The Princess' Gambit

Myrcella was angry. Well that would be a bit of an understatement. Infuriated more like it. It was an inferno in her belly, clouding her vision. Her fists were closed so tight that she wouldn't be surprised if she drew blood. Myrcella had felt this boiling, blinding anger a couple of times before, such as seeing when Tommen get bullied. The lion's rage, she had dubbed it, for she had seen her mother fly into such rages frequently when her parents were bickering.

Myrcella, having seen how damaging the rage was, has always tried to control it. But not this time. Hearing that Lyonel had been betrothed to Sansa Stark made her furious as she had never been before. Seeing the simple red headed fool simpering all over Lyonel was almost too hard to watch.

Myrcella put on a convincing act during the feast, knowing that she had to play the part of the perfect princess. Fortunately ale flowed well in Lord Stark's hall, and soon the guests started getting drunk and rowdy, giving her the perfect excuse to leave the hall and enact the plan her enraged mind had come up with.

But first, she needed Tommen. Looking around, Myrcella spotted her little brother dancing with their mother. Tommen has always been awkward around women (other than her) but now he seemed even more so, not meeting their mother's eyes and mumbling out replies to the conversation Cersei was trying to have. Myrcella couldn't blame him. She herself was very awkward around her mother after last night, when the memory of her naked mother and brother burned into her mind, and specially what her mother did after witnessing Lyonel in all his naked glory.

Myrcella noticed that as they danced, Tommen occasionally gave a timid glance or two at their mother's chest, probably thinking about seeing her naked last night. Myrcella knew that she should feel disgust as Tommen's actions, but she couldn't. Tommen was her beloved younger brother, and some of the thoughts she herself had since last night was.... No. Better not to think about it, Myrcella thought to herself as she remembered what she did in the closet last night after seeing her naked mother and brother, her cheeks reddening at the memory.

Fortunately, before her mind could delve too much into the memory, the dance ended. Their mother, clearly tired of trying to make unsuccessful small talk with her brother, spoke some words to him with a polite yet weary smile, kissed Tommen on the forehead (making him blush furiously) and sauntered over towards a group of important Northern ladies.

Myrcella quickly ran on to Tommen's side, grabbed his fist and tugged. "Come with me," she said urgently.

"Why?" Tommen asked, rightfully suspicious.

"I'll explain it to you later," Myrcella promised, and half dragged him out of the hall.

"What is it Cella?" her little brother asked once they were out of the hall.

Instead of answering, Myrcella walked through the hallway, knowing that Tommen would follow. She waited until the sounds of feasting became a mere buzzing in their ears, and suddenly shivered. Winterfell, like all of the North, was cold and mysterious.

"It's Lyonel," Myrcella said finally.

"What about him?" Tommen asked. "Did something happen to him?"

"No, no! Will you stop worrying and being so damn loud for at least a bit?" she said. The castle was making her nervous. She felt as if she was being watched. The princess sighed. "I am sorry for shouting at you Tommen."

"It's fine. What were you saying about Lyonel?"

"His betrothal. It must be stopped." the words came inelegantly out of her mouth.

"What?" Tommen asked in an incredulous voice. "Why?"

Instead of answering, Myrcella simply marched on.

"Cella? What is this really about?" Tommen asked softly.

"It's just... you spoke with the Stark girl. What do you think about her? What kind of queen do you think she would make?"

"She's very fair to look at," Tommen replied. "And she seems very polite and nice and kind. Much more **** than mother. Don't get me wrong I know that she loves us well, but sometimes the looks she gives to other people scare me." Tommen seemed **** to say the rest, but the words stumbled out of his mouth. "You have that look every now and then too, without even being queen. Imagine how grumpy all that royal responsibilities would make you."

That made Myrcella halt in her tracks. An image, unbidden came into her mind. Her sitting next to Lyonel who would be sitting on the Iron Throne. She was seated on a lesser chair quite close to him and holding his hand. A crowned, older Lyonel looks at her, his smile glinting in the sunlight, and touches her stomach, swollen large with a babe. Myrcella had always been appalled of her duties as a woman to marry and bare children, but if it was Lyonel... Myrcella shook her head. It was a just a dream, an impossible dream, and sinful to the highest degree. She cleared her throat and started to talk back to Tommen.

"Sansa would make a good wife aye. But what kind of queen do you think this very polite and nice girl will make down in King's Landing? What do you think would happen when Sansa Stark has to match her wits with the likes of Littlefinger and Varys?"

Tommen paled. "The court would tear her apart."

"Exactly. What I am doing to them is a kindness. The Stark girl would be fair far better if she stays far away from halls of power, and Lyonel would be better off with a queen who would be able to guard his back instead of becoming a weak spot for him."

"Like Uncle Renly's marriage," Tommen intoned.

"Exactly! Now, Tommen, are you with me?"

Her little brother stared at her shrewdly before nodding once. "What's your plan?"

Myrcella released a sigh of relief inside her heart as Tommen both accepted her explanation and agreed to her plan. "We are going to create a situation in which Lord Stark has **** but to call off the betrothal."

"How?"

"The last I saw, Lyonel was dancing with the younger Stark girl. He would probably stay in the hall for some time, and even if he did not, he would have to spend a lot of time saying his farewells to the guests. We have ample enough time. I'm going to take a dress and some smallclothes put it on Lyonel's bed and crumple it all up. Then I would have a maid to 'accidentally' walk into the room and have her tell what she saw to Lord Stark like a good little servant. Lord Stark would be furious. He would think that our brother shares more than his looks with our father. Bedding a woman on the day of his betrothal, under the roof his future father by law? That would be unacceptable. Lyonel would deny this of course, and our father and a lot of our entourage would speak to Lord Stark about his good character, but he would simply think that our brother is lying and the others are just lying for his sake."

"This could work," Tommen said in a **** voice that did not hide his misgivings. "Our brother's name would get dragged through the mud however."

"It would recover," Myrcella said nonchalantly, biting back the guilt that came to bite her. "After all Lyonel has the markings to be one of the greatest kings in the history of the realm. In a couple of years, when Lyonel's reputation would remain as spotless as his is now, even the Starks would admit the incident as a mistake of a reckless youth. And of course, Lord Stark's relationship with our father is too strong for the Starks to ever break faith with us."

"Very well then. Where are we going then? To find a dress I presume? Where can we find one? If we use one of yours, mother would recognize it."

"Yes. But I saw Lady Stark's chamber earlier and-"

"What? We can't use one her dresses. She would recognize it!!"

"Will you keep your mouth shut for one moment so I can speak properly? As I was saying, I know where Lady Stark's chamber is. She wed and came to Winterfell just after she came of age, so she must have lots of dresses that she outgrew. And I've heard that she gives out her old dresses to the daughters of important members of the households on their namedays and such. She surely must have some of those dresses around with her. We'll use one of those. When questioned Lady Stark would assume that she gifted that dress and has forgotten about it, and others would assume that whichever maid who owned it before is too ashamed to come forward and accept responsibility now."

For a moment, the only sound was their feet hitting the ground. Finally Tommen spoke up. "It's risky Cella. Very risky. It probably wouldn't even work."

"It will work," Myrcella said grinding her teeth. "It has to."

The next few moments were filled with an awkward silence as the two siblings walked alone in the darkened castle. Myrcella could feel Tommen's ****, but he kept his misgivings for himself and followed her loyally. The princess knew that at the end of the day, her little brother always dutifully does whatever that is required of him.

"We are here," Myrcella said quietly. There were no guards outside the door, meaning that there was no one currently inside the room. Good. She opened the large wooden door, which fortunately didn't make much creaking noise, and went inside. Once her brother stepped in reluctantly, she closed the doors tightly.

Myrcella was worried about having to light a candle, and thus leaving newly melted wax in the site of her criminal activities. Fortunately moonlight fell into the room through a large glass window.

"Myrish glass," Tommen observed quietly. "Must have cost a bloody fortune."

"Let's just take a dress and leave," Myrcella said in an equally soft voice.

At one end of the room was Lady Stark's closet, a massive wooden thing that Myrcella estimated to be so big that she could go more than four feet inside and still have more room to go.

Myrcella opened the door of the closet, put one foot in and started rummaging, trying her best to not change the order in which Lady Stark's dresses were kept. She didn't have much time to do that however, as the deafening silence was broken by the noise of footsteps clanging on the stone floor.

The princess' heart froze as she looked back at her brother, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "Surely it's not,"

"Get in," Myrcella whispered hurriedly.

"No. Not after yesterday. Not again," Tommen whispered furiously, looking at his sister with accusing eyes after getting him nearly in trouble two days in a row.

"Just get in," Myrcella whispered back, taking Tommen's arm and dragging him inside the closet. Once that was done, she closed the door as silently and carefully as possible. The slits between the wooden planks of the door provided enough light inside and the chance for the two siblings to see what was going on in the outside room.

Moments after the Baratheon siblings slipped inside the closet, the door of the room opened and Lady Catelyn Stark stepped in, closing the door behind her. Myrcella cursed her ill lark. What in the name of the seven would posses Lady Stark to leave the feast when she's supposed to be the one to oversee it and see that everything went according to the plan.

Myrcella waited for something to happen, but Lady Stark did nothing, instead walking back and forth inside the room, frequently throwing glances at the door. Clearly she was waiting for someone to arrive. Tommen's hand, gripped inside her own, clenched with fear and anticipation.

Then, the lady of Winterfell began to strip. Her fingers moved deftly, undoing her simple hairstyle first, making her long red hair fall to her waist, and moved on to the buttons of her dress, which in a matter of seconds was a puddle around her feet. Then came off her smallclothes, which proved to be more of a struggle as it seemed to stick to her skin, and gave off a strong smell, which made Myrcella's nose wrinkle and mouth water at the same time.

Is that why she was here? Did someone spilled something on Lady Stark and she came here for a change of clothes? Though she wasn't particularly religious, Myrcella began to mouth a prayer and hope that wasn't the case, for if Lady Stark opened the door right now, she couldn't even fathom the amount of trouble she would face.

However, the prayer died in the princess' lips as Catelyn Stark's full naked was presented to her eyes. Her body seemed to be unaware that she had given birth to five children, looking like the body of a maid of twenty. Her large breasts were topped by two wide pink nipples, and something shiny glistened on top of them. Her magnificent ass, normally hidden by thick layers of fur, now protruded proudly. Myrcella's mouth began to water before she realized what she was thinking about and firmly shook her head.

Catelyn Stark began to walk back and forth once again, her breasts and buttocks jiggling delightfully with each step. Beside her, Tommen began to tremble from excitement.

Then, it seemed as if Lady Stark seemed to have come to the end of her patience. She sighed loudly, climbed on to her bed and lied down. The bed was on the opposite side of the room near the window, and the moonlight created a silhouette that made it easier for the two siblings to see what was going on. And, as the two of them were watching on, Lady Catelyn Stark raised her legs a bit, spread them apart, and put a hand in between them. It moved gently at first, but soon the movement became fast and aggressive, and wet noises and moans filled the room.

Myrcella couldn't believe her eyes. Here was a woman considered to be one of the most honourable (and one of the most beautiful, she now knew) in the seven kingdoms, pleasuring herself while making lewd noises like a harlot. Her legs were slick now, Myrcella realized as she bit her lower lip. To take away her mind from the taboo scene unfolding before her, Myrcella looked at her younger brother whose hand she was still holding. He, however paid no mind to her. Tommen's face was pressed against the wooden planks. With his free hand, he pretended to be adjusting his trousers, but Myrcella knew that he must be trying to relieve his crotch. Tommen fondling his groin while holding his big sister's hand should have disgusted Myrcella, but as her recent experiences proved anything, it was that she found the things that society deems as disgusting to be very... enticing. Maybe I should pleasure myself too, Myrcella thought, amused at the whole damn situation. After all, she would be the last person in the room to do so.

Before that line of thought could go anywhere however, one word escaped from Lady Catelyn's mouth that changed everything. "Lyonel!" Catelyn moaned. The single word sent goose pickles throughout Myrcella's body, and she saw that Tommen was standing as still as a statue.

"Lyonel!" Catelyn moaned. "You were right! I am a worthless slut! A whore! Your whore! Come fucking take me! All my holes belong to you!"

Myrcella stared at the unimaginably lewd scene with an open mouth. Unfortunately it didn't last much longer after that. Whatever respite Lady Stark was hoping for never came and after a few more seconds of twisting around the bed, she stood up, put on her dress without her smallclothes, and stormed off the room.

For some time, the two Baratheons siblings stood the same way as they had been, too shocked to move. It was Tommen who came to his senses first, getting out of the closet, opening the door of the room an inch or so to peek out. No one must have been there, as he grabbed Myrcella's arm and dragged her out. "We didn't get a dress!" Myrcella protested feebly but Tommen ignored her, to which she was glad. It was a hollow protest, and the encounter had drained the anger from her mind, replacing it with all sorts of other feelings.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Myrcella let out a sigh of relief. Once the fear left her mind, she noticed that Tommen was walking funny. At first Myrcella thought that he was still aroused, but when she looked at the front of his breeches she didn't notice anything out of the usual.

Tommen's face went red as he noticed where his sister's eyes were. He cleared his throat, eager to distract his sister. "Mother yesterday, Lady Stark today. It all feels so strange."

Myrcella kept her silence. This was the first time either one of them broached the topic of what happened with their mother and her own... activities.

"So... do you think... our brother and Lady Stark -?" Tommen began to ask.

"Of course not," Myrcella snapped, the very thought bringing back some her old rage. "Our brother is simply a very attractive man, prone to create fantasies in the minds of women." Including his own mother and sister, gods help us all, she thought, but didn't say it out loud.

Before they could talk anymore, she heard the sound of footsteps. Myrcella quickly grabbed her brother's hand and dragged him into a dimly lit corridor nearby. She didn't want to explain to whoever it was that coming what they were doing outside their rooms at this time of the night without having any guards either.

And then she noticed the two people walking along the path they were on. The first to meet her eyes were Catelyn Stark who seemed very happy. Without wearing any smallclothes, her breasts jiggled with each step. Beside her walked... Lyonel. He seemed to be smiling at whatever it was Lady Stark was saying. One and of his was around her waist, though a bit lower than what was polite.

"-was waiting for you for ages." Catelyn Stark was saying as she passed them. So preoccupied were her eyes on devouring every inch of her brother's image that she did not notice them peering through the dark corridor.

"I already told you," Lyonel said sighing. "Whenever a prince leave a feast there's a host waiting to kiss his arse. I told them that I already have a whore upstairs naked and willing to do anything for me, but they didn't believe me. Your eldest even made a toast to my 'imaginary whore.' I didn't have the heart to tell him that the whore was his lady mother. "

After that they were out of her hearing and in a while Myrcella couldn't even hear their footsteps. She shared a look with her shocked brother. Then without a word they trudged into their rooms, only breaking the silence once to agree to never talk about all the things they witnessed tonight.

Once inside her room, Myrcella took a deep breath, and then shrugged off her dress and smallclothes. Then, climbing on to the bed and spreading her legs, she followed Lady Stark's suit, right down to the name that escaped from her lips.