A Cock-Felt Welcome

"My son has returned!", the king's deep and loud voice bellowed through the great hall.

Robert Baratheon was nothing, if not jubilant when in the presence of the handful of people that he really valued. The man was an eager reveler, his engagement on festivities ranging from "heart of the party" to "dick of the party". No matter where he was on that spectrum, there was always a smile on his lips and a hearty fire in his eyes. But never did that fire burn brighter than when he was reunited with his family, his true family. Lyonel had witnessed it with Ned, Robert's brother in all but blood, and he was now witnessing it as his son himself.

"Call for the bards! A gold dragon for whoever writes me the best song about the prince foolish enough to wander into a snowstorm, as well as brave enough to return", a boundless smile on the teasing fathers face. His eyes measured Lyonel approvingly, before moving towards his company a few feet behind him.

"And with company no less", his tone of voice left no doubts, about what part of Lyonel's company the king approved of in particular. At the mention of the snowstorm, Lyonel threw the smaller half of his travel company a look of his own. Tyrion shrugged his shoulders in reply. Communication with the capital had been left to his uncle and in retrospect, Lyonel might have better looked over some of the letters that he had sent and the stories they might have contained.

"So Lyonel, we have a meeting of the Small Council today I-"

The queen interrupted her husband subtly by coughing under her breath pressingly. She apparently didn't want to make a scene, but still remind Robert of a fight the two must have had. A fight that the king wasn't keen to repeat, as he rolled his eyes and gave in to his wifes urging.

"-I wish for you to pass on. Unpack your luggage, get your bearings and from the next session on, I expect you to join us again." Robert motioned for the old Grand Maester, "Pycelle, make sure Lyonel gets the protocols of the meetings he has missed." His face darkened a shade, when he continued. "He needs to be up to date on the recent ... developments..."

"Of course, my king, at once", the Grand Maester took a bow as deep as his rusty old bones allowed, laboured his old eyes at the queen with one last half-lidded look and departed. A quiet departure, fit for an old and meek man.

Pycelle leaving without a show of recognition, Petyr's mask-like smile and Varys' expression like molten syrup...The prospect of the Small Council sent a shiver through Lyonel. Sure, Renly was on his side, that much was certain, but both Stannis and Eddard would probably turn on him, once Cersei's tastes were unveiled. At closer inspection, the reactions overall in the hall were a bit more mixed than Lyonel had made out at first glance. While some courtiers were genuinely cheering for the princes return, others were eyeing him with caution or regarding the wildling woman with properly veiled disdain. Aside from the present councilors, the notable courtiers included Jalabhar Xho. The Summer Islander who stood next to a dark-skinned woman whose feathered dress highlighted her oversized bosom. The two foreign nobles looked courteously forward towards Lyonel for a polite duration, but when the king signaled the audience to be nearing its end, whispered conspiratorially and left the hall before everyone else. Contrary to that, a stoic Ilyn Payne stood out in the masses with his more than six feet height and dutifully awaited the meetings end. He was accompanied by his younger cousins, Podrick and the knight that taught him. The Payne trio made for an amusing looking group, ordered from small and friendly, over medium and composed, to tall and grumpy.

"You are dismissed," Robert looked at Lyonel, but addressed the court around them.

Their cue given, the courtiers started bowing and leaving the hall the moment the king stood up from his spiky throne. Robert marched down from his throne with vigor and offered his hand to his son, raising him from his kneeling position. He pulled him up and directly into a bear hug.

"Welcome back son. We'll talk at length at dinner, I'll get us a casket of the Dornish", the older man's warm voice enveloped Lyonel.

"I'm looking forward to it", the prince answered when the hug ended.

"Now let's get this over with before I wise up", Robert turned towards the present councilmen, "Pycelle can join us later. We won't miss out on much anyway."

With that last part mubled under his breath, he left behind the throne into the chambers of the Small Council and the men in question followed him dutifully. After the guards had ushered the courtiers out and the king had left with his advisors, all that remained were the Lannister family and their closest staff. In all decorum and lion-esque pride, they waited for the room to be fully emptied before bursting with emotions. Well, at least one bursted with emotion.

"Lyonel!!!!", Tommen bumbled from the sidelines and ran to Lyonel and swung his dainty body around him. "You've been gone sooo loooooong", the boyish prince whined, "we've missed you so much."

Tommen looked up at the much taller Lyonel with big eyes, one or two tears of happiness collecting at their edges.

"Not thaaaat much", Myrcella added dismissively from the side, having calming joined them at a more normal pace. "I think our big brother on the other hand must have missed us so much, that he even started mingling with the common folk." The little lioness glanced at the outsider in the room, aiming her characteristic charm at Ygritte. Her disinterest in Lyonel was almost certainly feigned, but her hostility towards the redheaded woman from the north was completely genuine. Ygritte, who had headed Lyonel's warning and had stayed quiet during the formal part of their arrival was about to bite back.

"Listen y-"

"Myrcella, where are your manners?", Cersei's voice command respect and everyone around her felt it. Myrcella's brattiness was disarmed, Ygritte's mouth shut in an instant and even Tommen broke off his whining. Lyonel felt himself stirring at his mother's roar. His blood pumped into his third leg, and he felt his cock expand in his pants.

"Not a day has passed without you asking me if we got any news from your brother and if I knew when he'd come back. Have I raised a little liar?", she scolded her daughter.

"N-no mother, you did not", Myrcella turned bright red in her embarrassment.

"Then hug your brother and tell him how you really feel about his return."

"Y-yes mother", almost timidly the proud little princess moved forward and leaned in to hug her brother. "I missed you and I'm really glad that you're-", during her hug Myrcella inadvertently pressed herself into Lyonel's pulsing boner, "huge!", she burst into Lyonel's chest.

"What?", Tommen asked from the side in disbelief. Lyonel enjoyed his sister's perky body pressing against his meat stick and didn't even stop that after her verbal blunder. Like a bunny that eyes a giant snake, Myrcella was paralyzed in the felt presence of Lyonel's equipment. Something only a return to her most bratty persona could overcome.

"You had your moment with our big brother! Don't interrupt mine!", Myrcella stomped on the ground, something that Lyonel noticed set her growing mounts shaking. "I said that I missed him and that I am really glad that he's hugging us." The princess broke the hug and raised her nose at her small brother. Their mother moved in and took the open spot directly in front of Lyonel, granting him a great view into the valley of her maternal milkers.

"Your sister is right, you know", Lyonel smirked at the actual truth that his mother just confirmed, "I'm glad you have some time for a proper greeting before making your rounds in the castle."

Cersei moved in for the hug and without having any say at all, Lyonel found his head firmly pressed into her breasts, barely kept separate through a thin layer of smooth red fabric. His head nestled forward, Lyonel didn't stand right for his almost-bursting pants to connect as well, but he'd rather cut his own hand off than complain about a position, that most other men would kill to be in. The warmth of her breasts, the raising heartbeat pumped through them, the- the raising heartbeat? Was Cersei also getting tu-

The queen broke the hug and picked up where Myrcella had left off before being reigned in.

"You sister is right though", her tone turned colder again, "and who is... this?", she looked down on Ygritte with an ease and self-evident superiority, that left no room for any indignation in the wildling woman.

"This, mother, is a wildling spearwoman I stumbled on up North. Her name is Ygritte and ironically, I actually brought her here for Myrcella."

"For me?!", the catty princess scanned Ygritte and although it was a mere imitation of her mother's arrogance, it was still beyond any normal person's indignation.

"You see little sister", Lyonel put one hand on his sister's shoulder, sending an unnoticeable shiver through her, and beckoned Ygritte over with the other. "Your ladies-in-waiting are many things, but if push comes to shove, I doubt that any of them would be any form of defense for you. And I want you to be protected at all times, what big brother wouldn't want that for his precious sister?", Lyonel's charming smile already had Tommen nodding in the background. "So, considering the fact that your normal attendants are no fighters and that we wouldn't want any of the male guards intruding on your privacy, which would be more than unseemly, I thought I'd bring you the best of both worlds."

"A fighting woman?", the question mark was silent.

"Both a maid and a champion, it is a bit early for your name day, but I think an addition to your personal staff is a great present, isn't it? One might think it calls for another hug, huh?", Lyonel opens his arms wide.

"D-Don't get too full of yourself, you buffoon!", the princess blushed. "I don't even know if she's any good yet," she collected herself again and picked up Ygritte's hand without asking. "I'll see you at dinner."

The princess pulled the wildling along, not leaving any room for consent or refusal, the wildling following along dumbfounded. This was authority, real authority, akin to a natural **** that Ygritte never built up any true resistance to, only negating it in principle, never experiencing it before meeting Lyonel or his family.

"Well, I assume your sister just dismissed us", Cersei said amusedly to her sons. "Your brother and I should go as well, we have appointments with tailors for the great tourney."

Her hand stroked along Lyonel's cheek affectionately, before departing full of emotion. "We really missed you my son, it is wonderful to have you with us again."

The novelty of Lyonels return ebbed away as fast as it had risen and before he knew it, Lyonel walked out through the Red Keeps halls alone. Or at least he thought so, until his vision faded to black.

"Guess who," his assailant said from the back in a menacing voice. As menacing as her high-pitched voice could sound, that is.

"Hmmmm, who could that be? The hands on my eyes are a bit softer than most assassins I know," he ruminated.

A soft giggle was the reply he received, "Haha, good point."

"And those squishy mounds you press into my back are another pretty telling clue", Lyonel turned around with a rush and captured the tip-toeing Bell in his arms. A head taller than her, he looked down into her eyes. The same doe-eyes he left when he set off to the North. Familiar eyes, with an unfamiliar twinkle.

"So, do you really recognize me?" she batted her lashes "I would have thought all that time apart would have faded the memory. Especially with that Stark lady's shiny teeth."

She smiled it away like a joking taunt, yet there laid actual hurt in her voice.

"Oh you", the prince dove in for a soothing kiss. The two reconnected lovers met, and they dove into a kiss of passion. Bell's barest hint of restraint broke away the instant their lips met, and she hungrily opened hers to let Lyonel's tongue enter her mouth, welcoming it with her own.

"Mmh, Lyonel", it escaped the excited servant girl's lips, "I've missed you so much my prince, so endlessly, boundlessly, immeasurably much!"

With their mouths still connected, Bell grabbed her man's collar and dragged him a few meters down the corridor. And after pushing the door open with her butt, the two lovebirds had entered an unassuming little chamber.

In one swift motion, Bell detached herself from Lyonel and shrugged off her garbs, revealing the fact that the naughty girl wore nothing underneath. She was a vision of erotic perfection; long, shiny black hair streaming to her waist, mischievous blue eyes wiggling at him suggestively, tits bigger than a girl her age should have swinging boldly, and, if you look very carefully, many droplets already covering her thighs and nethers. As if remembering her actual shyness, the young servant girl looked down sheepishly.

"I c-couldn't keep a hold of myself when word came of your return. I have been, c-caressing myself the whole morning," she looked up at him again, "I promised we would continue where we left off before your departure my p-Lyonel."

"Continue where we left off, huh?", Lyonel looked around the medieval equivalent of a broom closet and found a stool. He put it infront of the door, taking place on it and laying his back against the door to secure them some privacy. "Now, where did we leave off Bell?"

With a saucy smile, the young minx kneeled down and crawled over to him. Her hands undid his breeches with the nimble fingers of a servant that helps nobles dress and undress for a living. Who would have thought? Although that agility left her hands when the meaty scepter of the king-to-be sprung from its clothing prison.

"Mmmmhh~", Bells hands started trembling and her mouth opened in amazement and disbelief. She had held on to this vision ever since she has last seen this otherworldly cock, but even her most vivid memories did not do it justice at all. The room around them was dimly lit, the only source of actual light being the small hole in upper part of the backwall. But Belle felt herself like she was kneeling in the shadow of the literal Tower of Joy. She was only shaken out of her admiration by a drop of liquid hitting her breast, a glop of drool that had escaped her still open mouth.

"M-may I... suck you?" she asked cautiously, still torn between the timidness she had known all her life around the highborn and the new persona of a seductress that she had talked herself up to in the last few weeks when dreaming of this moment.

"You may, my love, you may," Lyonel encouraged her with his eyes along with verbally.

Encouragement that didn't go to waste, as Bell's heart now melted as much as her pussy already did. With the commitment that only true love can trigger, the merchant's daughter placed her mouth at Lyonel's peak, pressed a kiss on it and didn't stop pressing. Slowly the cockhead entered her tightly pressed-together lips, they perfectly enveloped Lyonel's cockhead bit by bit. Excruciatingly slowly Bell edged her head forward, until the bulbous head of the royal meat scepter was fully inside her warm little mouth.

Then she took a breather, quite literally though. As if to steel herself, she eased her tight lip seal around his girthy shaft and breathed in and out around it twice. His shaft twitched in appreciation of the warm gush of air that played around it and thus motivated its current caregiver to resume her mission. Bell continued moving forward, slow and steady, engulfing him more and more. His immense length and her lack of experience made elongated this progress. Lyonel wasn't averse to a bit of teasing, but the speed at which Bell swallowed his sword was almos-

GGGKWAG

Bells left eye opened fully and her right one started twitching wildly, as she shoved the intruding flesh spear steadily forth into her gullet, completely ignoring her body signaling its ****. True love conquers all, including even the strongest gag-reflex, it seemed. With full conviction Belle continued inserting Lyonel's third leg, despite her eyes getting teary and her throat convulsing violently. He felt like Bell's throat was massaging an increasing part of his cock in warm and squelching vibrations. The physical pleasure was working in tandem with the psychological pleasure of her fighting her own body to appease him. Lyonel threw his head back to bask in this moment of bliss.

"Ahhhhhh", Lyonel let out and triggered a bigger reaction in Bell than her own bodies feedback did.

Bell stopped her movement abruptly and seemingly without conscious thought about it, Bell's eyes rolled back inside her skull. After both had reached their resting position glazed over and at the verge of looking inside herself, her whole body started shaking. At seeing how much her effort pleased her prince, the servant girl started cumming and likewise, her peak depravity of cumming from stuffing her throat with his fat cock, triggered Lyonel's own orgasm, blasting his royal manjuice straight into her.

In a moment of twisted romance, the couple shared a joined climax, and their bodies welcomed each other back, better than any words ever could.

"Increase your pace at once!", the energetic young princess rushed through the castle's busy corridors, her new servant in tow.

Left, right, left through a courtyard, right, left, another courtyard.... Or that same courtyard from the other side? The northerner was a seasoned scout, even at her young age, and yet the castles layout was more confusing than any forest she had ever treaded through. And it showed.

Myrcella led Ygritte through the castle like a master-at-arms would with a conscript. And unbeknownst to the redhead, she was doing it on purpose. The way from the main hall to the princess chambers could have been walked in a few minutes, but the Queen's daughter knows exactly how overwhelming the castles layout is to anyone who hasn't either lived in it for a decade or built it themselves. With a sadistic glee, she played with her brother's souvenir like it was her own new toy. And while the two traversed through the Red Keep, all of Myrcella's old toys bowed their heads and ducked away. Some of them snickering behind coquettish hands, relieved to be out of the young lioness paws. For now, at least.

"I told you to hurry, we are almost there," the blonde royal arrived at her chamber's corridor, the redhead hustling after her.

What greeted her in front of her door was Ser Mandon Moore. At least Myrcella thought so, all those old men in white cloaks looked the same to her. The stony-faced knight welcomed her with a nod and a mumbled acknowledgement. Yes, that was Moore alright. His reserved, cold temperament had its benefits though.

"You there, Sir, please gather my ladies in waiting and escort them into town. I will need multiple gowns, tell them to pick colours that compliment red hair and cuts for", Myrcella looked over the wildling that accompanied her, "a broader build. They should assemble a variable selection for me to pick from, so please accompany them to at least three merchants. They shall not disappoint me."

The princess ended her order with a dismissive hand gesture and if the knight was seriously insulted by the command, he did in no way show it. Once he had departed, the two women entered the princess' chambers, the lioness closed the door behind her prey.

"So, Ygritte, before you enter my service, we will have to dress you up for the occasion. This "costume" of yours will not suffice for courtly service. Go ahead and undress, let us see what we will be working with, once the others join us."