So
this is why I'm taking longer to post some things. That and a short
bout with a cold and a crapload of snow lately creating some minor
issues, and joining a gaming podcast... so been busy making those
words per minute and spare commissions.
Anyway,
this is a more mild sexfight for the GoT setting. It's involving
more and more lore, so they're getting bigger and requiring more
reading on my part to write them and remember all those names. Turns
out a lot of medieval lady names start with D and M!
As
Myrcella and her forces continued their march her army towards
Storm’s Ends, her foul mood didn't seem to go away. Her mind was
still stuck on Margaery and their aggressively sexual confrontation.
They had been closely matched, and the fight had left them both
sweaty and exhausted. Nevertheless, she had narrowly lost before her
Tyrell rival. Worst of all, she had chosen to yield rather than
fight to the end. Still a loss, as far as she was concerned, and
that was something she was loathe to admit.
Just
as there was no one that interfered with her army, none of her forces
wished to cross her path. She had decided to set up camp when they
reached a small town on the edge of the Storm Lands. On top of
providing a chance for some light resupplying, the town contained an
inn with the only genuine featherbed for miles around. Myrcella, of
course, took the bed for herself while her army camped outside. She
(and they) hoped that a good rest would help clear her head rather
than provide her with humiliating wet dreams.
As
she was waiting for dinner, her eyes caught some roses that were
growing on the window sill. It was a small thing, but lately, the
smallest push could send her on a trip down memory lane. Her mind was
already refighting the battle she had with Margaery.
She
had heard of love on first sight, but until she saw Margaery, she did
not think it was possible to hate on first sight. Doran had kept her
updated on the newest crimes the Tyrells committed against her
family. She was already fairly convinced of the Tyrells’ guilt,
though deep down she still sheltered some doubt. Could
Margaery really be so powerhungry as to murder two husbands and a
mother in law?
The
doubts disappeared when she saw Margaery.
She
didn’t plan to fight her. But the moment she saw the malice
concealed behind Margaery eyes, she knew
it
was all true. She kept her courtesy up for as long as she could, no
matter how sickening it was seeing that Tyrell slut smirking on the
Throne that should be her family’s by right. That woman even had
the audacity to claim her mother’s chamber as her own! But when
Margaery started poking at her family, that was too much. The smirk
on Margaery face when she spoke of her late mother and brothers! She
would have torn her to down and impaled that smirking slut on the
Iron Throne itself if not for those Tyrells spearmen in the Throne
Room. Her rage was stronger than it had ever been when Margaery spoke
of the beating she gave her mother, gloating as if showing her some
prized trophy. Luckily, that was during dinner time and there were
none to stop them then - she will make the Tyrell slut feel ten times
the hurt she inflicted on her lady mother!
Her
rage was kept going by Margaery’s continued mentioning her mother
throughout the fight. But alas, her rage was not enough, but it had
been so close.
She
does not remember all of the fight. It all seems like a flurry of
fists and slaps and claws and cum. She DOES remember how close she
had been to winning though. She could tell it from how Margaery
trembled at the very end, how she tried to hide her sob behind moans,
how she tried to hide her tears with sweat. Perhaps one more thrust
was all it took to change the game. Or one sharp twist of the nipple
like the ones she had given to Arianne so many times. But close or
not, defeat tastes the same. Somewhere in that once familiar room,
Myrcella’s mind had betrayed her, it had surrendered when her body
wanted to carry on the fight. Margaery collapsed beside, twitching
and silently sobbing, as Myrcella was sobbed in shame at her weakness
and arousal. Margaery had passed out shortly after her victory, but
Myrcella was too broken to extract any sort of revenge. Her body
weary and her mind was blank, simply overwhelmed with despair at her
performance. She had set out to seek vengeance for her mother but
instead suffered defeat at the very women who brought shame and death
on her Queen mother. It would be poetic if it were not so humiliating
- mother and daughter, perishing at the hands of the same woman.She
took some small solace that Margaery did not walk out of that
encounter unscathed. Though her scalp now bears a hideous marks
hidden beneath the golden locks, she gave Margaery something to
remember her by as well. And she’ll give that whore a lot more
souvenirs the next time they cross by.
She
felt unsure what to do with herself until a cloak was placed around,
hiding herself from her disgraceful body.
"Easy
now, my dear," said the man's voice. He slowly and carefully
helped her up, giving her soft assurances as she was lead out of her
mother's bedchambers where their sexual duel had taken place.
Myrcella was too broken to argue with the gentle voice, barely
realizing that they were passing through tunnels. The man kept
talking, keeping up warm and comforting conversation even when she
didn't follow all of his words. "Watch your head now," he'd
urge as they move down some low steps, or "Take your time. We're
in no hurry," when he held her lightly enough to make her to
stop at the sounds of footsteps.
Myrcella
only truly flinched when she felt moonlight on her face. She looked
up to see that they were outside of the city walls, standing by the
shore. While aware of it, she was still in such a fog that she
couldn't make any sense of it all. It was all she could do to think
to follow the stranger in servant's garb that had literally pulled
her out of her paralyzing misery.
He
walked her farther from the city, always guiding with his warm and
assuring hand. "If I may give you any advice, my lady," the
strange spoke up as the city was left far behind them. "There
are still those loyal to House Lannister within our fair city. That
is why it is that much more important that you gather allies to win
back what is rightfully yours. In fact, I happen to know that Prince
Aegon has just arrived in Storm's End with ten thousand loyal swords
behind him. I would think it wise for you to hurry to him before any
would-be enemies consider doing the same."
The
strange servant patted her on the back with a harmlessly jovial
firmness. "Head south. There's you'll find the Lannister army
and be well out of the reach of the guards. I'm sure you'll know what
to do from there."
A
lookout from the Lannisters' troops spotted Myrcella's approach. She
moved as if sleepwalking, though now it was mostly from fatigue. The
only sign of the servant was the advice he'd left in her ear. They
hurried out to her to escort her to a tent and fetch her some
clothes. Crakehall was vivid when he saw how his liege had returned
and Ser Daven was about to storm the gate when Myrcella finally
gathered herself together, "Get the men ready," she
commanded weakly. "We march for Storm's End.” And then she
slept.
Not
a day has passed in which she does not think about what would have
happened if they stormed the castle. Blood would flow, and most of it
would be theirs, Ser Daven assured her, but they would have
Margaery’s little head on a spike by the day’s end. The walls of
King’s Landing were high, and the walls of the Red Keep higher, but
they have the number, the experience, and the discipline. Lyle
Crakehall seems to agree with Ser Daven’s assessment, but Myrcella
knows that Ser Lyle would do anything for a good fight. In fact, he
is still cranky about missing the chance to storm King’s Landing
and maybe cut down The Knight of the Flowers himself. Although his
foul mood is nowhere near as foul as Myrcella’s is.
It
would have been different if his uncle and grand uncle were still
around. Ser Kevin would know what to do for sure and Ser Jaime would
be the perfect man to do it. They had always protected the House,
protected her family, protected the her. That brought tears to her
eyes once again. Myrcella grew up a princess, and growing up a
princess means that instead of friends, she had a string of servants
whose chief concern were pleasing her or her mother. Sure there were
other children at the castle, but they all ran and hid whenever she
came by. When she was five or four, she would watch jealousy from her
window as the other children fought with sticks, pretending to be
great knights. She had tried to join them once, and even managed to
get another a little girl to play with her. She got hit on the arms
and legs but it was the most fun she’s had in months. But that
little girl was whipped so hard that she couldn’t leave her bed for
two weeks, and when she did, she made sure to steer clear of
Myrcella.
Her
mother later sat her down and explained it to her that the girl
should count herself lucky. They could have had her and her mother’s
head for striking a royal princess. Well, she wasn’t entirely
friendless. Her father had been a drunken sot, always in another
woman’s bed and never by her side. But she had her brothers and
uncles. Growing up, they were the only friends she had. She played
come into my castle with Joffrey when he was still a child, and when
Joffrey became too old for games (“I’m too old for such childish
games.”), Tommen became her new playmate. Together they would
explore the Red Keep, steal sweets from the castle kitchen and snatch
kittens in their nest. She even got a nasty scratch from a she cat.
Tommen had vowed to hunt down that cat for her. They even named the
cat the “White Swan,” after a legendary female bandit queen. But
alas, White Swan was never captured.
There
is also her uncles and granduncles. Uncle Jaime, tall, handsome, and
graceful, pure when clasped in the white armor of the King’s Guards
and the Warrior himself when clad in the golden armor of House
Lannister. She actually had her first crush on uncle Jaime, and spent
many nights fantasizing about being captured by a bandit knight and
uncle Jaime coming to her rescue. Her uncle Tyrion is a different
story. He may be small, stunted, and twisted with matched eyes,
Tyrion had a jovial nature and kind heart. He always had something
witty to say or some other way to make her laugh, and he brought her
sweets when her mother wouldn’t allow her for fear of her getting
fat.
She
even missed her granduncle. She missed granduncle Kevan and his lined
weathered face, his warm comforting smile, and his calm, soothing
voice. But all above all, she missed her mother. No matter what other
may say of her, Cersei was the best mother any daughter could have
ever hoped for. Cersei was a fierce lioness protecting her cub, and
Myrcella knew she was safe whenever her mother is around.
But
now they were gone, murdered or exiled by that scheming little whore
on the Iron Throne, and it fell to Myrcella to carry the lion banner,
and to avenge her family, to avenger her mother. She was in Dorne
when dark wings brought dark words of her family’s death. First it
was Joffrey, poisoned at his own wedding feast. She had cried herself
to sleep that night for the first time in many years. But that was
only the first dreadful news of many. 4 days later, her dear uncle
Tyrion, accused of murdering the king by Margaery opted for a trial
by combat rather than face the clearly staged trial. Prince Oberyn
Martell, the Red Viper, Doran’s own brother, died defending Tyrion
in a trial by combat. That was the second time she cried herself to
sleep, and the night Arianne, Doran Martell’s daughter joined her
in her bed. They spent the night sharing memories of their uncle, one
dead and one soon to be.
She
had wept with joy when Prince Doran called her into his room, and
told her that his uncle Tyrion has escaped, and is still alive.
Doran
Martell had been the father she never had, just as Arianne the sister
she never had. Together, they helped her through some of her darkest
moments, clearing away her fears and doubts with soothing words.
Prince Doran was unlike any Dornish men that ever lived. While Dorne
is a hot place filled with fierce people, Prince Doran was always
gentle, patient, benevolent and kind. He offered Myrcella a home when
she first came to this strange land, and gave her more friends than
she ever had. Prince Doran was not one to hide the truth though. As
he told her of his uncle’s escape, he also told her of his
suspicions of the Tyrells, and his fears for the rest of her family’s
life. Doran told her that he believes the Tyrells to be behind the
poisoning of King Joffrey, maybe with the help of Sansa, who had
disappeared mysteriously from the scene. It made sense to Myrcella.
Margaery wanted the throne to herself and his brother was in the way.
Sansa’s family rebelled against the Crown and died for their crime.
But it was Doran’s next words that scared her most. Calmly but
firmly, he told Myrcella that she may need to prepare to claim the
Throne. NO!!
She
had screamed! As she stormed out of the Tower of the Sun. Nothing
will happen to her mother and brother! Uncle Jaime will protect them,
or granduncle Kevan! Her mother would die before they let that
Tyrell slut hurt Tommen. That
was the last time she ever saw of Prince Doran for a long time,
though she and Arianne would soon have a little misadventure and
start having sex. The thought brought a blush to her face and a
tingling sensation to her loins.
Alas,
Jaime and Kevan did not stop them, but her mother did die before
Tommen got hurt. No one knew exactly what had happened. All they know
for sure is that the High Septon arrested Cersei on some slanderous
charges by Margaery, and then, Cersei just disappeared. A few month
later, her body turned up in Riverlands. The body looks as if it had
been ravaged by wolves but marks of knives, whips, and hot irons were
in abundance as well. Doran thinks she got those in the Faith’s
dungeon, and maybe from Margaery herself. She had fallen to Doran’s
feet, crying, as Arianne embraced her in a comforting hug as Prince
Doran continued to fill her in on the rumors. Somehow, his soft voice
made her feel safe, like her mothers’ used to. She wanted to stay
here forever, safe behind Doran’s aging back, but she can’t, not
whilst her family’s murderer roamed free. The lucid details the
reports provided only strengthened her resolve. She was in tears by
the time they have gone through all the reports, but when Doran asked
her if she wish to stay here for the time being, She only stood there
and shook her head..
Arianne
came to her that night, and they spent an evening fucking each other
until their body were shining with sweat and cum. After they were
done, Arianne climbed onto Myrcella, their breasts sagging from the
violent of sex.
“Do
you really intend to go? Now, with so much danger around.” Arianne
asked, as she cushioned her head on Myrcella’s soft breasts.
“Yes.”
Myrcella
could feel Arianne tremble. Was it the cold? Or something else?
“I’ll
be fine. I’ll milk that Tyrell slut dry like how you Dornish milk a
viper.” Said Margaery, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
“You
can stay here. No harm will come to you. We can wait for a better
time.”
“No,
it has to be me. A
Lannister always pays his debt.”
Arianne
was silent as she brought her face to hers. Their eyes met as their
breasts merged again. “Be careful.” And then, they kissed again.
Their bodies, one dark and one white, rolling and intertwining under
the clear Dornish moon.
When
a raven brought news of Tommen’s death two days later, Myrcella was
ready. She did not weep or run as Doran informed her of the news. She
only asked for a ship and escort to take her to Riverrun, where the
Lannister forces are camped, under the leadership of Jaime and Kevan
Lannister.
Prince
Doran looked deep into her eyes, his face as still as stone, his eyes
drilling into hers. For a brief moment Myrcella thought he resembled
a viper nearing a prey, but Prince Doran smiled and the resemblance
was gone.
“Be
safe, there is a ship awaiting you at Planky Town. Arianne will see
you on your way. The spears of Dorne cannot go with you, but my
banner will. Fly my banner when things get dire. The Tyrell will
think twice about incurring the wrath of two great houses. The Sun
and Spears of Dorne travel with you.” That banner may be all that
kept her alive on her way into the city.
She
had learnt of Jaime and Kevan’s death when she reached the
Lannister encampment. They were found with purple lips and bloodshot
eyes, their face in extreme agony, poison for sure. She immediately
forbade them from announcing it. The world must continue to believe
that Ser Jaime and Ser Kevan were still alive; the world must
continue to fear them.
They
never caught the poisoner, but Myrcella already knew who it was.
Those treacherous Tyrells - they hide their hideous thorns behind a
golden rose. They had already poisoned his elder brother, disposed
her mother, and killed her younger brother as well. It only makes
sense that the Tyrells would move onto his uncle and granduncle. She
had her suspicions confirmed when she saw that hideous smile on the
Tyrell girl’s face when she inquired after her Ser Jaime and Ser
Kevan’s health, filled with feigned innocence and malice. Just one
more blood debt to pay.
Myrcella
stabbed at the grilled herring in front of her, wishing she could
tear apart Margaery’s face as easily as she could cut up the crispy
yellow fish.
“It
does no good to think of the dead,” she thought to herself, knowing
full well that tomorrow her mind shall drift back to them
nonetheless. Instead, she thought of the living. She wondered what
Prince Doran would do in her place. The answer seemed obvious. Doran
promised to rouse Dorne for her should it come to war against the
Tyrells, but the Dornish spears are still gathering. Prince Doran had
warned her that it might take a while. (“The Dornish will not rise
eagerly for a Lannister, but old and crippled and frail as I am, I’m
still their Prince, and they will
obey”).
Doran would probably counsel caution, and advise her to gather more
allies before declaring war.
“It
will all be for the best,” she thought. All she needs to do is earn
the hand of that Targaryen prince at Storm’s End. Together, they
would be the golden princess and the silver prince (the singer could
make a great song about them). Dorne would rise for them, and so
would the Westland. The Riverland and the Vale may also rise up for
them, and that would be more than enough to root out every last rose
on this side of the narrow sea. All that, if only she could make
Aegon love her.
And
with that she smiled. Surely he must love her. Her hair is spun gold,
her eyes emeralds, and her skins are marble. Her mother always said
that she is the most beautiful child the Gods ever put forth on this
land and she tends to agree. Clad in a dress of red and gold, she
could be the Maiden herself. And though her chest is not as large as
Arianne’s or Margaery’s, hers were firm and fits well with her
figure. Besides, Margaery and Arianne are old, and no longer virgins,
surely a prince would prefer someone younger. She does not lack for
tricks in the bedchamber either - Arianne had taught her every trick
she needs to know during their many nights together.
A
small escort went with Myrcella, but there was clearly no real enemy
presence at the inn. They kept a casual eye on her while they ate and
drank, but no one caused any particular trouble. The closest thing
they saw all night was a serving maid that happened to bump into
Myrcella as she rose.
"Watch
what you're doing, you clumsy idiot! You could have spilled that all
over me!" While the maid kept the jug of wine from spilling on
anything, Myrcella was in no mood to let anything slide. The head of
her guards glanced over at the scene. Lyle Crakehall was called
Strongboar by his comrades, seemingly in equal parts for his might,
the image on his family crest, and his excessive body hair. He saw
that his lady was alright, more relieved than anything that someone
had given their liege an excuse to air out her troubles. He and his
men continued to watch the situation unfold out of interest rather
than concern, although Crakehall had been itching for a fight ever
since he had missed the chance to storm King's Landing. He was half
hoping that a rowdy drunk would try to get handsy with the women so
he could have an excuse.
"My
apologies. I didn't see you standing," she excused. The
dark-haired woman's tone was warm and polite, as charming as it was
humble.
"And
you think that's enough of an excuse?! It will take more than some
honeyed words to bowling me over and nearly ruining this dress!"
In her tightly wound state, Myrcella found it rather therapeutic to
browbeat the woman. In fact...
"Is
this girl troubling you, my lady?" Crakehall had risen from his
seat, looming over the two women.
"Not
for long," Myrcella said with a smirk. She plucked the jug from
the tray and pulled the barmaid by the arm towards the counter. She
slammed the pitcher of wine down beside the rest of the guards and
threw some gold dragons in front of the bartender. "I'll be
taking this one to my room. She looks like she could use a bit of
discipline."
The
barkeep seemed surprisingly non-plussed by her declaration. He slid
the coins into his bowl behind the counter with a patient nod.
Apparently she was so clumsy that her being taken away for a firm
hand wasn't that uncommon! Crakehall furrowed his brow until Myrcella
waved a hand past him. "Watch my door. Make sure that no one
disturbs us."
"Yes,
my lady."
Myrcella
closed the door behind them, leaving her and the barmaid in the room.
The other girl circled the suite calmly now that they were alone.
"So?" she asked as she paced around patiently. "Was
all that bluster an excuse to get me alone?"
"You
think you're tough, do you?" Myrcella quickly strode up to the
uppity serving girl and slapped her across the face. "What's
your name, wench?"
"Doreah,"
she answered. Rather than the cowering expression she expected,
Myrcella saw a flicker of defiance in her eyes. It sparked some
excitement in her as well as the outrage at the bit of backlash. "And
I happen to be the finest and wealthiest courtesan in the land."
"Another
glorified whore," Myrcella scoffed, shoving Doreah to the bed.
While she had expected the barmaid to beg for mercy or at least roll
over, Doreah grabbed her by the neckline of her dress and dragged her
down to the bed with her. Doreah slapped her to return the favor from
a moment ago.
“Back
where I’m from, that’s no small feat,” Doreah replied with a
confident but sharper tone. The sudden defiance in the
barmaid/consort left Myrcella speechless. Of course, that would only
remain the case for so long.
"Then
you should have stayed in wherever you came from! I should have your
hands cut off for laying them on me, you mouthy whore!” Myrcella
threatened.
“Why’s
that? Too afraid of me to deal with them yourself?” Doreah taunted
back in a calm voice. She could read Myrcella easily, picking up on
her pride and her temper. Playing them against her was an easy way to
evade any true punishment when she could just deal with the woman
herself.
Myrcella
pulled on a handful of Doreah's hair until the maid emitted a brief
scream. Doreah replied by grabbing a mass of blonde in both hands and
pulled it down towards her feet. With the women shrieking in each
other's faces, they started to roll across the comfortable bed while
clawing at any sensitive spots they could find.
Both
women were quickly starting to tear and stretch the other woman's
dress, trying to expose more vulnerable flesh for them to exploit and
attack. Myrcella shoved Doreah back just enough to rise to her knees,
just for the target of her petty outburst to clamber into the same
position. Doreah took the initiative this time as she grabbed
Myrcella by her breasts. She squeezed the blonde's chest through the
fabric of her dress while her nails scraped across her nipples.
Myrcella let out a shout of pain, but she didn't hesitate to reply in
kind. She scratched the underside of Doreah's breasts while roughly
scraping her thumbs around her areolas, leaving her nipples taut and
tender before striking at them. Doreah’s breast were larger, and
Myrcella had learnt from her time with Arianne the weakness of such
breasts.
The
women were soon both wracked with pain, writhing and moaning whenever
they weren't spitting insults at each other.
“You
dirty little cunt!” Myrcella cursed, slapping one of Doreah’s
sensitive breasts and setting them to jiggling around in her dress.
The Lyseni courtesan winced but thrust her hand down the front of
Myrcella’s dress, clawing against the naked flesh beneath.
“You
spoiled cow!” Doreah shot back, but the crack in her voice gave
Myrcella a surge of confidence. Doreah hadn’t had the easiest path
in her life, but she had been built and trained for pleasing other.
It helped her to know the most tender spots on a woman, but Myrcella
had been through a much more rough and recent fight than she ever
had. So while Doreah was flinching and recoiling from her attacks to
her tender nipples, Myrcella found at least some good from her
contest with Margaery in that it felt all too familiar.
Myrcella
shoved her opponent suddenly, knocking Doreah onto her back. “At
least I’m not a pompous whore boasting about how many men have
emptied themselves inside me!” She lashed out with her claws once
again, making Doreah hurry to bring her hands up and protect her
chest. She realized too late that Myrcella wasn’t aiming for her
breasts. Instead, her hands vanished beneath the courtesan’s skirts
and started to scratch and pull at her labia. Doreah’s fittingly
feline screech stung Myrcella’s ears, but it was exactly what she’d
wanted to hear at the moment.
“Stop!
You fucking cowardly cunt!” Doreah howled in wild and noisy agony.
“What’s
the matter? I’m the not the first one to go up a courtesan’s
skirts, now am I?” Myrcella taunted as Doreah only just started to
fumble around for her rival’s crotch. “Or were all of those horny
customers of yours just too gentle with you?” Myrcella withdrew a
hand to deliver another slap to Doreah’s face to drive her point
home. She ground her palm into the Lyseni girl’s face, grinding her
own feminine scent into her face. Doreah growled furiously as she
shoved the hand aside and finally got her own hand around Myrcella’s
twat. She cringed from the pain, but her shout was notably more quiet
and controlled than Doreah’s. The whore’s grip was clumsy and
inexperienced, once again used to caressing instead of clawing.
Doreah’s lovely face was twisted with pain and effort as she tried
to catch up, her eyes already watering from the stinging sensation in
her crotch. The advantage still went to Myrcella.
Myrcella
planted her fingernails on either side of Doreah’s clit and began
to squeeze. That proved to be about as much as she could stand as the
fallen courtesan started to shove and slap at Myrcella's face and
chest.
"I
knew you were too soft for me!" Myrcella growled as she shifted
her body away from Doreah to give her less targets to choose from,
but that made her grip loose enough for Doreah to break free. She
gave one hard shove that sent Myrcella staggering back until her
knees hit the bed. She fell flat onto the tangled bedspread while
Doreah charged across the floor to pursue her. She threw herself on
top of Myrcella, sitting on her stomach as she grabbed and tore the
top of the pinned lady's dress.
"You
are looking plenty soft to me!" Doreah boasted right back as she
pinched and pulled on both of Myrcella's nipples. It brought a howl
out of the bottom blonde, but she fought back with several clawing
grabs at Doreah's face. The courtesan released one of Myrcella's tits
to slap the arm away, but the other grabbed onto Doreah's chest as
well. Myrcella shook the Lyseni beauty by the middle of her dress
until she tore it down the middle. The ruining of her dress exposed
her tits while releasing Myrcella's grip on her, but that also left
nothing to hold Doreah up. The courtesan flailed for a moment before
she landed on the floor, laid out flat on her back with a grunt.
Myrcella
swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the fact that her
damaged dress was now falling around her waist. She looked as if she
were going to jump off in pursuit of her opponent, but she remained
sitting on the mattress to hover over Doreah. Myrcella rested her
hips into the mattress as she started to stomp repeatedly on top of
Doreah's chest, flexing her toes to add the occasional scratch or
prick of her toenails to the breast attack. Doreah let out a long
howl which quickly became warped by the vibrating of her chest into a
comically wavering tone.
Myrcella
kept up her merciless stomping until the courtesan grabbed one of her
ankles and rolled away, pulling her attacker off the bed and onto the
floor with her. Myrcella fell awkwardly but quickly got back to her
hands and knees. Unfortunately she was facing away from Doreah and
the Lyseni whore had easy access to reach up her skirt and squeeze
her pussy with a vengeance. Myrcella shrieked as she froze up, the
private pain rippling through her entire body.
Despite
the intimacy of the attack, it quickly brought up Myrcella's memory
of her last encounter with Margaery. It wasn't many who attacked the
crotch of a woman like Myrcella, so the fresh pain echoed that of her
previous fight. At one point it even felt identical to when the
similarly older, confident woman had scratched her nails down the
front of her labia. It made the scratching and pinching resonate that
much deeper inside of her, but it also redoubled her anger and
injured pride to keep on fighting.
Myrcella
braced herself on her elbows and started to kick back at her, her
soles thumbing against Doreah's breasts and belly. The courtesan
couldn't handle the blows for long, recoiling from her crotch claw
while thrusting out her hands defensively. Myrcella's crotch
throbbed, but she had her foe on the run. As Doreah rose to her
knees, so did Myrcella. She pressed herself bodily into the mouthy
maid and pinned her back and hips against the wall. "Well you
certainly fight like a whore," Myrcella sneered confidently,
their breath running over each other's faces as she ground her hips
against the pinned Doreah's. "I wonder if you're just as
incompetent with the rest of your body."
Standing
body to body with the courtesan stirred up more remembered
sensations. She could almost feel the bites and nibbles from her
previous duels, acting like bull whips that drove her to grow even
further invested in this contest. It prodded at the wounds in her
pride until Myrcella forced her body fully onto Doreah, enough that
their breasts spilled over their overly stretched dresses and mashed
bare flesh against bare flesh. She finally sealed her dominance by
pressing her mouth into Doreah's, matching lips and tongue with her
to assault her senses on another level entirely.
At
first, Myrcella was surprised at the resistance she got from Doreah's
rounded chest. She imagined that it was simply from the size of her
breasts, but Doreah braced her arms against the wall and bumped her
chest forward in a rather practiced thrust of her tits. Myrcella's
lips parted from her opponent's just before Doreah bumped her pelvis
into hers, sending her back a half step. The otherwise dominant lady
suddenly realized that having escalated it to a sexual confrontation
seemed to play right into the courtesan's expertise.
"Was
that all?" Doreah purred with a hint of a growl behind her
voice. "Did you really think you'd break me just like that?"
She reclaimed the small bit of lost ground as she advanced on
Myrcella, grabbing the lower half of her dress. She swept it aside,
holding the silks up high so that she could thrust her hips into her
again, this time bumping her crotch right against Myrcella's naked
mound. "I've received better kisses when I was but a girl still
in training."
Doreah
kept her opponent’s dress raised as she thrust into her again. This
time she ground against Myrcella until her groin overpowered hers and
knocked the half-dressed lady back into the bed. Myrcella was still
registering the sudden turn when Doreah leaned her lower body onto
the bed. Flipping up Myrcella's skirt and grabbing her legs, Doreah
shoved her face between them and started attacking the shocked lady's
privates. Myrcella tensed up rather than reacting violently. She
dragged her nails across the bed sheets as the memories of Arianne
having her in the same position, her tongue entering her in almost
the exact same way. The intense sensations seemed to mix together to
the point where Myrcella briefly lost track of where she was.
"Still
think I don't know what I'm doing?" Doreah purred, looking up
the rest of Myrcella's body. She spared her a gloating and flirty
glance before going back to embracing her rival's groin. She felt
rather the opposite of Myrcella, suddenly finding herself quite in
her element with years of practice at her disposal. When Myrcella
took her by the hair, she expected the irate and exposed lady to try
to tear into her again. She didn't expect it when Myrcella forced her
out of her crotch and up to her face, sitting up so that she kissed
her intensely. Doreah hesitated before returning the kiss,
competitively pushing lips and tongues together. Myrcella had snapped
back out of her shock with a rekindled urge to prove herself. She
would not let herself lose again.
Myrcella
leaned further into their embrace, bare skin rubbing together as
their dresses gave up on trying to seperate them and fell around
their waists. Their heavy breathing and gentle grunts filled the air
as Doreah was forced onto her back. Myrcella's breasts and hips
pinned her down, grinding against her and regaining the sexual ground
she'd lost during her moment of shock. Doreah ran her hands up
Myrcella's sides, caressing her way across her skin before taking
hold of her hands. Doreah quickly leaned into the kiss while twisting
her body. Myrcella grabbed at the remains of Doreah's dress as a
handle to push her back, but their struggles just made another great
tear as they both wound up on their knees vying for position.
At
last, Doreah gave up on taking the high ground and shoved Myrcella
back. The women breathed heavily as they sized each other up. Their
dresses hung below their hips, prompting Myrcella to slide the last
of it off and throw her dress aside. She watched Doreah the whole
time, and even when she was finished she stared at her expectantly.
Wordlessly accepting her challenge, Doreah hooked her thumbs on her
ruined dress and slipped right out of it. The two were left wearing
nothing but hair and skin, lightly blemished by the small bruises and
scratches left by their recent clash. The air was tense with sweat
and sexuality, and Myrcella was set on proving herself against this
woman one way or another.
Doreah
approached with a caressing hand brushing across Myrcella's tits. She
resisted the urge to shudder from the little ripple of pleasure and
took Doreah by the hips, forcing her in close once again while she
squeezed the soft curve of her buttocks. Their bodies were excited
from the fight, making their stiff nipples push firmly as they vied
for the better position. Doreah forced her hand in between Myrcella's
arms, forcing her fingers into her pussy and pleased to find it
already warm and moist. Myrcella moaned and felt her legs weaken and
her thighs spread to welcome the courtesan's touch.
“And
how exactly do you find yourself judging me for being a whore?”
Doreah taunted intimately as her expert fingers started to stroke
around inside Myrcella. "At least I know what I am rather than
pretending to be regal."
"Because
I'm better than you," Myrcella growled. Her hands planted
themselves firmly against Doreah's crotch and breast, working her
fingers into both of her erogenous zones. The courtesan’s nipples
were erect as well, suggesting that she was excited by their earlier
struggle. Perhaps she didn't have as many gentle customers as
Myrcella had accused her of. Doreah used that moment of surprise to
yank them to one side, intent on turning Myrcella onto her back but
the lady braced her legs against the sheets. There was some minor
pushing and shuffling, but they seemed to be stuck on their sides as
neither woman wanting to allow the other to gain the slightest
advantage.
Stuck
in that position, both women were left with nowhere to go but inside
each other. Doreah set her fingers to work, parting Myrcella’s
labia and rapidly flexing her middle finger inside of her.
Stuck
in that position, both women were left with nowhere to go but inside
each other. Doreah set her fingers to work, parting Myrcella’s
labia and rapidly pumping two fingers into her. Myrcella was up to
speed by then and she wasn't about to let herself be taken advantage
of. Myrcella thrust her fingers into her rival's slit while bringing
herself lip to lip with her. Her offensive kiss was met with moans
and gasps, but the courtesan accepted the oral challenge and engaged
her with her tongue as well as her hand.
The
duel seemed evenly matched at first, but Myrcella could feel herself
losing ground. She had been riding the momentum of taking the
initiative, and that was only putting her on even footing with
Doreah. The expert whore was starting to push back, and Myrcella felt
her hips rolling and pussy growing more moist as things continued.
Myrcella's eyes and loins fluttered, ensuring her that she had to
change tactics.
Myrcella
caught Doreah by the hair and pushed her away, forcing the courtesan
to tumble onto her stomach. It wasn't especially painful, but it had
Myrcella served well enough as a surprise maneuver. She braced
herself behind Doreah on her knees and wrapped her arm around the
Lysian's waist, fingering her from behind with all she was worth.
Doreah gasped and arched her back at the firm and abrupt invasion of
her womanhood. She kicked and squirmed to try to upset her grip, but
when that failed her she grabbed hold of Myrcella’s foot. She
pulled the lady’s leg out from under her dropping her onto her back
as she fumbled and failed to stay standing. The loose sheets made for
an easy pull to drag her underneath her. Myrcella suddenly saw
Doreah’s groomed privates hovering over her face. She only briefly
witnessed the intimate sight before Doreah plunged her lips and
tongue into her vulnerable folds.
Myrcella
tensed and hissed through her teeth before she returned the favor.
Both women had their mouths too busy to continue with their verbal
battle, licking and sucking at their rival's opening. The closest
they could manage were aggressive moans and nibbles at their foe's
lower lips. Doreah hooked a finger at the edge of Myrcella's pussy,
forcing it farther open and leaving an easy path for her talented
tongue to find her weak spot. Myrcella didn't have quite the level of
experience that Doreah did, but she had already warmed her up with
fingering earlier. She made up for it with passion, grunting and
moaning as she lapped the wetness from Doreah's slit.
Mrycella
knew she couldn't last for long like that. She grabbed Doreah's ass
and plunged her tongue as deep inside her pussy as she could. Her
clitoris swelled and her lips drooled with anticipation, spurring her
to eat her out more desperately. She felt the dreaded orgasm
building, already hating herself for another loss when Doreah's hips
began to buck and shudder. Both women let out a cry, vibrating each
other's pussies as they seemed to release their orgasms at precisely
the same moment. They both shook against each other, breasts slapping
against their rival's belly until they collapsed onto the bed, laying
side by side and breathing heavily. Myrcella rubbed her snatch. Her
whole body tingled, but she was still heavily aroused. With all the
buildup already in place, it wouldn't take much to push her over the
edge again. She only hoped that Doreah was in the same sexual
position.
The
Lyseni was already on the offensive, once again ending up on top of
Myrcella. She was clearly not in the mood to leave the fight as a
draw either. She firmly attached her hands to Myrcella's breast and
groin, firmly massaging them both. It was rapidly urging Myrcella
back into the mood, moaning weakly at the talented foreplay.
She
felt her confidence waver, uncertain if she could match the intense
fondling and the corresponding tingling beneath her skin. with a
flash of instinct, she grabbed Doreah by her impressive chest and
pinched her erect nipples firmly, digging her fingernails into their
base and areolas. Doreah had the sexual edge, but her pain tolerance
still wasn't on the level of Myrcella's. It froze her on the spot
while Myrcellla pulled on them as if she expected to see milk. The
courtesan recoiled with a startled cry, but Doreah tapped into her
fighting reflexed once again. She hooked a leg around Doreah's to
trip her onto her back, but didn't dive after her like the courtesan
had earlier. She simply grabbed Doreah's ankles and parted her legs,
sending her foot against the Lyseni's slit and flexing her toes
inside of her.
It
wasn't an unheard of technique in Doreah's experience, with men and
women having their own particular interests in the bedroom. It was
still surprising to see from the quick-thinking lady, and after her
recent orgasm she was far more sensitive to the probing toes than she
would have preferred. Of course at this point Myrcella didn't care
about her history or training, only that it was proving effective.
She kept up her assaulting footjob as Doreah wrapped her legs around
the intruding limb, setting her own feet to work.
Doreah
once again started after Myrcella's chest and groin, toes teasing and
probing in what echoed to Myrcella of their last match up. She had
the benefit of taking initiative, but the courtesan's experience was
letting her catch up to her. "I'll make you see what a real
woman can do to a whore," Myrcella hissed in between her hungry
moans.
"Surely
you mean that she yields to her in the bedroom." Doreah's thighs
flexed as she switched her feet, placing her left instead of her
right inside of Myrcella's slit. The other foot rose to shove her wet
big toe into Myrcella's mouth, forcing her to taste her own richly
flavored cum. "I think I like you better with your mouth full,
you weak little cunt," Doreah hissed, but her own breathing was
tight and tense. Both women moaned at their toes found a steady
pumping against their g-spots, legs shuddering to add an extra
vibration to their movements. Myrcella pushed with all the strength
in her ankles and thighs, but she cursed as once again the whore
shook and shared her orgasm. The short squirt of Doreah's cum ran
down her feet while her own trickled along her inner thigh. In one
last act of spite, Myrcella raised her own foot and wiped a taste of
Doreah’s cum across the Lyseni’s lips.
"You
can't beat me, you dirty street whore," Myrcella huffed, pulling
herself away from the damp feet of her opponent.
"Big
talk from the woman who tries to feel powerful by beating up
barmaids." Doreah rose to her knees, even if she seemed just as
unsteady as Myrcella when she did the same. "Why don't you face
me head on, you cowardly slut?" Doreah placed her fingers on her
womanhood, lightly pulling on her folds to expose her clitoris in a
sensual taunt. It certainly worked as Myrcella rubbed her groin one
last time, steadying herself before she moved in and pressed her
breasts against Doreah's. Their hard nipples prodded at their bosoms
like dulled little spears before their hips collided in a similar (if
wetter) fashion. Their pubic hair mingled as their lower lips met.
Myrcella would have appreciated the look of surprise and uncontained
lust on Doreah's face if she wasn't certain that she was showing her
one of her own.
Their
hands went to each other's hips, groping and steadying themselves in
one go. As their pussies rubbed together, they subtly changed their
movements to better sync with their opponent. Doreah kept a steady up
and down stroking to her womanhood, stroking Myrcella's clit and
pussy like a paintbrush while. Myrcella had more of a pumping thrust
to her movements, bluntly trying to bully her way into Doreah's folds
to practically strike her clit into the whore's.
"This
time you lose," Myrcella grunted as she tried to restrain her
pleading loins.
"You've
impressed me enough by keeping up with me for this long," Doreah
admitted with a low purr. "But you've landed your last blow."
She stroked her hands up Myrcella's sides, but moved her hands to her
own chest instead of her foe's. Doreah's squeezed and bounced her big
breasts, jiggling them against Myrcella's and teasing her nipples
with her own stiff tips. Myrcella shuddered from the tempting tease,
having to focus on her groin just to keep from cumming. She dug her
nails into the soft flesh of Doreah's ass, using her grip to pull
herself in for deeper and longer strokes to her tribadism. It exposed
Myrcella to more pleasure and was exhausting to maintain, but the
intensity of her attack seemed to finally reach Doreah on the same
level as herself.
"Fuck...
cum already, you weak little shit," Myrcella hissed before
moving her mouth in for a kiss. Doreah had planned the same maneuver,
their loveless lust making their tongues clash and push against each
other. Every part of them available attacked their partner's, and
just as Myrcella felt her loins shudder in one last effort to stay
strong, she felt the familiar bucking of Doreah's hips and her high
moans. "Not again!" she thought. At this point she almost
felt like a loss would be better than the continued lack of
conclusion to their duel. They held tightly onto each other for
balance as they shared another orgasm, soaking the other's pubic hair
in their fragrant sexual juices.
The
two fell away from each other, breathing heavily as they leaned on
the bed to recuperate. "Still impressed?" Myrcella panted,
but she broke into a groan as her pussy throbbed once again. It was
still leaking from her last orgasm, and her muscles ached from the
effort involved in her latest assault.
"A
little," Doreah conceded. "Perhaps there's some whore to
you after all," she added with a smirk. Myrcella grunted,
failing to appreciate the joke. Doreah ignored her displeasure and
went to one of the dressers in the room. She reached into one of the
drawers and pulled out a metallic device that took a moment for
Myrcella to recognize. The twin metal spheres hunt from either end of
the fleur de Lys’ chain; the business ends of the simple but
effective sex toy.
Myrcella
was sweating and breathing heavily. Defying everything that her body
told her, she slid backward to allow Doreah the space to climb onto
the bed with her latest weapon.
“What
do you say?” Doreah offered with all the confidence she could
muster as a woman who had just cum three times in less than a half
hour. “We can settle this, or you can go back to your men with your
tail between your legs.”
Myrcella
ignored all of the warnings that her body gave her about her arousal
and exhaustion. She knelt on the bed, leaving her legs spread wide
and plenty of space for Doreah to join her. "It won't be my tail
that I put between your legs," Myrcella said defiantly as she
positioned herself for their challenge. She knew at this point that
it was as much for herself more than it was specifically against
Doreah. Every day the loss to Margaery still weighed heavy on her
mind, and she clung desperately to the idea that winning this would
even the scales.
The
Fleur De Lys was set between them before they both mounted and rested
their mounds on their weapon and shared source of pleasure. They took
a moment to place their fingers against their womanhoods, inserting
the toy as deeply and firmly as they could. Myrcella could feel a
subtle clicking as it shook gently, enough to make her take a sharp
inhale while Doreah shuddered. Even with their bodies on edge, they
were both dead set on finishing this. Myrcella noted that the ball
inside of her was rather small. It would be that much more exhausting
and delicate a process, since she had to clench her vaginal muscles
around it to keep it inside. And that wasn’t even considering when
they would start to pull and stimulate the chain to trigger the
vibrations.
The
sexual duelists didn't bother with any more words. They leaned into a
kiss, and as soon as their tongues met the the chain went into
motion. Even just the first series of clicking vibrations went
surging up Myrcella's spine, making her lean harder into the kiss and
moan loudly into Doreah's mouth. There was a similar sense of
weakness to Doreah as the courtesan pressed against her. As her hips
rolled, her hard nipples stroked around Myrcella's areola. It was one
more intense source of arousal that Myrcella found herself having to
ignore. She kissed Doreah rapidly and stroked chest, trying to hurry
her into an orgasm or at least releasing her end of the fleur as some
means of victory. Unfortunately, the courtesan had picked up some of
her techniques and pinched Myrcella's nipples for another intense
shock that left her moaning.
"You
already impressed me," Doreah said, her voice quivering. The
fact that she was speaking told Myrcella that she was more in control
than she was. "But you're not going to win. I can see it in your
eyes."
Myrcella's
lustful eyes turned to a glare as she pumped her hips back and forth,
creating more rapid grinding. The clinking of the mechanisms echoed
through her, but at least she had some semblance of control over
them. Doreah was too busy clenching to keep it inside her and control
her sexual convulsions to attack too fiercely, at least for the
moment.
Doreah
recovered quickly, humping Myrcella's crotch with her own. She wasn't
bothering with trying to pull Myrcella's end of the fleur out of her.
She was just hammering it into her more firmly to stimulate her that
much harder. Myrcella was struggling to keep up with her, and with
both of them as aroused and exhausted as they were she couldn't
afford to stay behind. She had been taking the initiative or
surprising her during their previous orgasms, but she'd run out of
tricks.
If
surprise and strategy couldn't save her, then brute force would have
to do. Myrcella took the rival harlot by the hair, pulling it hard
and forcing her into a kiss. Her weary arms held Doreah tightly,
keeping her breasts firmly pressed into hers. Doreah was shocked by
the burst of energy from her weary opponent. Myrcella's body ached in
protest, but she pressed on with everything she had (and perhaps a
bit more than that). She sweated and grunted all the while, her hands
busy at Doreah's chest, neck and hips. Myrcella's mouth stuck to
Doreah's. When the courtesan removed herself from their embrace to
moan, Myrcella stuck like a lioness and started to suck on her
throat. Even her mouth felt tired, but she knew she had to press on.
If she faltered and acknowledged that she was in as bad a spot as she
was, her body would simply give out and cum.
Doreah's
moans finally began to escalate. Her breathing came as high outbursts
of noise as if even that was leaving her control. Myrcella was
dripping wet and barely holding onto her end of the fleur de Lys, but
Doreah was completely giving in to her lust. Myrcella had just
uttered a curse as she felt her orgasm rearing its euphoric head,
trying to repress it just as Doreah shivered and humped wildly. The
courtesan's mouth hung open as Myrcella finally earned her victory,
letting her slump against her victor.
It
was thrilling, but short-lived. With Myrcella clearly the winner and
the other end of the fleur popping out of Doreah's slit, the last of
her energy left her. Myrcella barely felt herself orgasm in one
sharp, short burst of pleasure before she simply blacked out.
Even
if she was unconscious from exhaustion, it was probably some of the
soundest sleep she'd had in days. She came to a few hours later,
finding Doreah laying in the bed with her. She was awake, but she
looked similarly exhausted. She had cum first, but Myrcella had
completely drained herself to make her do so.
“Well
that was fun, eh?” Doreah asked with a raise of her eyebrows.
Myrcella laughed wearily and shook her head.
“It
wasn’t what I was expecting when I started all of this… but yes.
It’s hard not to enjoy some company that can get that sort of
reaction out of a guest.” Myrcella propped herself up on her elbow
to face her former rival properly. “You said you were from Lys. How
in the world did you end up here?”
“Oh,
that,” Doreah mused. “I was actually going to leave and head back
to my homeland and pick up my life there. The ship I was on hit a
storm, and one thing lead to another and here I am. I started to work
at the inn, expecting a hard life in a brutish land like Westeros.
However, I found myself in such demand that I could be choosey with
my clients. Only the especially wealthy or handsome laid their hands
on me before too long.”
The
courtesan lounged back in the bed she’d spent so many nights in
that it felt like her own. “So where are you headed with all these
men in such a hurry? Don’t tell me there is another girl,” she
joked.
“Something
like that,” Myrcella admitted. She started to stretch out and get
used to her bedding a bit more. “Though not in the way you mean it.
That sort of girl would be Arianne. She was nothing but good to me in
times when I really needed it. I'm not sure I'd be here without her
being there to hold me together. And of course, she was the kind of
woman I never minded having a little bit of practice on when we were
in the mood."
"Well
she certainly sounds like fun. Even I could see traveling that far to
sample a lover like that." Doreah smiled curiously, which
stirred up some jealousy in Myrcella. Of course, that woke up the
real outrage she was bottling up.
"She's
not why I'm going there. The slut who carries the name of my family’s
killers is heading for Storm’s End. Her and everyone remotely noble
is going to be trying to court Aegon Targaryen, whose head was
supposedly smashed to bits when he was an infant. Not that it matters
though. The man came back from the dead with an army big enough to
tip the scales too far for anyone to set them right again. From what
I hear, his head doesn’t look smashed at all. I’ll be damned if
I’ll see Margaery end up with that sort of power in her hands.”
The
name Targaryen had sparked Doreah’s interest. She was still
pondering it when Myrcella continued to vent her outrage. “Not her.
Never again. Not the cunt that had my family murdered. Who stole my
rightful crown out from under me. The filthy tart who humiliated me
and gods know how many others just out of greed and stupidity. I’ll
see that she’s punished. She can’t get away with that forever.
Once I’ve won over Aegon, I can personally beat the shit out of
her. I’ll tear the hair from her head and whip the skin from her
tits. I’ll fuck her with a spear before she’s just a slut
drowning in blood and pain and whatever else I decide to release onto
her. Then when she’s too powerless to do any more harm, I’ll do
the world the favor of removing her from it.”
Doreah
pursed her lips thoughtfully at the grim description, then nodded.
“So you’re heading to Storm’s End?” she asked rather
conversationally. She could related to some extent. She had
been robbed of more than a few precious things over the years, and
there were more than a few faces she’d like to either forget or
snuff out. “I really do have some business to tend to out there.
Would you mind if I came along?” Myrcella gave her a quizzical look
and the courtesan smirked. “If you’re planning to fight your old
enemy like you did me, it still looks like I could show you a trick
or two to keep her on her toes.”
“Or
off of them,” Myrcella added. She didn’t entirely trust the
foreign whore, but she was in fact just that: a lowborn temptress who
didn’t pose much of a threat in a political sense. “I can’t
promise you much, but if you’ll teach me then I could use some
company.” She felt the best she had in weeks around the courtesan,
so it sounded like she’d help pass the time rather than simply
brooding the entire way. “Just be warned: you make no moves against
me, and you make no moves for Aegon. Otherwise, you’re not better
than the rest of them to me and I won’t hesitate to take advantage
of just how close you are to me.”
Doreah
nodded calmly. “What you do is your business. I’m simply going to
see if someone I know is going to be there. Frankly, if she IS there,
you’ll be glad you had me along with you.”
“And
who is this that I’m supposed to be so afraid of?” Myrcella
prided.
“An
old and very personal enemy. I’ll let you know when I see her.”
Doreah didn’t mention that based on the news she’d heard, she
could only imagine that Daenerys Targaryen would be sure to be
heading to Storm’s End too. It was the closest she’d had for a
lead to a rematch. They spent the rest of the night enjoying each
other’s company in the suite.
Fed
and rested, Myrcella rose the next day. She went out for some air
before heading out when a ragged little girl came running for her.
“Have you heard the news, miss?” she rambled quickly. “Ships’ve
gone sailing for Storm’s End. They say they’ll be there in a week
or two, based on the weather.” Myrcella had to see through the
strangeness of the girl’s approach, so she listened closely. She
was clearly acting as some discreet messenger, by the way she kept
biting her lip to think and remember this news. “And they say Lady
Margaery will be arriving with them herself.”
Myrcella
grit her teeth as she realized the importance. An army of her size
would not be able to move that quickly. She went back inside and
found some of her best men waiting. “Daven!” she ordered,
pointing to the knight. “Gather up all the men and find a defensive
position. You’re to stay behind and fend off any Tyrells that would
follow me.”
“Follow
you?” he inquired as the other men rose in confusion.
“I’m
going ahead. Margaery is already on the move. I’ll be taking a few
handmaidens and twenty men. Crakehall, go and gather your finest.”
Crakehall
nodded and departed quickly. Ser Lyle shook his head at this change
of plans. “Just watch. I’ll end up missing all the action,” he
grumbled as he moved to rally the men. While handled that, Myrcella,
Doreah, Crakehall and their handful of troops rode out towards the
inevitable battle ahead.
