myrcella and Arianne already tugging at each other’s underwear. She looked at Daenerys and Doreah staring daggers at each other, all but spitting with every word they screamed at each other. Then, everything finally made sense, it was obvious in hindsight. “We’ve been played…” She found herself whispering.

“No, there has to be some way out of this. We can just leave through the door, it’ll be easy enough.” Margaery said quickly, rushing over towards the one door to the room. Sansa didn’t need to look. It was doubtless locked or barred in some way. Indeed, Margaery tried opening it to know avail, grunting with the effort. Finally, she relented, her arms sagging.

None of the others seemed to be paying any attention to the fact that they were all now trapped. Sansa and Margaery were the only ones who knew what had happened, and they were the only ones who cared. “This was his plan all along. Damn it! I should have kept him under my thumb. Fuck.” Margaery cursed, trying to kick the door instead. 

Sansa felt sick. More than that though, she felt a well of fury bubbling up within her. After everything she had learned, how did she of all people not see something like this coming? No, it wasn’t really her fault, when she thought about it. “This wasn’t his plan. I saw the look in his eyes, the same way you did. He really was shocked when we confronted him. It did all go according to plan.” She found herself saying. Margaery then looked at her, a wild gleam in her eyes.

“Then how did he get away? How did this happen?” Sansa wanted to yank the woman by her ears. Now that she thought about it, now that she played the conversation again in her head, it was all so painfully obvious. 

“You ruined our plan. We were supposed to be a united front. With all three of us there united, he would have been cornered. But no, he saw you were willing to abandon us for just the merest hint of getting your way, and he used that. He played you for the fool, and through you, all of us as well.” Sansa’s voice was calm. There was simply nothing to be done about it now, they’d all made a horrible mistake.

“You’re putting the blame for this on me?” Margaery hissed, stepping up to her. “Me? Maybe your plan was horrible, which is why one man was so easily able to untangle it. Have you considered that you prim whore?” She stared daggers at her, before looking down at Sansa’s body. 

“You accuse me of trying to better my own position at the cost of our alliance but what of this…thing you’re wearing? Do you just expect me to believe that this was all a coincidence, and that you didn’t intend to do the same thing, at some point? You accuse me of being a viper but you’re hardly the noble Stark either.” Sansa recoiled from that. It almost affected her more than the revelation that Aegon had escaped to begin with.

It was true, she had gone out of her way to make sure things went her way today. At the time, she’d told herself it was just a defensive measure. She wouldn’t resort to something like this unless one of the other two women did. 

Yes, that’s what she had told herself. Still, in the moment, that hadn’t been her reason at all. She had simply wanted to get back at the others, to be the one who gets picked because she was superior. She hated that realization, and the other woman must have seen it in her face, because she only twisted the dagger more.

“I doubt Arianne had any better reason either. Somehow, someway, you always just happen to better your station, no matter what happens. Oh, you whine all about how other people were being tyrants, but then how is it that you’re somehow always the only person left? Forgive me for trying to protect myself against a lion in sheep’s clothing.”

Was that really who she was now? In truth, that was the kind of thing that had kept Sansa up many a night these days. It was something she tried desperately not to think about, but it was a persistent thought, creeping into her mind every now and then.

“Well, I think it’s about time My Lady finally gets her own hands dirty.” Margaery grinned, before her hand went to Sansa’s all but exposed crotch.

Sansa froze for a second. It wasn’t the action itself that had surprised her, but Margaery herself. Sansa hated this woman, hell, she might have even loathed her. But, grudgingly, the one thing she had to admit was that Margaery had always had a good head on her shoulders. One might think that would belong to anyone in her station, but they’d be surprised.

In fact, their most recent ‘encounter’ was the one that had spurred their alliance in the first place. Margaery had cornered her in her room one afternoon after she was returning from an audience with Aegon. The woman had been intent on surprising her, but Sansa had given as good as she’d gotten.

She still bore the phantom aches and scars from that day. Thankfully, none of them were as obvious as the ones that laced Margaery’s body -did that woman really think the powder covered everything?- but they still made her ache, every now and then. It was only in the aftermath of that fight that the two had realized the real danger of their situation, specifically, from Aegon rather than each other.

Margaery was likely the only woman in this castle who really understood just what had been going on in Storm’s End these past few weeks. Sansa had dared not hope to get a capable ally in this place, but she had hoped all the same. To see Margaery now, almost as wild and hungry as the rest of these simpletons was…well, it was disheartening, to say the least.

She cast one last look at the privy door. Damn you Aegon, you’ll pay for this, sooner or later. Then, she turned back to Margaery, and pointedly grabbed the woman’s crotch with her own hand. That made her gasp, and Sansa nodded to herself. Margaery was in even worse shape than Sansa had thought, if even that was enough to get a reaction out of her.

The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Perhaps it happened because of the shared history between them, and the sinking feeling that today might be their last confrontation. Perhaps it was because the two respected each other, if only grudgingly. Still, the two waited, before they finally struck.

Sansa ground her thumb into the other woman’s clit. Unsurprisingly, Margaery did the exact same thing, she was the one Sansa had picked that up from, after all. Pleasure and pain jolted through her -the other woman was anything but gentle. Still, by now, Sansa was used to the feeling, and managed to keep what would once have been a loud grunt to nothing more than a sharp intake of air.

“See? I knew I could make a whore out of you sooner or later.” Margaery said, grinning openly. Sansa could hardly deny that. So, instead, she pinched the woman’s clit between her fingers, smiling in satisfaction as the other woman jerked back. Sansa stayed on the offensive, twisting and rubbing harder and faster. Margaery did her best to keep up, but her fingers were more erratic, she’d been taken in by surprise.

While Sansa had not planned on having another conflict with anyone, she wasn’t a fool. She had spent her time preparing for this. Margaery gritted her teeth before attacking Sansa’s clit as furiously as Sansa had hers. The two locked eyes again, their hands the only things separating them.

“This didn’t have to happen. We could have ended this before it began.” She found herself saying, even as the first of her fingers plunged inside the other woman. Margaery’s eyes widened slightly, before Sansa felt a rough finger pushing its way inside her.

“Sometimes you have to stand and fight. You call yourself…the Queen in the North…then at least show the pride of a queen.” She hissed back. Once, that statement would have made Sansa laugh at the absurdity of it. Now, after everything she had seen and everything she had been through, she understood.

Sansa buried her finger inside the other woman as far as she could, feeling the finger inside her doing much the same. All around her, she could hear the grunts of pain and pleasure, the scent of arousal and sex. She pushed it out of her mind, focusing only on the woman in front of her.

“Well, if we’re to speak of pride…” She let out a breath as Margaery curled her finger inside her. “Then I remember the look on your face…when Aegon praised me in particular.” Now, Sansa smirked. Margaery’s eyes had gone wide, her lips receding into a thin line. That was enough to make her finger stop prodding inside her.

It was rather amusing having this woman in the palm of her hand. Still, that wasn’t quite what she wanted. Sansa wouldn’t let this woman enjoy herself, not after the way she might have brought them all to ruin. She waited for her moment, for a moment when the other woman took another sharp intake of breath, then she ground her nail into the woman’s clit.

Margaery hissed softly, her whole body quivering. Her eyes flared. “Why, you seemed like you were having entirely too much fun. One would almost think you’d decided to marry me instead of Aegon.” Sansa purred. She knew what would happen next. Margaery didn’t break eye contact, but Sansa could feel the other woman’s fingers pinch her clit. Harder and harder they pressed, until her own body started to throb from the pain.

Sansa did likewise, and the two only locked eyes, both seeing which of the two would break first. Her breaths only came ragged now, but so did Margaery’s. Seconds passed, stretching into minutes. They both had the pride and stubbornness to match anyone, and now they were showing it.

Sansa was almost starting to lose feeling altogether in her clit, almost like it was being worn down. She grunted, letting her fingers go, blessedly at the same time the other woman did the same. She clutch at her clit, rubbing it softly. It ached but she could only give the pain a moment.

“I think that…” Margaery said between deep gasps, “should have taught you not to gloat too early.” And she supposed they did. Then, almost at the same time, the two women were on each other again.

Gods how it chafed. Arianne had never felt the like. The thin metallic straps of her underwear now shoved painfully between her legs, sending a sharp jolt of pain through her. More than that, the bloody thing was cold too, making the sensation even more unpleasant. Thankfully, it seemed like Myrcella was hardly enjoying the sensation either. Doubtless she was finally regretting having donned the thing now.

Arianne pulled on Myrcella’s underwear harder, hiking it up until it could go no harder. The other woman’s legs locked, almost by instinct. She snarled wildly, her own hand darting. Arianne found her legs trembling. The metal had chafed before, and she thought that was bad enough. Now it cut into her flesh, cut into her inner thighs even as it ground painfully into her pussy.

Arianne didn’t want to admit it, but this kind of pain was almost more than she could bear. It was just too…strange, unlike anything she’d felt before. She needed an edge, anything that would surprise the other woman. She looked at Myrcella, trying to keep her thoughts straight.

Myrcella stole the initiative from her. Arianne saw the other woman reaching with her free hand and grasping her throat. Arianne’s eyes widened before the other woman started to squeeze. Myrcella’s lone arm was only just strong enough to start cutting off her air, but that combined with the metal on her skin was enough to make Arianne panic. 

Quickly, she copied the motion. Myrcella had to struggle between fighting away her own hand or letting go of Arianne. She knew what the other woman would choose from the start. Faced with the choice of attacking with reckless abandon and defending oneself responsibly, Myrcella would always choose the former.

Her breathing came in ragged breaths now, as she forced her lungs to take in what little air they could. She was reduced to only two things: her own gasping for air, and the screams of her inner thighs. She could feel small droplets of blood starting to dribledown her own legs, and could feel the wetness of the other woman’s blood on her own fingers.

Would one of them give in to the pain first? Would one of them pass out first? Arianne doubted her expression was giving off the air that someone of her station should. Myrcella, however, was smiling. No, it was hard to call that a smile, it was too fierce, too threatening. She supposed that might have been the way a lion smiled at a deer, right before it bit its throat out.

She’s actually enjoying this. Arianne realized with a small jolt. She really is a monster, isn’t she? Maybe that shouldn’t have been too surprising, given everything. Still, Arianne had always held out a little hope that the other woman might be salvaged. She’d heard tales of Joffrey Baratheon, just about anyone in the realm had. It seemed neither apple had fallen far from that decrepit tree.

There was nothing to do about it now. Arianne wasn’t about to lose, and so all she could do was grit her teeth and tug harder. Her vision started to swim. She could see Myrcella’s own cheeks starting to turn blue. She didn’t try to pull away, even though it would have been oh so easy. No, this was a fight to see who would break first.

Her hand stung. Doreah looked down at Daenerys Targaryen, one of the most beautiful women in the world, now red cheeked. Doreah had been much the same just a few moments before. Daenerys had slapped her, completely unprovoked. It was good to give her exactly what she had given to her. No, that wasn’t good enough, she would give this woman so much worse than that.

Daenerys had a dangerous gleam in her eyes as she got to her feet. “Well, I suppose that was only fair but it does raise the question…” Her voice was soft, but it managed to cut through the noises of the other women. Right now, it was just the two of them. 

“How much pain can you really take, Doreah? You are a whore, the most disgusting one I’ve ever seen, but it is pleasure you deal in, not pain.” Doreah raised an eyebrow at the challenge. It was true that pain was hardly something she wanted to experience, but anything this woman could do she could do better. She’d proven it, having risen so high despite having started too far behind her. At least with Aegon, she had.

“Oh? If that’s a challenge I hear, then I don’t mind participating at all. I remember when you used to cry and sob every night as the Khal fucked you. You could hardly handle pain then, what makes you any different now?” That didn’t get the reaction she had been expecting. Daenerys should have slapped her, ordinarily, she would have. Instead, she just eyed her calmly, before letting her dress drop to the floor.

Doreah wasted no time, doing the same thing with her own dress. She stepped forward, eager to meet any blow in kind. “I always did think you were overly proud of these things…” Daenerys said, pointing at her breasts. “You seemed to show them off at every opportunity, like a Lord showing off a great beast brought down in a hunt.”

Daenerys grabbed onto her breasts, one hand each. “Well, I would like to see how you’d do…without them.” This time she hissed, twisting her nipples. Doreah bit down the scream, forcing everything she had into grabbing the other woman’s breasts, pulling on them hard. Daenerys’ grasp barely lightened at all, did she even feel the pain?\

Doeah pulled and twisted, until she could see the other woman’s nipples turning a bright shade of red. Her own were likely much the same by now. It was a terrible, terrible pain. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so extreme if her breasts hadn’t already been sore from the other whores, but now the agony threatened to consume all of her.

“I…I want you to know just how much I hate you. You who always had…everything given to you.” Her words only came out in a muffled rasp, it was hard not to scream. “And yet…I took him from you…took him many, many times.” Despite whatever she was feeling, she grinned at that, twisting the dagger in deeper.

She let out a yelp as Daenerys twisted her nipples harder still. “You always did have a habit of talking too much whore.” Daenerys said simply. “What matters what you’ve accomplished after I bury you here? No man will ever love or remember you. Though, I suppose I should thank you for teaching me so much.”

She pulled one of her hands back and slapped her right breast. This was a more blunt kind of pain, and one she hadn’t been bracing herself for. She groaned, but she kept on twisting. Finally, Daenerys let out a gasp of her own. She followed that up with another, then another. It seemed even her willpower was slowly wearing out.

“Kill me will you? When I’m done with you…You’ll have serviced every man and horse in this castle.” She growled back, before rearing her hand back and slapping the other woman square in the face. It wasn’t as hard as she would have wanted, but it was all she could have managed. Daenerys faltered, her legs almost buckling.

It burned. That was all Myrcella could think of that would match what she felt between her legs. She had a thin gash on her innermost thigh, where her underwear had sunk just a bit too deep. Even now, Arianne was tugging on the metal band hard, showing little to no signs of giving up. 

It wasn’t that Myrcella was just letting her either. She could feel the blood from the other woman wetting her fingers. She could hear the other woman’s sharp intakes of breath every time she managed to recover enough of herself for yet another pull. Myrcella was doing as best she could, and yet Arianne was still fighting back.

That rankled her pride, of course. What was a Lannister, if not proud? But, she felt something else amidst that pride -she felt fear. Had she been foolish? By wearing this ridiculous underwear, had she unknowingly fallen into one of this viper’s traps? Arianne had boasted endlessly about the Dornish way of lovemaking, stressing how no man could resist a Dornish woman who had her heart set.

Had that all been a carefully constructed ploy to hurt her later, just like so much else had? It had to be so, else there was no other way she could possibly be outmatched. She gritted her teeth, forcing her fingers to claw into the woman’s smooth skin, even as she the other woman’s strap upwards. She drew yet more scream, and yet still, Arianne didn’t seem to waver for a second. What the hell will it take to put this whore down?!

She thought frantically. She could use all the willpower in the world, but the simple truth was that the pain was too much. She could barely feel most of her legs, but she could see her legs shaking. It had started off as small tremors that she’d barely managed to suppress, and now it was mighty trembles that threatened to make her fall at any moment.

Arianne’s legs trembled too, but that wasn’t the point. For the first time today, she actually realized that she could lose. Myrcella had braved hell itself to get to where she was today, and yet apparently she could lose yet again. That was bad enough, but losing to Arianne would add a mountain on top of the shame. She would never be able to live it down. No, Myrcella realized that she would have to kill herself at that point, she wouldn’t bear to live losing to this woman.

Which meant she had to do everything she could. Her nails still dug into the other woman, still as ineffective as ever. She looked around wildly, looking for anything that could give her the faintest edge. That was all she needed. She saw the other woman, battered, exhausted, and still fighting. Gods, she’d have to deal with all of them even if she dealt with Arianne here and now.

She eyed a small candle on a desk a few feet beside her. Damn, even that was a little too far away for her to use right now. She looked around again, her eyes desperate. That’s when she saw it.

Daenerys had grabbed the other woman’s pussy. No, that wasn’t that noteworthy. She’d instead managed to grab the other woman’s pubic hair, or what was left of it. That made Doreah freeze in place, before she grabbed the Targaryen in turn.

Myrcella didn’t need to be told twice. She looked at Arianne, and in one smooth motion, went from hiking up the woman’s underwear to pulling it down around her knees. Arianne was so shocked by the motion that she even loosened her grip on her. You should be ready for surprises, Arianne. You’re the one who taught me that.

Arianne’s pussy hair was hardly even. The hair was in bald patches, as if it had been mauled by an unhinged beast. Myrcella grabbed the nearest tuft she could. Arianne only barely had enough time to grab Myrcella’s own hair -which was so far in much better shape than Arianne’s own. She was too late, however. Myrcella pulled for all she was worth. Satisfyingly, the other woman let out a shrill scream that seemed to pierce all other sounds in the room. Then, she collapsed to her knees.

Sweet victory. Myrcella grinned, ready to slap or kick the woman for even daring to defy her in the first place. That’s when she felt the pain, a pain so sharp it seared through her head. She didn’t realize when she’d started screaming. She didn’t realize when she’d fallen on the ground. All she could feel, all she was, was the pain in her crotch.

She flailed around, scrambled back. Her trembling feet took her back slowly and steadily. “How dare you, you stupid Dornish whore!” She managed to scream just as her back came up against a wall. That steadied her for a few seconds. She saw the other women, and her eyes went wide.

She clutched at her crotch in disbelief. That didn’t do anything to soothe the pain. She tried to rub at her crotch, but that only made the pain much worse. She pulled her hand back, and she saw thin trickles of blood on her fingers. She took a deep breath, if she couldn’t soothe the pain, then she would just have to bear it. It was that simple.

Myrcella stared at Arianne. The other woman must have done much the same thing she did. Her fingers dropped thin trickles of blood on the floor. Still, her eyes were determined, as if she too had accepted the pain. Well, if you could say one thing about Arianne, you could say she wasn’t a coward.

Myrcella steeled herself, forcing herself to grin. Then, she thrust her hips out, waving at her crotch. “If that’s how you want to fight, then that’s how we will fight whore!”

Arianne scowled, extending her own pelvis. “Oh? Riled up this much by a little lost hair? I always knew you were too soft.” And then, their personal contest began.

All around her, the different women were all cursing at each other. Most of them were on their knees. She saw Daenerys and Doreah practically falling over each other, one woman’s leg dangling oddly around the other. They were by far the loudest pair, and even through her daze Myrcella could clearly make out what they were saying.

“I’ll put you in the brother where you found me!” Doreah hissed, trying to grab at Daenerys’ hair -the hair on her head, this time. “I’ll rip out that cunt but you’ll still find use for your ass!” The threat hardly looked convincing, with Doreah trying desperately to cover up her crotch with her other hand.

“I’ll mount you on my wall. I’ll cut off your arms, your hands, your fucking eyelids. I’ll keep you as a sign outside my palace.” Daenerys snarled back, before slapping the woman with her hand. Myrcella could see thin trickles of blood running down her crotch as she did. The woman seemed not to notice at all.

She looked around and froze. She could see someone inching backwards towards.her. It was the Stark girl. She seemed to be fending off someone Myrcella couldn’t see, both her arms were extending in front of her. 

“Did you really think with your saggy tits you’d stand up to-” Myrcella didn’t let her finish. Before she could, Myrcella had grabbed her from the back, one of her hands reaching for her crotch. It came back wet, and Myrcella didn’t need to look to know it was from the blood. It was hard even to get a grip on the girl, she was almost bald.

“You shouldn’t forget about me, you curveless whore.” She froze. She had been careless. She could feel a hand gripping her pussy. She looked to her side, staring daggers at Arianne. Myrcella didn’t know what to do. Should she pull and leave herself defenseless? Should she let go and try to fight off this whore while she could?

Maybe the Stark girl would help her if she let go. No, she was much more likely to join in, wasn’t she? Damn it. She didn’t need to make the decision herself. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and saw Daenerys stumbling into Arianne, almost knocking her over. Her cheek was a pale red -she’d been slapped hard indeed.

Arianne seemed to freeze, before using her other hand to grab the woman’s head, pushing it underneath her armpit. Daenerys hardly let her do that without a fight, she flailed, catching the woman’s cheek with one of her nails, leaving a thin line of blood. Everything was spiraling out of control too fast.

“You think you can just ignore me?!” Doreah screamed. Myrcella then heard the sounds of feet charging in her direction, then a bump. “How fucking dare you, you used up whore? I have half a mind to leave you tit less for getting in the way of your betters.” She heard Margaery call out.

The tension was so thick she almost felt like she should be able to see it. She looked back at Arianne, seeing the woman eyeing her. Oddly, the Stark girl hadn’t seemed to struggle much at all.

“If we do this…I don’t know if there is going to be any going back.” She heard the Stark girl say, finally. Her voice seemed almost level, like they weren’t all tangled up in who knows what. “This isn’t worth it. Surely we can all see that? ” Myrcella hissed. How dare she? This was everything she’d worked for. It was only these other whores that managed to keep getting in her way. Now, this upstart expected her to just…give way, to her anger, to her rage, to her pride?

“My father should have skinned you instead of that stupid wolf.” She snarled. Satisfyingly, the woman seemed to stiffen in her grip. Good, this bitch couldn’t pretend to be any better than her. She wouldn’t allow it.

“It’s a shame. You inherited your mother’s brain, not her beauty. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t been sold to a farmer as a pig.”

She saw red. This wasn’t anger she felt, she knew anger, knew it like a babe knew her mother’s milk. No, this was pure rage she felt now. Myrcella could stand a lot, had to stand a lot to get to this point. The one thing she would never stand was being humiliated, at least not by this whore of all people.

She yanked her hand as hard as she could, the scream from the Stark girl was music to her ears. Myrcella hardly had time to think of her small victory, as she felt the familiar burning sensation again in her loins as Arianne yanked. She stumbled back, dazed. All around her, she could hear the screams and groans of who knows how many women.

When had she fallen on her knees? She steadied herself beside the leg of a small chair. It was all she could do to hold onto it. Gods, but the pain was too much. Her pussy was already bruised and tender enough, and this not only reopened fresh wounds it made several more beside. Her vision swam, but slowly started to clear.

Myrcella took in everything in the room at once. The closest woman to her was Doreah, who seemed to be eyeing Sansa, lying against a wall a few feet away from her. Myrcella didn’t have time to think, and didn’t want to spend time thinking. With a roar she ran forward on unsteady feet, doing all she could not to fall over.

Doreah only barely had time to look back before Myrcella was on her, dragging her by her hair along the ground. The woman screamed but Myrcella hardly cared at all. She dragged the woman kicking and screaming to the chair she had been on, trying to slam her head against the hardwood. That might not be enough to kill her, but it would keep her down.

She reared her hand back right as the woman finally managed to hook her arm under Myrcella’s leg. Myrcella toppled, the two of them rolling on the ground. Myrcella tried to punch, claw or scratch at any bit of flesh she could find. Every now and then, a hard punch to her side almost made her curl up into a ball.

No, this wasn’t about protecting herself, this was about destroying that which she hated. Before she knew it, another body fell on the pair, kicking her side, her stomach, her ass. She looked up just as Daenerys tried to kick her head in. She just barely managed to brace for that, grabbing the woman’s leg and sending her toppling. She felt and heard Doreah scrambling away. That whore’s time would come too, right now, she had a Targaryen to deal with.

This is madness? Every fibre of Sansa’s body screamed at her to run away, to find some way to hide and save herself. Damn them, damn them all. She was standing next to a wall.hat was one of the few things she knew about fighting – always keep your back to a wall.

All around her, there was chaos, sweat and rage. Part of her cried out for her to join this, to abandon reason and embrace the chaos. She quickly suppressed these thoughts. Now is not the time to be consumed by rage. She had quickly scanned the room, finding the one place that seemed to be the farthest away from everyone and had run towards it. Still, her refuge wasn’t going to be a refuge for much longer. Arianne and Myrcella were making their way towards her.

Not intentionally, mind you. The pair were busy punching each other hard in the stomach, over and over again. Neither woman seemed like she wanted to dodge any of the blows, even though she probably could have. Sansa’s eyes widened as Arianne turned and retched on the ground, making a mess of acid on the floor. Then, to even more surprise, she just turned and punched Myrcella again, who took it as she had before.

The two got closer and closer to her and Sansa knew she needed to act. She wasn’t stupid. If the two noticed that she was trying to preserve herself then both of the women would turn on her. She knew these women, and knew their nature. Maybe she could do something against one of them, but the two of them would kill her, as sure as winter.

She looked around, scrambling, trying to find anything that could help her. She wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, the least she could do was be the smartest. Finally, she found it, a small candle burning on what looked like a reading table she hadn’t seen before. She rushed towards it, picking up the candle by the side. It threatened to slip from her grasp but she did what she could to hold on.

As she whirled it around in an arc, the flickering flame went out. It was likely for the best, since a fire would have killed her as well, sooner or later. She jammed, trying to strike out anywhere she could between the two women. She felt resistance, and then a scream pierced the air.

Arianne all but fell to the floor, gasping, clutching her groin. Sansa almost felt bad for the woman. She didn’t have time to think, Myrcella gave one look at the candle in her hand and rushed her. Sansa held it out in front of her like a sword, trying to ward the woman away. That seemed to give Myrcella some small pause at least, before she smiled.

“That was quite the…fun idea. I think I should borrow it.” Sansa thrust the candle again right as Myrcella charged at her. The candle took her in the shoulder, and Myrcella gasped. Still, her momentum hurled her into Sansa, who fell on her back, Myrcella falling on top of her. The candle slid from her grasp as she flailed around to try and find it.

Crack. She felt her vision swim as Myrcella slapped her hard. That stunned her for only a moment before her hand scrambled around again. It met something wet, and she pulled it up, right as Myrcella’s arm grabbed her own. The woman had an evil grin on her face as she slapped Sansa with her free hand again.

“I wonder if any man will want a barren cunt like yours.” She hissed./Sansa watched in horror as Myrcella used her hands to force her own nearer to her crotch. She tried to struggle, but the woman had her pinned, she had the leverage. Sansa both felt and smelled a burning of flesh, of hair. She heard and felt the woman cackling to herself as she burned the wax along what was left of her pussy hair.

Think. Think. Then she had it. Instead of fighting back Myrcella’s hand, she slapped it down. The candle was as slippery as Sansa had hoped, and it tumbled out of the girl’s hand and onto Sansa’s stomach. Sansa hissed, but Myrcella screamed as she scrambled back, evidently much of the wax had fallen on her crotch. She let out a large curse as Sansa did what she could to steel herself, slowly getting up.

Sansa slowly made her way to her feet, eyeing Myrcella. Behind her, she could see Arianne slowly getting back to her own feet. The three women eyed each other warily. Sansa gently rubbed her pussy, and winced as she felt the tender skin where the candle had struck. A wave of anger and excitement washed over her. I’ll show these whores why you never mess with a Stark. As she approached Myrcella with her claws raised, Myrcella seemed to realize her own predicament, for she was in the center of the trio. Rather than being afraid, it seemed to excite her.

“Well, come on whores. I don’t have all day!” And so they did, both running towards her.

Sansa rushed in with a kick, felt it connect to bare flesh. The next moment, she felt a hard punch connect to her breast, almost square at her nipple. That stung more badly than most things ever had. Myrcella quickly turned back, meeting Arianne’s own charge. They fell in a heap, Arianne managing to pin the Lannister down.

Sansa saw the moment to strike, and she took it, punching Arianne right on her left breast, then her right. The Dornish whore screamed, collapsing on top of Myrcella. It was the first time Sansa had been in control.

Abandoning herself to her battlelust, Sansa jumped on the two women, kicking, flailing, scratching clawing. The three were a rolling mass of limbs, each woman trying to get on top. Every women had their turn, but it never lasted more than a second, before a slap or a blow to one of their breasts managed to knock them off their perch. Sansa could feel her tits, rather, she could feel the mass of bruises they soon would be.

She kicked out, and to her surprise, it hit someone standing up. “How dare you? I’ll teach you whores your place too.” She looked up just in time to see Daenerys glaring up at them. Behind them, both Doreah and Margaery were locked in a strange tug of war, each of them trying to yank out the other’s hair.

Daenerys reached down, and blessedly, grabbed Myrcella by the throat. For the first time, Sansa was glad she wasn’t on top.

“It’s about time I put you in your place for good.” The other woman couldn’t answer. All she could do was gasp and dig her nails into Daenerys’ hands. Where she did, thin red lines emerged, mixed with small jolts of pain. Daenerys ignored them as she hauled Myrcella away from the trio she had been a part of.

She tried to keep the pressure up, and tried to choke this woman to death. Myrcella kept clawing at her arms, before she balled up her fist and punched her left breast, then her gut, then her arm. Daenerys grunted, only managing to shove the woman to the ground before quickly getting on top of her.

“I’ve ridden horses with more brains than you.” She snarled, trying to grab her throat again. Chin down, Myrcella looked up at her, her eyes burning bright. Both women seemed to be reaching for each other’s throat, all the while protecting their own. No, this will hardly do now, will it? The last thing Daenerys wanted to do was to let this woman think that she was in any way afraid of her.

Daenerys ended her attempts to keep the other woman away. Myrcella seemed confused at first, Daenerys could see it in her eyes. That was the difference between the two of them, really. Still, her confusion lasted only a moment before she put her own chin up, staring at her defiantly. She had understood.

Daenerys grabbed at the woman’s neck right as she felt a pair of slender hands wrapping around her own. She had taken in a deep breath, and now she was doing her best to strangle Myrcella as best she could. It hardly took her long at all to find the sudden urge to breathe again. She ignored it, staring directly at the girl, who stared right back at her. The two locked gazes, something unknowable passed between them.

The pain steadily built. The small ache in her lungs was now fiercer, threatening to make her loosen her hold. Daenerys could see the other woman’s cheeks slowly turning blue, she was starting to really feel it now too. Myrcella’s hands trembled slightly, her arms shook, her eyes went wide. Daenerys could hardly even see the girl anymore, her own swimming vision saw two Myrcella’s both fading in and out of each other. Two sets of arms both grasping at her throat.

Still, despite all that, she didn’t let go, wouldn’t let go. The pressure built up and up in her lungs, until her own arms were trembling like weak branches in the wind. Myrcella gasped, her hands leaving her throat, clawing at her own. Daenerys would have kept the pressure up, but she was at her own limit, and her weak arms were easily batted away.

She breathed in the sweet air in large gulps, all but hearing the other woman doing the same. Daenerys could feel the small cuts on her skin from the woman’s fingernails. Myrcella would pay for all of those a hundred, no, a thousandfold. How dare she mar the skin of a Targaryen?

Daenerys had won a battle, however. One battle in a large war that would have many more of them to come, perhaps, but she had still won. The best part was that Myrcella knew it as surely as she did, she could see it in her eyes. “How…dare you.” Myrcella started in between deep breaths. “You think…you beat…me?” Her eyes seemed to flash and she shoved Daenerys hard. It was unexpected, and it sent her toppling on her back.

Before she could recover, Myrcella was already on top of her, straddling her. “I suppose it is easier to hold one’s breath when they’re usually practicing on and for men/” Myrcella hissed. “But you know what I’m practiced at? Riding unruly animals until they’re tame, and I will tame you Targaryen.”

The fury that roared within her more than doubled the heat she’d felt from her lungs just a few moments ago. This bitch was going to…tame her? Her? Daenerys didn’t know whether to bite the other woman’s tongue out or laugh in her face. She felt a set of legs pressing against her sides, wrapping around her back.

Daenerys quickly did the same, not wanting to give this woman any inch that wasn’t hard earned. Myrcella started to squeeze harder and harder. At first, it was almost amusing. What did this whore think she was trying to do? Still, as Myrcella’s strong legs flexed more and more the pressure only built. Soon, it was painful, and Daenerys blinked. This woman had the audacity to think she could ride her to death?

“Girl, I am a Targaryen. I rode dragons. I can’t imagine what it’s like to…” She grunted, the pressure in her back building, “lose one’s wits like you have.” Myrcella seemed to flush for a moment. She actually had thought that. Maybe some other time the thought alone would have amused Daenerys. Right now, it angered her. Too often had she been slighted since she’d arrived in the Seven Kingdoms. 

“You know…your mother.” She felt the other woman tense up. “We were talking about her, but I suppose I never forgot to mention how she died. You deserve to know of course, being her daughter.” The other woman was now wide eyed. “Well, she died like a pig, kicking and screaming like the animal she was.” She took a deep breath, more for her own sake than anything. “Frankly, I have seen animals suffer more dignified deaths. I suppose she’s long been eaten and shat out by some dogs by now….”

Myrcella was trembling now. For a moment, it almost looked like she was about to cry. Then, Daenerys blinked. Myrcella wasn’t crying, rather, she seemed like she was laughing. That was so surprising it almost made her let go of the woman altogether. Has she already been broken? This easily?

“Oh, you thought that…something like that would hurt me?” The woman’s voice was a low whisper, but it was still tinged with a slightly crazed laughter. “I suppose you would, wouldn’t you? That would be just like you…just like you.” The woman was taking deep breaths, but for all that, she somehow still looked in control.

Daenerys did not like the direction this was going. Just a few short weeks ago her jab would have been more than enough to shake the other woman to her core. What had changed in her this fast? “Do you think…I’m crazy? I can see you looking at me…fuck… like I am. No, I- I’m not mad…Daenerys.” From her mouth even her own name sounded like an insult.

“I just…just don’t have anything to lose…anything at all. So it’s oh so…oh so amusing that you think something like that would throw me off. You say you…rode dragons? I say there’s a reason…the dragons are all dead.” She had a glint in her eyes at that last bit. How had she found that out? The woman looked away from her, staring at the ground, her eyes locked in concentration. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself.

Daenerys needed some way to regain control of the situation. Damn it, all she’d done was rile up this whore even more than she already was. She quickly turned around, until she was facing away from the woman. She tucked her legs under Myrcella’s breasts, wrapping them around her back. This gave her more leverage on the woman. This also gave Myrcella more leverage on her.

“Let’s see if the only thing you’ve learned is how to piss me off.” She snarled and squeezed for all she had. Rather than replying, Myrcella did the same. Daenerys had to stifle a groan. Myrcella definitely was stronger than a girl like her had any right to be. She tried not to think of the painful squeezing she felt, of the feeling that her back could give at any time. All she did was squeezed, and she was rewarded by a painful grunt from Myrcella.

Still, it was hard. She was exhausted, and the strain of that hurt almost as much as the other woman’s squeezing did. Daenerys locked her legs together. She felt like they’d unravel on their own if she didn’t. Then, biting her lip, she squeezed again, trying to pace herself. Every few seconds of intense exertion were followed by a few seconds where she allowed herself to rest. After a time, Myrcella did much the same.

The two fell into a rhythm, each trying to break the other, almost like they were taking turns. Perhaps some part of it was because they really wanted to test each other. The greater part was their growing exhaustion. This was more exhausting than anything Daenerys had done today. Now, she felt Myrcella’s legs squeeze again, somehow harder than they had before. She’d almost have sworn she heard a crack where there wasn’t supposed to be any.

Finally, Myrcella relented. Daenerys took a deep breath, raising herself by her arms. I won’t lose. Never. Then, she flexed her legs for all they were worth.

“You stupid fucking whore!” Margaery bellowed out, twisting and turning the other woman by her hair. She didn’t even remember how long this had been going on at this point. Her and Doreah had been locked in this personal conflict for what had only been a few minutes but had felt like oh so much longer than that.

“Stupid whore I may be…but you…you’re the queen of whores Your Grace.” Margaery yelped as Doreah pulled at her own hair. She was doing her best to stifle any sounds of pain, any grunts or groans. So far she hadn’t managed very well at all. How had it all come to this? No, that wasn’t important. Now that it had come to this, what was she supposed to do?

“Ugh…fuck…” Margaery muttered under her breath, looking around herself for what felt like the first time. All around her was pandemonium. It was an obvious thing, but it suddenly dawned on her that there were many battles to fight even after her’s with Doreah was over. Suddenly, the weariness threatened to drown her.

Gods but she was tired. Not just tired, but aching and bruised. The only thing that kept her going was her hate. Hatred for all of these women, hatred for having to prove herself at all. With a great yell she let go of Doreah’s hair. Doreah had been trying to pull back from her, and the sudden loss of force made her yelp and tumble back.

She still had a firm grip on Margaery’s hair, and the two both fell in a heap. Margaery tried to twist and crawl away, until she had her back up next to a wall. She slowly sat up, breathing hard. Doreah glowered at her from the floor. Margaery looked right beside her, at the small tuft of hair she had managed to pull out of the other woman, and grinned. Good, Doreah would bear the marks of this day for a long time indeed.

She felt at her own tender head. Well, she would doubtless not remember this day for a long time to come either, no matter what happened after this. Rage bubbled within her again, somehow seeming stronger than it had the first time. How dare this whore injure her, harm her beauty? To a Queen, that was one of her most important assets. 

She tried to kick at the other woman, only to be met but a jolt of pain. Margaery sighed, she still needed more time to recover. The obvious problem however was that there was no time. Doreah was slowly starting to inch back towards her feet. Margaery steeled herself and reached out her leg, surprising the other woman and planting her foot on the woman’s face.

Doreah seemed surprised at once. She grabbed Margaery’s foot and was more than capable of shoving it aside. “Are you that scared? Will you…run away even now? I suppose…I shouldn’t expect pride from a common brothel whore.” Margaery said, just loud enough for the woman to hear.

Doreah considered this for a moment. In the next, Margaery felt a foot pinning her own face next to the wall./ She tried to breathe, but the other woman had her nose firmly blocked by the base of her foot. Margaery did what she could to grind her foot into the woman’s nose. Maybe that would make her break first.

She tried not to think about the rising burning in her lungs. Tried not to think about her urge to pull away, to take one more deep breath. She would not shame herself this way, not in front of these women. The burning built and built, until soon she found herself heaving for air that never came. Margaery felt rather than see Doreah doing the same, the other woman’s body starting to spasm.

It was all about who would last longer now. Margaery counted down the seconds in her mind. Had it already been more than a minute? It must have. It felt like it had been hours. Her body heaved again and this time it took all she had not to pull away and breathe. Oh how sweet the air had been. How could she have taken it for granted so easily?

Was she going to make it? For the first time, Margaery wasn’t so sure anymore. It’s too much. Too much. She was just about to take a deep breath, else she really was going to pass her. Her vision had started to blur and then to fade.

 Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the decision was stolen away from her.

What the hell am I doing here? Doreah had found herself asking that question an awful lot over the last hour. She was supposed to watch this carnage from the sidelines, and was supposed to pounce on things when it looked favorable to her. It was amusing to see all this prim and proper whores being reduced to little more than tavern wenches when things really got down to it.

Instead, she kept being sucked into what they were doing. No, she didn’t like it one bit. Now, she sucked in sweet, sweet air through her lungs. For a moment there, it had felt like she was about to pass out. She stared at the ceiling, before willing herself to tilt her head. Had Margaery passed out? Was that why she’d stopped?

She blinked. On top of Margaery, Sansa lay sprawled on the ground. Above her, two other women seemed like they were pulling and tearing at each other. Their backs were to her, but Doreah thought they must have been Arianne and Myrcella. When did that happen? The last time Doreah had seen them they’d been on opposite ends of the room.

“This isn’t…over.” Margaery managed to growl, trying to shove the Stark girl from on top of her. Sansa just looked dazed, her cheek reddening as if she’d been slapped off her feet. 

“You won’t get away that easily!” Doreah would have picked out that voice in a crowd. The most vile of these women, Daenerys Targaeryen stormed towards them, trying to physically pry her way between Arianne and Myrcella. They made an odd tangle, the three of them. The only problem was that they seemed perilously close to falling over Doreah.

“Move you fat pig!” Doreah shouted, trying to kick Margaery’s legs from on top of her. Damn it. While Margaery had pinned her down with her legs, she’d gotten her own legs pinned down by Sansa, who didn’t seem like she’d collect her wits anytime soon. 

What was she supposed to do here? She looked at the trio of women again. The three were shouting every obscenity at each other that Doreah had ever heard, and some she was only hearing for the first time. “You get out of this!” Daenerys hissed. The three were locked in a strange tug of war. Still, slowly but surely, they were almost on top of her. 

Doreah braced herself as she heard Arianne yelp as she tripped. She felt a thud, the woman’s body weight crashing down on her. Then she felt a leg kick at her side, before a long tangle of blonde hair fell on top of her, pinning her. She could barely even move now. This could hardly get any worse.

With a great yell, and a loud, rattling sound, the third body fell. She heard the sound of metal clanging on the floor just beside her, and a large sheet fell on top of her, blocking her vision. Was that a curtain? Gods, she’d almost gotten her head smashed in by a falling curtain. A few inches to the right and she’d be a goner.

Thankfully, it was now easier to move, much easier. The weights on top of her had shifted, and Doreah freed her arm, searching around wildly. She yelped as she felt her hand collide into someone’s breasts. She flinched, and it landed against someone’s jaw instead. Doreah heard a small groan from beside her. Who was that?

No, it didn’t matter. Doreah balled up her fist. Whoever it was, was an enemy after all. She pulled her hand back and something crashed into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air. That had come from a different direction, she was sure of it. She tried to scramble to her knees, just as a second blow came from the same direction, this time punching her squarely in her crotch.

Damn it all. She flung her arms around wildly, trying to find any bit of flesh she could. Every now and then her hands met skin. Sometimes she flinched, her hand meeting more bone than she’d wanted, hurting her own fist. Other times however, it met soft skin, and she heard yelps, moans and groans from all around her. This was even less of what she wanted. 

Another blow came, this one taking her in the nose. She heard a small crunch and gasped, hot liquid filling her nostrils. She blew it out, clutching at her nose. It was bent. Not bent a lot, but it was still bent. One of these whores had damn near tried to disfigure her. She needed to regain control of things, and she needed to do it fast.

A brief respite seemed to wash over the room. It was something that had been building for a while. The blows came  much less often as time went on. When some did come, they seemed slower, less forceful. Doreah found her own arms starting to burn. It was more exhausting trying to hit someone, to the point where she might have been better off not doing it at all.

The shouts of pain, the loud accusations, the curses. All of them were still there, but once they had filled her ears. Now, they were starting to get drowned out by the sound of deep exhales and panting. Some of that came from Doreah herself. None of the women here had a moment’s rest in who only knew how long.

Then, finally, the cursing and the screaming ended. It was so startling Doreah had a hard time believing it. She seized the moment, scrambling around, trying to find the edge of the curtain with her hand. She found it surprisingly easy, it seemed like she’d been on the edge of it. How had she not noticed that before, in all the chaos?

She slowly pried it off her, just enough that she could see outside. She was the only one who had her head outside. To think that she’d somehow been reduced to this. Not even in her worst days had she been subjected to so much humiliation. She grunted slightly, prying herself away from the curtain. As she did, she saw the other women starting to do much the same.

The only solace she got came from looking at Daenerys. Her nose was broken too. Good, it was the least she would get before this was all over. Everyone seemed to be eyeing each other, assessing. Doreah noted most of their breasts seemed decidedly larger than she remembered them. Looking closer, she saw that they were swollen. Sansa seemed the most affected by this, and she was subtly trying to hold her body at an angle -her left breast was more swollen than her right.

“You’ve certainly seen better days.” Doreah frowned, turning to face Margaery, the person standing closest to her. “I see you now look less a whore and more a pig, I’ll be sure to rip out what hair remains.” Doreah ground her teeth, but reluctantly felt at her head. Her blood ran cold. She’d thought the other woman had only managed to pull out a few strands in their earlier struggle. But no, there was an almost unmistakable spot on her head where there was hardly any hair at all.

“How dare you? At least my pussy still looks like one!” Margaery flushed, looking down at herself. She was a mess of bruises down there, those would definitely take some time to heal. “Now you’re barely even a wom-”

“This isn’t over!” She turned to see Myrcella stalking over to Daenerys, glaring at her. “You think you got saved, didn’t you?”

Daenerys glowered down at her, opening her mouth to snap back with some kind of retort.

“Still pretending you aren’t enjoying this? Is that why your cunt is soaked whore?” That was Arianne/ Judging from the following gasp, the comment had evidently been aimed at Sansa. “Maybe this is what you wanted all along Lady Stark.”

Doreah sighed. This wasn’t doing anything for her temper, getting constantly cut off by these whores. She fingered at her nose, flinching ever so slightly. Yes, that definitely was not going to heal right. With luck though, it might not be too noticeable. “A rematch? You think I’d be afraid of a stupid rematch with you of all people?” That was Daenerys, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Shut up. All of you.” Her hiss managed to cut through all the separate conversations in the room, until all of the women were looking at her. It galled her that she had to be here with them, had to be reduced to their level. Still looking at them she felt a certain…excitement. She tried shaking that thought out of her head. Then again, she could see signs of arousal on all of these women.

She saw it in Sansa’s erect nipples, no matter how she tried to hide it. She saw it in Margaery’s soaking cunt, the woman was standing just close enough to her to see. She saw it in the way Daenerys and Myrcella glared at each other. There was hate…but there was also something deeper than that. Doubtless Arianne was much the same. 

Resolving herself, she made her way to a small cupboard beside the Prince’s bed. She could feel several sets of gazes on her back, and she forced her trembling legs into stillness as she opened the drawer and pulled out an almost metallic looking vial. She turned back around, holding the vial up to the dim candlelight. It seemed to shine in the light, drinking it in.

“What the fuck is-’

“Poison?”

There were other things too, though Doreah didn’t quite catch them. All of the women were staring solely at her. There was mild curiosity on their faces, but all of them were on their guard. Really, did they actually think she would poison them? Well, she might have, that was a fate too good for anyone here. 

“Lysian Desire…one of the most powerful substances in the world. Just one drop can make someone aroused for hours and hours. Dangerous, deadly.” She fingered the vial in her hand. She saw realization dawning on some of the women, how had she known where to find that sort of thing in this room?

“You bloody whore!” Daenerys growled, starting to run at her on trembling legs. What had she been doing?

“One drop, each of us. That’s what would be normal. Here however…I think something more is in order. Then I’ll fuck all you whores into submission.” Doreah said simply, before opening the vial taking a sip. Doreah gasped, every one of her senses felt like it was on fire. It was impossible, but it felt like she felt so much more than she had before. This is how it always was. She was about to shove this into someone else’s hand but she didn’t have to.

Daenerys marched over to her and took the vial. She gave it a long look before taking a sip just like Doreah had. That seemed enough to convince the others, all of whom slowly made their way to the pair. “Whatever that drug does I’ll teach you who’s better.” Arianne muttered. Sansa glared at her, waiting for Arianne to drink before she snatched the vial from her hand.

Those two had a much stronger reaction to it, they almost toppled over. Doreah hardly envied them, this aphrodisiac was unlike anything in the entire world. Arianne all but fell over, she clutched at her head, as if she was dizzy. Finally, Myrcella took her sip. Doreah couldn’t be sure, but she thought the girl had deliberately taken as big of a sip as she could. She really was a fool.

It was hard to think straight with this in her system. The sensation was hard to describe. Just about every single thing she felt was magnified five, no, tenfold. It was overwhelming, but something she could somewhat handle only because she’d done weaker doses of this many times. The other women wouldn’t have any such advantage.

“Now…I believe a little…competition is in order.” Doreah smiled a smile that was all teeth. The other women looked at her, questions in their eyes. She had thought about something like this before, what she’d do if she ever had to fight like this against all of these women at once. She at least liked to be prepared, if nothing else.

Doreah marched over to the large table at the center of the room. She counted off its many legs, before slowly nodding to herself. She flipped it over, it was definitely lighter than it looked. Then she turned back and eyed the women. “Well, if any of your cunts still work, then I suppose we’ll see how well they work, won’t we?” 

Some of them looked shocked at the idea. Some of them just glared at her, as if angry this was even supposed to be a challenge. Oddly, Sansa just looked thoughtful. The Stark girl started walking over towards her, then walked past her. Doreah frowned. “What are you doing? Are you thinking of running away? Or maybe picking the most rounded leg you can?”

That would be just like her. Still, if Doreah confronted her out in the open like this then Sansa’s own pride would keep her from going easy on herself. Infuriatingly, the girl just looked over at the table, then surveyed the room.

“Well, it’s rather…simple, I think. I suppose even coming up with this is all you could manage, but I think I can make a small…adjustment.” Then she walked over to Aegon’s bed, hoisted one of its large pillows. Doreah didn’t understand what she was doing until she shoved the pillow underneath the table.

“I believe this will be a lot more…stimulating, wouldn’t you agree?’ God, Doreah hated this smug woman with a passion. Still…she had to admit this did add to her own idea, she just didn’t like not coming up with it herself.

“I suppose your brains are good for things other than being a nuisance.” Margaery had stepped past all the women. She seemed rather conflicted. Most other people would have thought she looked serene, but Doreah knew better by now. In fact, once you got to know her, you could read her like a book. Margaery was frustrated she hadn’t come up with this idea on her own, and was now trying to make up for it.

All of the other women had already made their way over to the table. Some of them looked apprehensive, some looked eager, Doreah herself was just resigned. 

“A creative idea. Maybe I’ll make a table just like this out of all of you, it’ll make for quite the decoration.” It was a whisper they were all meant to hear.

With that, Doreah braced herself and lowered herself onto the leg that was closest to her.

Myrcella saw the whole…contraption sag as Doreah took one of its legs inside her. It was polished to near perfection, but it was still going to hurt. She took a deep breath and pressed herself down on the opposite leg. The table swayed up. Myrcella had to stop herself from spasming on the spot. What in the seven hells had she drunk? She tried not to think about it, lowering herself more and more. Every inch was exhausting, blissful and painful all rolled into one.

Well, I can hardly let them outdo me. This was my idea, after all. Sansa lowered herself onto the table easily enough. The other women all looked surprised, and she had to bite back a smile. In truth, this wasn’t the first time she’d exposed herself to Lysian Desire. To think it would come in handy now. Gods, did this thing feel good though. She bit her lip to keep her groans to herself. All around her, she saw the other women slowly taking their own places.

Each time they did, the table rose and fell. Each small motion pushed the leg inside and outside her cunt. Who could have known this thing would prove this effective?

Could none of these whores just stop moving? Gods but it hurt. Just about every single movement sent the table leg thrusting deeper inside her. It was either that or it pulled away from her, only to be thrust again at a moment’s notice. It was painful, and not something she could mentally prepare herself against. Arianne hated her predicament.

And yet, from the looks of things these other women weren’t exactly enjoying this whole ordeal much either. That damn thing she’d taken only made all of this much worse. It had to be her imagination, but it almost felt like she could feel each individual edge in the table leg, could count them inside her. She’d never felt this sensitive before in her life.

All she could do was try to outlast these women, though she didn’t know how long she herself had. Again, this was all thanks to that damn foul liquid she’d taken in. If only she could hold out…

This was embarrassing, no, this was absolutely degrading. To think that Daenerys Targaryen, the rightful Queen of all Seven Kingdoms was now subjecting herself to this…just the thought was enough to send her into a rage. Still, all she could do now was show her own dominance. Well, that had been the plan anyway before this bloody table leg had gone into her crotch.

There was just one problem though. She did not want to admit it, but she was nearing her limit. The table was proving almost more effective at breaking her than any man ever had. Was that because of the drug she’d taken? It must have been so. “What’s wrong…Targaryen…you look like you’re…in heat.” She turned to face Myrcella, who seemed to be grinning at her. Her face was flush, her breathing was ragged.

Daenerys was just about to have an orgasm from a table leg of all things. Were the other women as close to their own as she was? They had to be, and yet she couldn’t be sure. There was only one way to seize the advantage and she did the only thing she could think of. She punched Myrcella in the face.

Sansa gaped, she was sitting, or rather squatting opposite the Targaryen. She saw Her Grace rear her arm back and punch the other woman. Myrcella staggered, almost falling off her leg altogether. That made the whole damn contraption sway towards her, pushing the table leg further inside Sansa. She tried not to let the pain and the pleasure of the moment consume her, that wasn’t important.

No, she quickly looked around, bracing herself. She wasn’t a moment too soon. Margaery fist connected with air, right where Sansa’s head had been just a moment ago. One woman going this far would doubtless spur all of the others to do the same thing. That’s just how it was. “Stop dodging you stupid whore!” Margaery growled.

Still, her punch had hit only air and that had thrown her off balance. Sansa seized the moment to punch the woman in the face. Her own punch had hit true but it didn’t have nearly the force that it should have. Margaery staggered back, almost toppling over. She could both see and hear every other woman starting to throw punches now. It was a disaster. 

Wait. It took her just one moment to realize before she turned her head. She hadn’t been fast enough, and a fist came flying at her from the opposite direction. Sansa staggered back, she felt pain shoot up. It was intense, more intense than it had any right to be. What the fuck? She opened her eyes and Arianne was ready to throw another punch. All she could do now was try to defend herself from two different directions.

All she could do was try to hang on. The pressure built and built in Daenerys’ crotch and she did all she could to fight back, to resist. It was harder than it had ever been, but all she wanted was a few more precious seconds. She gasped slightly, a punch aimed at her face was angled just enough to lightly graze her cheek. Myrcella seemed to be having a hard time of it.

Then, blessedly, the thing she’d been holding out for happened. Daenerys heard a loud thud, and turned to see Sansa on the floor, spasming uncontrollably.  That was all Daenerys needed to see. The table lurched, sending the leg deeper inside her, but she’d already started to spasm. Before she’d realized it, she was already on the floor.

One by one, all of the women fell to the ground. As more women fell, the table only got more unstable, starting to thrust more wildly and unpredictably. Naturally that only made it harder for the remaining women. Margaery did her best to hold on, trying to delay her own orgasm by counting down the number of women still left in her head. Three….

Arianne had just fallen to the ground almost right beside her. That made two. She glared at Myrcella, but the woman only glared back. Fuck…Fuck. It was just the two of them left, the table seemed to seesaw between them. Myrcella seemed to smile, before she thrust her whole body down on the leg. Margaery gaped at her, but it was too late. The table pressing down on the opposite side only made it shoot up inside her.

She let out a scream, and before she realized it, she was on the floor too.

Sweet victory…Myrcella was relieved, finally letting the orgasm take her. She had been digging her nails into her thighs, trying to make the pain overwhelm the immense pleasure she felt. It had been a close thing, but it had been enough. Thin streaks of blood ran down her thigh, but they were signs of her victory, not wounds. This orgasm was intense, perhaps more intense than any she had ever felt. She let it wash over her, until she forgot where she was or why she was there to begin with.

When sanity finally returned to her, she saw that she was lying next to Daenerys and Doreah. Though, she supposed it would be more accurate to say that the three of them just happened to collapse almost on top of each other. Daenerys was still spasming, but Doreah seemed like she’d gotten her own orgasm under control. The woman eyed her warily.

Myrcella reared her leg back and shoved her foot into the other woman’s mouth, gagging her. She didn’t resist Doreah as she did the same, though the feeling alone was almost enough to make her body start to heave. She blinked, another foot had planted itself on her face, to the point where she couldn’t see. From Doreah’s gasp, this hadn’t been her.

“Time for….some fun…don’t you think?” She heard Daenerys say right before she shoved her foot in her direction.

Sansa gasped, trying desperately to grab at Arianne’s breast with her free hand. She already had a pair of hands over her own, swollen tits, both from different women. Margaery and Arianne both were pinching her nipples, a sensation that should have been painful. Thanks to the drug however, it was more pleasurable than painful, despite the state of her tits.

Arianne whimpered slightly as Sansa finally found her free breast, squeezing her nipple as hard as she could. Not satisfied with that, she twisted it, and was pleased to see the woman’s back arch. Margaery must have been taking notes, because she twisted Arianne’s other breast. Of course, that just meant that soon they’d all gone from just pinching each other’s nipples to twisting and pulling them. This was a battle where nobody wanted to give an inch.

She was in a proverbial tug of war, hardly her strongest suit. Margaery groaned, and she considered even that an achievement. In reality, she had wanted to scream her lungs out. The drug still kicked in, still battered away at her. If anything, the effects had only seemed to get stronger over time, not weaker. 

“Fuck…fuck…fuck!” Margaery would have smiled at Arianne’s mutters, would have if she could have made the effort to smile. It felt like her chest was on fire. Perhaps it was because her breasts were already somewhat swollen, she’d been so busy trying to protect her precious face, and some whore or other had decided that an opportunity to bruise her chest.

There was barely any pleasure, not for her. For her there was only pain. And yet, she felt her arousal dripping down her thighs. It felt like her body was protesting against herself. This was all infuriating.

“Seven bloody hells!” Arianne cursed again, louder. Both Sansa and Margaery were looking at her, their faces masks of pain. They were idiots. This way Arianne could preserve some dignity, her pain needed some kind of outlet, at least. She squeezed her fingers again, before pulling them back. Sansa gasped, almost toppling over.

How long would these two last, and would Arianne be able to outlast either of them? She honestly had no idea. She had never been more aroused before. Her arousal seemed to feed on her pain, only burning hotter the more it hurt. Was that the drug, or was that her? It didn’t really matter. She squeezed her fingers again, and then it finally happened.

She felt more than heard Margaery let out a scream as she pulled back, stumbling, clutching at her crotch with her hands. Arianne didn’t know when she’d fallen down on her knees, her whole body was spasming madly. She heard a thump, Sansa falling on her knees in front of her. The two women leaned on each other for support, a strange moment of camaraderie amidst this madness.

Myrcella wanted to vomit. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d managed to barely win out at the table. She had a foot shoved in her mouth, another covering her nose. It was almost impossible to breathe. Which woman had done which? She could barely see anything but thin streams of light from her mostly covered eyes.

The foot shoved deeper down her mouth, her jaw opened painfully wide. She could have bitten down, could have made this bitch regret it. Yet she knew she couldn’t. This was about pride, and even if her air was running out, even if she was trying her best not to gag, she would play along. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to play along for much longer.

This went beyond dominating or being dominated. This was just degrading. Still, Daenerys managed to keep up as best she could. She could taste every scrap of dirt on the foot in her mouth, could smell the overpowering stench of the foot blocking her nose. That must have been Myrcella, if she had to guess. 

Her body started to heave, and she forced it down. She was stronger than this, at least, that’s what she kept repeating over and over again in her head. Her body had other ideas, and she could feel the bile starting to run up her throat. Suddenly, it threatened to burst forth, burning the back of her mouth as it did. She swallowed it back down, but the disgust of that only made her heave harder. She was Daenerys Targaryen, and she would not vomit over herself. She just would not.

She gasped, breathing the sweet air deeply. Doreah was groaning, a figure had fallen on top of her, twitching. It was Margaery, and she was currently having an orgasm on top of the other woman. Seeing this, Myrcella had pulled her own foot away from Daenerys’ mouth, and she reluctantly did the same.

She tried to stay perfectly still, tried to calm her stomach. She felt like any sudden motion would make her throw up.

he didn’t even know where she was. This was the single stronger orgasm Margaery had ever had in her life. Compared to this, everything else felt dull and numb by comparison. When her legs stopped spasming, and when she finally managed to open her eyes, she saw she was sprawled on top of someone. She jerked back with a yelp, kicking out.

Doreah groaned, but quickly pulled herself back, getting to her knees. Margaery was about to kick at her again, when a rough pair of arms grabbed her and pulled her back. She would have fought. In fact she tried too, but it was two different women dragging her and she didn’t have the strength to match. She collapsed on the floor, slowly turning herself to face the ceiling.

She saw Daenerys start straddling her, and she almost pushed the woman away from her. Daenerys yelped, almost toppling. Before she could however, another figure straddled Margaery, both of them sitting sideways on top of her. It was Myrcella, who seemed so busy grappling with Daenerys she didn’t even notice Margaery underneath her.

“Get your cunt out of my face!” Myrcella growled, pinching at Daenerys’ breast. The other woman did the same with one hand, using the other to pull at Myrcella’s hair. The two were in an odd contest, on top of another woman. Then it happened. All three of them let out simultaneous groans. Myrcella and Daenerys’ back arched, Margaery let out a scream from underneath them.

All three of their cunts had met each other in a brief moment of struggle. That alone was enough. Myrcella abandoned the other woman’s breasts, pushing her body on, pushing her to find that sweet spot where all three of their crotches had met. Her own gasp told her that she had found it. It only took a few more seconds for Daenerys to catch on, but when she did, she pushed hard against her own crotch.

Their bodies had only collided a bare handful of times but even that was almost enough to send her into an orgasm. She heard a moan, a moan that came from Daenerys as much as it came from her, as much as it came from Margaery underneath them. Myrcella had no illusions of how long she’d last, at this point she was almost more concerned about passing out after she came than anything else.

One more to go. Daenerys groaned wearily. It had been a good strike, seizing upon Margaery’s carelessness she’d managed to grab the other woman and then pinned her to the floor. Daenerys had not imagined Myrcella would join her on top of the woman, she thought the Lannister girl would have spent at least a couple minutes recovering.

But no, it didn’t really matter. She’d already made one woman a stool, all she had to do was do the same all over again. She could do that, she would do that. Next it would be Myrcella. After that, she would have to track down Doreah. Where had that whore wandered off to? She didn’t have the strength to look around, it was all she could do just to sit upright at the moment. She had to do this.

Still, her body betrayed her. Her crotch ground into the other two women’s yet again, but this time her whole body spasmed. She tried to contain it, but one spasm led to another. Before she could stop herself, her back was arching, and she could feel her arousal pouring out of her. She landed on her back with a thud on the floor, hearing a similar thud across from her. She couldn’t see Myrcella, but she could feel Margaery spasming underneath her thigh. Damn it all, it had been yet another stalemate. Still, even as that thought infuriated Daenerys, it also filled her with some small despair. Just how long could she last? Just how long was she supposed to last?

Doreah had managed to stumble away, but had ended up landing herself right in the middle of another mess. She was on the floor, or rather, on her back. In front of her, Sansa Stark slowly got on the floor too, imitating her. Arianne was already laying down beside her. Doreah didn’t know how she’d wandered from one battle to another.

She had been trying to regain some of her bearings, when Arianne and Sansa had both called out to her. The two of them were ripping each others hair out, but they’d noticed her staggering away.

“What, is the whore tired already?”

“I suppose you’re going back to a brothel, where you’ve belonged all this time.”

Doreah didn’t even remember which one of the two had said what. All she knew was that this was an insult she would not stand. One thing had led to another, and now here she was. Her exhaustion had been building for some time, and her anger was the only thing still keeping her going. She hoped it could keep her going a little while longer.

Arianne  prepared herself. This was going to be hard. Her cunt was sore, her pubic hair already mostly gone. She had tried to steer this next battle into something else, anything but a fingering contest, but she’d failed. She had seen Sansa’s swollen breasts and had pounced on the chance to tug at her nipples. Likely the other two had noticed her own bruised cunt, and decided to do the same thing she had moments before.

She grunted. If she had to play by their rules this time, the least she could do was strike first. With that, she sent out both hands in two different directions. Two mirrored gasps filled her ears. Arianne just shoved two whole fingers in both of the women’s cunts. It was a hard fit, but being gentle was the last thing on her mind.

She shoved them all the way in, starting to thrust them in and out as quickly as she could. Maybe if she could strike first she’d have the advantage. That was what she’d been counting on. She’d been wrong. Two hands came at her own crotch, from two different directions. Then, Arianne felt pain.

Sansa pressed on. This was definitely something she could do, much more than the nipple tugging contest she’d been a part of just minutes before. She felt four fingers, two from two different women, pounding away at her crotch. It felt more pleasurable than something like this ever had before. It threatened to fill her head so completely that she could think of nothing else. In fact, it very nearly did several times.

She did what she could to ignore it, gazing at Arianne. The woman was groaning, more in pain than in pleasure. That kept Sansa herself in check, she could focus on making Arianne hurt. Doreah’s fingers were slower, perhaps the woman was more tired than she was trying to let on. It didn’t matter.

Sansa knew this really was all about who was going to orgasm first.

“Why stop yourself? We can all see just how close you are, Arianne.” She made her voice a soft whisper, a contrast to her fingers violently thrusting inside the woman. Arianne just shook her head, as if trying hard not to listen to the words. Still, mere seconds later, the woman’s back arched, and she let out a scream.

As if on cue, she heard another loud groan coming from Doreah. This was all she’d been waiting for, and she stopped fighting the waves of pleasure rolling through her.

She must have orgasmed, for when her sanity returned she could feel her whole lower half twitching. It still ached, and Sansa didn’t really try to fight it off anymore. She heard a thud from somewhere else in the room

As soon as that happened, the room was coated in darkness. Only pale moonlight broke in through the window, illuminating the room. It must have been a cloudy day, because even that didn’t do much. Sansa grunted and twisted her head, before finally spotting it. The last of the two candles in the room must have fallen. Thank the Gods it had fallen on cobblestone, rather than on something that would have caught fire.

She heard footsteps and curses from behind her, before a hand gripped at her hair. Who was that? Had the other two already recovered? Was this someone else? She dreaded finding out.

Myrcella scrambled back, huddling herself up against a wall. She used the time to take stock of the situation. All she could see was dark shadows moving in a barely lit room. The section of the room closest to the window was the only one that might have been acceptable. She debated making a run for it, before hesitating. 

On one hand, that would make her the biggest target of everyone here. On the other hand, she would be able to see everyone coming. Besides, the night was still young, and that spot would only grow more and more valuable over time. She wasn’t a coward, and so she ran for it. She had almost made it, before she tripped.

“Fuck!” She shouted, falling to the floor. She kicked at her legs, before realizing she had fallen on a person she hadn’t noticed before. She scrambled up, right as a hand grabbed at her crotch, nails digging into her flesh. Maybe the other person couldn’t see well enough to finger her, or perhaps they just wanted to brutalize her crotch when she was caught unaware.

She twisted her back, before throwing out a wild punch. It met soft skin. Was that someone’s breast? She didn’t think any more of it, just throwing out one punch after another.

Daenerys was furious. While this almost darkness had given her some reprieve from the situation she had been in, it now also shielded those who wronged her from her wrath. That just wouldn’t do. She had grabbed a fistful of someone’s hair. They were the only ones close enough that she could just faintly see their outline in the dark. Now however, even they were gone.

All she could do was swing around wildly. Every now and then, her hands did strike flesh. A few times, she was even able to identify who she’d hit from the sounds of their groans. She swung her hand out again, and she reeled her hand back in pain. She had hit someone’s head, and that had done more harm to her than it had to the other person. Why were they all being such cowards about this?

“Fucking fight me you stupid whores!” Daenerys roared into the darkness, starting to swing her hands again. That is, until someone grabbed her from behind, taking them both to the floor.

Margaery took a deep, slow breath. She had instantly identified the situation, and the best way to play it out. This night was going to be all about who could survive the longest, while inflicting the most damage. That meant you had to be quiet, had to pick the right moment to strike. It didn’t matter who you struck out at, so long as you were the one doing the initial strike.

With that, she waited. All around her, she could hear the sounds of screaming, the sounds of slapping, even the sounds of what must have been two women violently fingering each other. The only problem was that everybody wasn’t accounted for. She had found herself near the center of the room, the absolute worst place to be.

She all but yelped in surprise when a shape a few feet from her started to scream. Yes, finally, everyone was now accounted for. Seizing the moment, she charged Daenerys. This would be her opening move this night.

“Stupid…stupid fucking whore.” Doreah muttered, thrusting her fingers in and out of the other woman. Her hands were growing tired, but she kept at it. All she could do was hope that nobody took her by surprise while she dealt with the woman right in front of her.

“I hope you like the last orgasm you’ll ever have!” Snarled the voice right back at her. It was Myrcella, though Doreah had already figured out that much a while ago. Doreah grunted, as the other woman tried shoving four fingers inside her. All she could really do was answer in kind. It was just her like to end up next to one of the craziest women here. Now, all she could do was survive. Gods was she tired though.

Then, the room was bathed in…nothing. Complete darkness. Doreah blinked, and then her unasked question was answered. A roar erupted from the heavens, and then another. Thunder crackled, lighting up the room for only a second, before it was plunged into darkness once again. Evidently Storms’ End would not earn its name this night.

With that, the fighting changed. Daenerys heard wild shuffling from inside the room, and she rushed towards it. She couldn’t see a bloody thing, and sound was all she had to go on. She tripped, falling down onto the floor with a curse. Luckily, she’d ended up falling on top of someone, and the woman -whoever she was- had let out an indistinguishable gasp.

Before she had the time to do anything, she felt a tongue grasping around her inner thigh. She let out a yelp, but not before the tongue invaded her pussy, pushing all the way inside her. She didn’t even know who it was, or what she was supposed to do.

She felt someone turn, and smelled the distinct smell of arousal. Evidently her face was right next to someone’s crotch. She did the only thing that made sense, she grabbed onto the woman’s thigh, found her cunt, and plunged her tongue inside the woman.

Groaning and grunting filled the room. Sansa did what she could to contain her own groans and moans. If she gave way to the tongue inside her, she might let up on the woman she was attacking with her own tongue. Offense was the best defense, that was basic.

It hadn’t been that long. According to her best guess, it must have been no more than half an hour. It felt longer than that. She’d punched and scraped at a few people, and had been punched at right back. This was going to be a long, long night.

Thunder roared outside again, and in that moment she saw it. Six bodies all tangled up together in what vaguely looked like a circle. They were all eating each other out in the darkness. She saw recognition and shock in some faces she recognized -Myrcella and Arriane, on the opposite side of the circle from her. Then, all hell broke loose.

Margaery did what she could in what came next. At first, she had tried striking out at the person closest to her. She had tried to pin them to the ground. She had even succeeded, if temporarily. A blow had caught her then, and then she’d been sent tumbling down. Luckily, that’s where it had ended, and then she had found someone else, trying to pin them down instead.  

There, she’d been rebuffed yet again, this time by two women grappling at each other just happening to fall over her. Pulling out of that mess had been tricky enough, but she’d managed. No more bloody trying to pin anyone else. Every time she’d tried, something had gotten in the way. It seemed she’d have to take longer, more tiresome methods this night. That had been an hour ago, now, she hunted. 

There was more shuffling, more curses, more wild swinging of limbs. She grabbed onto a breast, she had no idea whose, and squeezed. She heard the sharp intake of air from the other woman, and she pressed her advantage, grabbing onto the woman’s other breast with her free hand and doing the same. It was a mistake. She had nothing to defend herself from the pair of hands that thrust at her crotch and at her ass.

How long has it been? Hours? That couldn’t be right. She knew what hours felt like, and this felt more like an eternity? Days? No, that was silly. She would have seen the sun by now. And yet…well, the events of this night had been even that impossibility possible. Myrcella did what she could to hold on.

Myrcella was growing tired, so very tired. She was doing what she could, fingering two different women at the same time, all the while kicking at a third who seemed to be doing her best to kick her back. Luckily, she’d somehow escaped an attack by the other women. That was one advantage of the dark, you could get lucky. It would not last.

Of course one disadvantage of the dark was that you could get unlucky. Arianne would have cursed, if the fingers inside her mouth weren’t gagging her. She would have kicked back, if a strong pair of legs weren’t pinning her to the ground, fingering her. She would have tried to flail, if the hands groping at her chest weren’t also keeping her against the floor. She suffered this humiliation, all of these whores would pay.

Nothing mattered to her right now, nothing but her own fury and the pleasure coursing through her entire body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do a damn thing. All she could do was let these feelings race through her. Arianne wouldn’t block out the pleasure, that would only end up breaking her. She needed to accept it, guide it. She couldn’t block out her hate, it was the only thing keeping her conscious.

Doreah sighed, sagged, Now she wasn’t even trying to attack anyone with any precision. Now she was just flailing her arms. Sometimes she’d strike flesh, sometimes she’d strike only air. The attacks on her had ceased too. Every now and then, a punch smashed into her. Luckily, they were all weak. All she could hear was wild, desperate panting. The panting had grown dimmer and dimmer.

Sansa sighed, her arms could barely even move anymore. She’d grabbed onto someone’s neck, and was doing what she could to choke the woman. If only she had more strength, she would have killed this woman in the cover of the night with none the wiser. But she didn’t have the strength, didn’t have anything more in her than to inconvenience the other woman. She heard a thud, and the panting she heard grew ever dimmer.

Outside, the storm only seemed to be picking up more strength as the night went on. Now, each crack of thunder was deafening. Perhaps it had already been a day, and the dark clouds outside had blocked out the sun. Perhaps this was what her life really was, and everything else was a dream. No, I have to keep some hold over myself. But Seven was it hard, and it was only growing harder.

As violent as they’d been, the clouds had finally started to break. The rain fell softer, the cracks of thunder grew more infrequent, and Arianne shuddered. This must have been her fifth, no, her tenth orgasm of the last few hours. Did these even count as orgasms any more? She felt no pleasure from them, nothing besides her body’s mandatory spasms. Her tits burned, she couldn’t even feel her crotch anymore. Would she ever again? That thought alone infuriated her. It didn’t matter how many hours it had been, someone had to pay. No, everyone here had to pay.

She had managed to pry herself away from all the hands assaulting her, and was now doing what she could to return the favor. But Gods was she tired. Besides, her attacks didn’t seem to be doing much at all. They barely even elicited a reaction from anyone.

Then thunder cracked again, and Arianne knew why. In that moment, she saw all the other women. They were all a tangled jumble of flesh, limbs jutting out everywhere. Most of them were also…passed out. Daenerys glared at her, her eyes only half open and dazed. Then even they closed. Arianne let the blackness take her.

“Fuck…” Daenerys muttered, opening her eyes. The light seemed to singe her eyes, and she had to shield them with the back of her hand. Her whole body ached. It felt like she had been worked at by a blacksmith with an especially large hammer. She grunted, pushing her hand away, and turning to look.

She saw a few women, eyeing each other. Myrcella and Margaery were shakily getting to their knees, Sansa’s eyes had just fluttered open. She watched the other two women, and saw Doreah’s breath quicken. Doubtless she had just woken up as well. She looked behind her to find Arianne, leaning her back against a wall, eyeing them all hatefully. How had she woken up? She thought she’d heard a loud thud from somewhere in the room. The door perhaps? No, that couldn’t be it, besides, it didn’t matter.

She willed herself onto her knees, almost collapsing all over again. Her thighs were bruised. She could see angry welts going all the way over to her knees. Her eyes caught sight of her own breasts, and she looked away. She did not need to think of that right now. Weakly, she finally managed to shove herself upwards. By that time, Doreah had awoken, seeming to go through the routine Daenerys herself had just minutes before.

What under the Seven have I gotten myself into? That had been the thought racing through her head from the moment she’d woken up. Right now, Sansa was leaning against one of the legs of a table, the same table she’d been…perched on, almost an eternity ago. She glared back at the other women, stared at the carnage in the room.

This didn’t look like the room of a Prince, this looked like a battlefield. She took a deep breath, turning to look down at herself. She would not shy away from it, she must not. She froze. Her tits were…well, they were swollen, bruised, and they looked like they were on the verge of leaking blood. The rest of her body was a little better. The few parts of herself that weren’t red, were an angry purple.

She tried to sit and moaned, evidently her bottom wasn’t doing much better either. The only consolation she had was that none of these other women seemed to have done much better for themselves. All of them had bruises and cuts, especially around their breasts. Myrcella’s breasts were even turning an unmistakable purple. She didn’t even want to imagine the pain that must have caused.

Arianne…well, this wasn’t the Arianne she remembered. It wasn’t just the wounds, they all had those, it was her hair. It seemed to have been ripped out in places, leaving pure skin. She would have to be shaved cleanly, it would be months before she looked anything like the beauty she had once been. A thought occurred to her, and she fingered her own scalp, and froze. Her own hair also came in patches. It looked like she still had most of her beautiful black hair, but the bald spots would be unmistakable. Had they done this to each other? Seven but she didn’t even remember anymore.

Sansa inspected Arianne again, and she thought she recognized something in the woman. Hesitation? Well, it only made sense, this thing was madness, this place was madness. Someone was going to die here. No, likely all of them were going to. Sansa gulped, inspecting the others. None of them had that same look. Sansa shared their rage, their anger, but that wasn’t all she was. What was she going to do? And then, the decision was made for her.

Myrcella grunted, rising to her feet. It wasn’t what her body wanted, but if she listened to what her body wanted, she’d have passed out and not woken up until the next winter ended. Her legs protested, shaking like thin reeds in a storm. She ignored them, gritted her teeth, and stood. All of the other women eyed her.

“We’re not done. Not…done at all. Fight me!” She didn’t know how the words sounded, she’d intended them to be a growl. Daenerys flushed a deep red, slowly getting to her own knees. Margaery soon followed her. She didn’t need to look to know that Doreah was rising behind her.

Sansa and Arianne were the only two who still looked hesitant. How dare they? “And what of you two? Do you think I’ll stop until you submit? I know, you can be my royal whores when I take the throne. I’ll have you both attend to my guests, their servants, and their fucking horses.” At that, both women lost their nervousness, replaced only by pure anger. They both stood up, shakily.

Myrcella wasn’t one for talking, but she felt like her body would split in half if she didn’t distract herself in some way. She took a deep breath, and walked over to the table, opposite the Stark whore. 

She turned, and watched as Daenerys limped over next to her.

“I will skin you like a goat and wear your hide under my feet!” Those words just made Myrcella angrier. Honestly, it was a wonder she even had the capacity to feel more anger than she already did. Still, looking over at the other woman, she couldn’t help but think that Daenerys looked pathetic. Her tits were battered, bruised, and larger than she remembered. Her face had an angry welt that seemed to cover most of her left cheek. Her nose seemed…bent. The thought that she probably didn’t look any better never even occurred to her.

Margaery made her way over to join the two women, stumbling. Behind her, the remaining two women followed. She couldn’t see straight, and not for want of trying. Margaery couldn’t force her eyes open all the way, just what kind of bruise had made her eyes swell that much? It was a wonder they hadn’t ended up blinding her altogether.

“Do you two stupid fucking whores think this is about you two? I’m going to be the one to leash you cows.”

Both women turned towards her, as if surprised she was there. How bloody dare they? Margaery all but stomped as she took her place besides one of the legs, regretting it immediately. She looked down, looked past the bruises that seemed to pain her body, and saw her feet. One of her toes was…bent, oddly. It wasn’t broken, Margaery knew what a broken bone felt like from more than one fall off a horse. Likely, it had just come out of its bearing. She ignored it, biting at her lip.

“Bold words from someone who can’t even fucking stand.”

Margaery turned to regard Doreah. The woman was staring at her with a grin. It looked rather bewildering. Ah, so that was why. One of Doreah’s teeth was chipped. No, that was saying it politely, her front tooth seemed like it was half broken. It didn’t seem like Doreah had noticed. The rest of her didn’t look much better. 

“I don’t think any man will look at you again, though some of the donkeys might.”

Doreah flushed an angry red, it looked odd, with most of her skin being red to begin with. Margaery smirked, even that hurt, and took a place besides one of the legs.

It felt odd, watching all of the women assembling here one by one. It reminded Sansa of a melee tournament, the kinds that Lords liked to throw around when they had entirely too much wealth and not enough sense. Still, unlike those rings, this one was one large table. Thankfully, it had been upended from the cushion it had been on, or it would have toppled over by now.

Still, as all the women faced each other, Sansa couldn’t help but feel stifled. Where would an attack come from? There were just too many possibilities. Who should she attack? No, rather, who should she watch out for while she was attacking someone else? The possibilities were endless, dizzying. Then, she saw Myrcella grab hold of Daenerys by her neck, the other woman doing the same. The two stared at each other, muttering something only those two could hear. Perhaps most alarmingly, the two had their mouths open wide. They were smiling, but it had all the warmth of a wolf eyeing a deer that hadn’t seen it yet.

Instinctively, she grabbed at the woman closest to her, it was Arianne. She grabbed at the woman’s hair, tugging at her with one of her few tufts of hair that remained. She barely even reacted when Arianne grabbed at her own hair. What was a little tugging compared to the sheer agony coursing through her?

Then she saw it. Before she’d noticed, all of the women had each other in some kind of hold. Some, like Margaery and Doreah, grabbed each other by their crotches, some by their hair, some by their swollen tits. That wasn’t what was special. What was special was what she saw in each of them, once she looked a little closer.

Daenerys and Myrcella seemed hungry, their eyes had a fire in them that frightened her. They seemed almost eager, as they stared at each other. Margaery and Doreah looked…troubled. They didn’t look afraid, not of the other women. Rather, they seemed afraid of making the first move, almost like they knew the pain that would soon follow. Still, some excitement blazed even in their eyes. The two seemed to be trying to both stare at each other and also to stare at everyone else, all at the same time. Sansa would have laughed if the mood hadn’t been as ominous as it was.

Then she saw Arianne, and she blinked. There was no eagerness in her eyes. Or rather, the eagerness was to get this all over with, rather than to enjoy it. Sansa gulped. Gods but it was hard to move, they were all just a hair’s breadth away from pressing into each other. Indeed, whenever someone took a breath, they did end up pressing into someone else. Even the slightest touch made Sansa cringe, did she have anywhere that didn’t still hurt? They were all in a stalemate, and the first move would bring pandemonium. It was just a matter of time.

Sansa grunted, feeling a hard tug at her hair. She saw Arianne swallowing, almost like she was steeling herself. Sansa snarled, tugging at the woman’s hair as hard as she could. The small tuft of hair she had in her hand-pulled, pulled harder, then started to tear. And then, all hell broke loose.

Daenerys flinched, Myrcella had tugged at her hair with one hand, using the other to tug at her swollen breast. It was only for a moment. In this moment, Daenerys felt anger and pain, but more than that, she also felt a thrill. She pulled the other woman’s breast as hard as she could, and Myrcella let out a small whine. Still, neither woman’s hold loosened at all. More than everything else though, in this moment Daenerys felt alive. This is the way her Dragons had felt, when they had been on the hunt. Yes, in the moment Daenerys wasn’t just a Targaryen, she was a dragon herself.

She pulled again, before cursing. Someone else had bumped into her. No, many someone’s had bumped into her. Everyone was pulling, scratching and clawing at each other. Only…there just wasn’t much space for it. As they all pulled, Daenerys saw all of them starting to converge around the center, their bodies becoming one mass of flesh as they did. That made Daenerys hiss. 

Skin met against every single one of her bruises, setting them all on fire. Gods that hurt, but somehow that only made the thrill she felt even greater. No, the real problem were her breasts. Right now, they were the most sensitive part of her, and they were currently grinding against two women -Myrcella and Doreah at once. That was a pain so great it overpowered her thrill, and she tried to pull back, just to catch herself.

She saw the other women doing the same, one by one.

“Afraid…of a little pain? Is that…all…your tits are good for?” Daenerys blinked. Myrcella had gasped that out, and yet it had made everyone pause. Yes, she was no coward. What was a little pain right now. With that resolve, Daenerys clashed into the center of the mass, doing nothing to protect her bruised and swollen breasts.

Myrcella and Daenerys in the center, their breasts slamming into each other, bouncing back before being forced to make contact over and over again. Myrcella grinned, though it looked pained. Daenerys groaned, testing her nipple with her finger. It burned. She looked at her finger again, half expecting to find blood. There wasn’t any, thankfully. Then she rammed into Myrcella again, except this time more breasts met her, from the sides, from in front of her.

“Fuck…fuck…” She heard screaming, muttering and panting. She didn’t know who that was, maybe it was her, maybe it was all of them. All the women pulled back, some of them nursing their breasts carefully. Daenerys snarled, and all the women met in the center again. This time their breasts didn’t bounce back, the women held them in place, shoving them against each other. Sansa was the first to fall back, clutching at the underside of her breasts with a small groan. Daenerys had to step back too, lest she break her own tits. It was a second’s reprieve, and then the women were back at it again.

There was nothing to do but to press in, so Doreah did just that. Her breasts ached. In this moment, it felt like no other part of her even existed. The pain of the rest of her put together couldn’t hold a candle to her breasts. She ignored it, as she pushed her breasts against the center of the mass. There, all of their breasts met in an odd contest of strength and endurance. Doreah didn’t want to join in, but she knew if she didn’t then she would be trampled and devoured. And so, she did what she could.

Breasts bounced as they collided, going one way and then another. Sometimes, a woman’s breasts bounced back so hard they threatened to smack the person standing right next to her in the face. That’s what had almost happened to her, more than a few times. She felt like her breasts should have long since burst by now. They hurt, and every single time they slapped into another woman’s, every single time her nipples collided, they seemed to strain. Doreah knew she would spend many months sore from this, if she survived.

Margaery’s resolve was weakening. She could have borne anything, anything but this. This hurt worse than anything ever had. It almost felt like her breasts were only hanging to her body by thin strands of skin, and they were ready to fall off at any moment. She looked down, and blinked. They had been bruised before, but a couple hard pushes against the other woman had only bruised them more.

Could these even be called breasts, at this point? Would these ever heal? Damn it! Damn it anything but this! The pain built and built, until the only thing she could think of was for some way to try and change this battle. She was a Queen, the only Rightful Queen here. Yes, it wouldn’t be so bad to find a different battleground, one more suited to her.

She grunted as another woman – Myrcella- slammed into her. Somehow, Myrcella had found just enough room to single her out in particular. She had a hungry, carnal look in her eyes. Margaery could tell what she was thinking. You’re failing, but don’t worry, I’ll put an end to you myself. Fear coursed through her. This wasn’t how it would end. It mustn’t end. And so, she did the only thing that came to mind. She balled up her fist, and swung at the Lannister bitch.

Myrcella stopped and stared, stunned. She paused, her hand went to her lip. She stared at it. Blood. This fucking whore had bloodied her. Myrcella saw that all of the women had stopped. They all seemed to be eyeing her. Margaery had a look of self satisfaction on her face, that same look that had infuriated her on more than one occasion. “I change my mind…” She spat on the floor, blood staining the table. “I’m going to break all of your teeth first.”

With that, Myrcella swung at Margaery. She had been fast, fast enough that she could land one solid hit in before the whore could react. Margaery recoiled, taking a step back, almost falling off the table entirely. Myrcella rounded on her, fully intending to throw a few more quick blows, knocking out the woman. Instead, she almost fell to her knees, as a blow came to the side of her head. She looked up to see all of the women swinging at each other wildly.

Everyone swung at the person closest to them. She looked to her side to see Sansa nursing her hand. Myrcella roared, ignoring the pain in her legs, throwing a punch at this woman too. Sansa didn’t so much as catch the blow as she shielded her face with her arms. Myrcella hissed, and then grinned.

The next punch was aimed at the tops of Sansa’s breast, where she had an angry looking purple bruise. Sansa screamed as her hands fell, and then the two fought.

Arianne grimaced before spitting blood on the floor. That blow had come from Daenerys, or had it been Doreah? It was hard to tell. Her vision was blurry, she couldn’t open her eyes all the way anymore. Who had that been? She didn’t remember anymore, it was getting hard to stand, let alone keep in mind small things like that.

She swung another punch, this one aimed at Daenerys’ back. The fool thought she could show her back to Arianne while she dealt with someone else? The woman’s scream sounded like music as Arianne sent out one punch after another. Even her fists hurt at some point. She’d made the mistake of trying to punch Doreah in the skull, and that had hurt her own hand more than it had done anything to the other woman.

Pain shot through her and she almost fell on Daenerys. She turned quickly, but she was only fast enough to see Myrcella swing at her. Damn it, she’d made the same mistake. Her vision blurred, spun. The sounds around her all seemed to multiply. Her jaw hurt. No, that wasn’t it. It was more like her jaw seemed like it was being held together by thin strings. Myrcella picked up her feet, maybe intending to kick her and put her down for good.

Doreah rounded on Myrcella, stopping her and inadvertently saving Arianne. That is what all the women had started doing. A straight up fist fight just meant being taken by surprise. Better to be the ones to take by surprise instead. Of course, some of these women didn’t have the brains to do that much. Arianne wasn’t that far gone, yet. She spat again, more blood pooling onto the table. She blinked. There was a full tooth there. Who did that belong to? She shook her head, and punched Daenerys at the same time the woman swung at her.

Her punches got slower and slower. She willed her arms to be faster, but they had stopped listening long ago. Doreah put all she had into keeping this wild lion down, and nothing worked. Myrcella was bloodied, one of her front teeth was missing. Yet still, for all that, Myrcella grinned, looking more like an animal than a woman. Doreah roared, swinging again. Thankfully, Myrcella seemed to be tiring as well.

All around her, there were now more desperate pants for air then there were thuds of blows connecting against flesh. How long had they been doing this? Doreah swung again, her punch connecting against a small cut on Myrcella’s cheek. That made the woman flinch. Doreah tried punching again, but this time her arm all but betrayed her completely. They felt like they were made of lead.

She heard shuffling, and turned. She saw two things at once. She saw Arianne on her knees, gasping for air as she clutched her stomach, doubled over. She saw Daenerys, reigning back her leg and kicking. Doreah barely had time to cover her stomach. There was a sharp crack, and then a loud thud. Doreah was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Her back screamed at her, almost as if it was broken. She turned to her side, falling off the table leg she’d broken and fallen on. And then, Daenerys was on her.

Many things happened at once. Sansa took in the chaos, and instantly saw the opportunity she had been waiting for. Margaery was distracted, staring at Daenerys and Doreah writhing around on the floor. She kicked the woman, just like she’d seen Daenerys do just moments before. Daenerys was a wild animal, but wild animals were better than men when it came to these sorts of things.

Margaery yelped, toppling over, before thudding to the ground some paces behind where she stood. Sansa all but raced towards her, jumping on top of her. Margaery had just enough time to lift her arms to defend herself but Sansa swung her fists down, one after the other. Margaery fought back, violently, better than any woman pinned down should have been able to. Sansa groaned, feeling the woman’s blow crack her nose.

In this moment, she knew that if this was a fair fight, then she would have lost. That didn’t matter, and she continued to rain down one blow after another. She needed to be done with this as quickly as possible.

Arianne and Myrcella stared at each other. There was much that passed between their gazes. Years seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Love, hate, passion, anger, they had shared everything two people could share, and it had led them to this. 

“Fitting.” That was all Myrcella said. Arianne nodded, nothing more needed to be said at all. The two rounded on each other, and Arianne balled up her fist, throwing out a punch with her protesting arms. Myrcella did much the same. Yes, they would continue the battle they had been waging just moments before. It was only right.

They were evenly matched, almost perfectly matched. Arianne’s blows were slower, but they were more deliberate. She targeted wounds, so even her weakest punches made Myrcella flinch. Myrcella was more barbaric, and the Gods only knew where she found the strength to still swing so hard. They just barely managed to cancel each other out.

“Fuck…fuck…” Arianne stopped mid punch. Myrcella raised an eyebrow, her face full of anger. The sound had been soft, gasping, pleading. They both turned to see Margaery and Sansa. The Stark girl was raining down one blow after another. When Arianne had last seen them, the two were fighting. Now, all Margaery did was defend her face with her arms. Sansa would win, if nothing changed.

Then, Arianne looked back at Myrcella, surprised to see the other woman staring back at her. They didn’t need words. We’ll settle this at the end. That’s what passed between their gazes, something that could have only passed between them. With not a word, they rounded on Sansa. Myrcella kicked her off, sending her on her back. Arianne jumped on top of Margaery, taking Sansa’s place as she started to beat down upon the woman.

She saw something fall beside her. She turned, Sansa was clutching at her jaw. That had been one of her teeth. Myrcella pulled her hand back and punched again. Sansa seemed dazed, her eyes going as wide as Arianne had ever seen them. Yes, they would deal with everyone else, and then they would deal with each other.

“You would…side with…the people who killed…your family?” Her voice came out as a small rasp, barely more than a whisper. Arianne froze in place. Sansa spat, a little more blood staining the floor beside her. Myrcella froze as well, stopping her hand midway.

“Explain!” Myrcella growled, waving her arm about threateningly.

“The Martell’s…they poisoned…your uncle…Kevan and Jaime.” Her voice seemed to be growing more and more steady by the second. “To make you more…pliable, easy to…manipul-”

“No!” Arianne roared, leaping off of Margaery and trying to gag the woman. It was too late. She’d pressed her hand on Sansa’s neck, choking her as hard as she could. She realized Myrcella was silent.

Slowly, hesitantly, she looked at the woman. She was staring right at her, and in her eyes, she saw more fury than she thought imaginable. That’s how their alliance ended.

Margaery slowly recovered herself, getting back on her knees, then onto her shaking feet. She saw Arianne and Myrcella, glaring daggers at each other some feet away from each other. She ignored them. She stared at Sansa, who had also risen to face her. Despite the pain, Margaery smiled. Now she was on an even footing with this bitch. Now, she had the chance to make her pay. She didn’t care especially for the Seven, but she thanked them right now. Yes, Sansa had to be the first to fall.

Sansa seemed wary as she stared at her. Margaery rounded on her and swung. Sansa did the last thing she thought the woman would do. Margaery had expected the woman to shield the blow with her shoulder, then Margaery would take her to the ground, pinning her like had been done to her. Instead, Sansa took the blow, her head jerking back as Margaery’s punch met her chin. Margaery gasped, as a blow took her right in the middle of her right breast. Then she screamed, furious. So this is what this whore wanted? Fine then.

The two faced each other again, and they both swung. Margaery didn’t even think about defense, she aimed her punch at Sansa’s left breast, which seemed more swollen than her right. Pain flared through her as Sansa’s blow landed, but she saw Sansa’s eyes widen in pain, her teeth grit. The two started exchanging one punch after another. Each punch either sent one of their breasts bouncing to the side, or pushed into the woman. The most dangerous was when a punch directly hit one of their nipples. That pain was much, much greater than all the other punches. Margaery had to bite the inside of her lip just to stay standing, but she did what she must.

It felt like her breasts should have burst open at any second. Sansa’s breathing didn’t come in gasps now, it came out in shudders. Margaery blinked back the tears of pain that clouded her vision, swinging again.

Fight. Fight. Fight. She repeated the chant in her mind, let it be the only thing she thought at that moment. Anything else would have doomed her. Sansa took another blow, this one struck true at her right nipple. The flesh seemed to be burning. Her own blows had gotten weaker again. Seven but her arms were tired by now.

She decided to change tactics. She accepted the next blow that came, screaming. Instead of her own punch, she raced towards Margaery, grabbing her in a hug. Margaery seemed confused for a moment, then she smiled. Sansa pressed her breasts against the other woman’s breasts, Margaery doing the same. She felt a pair of arms wrapping around her back, pulling her in close.

The pain was so much greater now, as their breasts collided against each other, as their nipples rubbed into each other. Fight. Fight. Fight. Sansa didn’t even try to stand upright anymore. She leaned in. She would have fallen over, if Margaery hadn’t been right there to keep her upright. Margaery whimpered, Sansa barely heard it. She could barely hear anything. All she could feel was the agony from her breasts. She felt that same pressure she had before, it felt as if her tits were close to bursting. 

Sansa clenched her fingers behind Margaery’s back, pulling her in as close as she could. She feared her own body would betray her if she didn’t do everything in her power to keep the two in place. Sansa stared into the other woman’s wild eyes. She looked half crazed, whether it was from pain, or from the thrill of the fight, Sansa couldn’t say. Her own pain kept building, building. Soon it was greater than anything she had ever felt, greater than any fight she had ever been in.

The next time the two’s breasts met, it felt like her nipples should have been rubbed straight off. Sansa flexed her legs, not letting go. Every part of her screamed at her to let go, she didn’t dare. Sansa dug her nails into the other woman’s back, clawing and scraping. It was to distract herself from her own pain. Her breasts hurt. She saw Margaery snarl, spittle leaking from her lips and down her chin and onto her chest. Sansa had her teeth gritted.

Something snapped. No, that wasn’t right. Something burst. Pain shot through her that made even what she felt moment’s before look like the palest candle in front of a raging inferno. She was on her knees. Then she was on the floor. Then she was rolling around on the ground. Words spilled from her lips, words that were as indistinguishable to her as they were to anyone else. She bumped into Margaery, who was screaming into the carpet below her.

With shaking hands Sansa stared down at her hands, which were clutching at her nipples. She saw pinkish blood, and nipples that were split open, almost straight down the middle.

This was silly, Doreah was no-one important, a common whore who had somehow tricked the world and risen above her station. And yet, this was also one of the most important moments in her life. She needed to beat Doreah, needed to prove to herself that she was better in all things. And so, she stifled her moans, determined to make the other woman break first.

The wood jerked around between them, both of its edges coated in the fluids of their arousal. Their moans filled the air, seeming to form a dome from all the madness that went on beyond it. Daenerys stared only at Doreah, never breaking her gaze. She whimpered, taking yet another inch of the wood inside herself. It burned, and yet it also seemed to make her whole body hum in pleasure.

She was sweating, this was exhausting. Her body was still worn from the night before, more sensitive than it usually was. Besides, this table leg was both thicker and longer than any man could have ever been, and it was wedging deeper into her than anything ever had. It was all she could do not to scream. It was too much to ask of her not to moan, so she moaned as loudly as she could. Doreah was doing much the same, she had already arched her back, her hands falling to her sides.

Yes, Daenerys could beat this woman. She had to. Pleasure built up inside her, more and more. She realized that the two were slowly but surely drawing closer to each other, as they shoved the leg between themselves. She moaned again, feeling the wood start to twist and turn. Doreah was doing that on purpose, moving the wood with her hand. Curse that whore of a woman. She screamed then, it was too much.

Her pleasure was building. She knew herself enough to know that she was getting closer and closer to her orgasm. All she could do was hope she reached it slower than Doreah did.

“You’re so close…you fucking whore. From…a fucking table.” Doreah moaned, her voice a sensual whisper that seemed to ring in her ears.

“I’ve fucked you…better than any man.” Her voice was cracking, her words came out slow. Daenerys didn’t trust herself to say anything back, but those words only made her insides ache more. She dug her nails into the palms of her hand. That pain felt useless compared to the pleasure she felt now.

I…can’t. She only had a few seconds left. She tried to pull back, tried to pry a few inches of the wood out of her pussy. That might slow her, might give her the second she neede-

With a roar, Doreah used her whole body to shove the wood inside of her. She felt herself almost splitting open from the thing as a few inches went inside her all at once. Her back started to arch, and her body started to spasm. Fuck…fuck…she was going to lose again. Then, as soon as the wood had entered her, it was gone. She didn’t have time to think about it, she was going to orgasm.

She bent her head back to scream, then felt something sharp pressing into her crotch. No, not her crotch, into her urethra. Daenerys stared at Doreah, who had a grim look to her. Now she saw. Doreah was plugging her up with the sharp edge of the leg, like you would with a sack full to bursting. Daenerys couldn’t do anything, her body started spasming madly as she had her orgasm.

Except, her arousal had nowhere to go. She felt the pressure building around her crotch. It felt amazing as it built up inside her. But then it kept building, building. Soon it was painful, and before long the pleasure had been burned away by the pain. She felt something ‘pop’ and she screamed, flailing around wildly. She knew she was bleeding, she absolutely had to be. She couldn’t see straight, couldn’t see anything. The world swam, she almost blacked out from the sheer trauma of it all.

At some point, she found herself crawling on the ground, staring up at the ceiling wildly. Doreah was sitting over her, her own face a mask of pleasure. She looked down at Doreah like an unruly dog she had finally collared and trained.

How…dare she. That was all Daenerys thought as she flung up her hands by pure instinct. Doreah was too stunned to stop her. She didn’t have any time to. Daenerys shoved her knuckle into the woman’s crotch with one hand, trying to force it in. She managed a couple of inches, and the woman’s face contorted in pain. That wasn’t the point. Her arms were trembling, all of her was trembling.

Still, she found what she was looking for with her other hand, the woman’s clit. It had swelled, and Daenerys could get a kind of hold over it. Then, with a scream, she sank her fingernails in, and began tearing. Doreah tried to flee, but Daenerys bit her leg. In moments, Doreah fell back, Daenerys felt a massive wave of pain a she felt something shoving into her crotch. She yelled, squeezing the blob of flesh in her hands like a lemon. She felt it pop, but she had no time to think about it.

She fell on her back, in more agony than she’d ever felt. Her trembling hands tugged weakly at the wood inside her. She used what little she had left to shove it outside of her. Her vision was blurry, those were her tears. She didn’t have the strength to hold them in. She didn’t have the strength to do anything else, and so she blacked out.

Arianne braced herself. She had never seen Myrcella like this, never in all the time she had known her. She had seen Myrcella so angry she could barely think straight. She had seen Myrcella so angry she’d kill someone just for bumping into her. At times, Arianne had thought Myrcella had to be part animal, in her anger, she often looked like one. Right now, Myrcella looked calm, her face a mask of stillness.

And yet…her eyes burned with all the heat of the sun. Hers was a contained anger, a more focused anger. Arianne found herself gulping. Myrcella’s uncontrolled rage had made her predictable. Now, Arianne had no idea what to think. She squared up her hands. No matter what happened, she would be walking out of here.

Arianne didn’t bother dodging the first blow. She grunted as it struck her side, her own fist landed across Myrcella’s shoulder. Damn it, she had aimed for the woman’s face, but Gods was it hard to see past her swollen eye. She forced it open, even as it threatened to shut off. She threw out another punch, this one missing entirely. Myrcella hit her square in the jaw, sending her reeling back a few steps.

She shook her head, clearing her head of the pain, before she started to circle the woman. She had to be careful, had to be methodical about it. Myrcella didn’t let her. She charged straight at her, throwing her fists wildly into the air. Arianne cursed and had no choice but to do the same. Arianne felt some of her punches connect to Myrcella’s chest, a few directly at her nipples. Myrcella gasped, but barely seemed to slow at all.

All of her was exhausted and aching. She didn’t know how long she could keep this up. She sent out another punch, this time hitting Myrcella on her forehead. It hadn’t been nearly fast enough to knock the woman out. Arianne didn’t even know if she still had the strength to do something like that.

Myrcella swung again, and this punch hit her square in the stomach. Arianne hunched over, pulling herself up just enough to shove her leg and ram it up into Myrcella’s crotch. The other woman screamed, even as Arianne fell onto her knees. She stared at the floor, and heard a thud. She looked up to see that Myrcella was on her knees too. The two were practically touching each other now, both gasping for air.

Arianne grabbed at the other woman, before slinging one of her hands over Myrcella’s shoulder. She would have fallen over if she hadn’t she knew it as surely as she knew anything. Myrcella did the same. The two breathed and gasped, clinging to each other, even as they would destroy each other.

The reprieve lasted only a moment. The two locked eyes for a moment and hatred passed between them. Then, it began. The two began punching each other, hard. These were punches aimed at both of their stomachs, one after the other. Every time Arianne punched Myrcella in the stomach, she doubled over. Every time she did, she prayed to all the Gods there were that Myrcella would stay down. Every time she did, Myrcella picked herself up and punched right back.

Arianne doubled over one time, then again, then again. Her body started to spasm, as she started to dry heave. Myrcella jerked back, doing much the same. Arianne barely had it in her to do anything, much less throw another punch. Was this going to be another stalemate? To her shock, Myrcella managed to pick herself back up. Now, she had that familiar animal look back. She pulled her hand back and punched Arianne.

She started to heave again, using all of her will to force it down. Her hands instinctively went to her mouth, and she started to vomit. Her throat burned and stung, but Arianne couldn’t help herself. Her hand exploded back, as she vomited onto the floor. She stared at the green and red mess on the ground, blood and vomit.

Arianne couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but want to vomit again seeing that. She only barely registered Myrcella stand up. She looked up to see the woman pulling her leg back. Instinct alone guided what happened next. Rather than try to dodge, she lunged at Myrcella. Myrcella was so startled she couldn’t move, Arianne grabbed onto the one leg she was standing on, pulling it from out under her.

Time seemed to slow down. Myrcella was falling, and behind her, was that blasted upturned table. Then time sped up, there was a loud crack of splintering wood, and Myrcella screamed. Arianne had no time to do anything, she started vomiting again. There was less blood this time, but her heaving didn’t stop. Neither did her tears. Her head fell, she didn’t have the strength to sit upright. It made a wet plop as it landed on the pool of her vomit. Her body was still heaving when she passed out.

Margaery woke up to the sound of crying. She blinked her bleary eyes open, seeing the sun in what felt like years. She felt exhausted, despite the fact that she had just woken up. She was beside a bed…Aegon’s bed, she remembered. Why was she here? Then she tried to move, and pain shot through her body like a spear. She gasped, barely keeping herself upright.

Then she remembered. The events of last night raced through her head. It was almost too much, but she had the scars, the wounds and the aches to prove it. Then she noticed other women, many of them huddled against different walls. The crying had come from…Myrcella, yes. She was the only one awake. She’d noticed Margaery staring and was now busy glaring at her.

The woman was clutching at her chest, at a single large circular welt that seemed to be bigger than the hands covering them. What under the Seven must have happened to do that? She shifted her head, turning to see Daenerys to her right, the woman shuffling, her eyes flickering open.. The Targaryen had certainly seen better days…was that dried blood all over her crotch? Daenerys woke up quickly, and quickly put herself next to a wall, her eyes flaring. Say what you want about her, but that one always had energy to spare.

Then Margaery looked at the others, still unconscious. They were the farthest away from her. She didn’t really need to inspect Sansa, she had the same wounds that Margaery herself did. She shivered, looking down at her split nipples, then forced herself to continue her inspection. Arianne didn’t seem to have any outward injuries…at least not any ones that Margaery didn’t remember. Still, she was lying in a pool of what looked like blood and vomit. So that’s what the terrible smell was.

In the center of it all was Doreah. She was passed out, staring up at the ceiling, blood pooled down her crotch. As Margaery watched, she started to stir, her fingers starting to move. Yes, they had been through hell. Still, as her anger started to rise again, some part of her knew that it still wouldn’t be enough.

Her head ached something fierce. Sansa opened her eyes with a start, looking around wildly. She took a deep breath, finding the wall behind her, and setting herself against it. Then she observed. How had she been so careless as to pass out? She was lucky to still be alive. Then she saw it. 

She saw the other women, their bruised, battered bodies. Bodies that looked more like beat up lumps of meat rather than what should have been some of the most beautiful women in the world. No, that wasn’t what really startled her, she had been ready for that, after all. What really frightened her as she looked at all of these other women…was that they didn’t seem to care.

They must all have hurt as badly as she did, but they did nothing to clutch at their wounds. Instead, they just eyed each other, that same fire in their eyes that Sansa remembered from last night. Didn’t they realize this road would only lead to doom? She shivered. No, they did realize, they just didn’t care. And that’s when Sansa knew that she had to leave. Looking at them, she remembered another one, so long ago, they had that same look in their eyes. Yes, this place was a killing ground, with the only victory being who could die last.

Arianne rose from a puddle of blood and vomit, and tried dabbing at her face. Some of the foul liquid had already dried against her cheek. Oddly, she could barely even smell the mess. Perhaps her body was already used to the smell. That wasn’t a good sign, quite the opposite. Thankfully her stomach didn’t ache…much. It was manageable.

She leaned back against a wall, and froze. The three women she saw were all crawling. All crawling towards the center of the room. They all had a hungry light in their eyes. She turned to look at Myrcella, and blinked. That…that was Myrcella? She had all the features of the girl she knew well, of the girl she had known for so many months. Of course she was bruised, battered, torn and ruined, but she still looked like Myrcella.

No, it was her face, her movements. This might as well have been a wild animal, not the girl she had come to love and hate in equal measure. “Myrcella?” She found herself whispering. The girl, if girl she still was, seemed to hear her. Her head whipped about, staring right at her. Then, she licked her lips, before continuing her crawl to the center of the room.

Arianne let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She had to leave, there was nothing here for her, nothing here for anyone. She looked around, and then she saw Sansa. Sansa was sitting next to the door, she’d gotten up on her knees, and was trying to open the door. Hope blossomed in Arianne’s chest for a moment, before Sansa turned back, her shoulders shuddering. Arianne didn’t need to see for herself to know what that meant.

Think, damn it, think. A way out, any way out. We’re locked in here, but there has to be some way someone can leave the Prince- She paused in her thoughts. She’d been staring at Sansa, though she hadn’t really been paying attention. She saw the woman’s thoughts churning behind her eyes. Then, almost as one, the two stared at the door to the privy.

Doreah woke up in tears. Every part of her ached, but what ached most of all, was between her legs. Damn that Targaryen. She shook her head, clearing her vision. She was staring up at the ceiling. It took more force than she cared to admit to rise to her knees. That’s when she felt it, hungry eyes boring into her skin.

She turned her head around one direction after another. Damn it all, she was in the center of the room. Three different women eyed her. When they noticed her look, they all started crawling towards her. She frowned, Sansa and Arianne had started moving too, but they weren’t trying to move towards her. She didn’t have time to think of that.

She eyed the three women, giving them all the best glare they could manage. Well, if they still wanted to fight, then she wasn’t a coward. She would fight, would do what she had to. Yes, she hadn’t lost yet, just suffered some small setbacks.

“Come you whores!” She roared, and then, the three women all closed around her.

Sansa didn’t look back at the scream, didn’t look back as she heard wild scrambling behind her. She raced for the privy door, but Arianne was already there, trying to push it open. Blessedly, the door opened with only the smallest creak. She turned to look back briefly, and saw four women starting to tear each other apart.

The privy stank, as privies do. It felt like the most refreshing thing she’d smelled in ages. She ran inside after Arianne, and froze.

“Dead end! Damn it!’ Arianne was moving around, trying to scan every possible inch of the room.

“Shut up! Let me think.” Blessedly, Arianne did just that. Of course she glared at her, but Sansa ignored her completely. She knew about rooms like this, Petyr had taught her well. Look for anything slightly out of place, even if it looks unintentional. In a Lord’s chambers, anything out of place is deliberately so. 

Sansa looked around, stared at the walls, stared at the windows, stared at everything. It all seemed perfectly in order to her. Despair started to creep into her, and then she saw it. The candle frame was ever so slightly twisted at an angle, as if it had been pulled down. Without thinking, she raced for it, pulling it down.

The loud creak that answered her put a pained smile on her face. Gods, how long had she been since she smiled. She reached for the small tunnel that had opened up next to her on the wall, and froze. She’d bumped into Arianne. Fuck.

“Well…I think you should go first, seeing as how you found our escape route, after all.” Sansa frowned at her, and Arianne couldn’t blame her. She looked into the small tunnel. It was dark, cramped and wholly uninviting. It was the exact kind of place where you didn’t want anyone at your back.

“No, I think I’d rather not get bit by a viper.” Sansa grimaced. Well, neither of them were going to go in first. Arianne was about to press the issue, maybe insist again that Sansa had to go first. She had all sorts of protests in her mind that she knew would lead absolutely nowhere. In the end, maybe she would have to kill or knock Sansa out, before making her own escape.

Then a scream broke in. It was a terrible, guttural scream, the kind that made blood run cold and wills falter. Whatever Arianne had been about to say had died in her throat.

“I…a compromise then.” Sansa almost barely managed to keep the tremor from her voice. Arianne didn’t know if she could have done the same.

“We…enter a stalemate.” Arianne frowned, not understanding. Then she felt a hand grab at her hair, another grabbing at her crotch. She was about to slap the other woman away, then paused. There was no strength behind the grip. Finally, Arianne understood.

Without a word, she snaked her own arms around the other woman. One hand on her hair, it was bloody hard to find a tuft to do that with, and one hand on her crotch. Then, the two began to walk. Either they’d both make it out of here, or neither of them would.

Three different whirlwinds blew all around her, and there was no way out. Doreah did what she could, slapping the other women, punching them, kicking them, shoving them. She did all she could, but she had brought a short sword to a fencing contest. It wasn’t that the other women were focusing on her, no, they were focusing on everyone equally. It was how they attacked that troubled her.

None of the other women bothered throwing kicks or punches. Instead, they scratched, clawed, and bit. Doreah screamed, as Myrcella bit down on her thigh like a wild animal. Blood oozed out of the wound as Myrcella pulled back, spitting thin strips of skin on the ground. Doreah tried to kick at the woman, but Myrcella grabbed her foot, before biting into her feet. Doreah screamed again, trying to shove the blasted woman off of her.

That’s when she heard another scream, one so loud and so horrible it shook her out of her own pain, if even for a second. She turned to see Daenerys Targaryen. The woman looked like she was…chewing, on something. Then she spat out, and Doreah saw that it was another mound of skin. No…she recognized it, it was half an ear.

She saw Margarey on the floor, groaning as the clutched at the right side of her head. Then she saw Daenerys again, and started. The tops of her nose had been…well, it looked like it had been ripped off, slowly. Doreah found her whole body starting to heave. She looked around madly. Where are the other two whores? Where?

Her eyes found the privy door, and she tried to crawl. That was her last mistake.

The thing that had been Myrcella, frowned. She stared at Doreah, and saw something she didn’t understand. The woman was crying, crawling away. Why would you do either of those things in the middle of a battle, in the middle of a hunt? It wasn’t just something she didn’t understand, it was purely disgusting.

She reached for the woman. Her side still ached, no, throbbed. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered until she was the last person standing in this room. She grabbed Doreah by the scruff of her neck, slamming her head into the ground. The woman let out a shriek. Yes, this woman was absolutely disgraceful. She slammed her head into the pavement again, then again. Doreah of course tried to fight back, tried to push her away.

For a moment, she might have succeeded. As if smelling the blood in the air, Daenerys and Margaery were now on her too. Daenerys grabbed a solid, chunk of wood. A table leg, she realized, and slammed it all the way inside Doreah’s crotch. Blood started oozing out of her, and Doreah started to sob wildly.

“Any..anything…you…anything you want.” That’s what she had been trying to say. Myrcella slammed her face on the floor again, just to shut her up, before turning her around. She saw Margaery pounce on the woman, standing over her before raining fists down onto her face, one after the other. They started making a soothing crunch. Doreah started to spasm, Myrcella held her down, clawing at her breasts. That wasn’t enough. She leaned down, biting them, tearing them apart with her teeth.

Doreah’s body continued to spasm, she continued to plead. Her words were indistinguishable now. Myrcella looked up to see Margaery reach down, Doreah let out another shrill scream. When Margaery pulled her hand back, it was covered in blood, her palm clutching an eye. She tossed it aside, continuing to beat down on the woman.

They didn’t know how long it lasted. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Doreah had stopped trying to resist a long time ago. Margaery realized with a start that the woman hadn’t breathed in a while. She got off her, and the other two women seemed to do the same. Doreah’s one remaining eye stared up, sightless. If Myrcella hadn’t been there from the start, she wouldn’t have believed this was Doreah at all.

Doreah had been shameful, absolutely shameful. She had to die first. Then, the real fighting began.

The tunnel was simple enough to follow, there was only one way out, after all. Still, it was slow going, with the awkward way they were moving. They didn’t exchange words. Maybe Arianne was just too tired too, Sansa knew she was. Still, despite how slow it was, a few minutes later, their path had reached an end. It made sense, she doubted you’d want the person fleeing to end up in the middle of the woods, after all.

“There’s just…a wall! How the fuck do we get out?” Sansa had to force herself not to sigh. Arianne could be really blind sometimes.

“Just push the bloody wall.” Sansa muttered. Arianne frowned at her. Sansa felt the grip on her hair weaken, before it was back again.

“Clever.” Arianne muttered. Sansa rolled her eyes, and pushed at the wall in front of her with her leg. Like she’d expected, it slid forward, before falling over. Light streamed into the small tunnel, light and beautiful, clean air. Sansa had to keep herself from weeping all over again.

They were free. They had survived this night, and from what she saw, all four of those whores would die in that room. She could leave this blasted tunnel and be the onl-

She froze. The grip on her hair had tightened again, painfully so. Arianne stared at her, perfectly calm. Sansa could read that face, she doubted hers looked any different. There’s just one…one small problem in my way. Could she do it? Could Sansa kill this woman in this tunnel and escape?

No, maybe it wasn’t about if she could, it was about the fact that she had to. She tugged on the woman’s crotch, and Arianne grunted. Sansa’s grip was weak, she was tired and worn out. But, if that was how she was, then Arianne couldn’t have been doing any better. Possibilities raced through her mind, and she stopped herself. She had to surprise her, take the initiative.

“I could kill you right now. It wouldn’t even be that hard. I could leave your body here, or drag you back to the privy. No-one would ever know.”

Sansa paused, mulling over the other woman’s words. She hadn’t struck, instead choosing to voice her thoughts. She could do likewise.

“You’re in no better shape than I am. I saw what happened to you, barely but I did. One good punch to that stomach of yours will have you spewing out on the floor.”

Arianne nodded, as if she acknowledged this too.

“That is if you can punch at all. Can you even move your upper body without flinching? Will those nipples even heal? It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, all I’d have to do is smash your head against these walls. They seem hard enough.”

Well, every word she said was true, Sansa reluctantly admitted. Just getting here had been a miracle in and of itself, and now they were talking about fighting again? Well, Arianne probably wasn’t in the best condition to move herself. She had to know that. Then…why? Ah. She understood. It was because at this moment, after everything they had went through, they knew they were evenly matched.

“Smashing against a wall? How…barbaric, just like a Martell.” She tilted her head and pointed behind her, at a small, pointed rock, lying just a few short feet away from them.

“I could just stab you with that. It wouldn’t take much to pierce your throat, you wouldn’t even be able to scream.” Well, she could do that, but would she have the time to reach for it? Sansa didn’t know.

I might kill her, but it’s no more likely than her killing me. Would I gamble with my life again, so soon after the Seven saved me? 

It didn’t sound like an appealing prospect at all. Still, this was a chance to gain everything, everything she had been working for. She found Arianne tensing, seeing the same thoughts reflected in her eyes.

Another scream broke through, this one was loud enough to reach them all the way here. What under the Seven could that have been? Sansa found her willpower fading just thinking of what it took to make someone howl like that.

“Not today.” Arianne muttered, releasing the grip she had on Sansa. Sansa swallowed, and nodded slowly. Yes, maybe someday, maybe someday the two would have to kill each other. But that day…it wouldn’t be today. With that, the two walked into the light.

Three women stared at each other, three wolves. These weren’t wolves like the Starks claimed to be, fetishizing the virtues of proud beasts in the wild. These were more like actual animals, their eyes feral, their jaws ready to kill and hurt. The three raced at each other, clawing and scratching. Their current battlefield was a lifeless corpse, none of them seemed to notice.

Daenerys’ nails dug into smooth flesh, drawing blood. She didn’t try to defend herself, didn’t bother to even acknowledge the small welts of pain from all the marks these other two women gave her. Her hands came back red with blood, was that Margaery or Myrcella? Did it matter?

Margaery was keeping up with them, but something in Daenerys told her she was different. That one was just a pup, one who could keep up for a time, but only for a time. With that instinct, Daenerys pounced on her, pinning her to the floor. It was only going to last a few short seconds. Margaery reached up, grabbing at her face, before her fingers found her eyes. Daenerys had shoved her nail into the woman’s eye socket, her finger carving and scraping. Daenerys just barely managed to pull out a lump in her hand, before agony raced through her, and half the light of her world winked out.

Myrcella watched all of these happen in the span of a few seconds. Daenerys threw her head back and howled, a single eye falling from her hand and thumping on the floor. Blood oozed from her right eye. Daenerys might have been able to gouge Margaery’s eye out, but Margaery had repaid the favor. A part of her wondered which one of those two would hurt more. Daenerys, if she had to guess.

Another part of her braced herself. The two women turned on her, both of them gazing at her, one with an eye that seemed all but blood, another with an eye that wasn’t there any longer. That part of her knew that in a fight like this, they both would want to even the odds.

She raised her fists, clawing at the two women as she came. She managed to fend them off for a time. Their injury weakened them. A few times, both Daenerys and Margaery almost fell over trying to reach her, as if they couldn’t judge the distance any longer. Perhaps they couldn’t.

If it had been any one of them at a time, Myrcella would have managed. It wasn’t. Soon, Margaery had grabbed hold of both of her arms with her own, biting into them with her teeth, Daenerys had grabbed on her legs, biting into her thigh. Myrcella screamed, trying to shake them off. Margaery reached one hand up towards her face. Myrcella tried to shove the woman back, she finally had one hand free.

She gouged the woman’s face, pulled at her hair, ripped some of it off. None of that mattered. Margaery’s long nail drew close. Time seemed to slow down, and then Myrcella knew pain.

Three women stared at each other, each through one eye. They panted, gasped, shuddered and moaned. Margaery felt like she should still be able to open her eye, yet that was impossible now. The pain burned something fierce, and it looked odd besides. It was like looking in through a window, one side covered by drapes. Well…it had been worth it. Where Daenerys’ eye had been there was now only a bloody lump. It served her right.

Margaery reached around behind her, she’d been aiming for this ever since she’d noticed it. This is where Daenerys had dropped the table leg, after shoving it inside Doreah. She grasped it with trembling hands, before bringing it around in front of her. Both Myrcella and Daenerys turned to her, fixing their gazes solely on her. She had a weapon now, she was the most dangerous person in the room, the biggest threat.

She expected shouts or curses, but she heard neither. Instead, the two women growled, a low voice in their throat that sent her hair standing on edge. She got up to her feet, and it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She brandished the piece of wood in front of her, waving it around her like a shield.

Both women regarded her, feral looks in their eyes. Then they turned back to her, and they both slowly rose. At that moment, Margaery realized that she too had made a critical mistake.

Daenerys charged at the woman, hands raised and swinging. She couldn’t see Myrcella at all, she didn’t have the eye for it anymore. Still, something in her told her that she didn’t need to worry about her, for now. Margaery kept waving that table leg in front of her. When Daenerys was almost on her, she swung. Daenerys had been expecting that, she tried to grab it in her hands. 

The table leg raced past her hands. She’d misjudged the distance. It came crashing down on her, and Daenerys only barely had enough time to turn her body. The edge of the leg cut along the side of her stomach, opening a single, long gash. If Daenerys hadn’t moved, that would have cut open her stomach entirely. Daenerys growled, ignoring the pain, still running at the woman.

She lunged for her throat, but before she could, Margaery fell on her own. Then she saw it, Myrcella hadn’t run towards the woman, she’d run at her on all fours like a wild animal. She knocked Margaery to the ground, and Daenerys tried pouncing on her. Margaery hadn’t let go of the wood, if nothing else, she hadn’t done that.

She swung again, this time it clanged as it hit the side of her head. It didn’t have nearly the force to knock her out, but it sent her reeling back, She almost collapsed beside her. She heard another crack, and looked up to see Myrcella, clutching her head. Blood pooled down her fingers.

Margaery almost picked herself up. She had a smirk on her face.

“You stupid dogs! Almost, almost.” She grinned then, waving around the table leg. Daenerys eyed Myrcella, the girl was looking at her. Something in her told her that she was going to die, and there was only one way out of it. Daenerys and Myrcella both lunged for her hands.

Margaery tried beating them away. She cracked at one, sending them back. Right before she could finish one off, the other pounced right back at her, and on and on it went. Margarey could barely even see, could barely even keep her arms upright. It was all she could do to make contact with the leg, let alone target anything especially dangerous.

The balance held, but Margaery was growing tired, her swings were growing slower. In contrast, neither of these two women were stopping. They must have each had a dozen cuts by now, and yet they didn’t stop. Their faces were ruined messes of cuts and blood, and yet they didn’t stop.

Daenerys charged at her again, and Margaery swung again. She gasped, the wooden leg almost fell from her hand. Her hand had been sweating, she hadn’t noticed her grip falling. She caught herself, barely keeping the leg in her hand. She’d taken too long. Daenerys bit the top of her hand, and Margaery screamed, dropping the leg. It thudded on the ground. Margaery had no time to think, she was on the floor. Someone had kicked her. And then despair set in.

Daenerys pinned the woman by sitting on her chest. Myrcella didn’t care for that, she wanted to hurt this woman, hurt her as much as she could. She went between Margaery’s legs, and then she started biting at her crotch, at the swollen walls of her pussy. Margaery’s legs flailed around as she tried to do something, to do anything. Myrcella didn’t notice, chomping into more and more skin. Then she saw Margaery’s clit, bigger than she remembered. Without pausing to think, she bit down.

Blood burst into her mouth, and she spat it out. She paused, the other woman had stopped flailing about, but she was spasming. She turned to look, and saw Daenerys, chewing at her left nipple. Her right nipple, or what was left of it, oozed blood. Margaery herself was crying. Myrcella grinned to herself, finding the table leg that had fallen right beside her.

She walked over to sit beside Myrcella’s head,  then she shoved it between Margaery’s teeth. Margery one eye opened wide, and Myrcella held the leg steady. She tried bringing it down, but was stopped by another hand. Daenerys growled at her, not letting go. Myrcella understood. She needed this to be her kill. Some part of her longed for it.

The two eyed each other, tense. She didn’t even see Margaery strike out, but she felt it. Pain blossomed in her, and the last of her vision winked out. She howled in fury, pushing the wooden leg down as hard as she could. She heard scrambling, screaming from underneath her. She also felt another force, pressing down from the opposite end.

The person underneath her scrambled, spasmed. Myrcella kept pushing, pushing further down. She couldn’t see. Seven but she was blind! She carefully stood, pressing her leg on the center of the wood. Then, she pushed all her weight into it. There was a guttural scream, a death cry. The scream split her ears, but she kept pushing it down. She felt something resisting under her, then tearing, then tearing. The wood snapped, and the sound was no more.

The two gasped, Margaery had finally stopped moving. Was she dead? Daenerys would have no way to tell, not anymore. She clutched at her eye, where her eye had been. She froze, feeling something warm, wet and round pressing against her cheek. That was her eye, or what was left of it. She screamed, and before she knew it, a figure crashed into her. It bit into her flesh, bit into her arms, bit into her shoulders, bit everywhere it could

She felt teeth pressing into her nipples, then in the next moment, agony exploded from her breasts. 

Daenerys did the same, biting wherever she could. She didn’t know what she bit, didn’t know if any of this was effective, but she did what she could. She was starting to feel dizzy, but she pressed on. She bit into something soft, softer than anything else, and she bit straight through it. She bit some more, trying to strike at a neck. Then, her teeth met something she hadn’t expected. A force pressed against her jaw, resisting her, trying to overpower her.

With a start, she realized this was the other woman’s mouth. Daenerys howled, trying her best to overpower the woman. Their teeth slipped, and Daenerys bit off what must have been Myrcella’s lip. Then their teeth locked again, before slipping, faster this time because of the blood. Daenerys winced, feeling teeth tearing off her own lips, and then their teeth met once again, at the center.

This time their teeth didn’t slip. They pressed into each other, harder and harder. Daenerys heard her teeth rattling, her whole jaw starting to shake. She felt the cracks before they came, and felt her teeth starting to crack, then shatter. Myrcella’s teeth were trembling too, shaking. Some of the shards went into her own mouth, some fell on her thighs.

Both women growled, Daenerys started to feel dizzy. She pulled back, and fell on her back. She heard another thud, and her legs met Myrcella’s. They felt at each other for a moment, then, almost by instinct, Daenerys opened her legs wide, and pressed her crotch into Myrcella’s.

There was no pleasure. There was only pain. Only pain and agony. Myrcella ground her cunt against what had to be Daenerys’ cunt. Her life was fading. She knew that now. She could barely even move, and so she spared all her energy into rubbing her crotch into the other woman. It hurt, Seven but it hurt.

She was going to die, she was going to die. The only thing she could do now, was try to die after Daenerys, that was the only thing she could do. She would have spoken, would have said some finally mocking taunt, but only blood filled her mouth now. She was choking on it. What would she die from first? It was hard to say.

Her thrusting and her grinding was growing weaker and weaker. She couldn’t even properly grind her cunt anymore, just weakly shove it against the other woman. Would she last? Would she win, even if only by a single moment? Myrcella let out a weak whimper, before her body betrayed her, not listening to her anymore.

Oddly, the pain seemed to be fading away from her. She couldn’t feel Daenerys anymore, couldn’t feel anything at all. That must have been when she died, it must have been so. Her darkness grew ever darker, and Myrcella breathed her last.

Daenerys Targaryen fought on, using the last of her strength to press her tired, bruised bleeding cunt against Myrcella’s. Her thrusts were weak, and she was going to die. She would never marry Aegon, would never sit atop the Iron Throne, would never live to see her sons and her daughters.

Still, Daenerys Targaryen had her pride, and she would die last. She felt dizziness, overwhelming dizziness. Her body started to heave, and she couldn’t force her legs to listen to her anymore. Myrcella had stopped moving.

“I won…” Those were the last words of Daenerys Targaryen.

It had been an hour. Ser Duck had strict orders to tell him if the sounds had stopped for one hour. Before, that had led to a false alarm, when the guards had burst in to find the women waking up. Now…now it had to be the end. He stood in front of the door, the door to what had once been his rooms.

He would have to find different quarters. No, he would have to find a different castle entirely.

“Ser.” He nodded at Duck, the only person standing beside him in the hallway. Ser Duck looked hesitant. He wasn’t a man who could rattle easily, but Aegon could see that he was afraid. Aegon was afraid too, of course, but he was a King.

Ser Duck opened the door, and Aegon covered his nose to shield it from the foul stench from within. He stepped inside, and saw hell itself. Blood everywhere. Blood and vomit. Bits of skin strewn about, large lumps of what must have been bodies thrown around everywhere. He stepped further inside. He turned, Ser Duck was vomiting on the floor.

Aegon felt his own vomit well up in him, and he covered his mouth, swallowing against the burning in his throat. He was a King, and he had to be strong. He stepped further inside, studying the wreckage. He saw one body, beaten senselessly from every angle. Where the head was, well, there was only blood.

He steadied himself again, and saw three large lumps, all piled up next to each other. One of them had her jaw pulled unnaturally wide, a large piece of wood cracked between her teeth. Who was that, he wondered. He didn’t want to know. It had all gone wrong. They weren’t supposed to all die. This wasn’t the plan, not like this.

He walked over to the last two lumps, both intertwined together. One had an eyeball sticking out an eye socket. He froze. Violet. This was Daenerys Targaryen, his aunt. He couldn’t help the bile this time, vomiting on the floor beside her.

He didn’t know how long it had taken for him to compose himself. When he did, he looked back at his aunt. In this moment, he realized that in the end he had really wanted her to win all along. Well, it was too late now, for that kind of thought. Still…how in the hell was he going to recover from this? Every powerful lady in the realm, dead under his supervision. Surely all the armies of this side of the ocean woul-

No, there was danger, yes, but there was also opportunity. If he could secure his position now, then he would have a stronger hold on this continent than even Aegon The Conqueror had. There would not be Seven Kingdoms, there would be just One Kingdom, his Kingdom.

Something occurred to him, and his heart sank. He whirled around, counting. Damn it! Damn it!

He raced into the privy, he’d only just now seen that the door was open. There was nobody there. Like he had feared, like he had hoped against all the Gods, his secret tunnel was open. Two women were missing, two women had escaped. Worse, if they’d escaped together, then they were allied together. Gods, what was he going to do?

Wait, they were still in this castle. Yes, an order to kill them on sight. He’d mutilate their bodies and toss them in here, have all the guards he couldn’t trust killed and the ones he could sworn into silence. This could work. He raced out of the privy. Ser Duck wasn’t there. He raced out of the room, and found Ser Duck standing there, holding the wall for support.

“Two yet live, we need to-”

“Um…Your Grace.” He whirled, turning to see a common serving maid, her eyes cast down. He wanted to slap her, to tell her to run. He calmed himself, took a deep breath. He had to be calm.

“Yes?”

The maid shuffled her feet, not looking at him. Then she spoke, and Aegon’s world stopped yet again.

“Queen Sansa Stark and Princess Arianne Martell await you in the dining hall.”

“If I call, you rush in and kill them.” Aegon found himself saying. Ser Duck didn’t nod, he knew this already. Aegon knew he knew this already. Still, he found himself repeating it anyway. He was nervous. He stood before the great dining hall, the place where he had first gathered all those women together.

That felt like it was so long ago. He nodded, and Ser Duck pulled open the doors, and Aegon stepped inside. He found them immediately, they were the only two people here. They were both a mass of bruises and blood, but he immediately recognized them. They didn’t look as bad as everyone else had. These kinds of things were relative.

“My Ladies, I’m so glad to see you both safe and sound. I had no idea what madness was taking place within my halls, if I had known…Well, no matter, I’ll have my Maester tend to your wounds at-”

“Aegon, we know it was you. We’ve known for a long time. We’ve sent ravens to our armies. If your Maester poisons us, I expect this castle will be under siege by the end of two weeks.” That had been Sansa, her voice was calm, level.

Aegon cursed under his breath. “I am saddened you would think me capable of something like-”

“Aegon, we’re here to make a deal.”

Aegon froze. What else could he do? “A deal?” He repeated.

Arianne glanced over at Sansa. The two shared something unreadable, then she nodded. “You will take us as your wives, and we will put this behind us. We three will become the absolute rulers of this realm and our lines will be carved into legend.”

“And if I refuse?” Aegon found himself saying, looking back at the door. He could still call Ser Duck, it would take only a moment and this would all be over.

“Then the two of us will die here, and you will die in a few months, at most. Even if you survive, it won’t be much of a rule at all. The people will know the truth, and no matter how great a King you will be, the events of this day are too dark not to cast a shadow over your rule.”

Sansa nodded, before continuing for the other woman. “But if you accept, then we will of course add our testimony to yours. This was just a tragic accident by women in the heat of passion. King Aegon was out on a hunting trip, we were there. He was faultless. Our realms, at least, would believe that. That would be enough.”

Aegon looked at the two women, looked between the two. They were battered and bruised, but he could tell their wounds would heal. Given time. He could also tell these women had not only the will to rule, but also the brains for it. This night had proven as much, after all. Besides…they had him. If he cast these two women down, it would be the end. Their pain would last only a moment, his much longer.

“Very well.” He nodded, and the windows rattled in the breeze, as if the ground itself let out a breath that it had been holding.

“The ‘Night Of Bloody Passion’ it was called, and it is an apt name. In one night, some of the greatest women in the world fell, in the most brutal ways imaginable. The lands trembled at the news, for it was of darkness itself. 

Ironically however, this night brought great relief to a Kingdom that had been ravaged by war for years on end. Some people did not believe the Stark and Martell proclamations that it had all been a tragic accident. House Tyrell was the only one to meet Aegon on the field of battle, but they did so alone. Perhaps sensing the tides, their bannermen did not follow them. Their armies were shattered.

The death of the last main line Lannister of course threw Casterly Rock in complete upheaval. A bloody succession war ensued, and Lady Selene Lannister came out victorious. She declared war on House Tyrell in the months to come. House Lannister besieged house Tyell at Highgarden, and after a remarkably short siege, House Tyrell sued for peace. House Tyrell fell further, soon becoming no more than a vassal of House Hightower.

Daenerys Targaryen’s armies too swore vengeance, from their seat of power in Dragonstone. Before they could sail the ships however, a fleet consisting of Myr, Lys and Pentos’ ships barricaded the island, pinning the army in place. This was the longest battle, and it took two years to starve the Unsullied out. Still, they would not be a threat to King Aegon’s rule.

As for the realm…this was a time of great uncertainty and great strife. Still, there was a grand royal wedding, after King Aegon ascended to the throne. Unlike what was proper at the time, King Aegon took two wives, Queen Arianne and Queen Sansa. It was a display more lavish than any that had ever come before, and perhaps any that will ever come.

Seeing this, the realm finally started moving towards peace. Some people whispered that the two Queens weren’t at peace at all, and that the events that followed were only inevitable. Alas, that is a tale for another work.”

• From Maeston Memnon’s “Chronicles Of The Dragon, Year 1 Of The Dragon Age.”

The End

Want to Discuss this Story?
Head Over to the Forum to Give Your Take!

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