Work Text:
It was a loud crash that woke her, followed by a blood-curdling scream that she knew at once came from her mother. Myrcella jumped out of bed, hearing the clanging of metal armor outside as guards rushed out. It was foolish to rush outside rather than wait and let the guards deal with whatever was happening outside her chambers, but being half-asleep and terrified for her mother, that’s what she did. She doubted that her father would have been anywhere near her mother’s chambers just then, as she didn’t think they had slept anywhere near each other since Tommen was born, but her uncle Jaime was visiting just then, and she hoped desperately that he was able to help her.
“Mother!” she called out, bunching the skirt of her nightgown around her ankles to keep it from tripping her. “Father?!”
“You,” her father rasped, turning a corner just then, and Myrcella froze at the sheer vitriol and hatred in his usually kind, if hooded, blue eyes. “I should have known when I saw you, you who looks so much like that traitorous whore.”
“F...father?” Myrcella stammered, her blood freezing in her veins as he drew closer, and she was able to see that he was covered in blood. He carried a warhammer at his side, nearly dragging it along the floor, and she felt her stomach lurch when she saw the blood and viscera coating the weapon.
“None of you ever had any of me in you,” Robert continued, walking slowly towards her as though in a trance. “I didn’t think much of it, figuring lion’s blood must just count for a lot. I should have known.”
“Father, you’re scaring me,” Myrcella whimpered. “Where is Mother? I heard her scream and…”
“She screamed plenty,” Robert chuckled. “Probably the only time I ever made her scream.”
“Wh...what?” Myrcella choked, desperately praying that he didn’t mean what she thought he did.
Her parents, marriage had never been happy, she knew, but she’d never seen him be violent with her at all.
“Uncle Jaime!” she screamed and her father’s face grew even more wrathful.
“Shut your fucking...ugh,” Robert groaned, grabbing his chest.
His warhammer slipped from his hand, and he fell to his knees as he continued to look pained. His face had been oddly grey from the moment she first saw him, but Myrcella had been too distracted by her horror to notice. Guards appeared then, each one looking terribly grim, and despite everything, the young lady rushed towards her fallen father.
“Father!” she screamed and he gurgled, his furious eyes falling on her again.
“You’re...not...mine,” he spat, his voice terribly labored.
“My lady, you must come,” one of the guards insisted, but she barely heard him, wondering what her father had just meant.
“AHHH!” she screamed as she sat up, bursting into tears as she remembered that terrible night again.
Born Myrcella Baratheon, apparent second child of Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm’s End and his wife, Cersei Lannister, the young blonde had never known hardship in her life until the day her entire world fell apart. It all started when her grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, had died in his sleep. Her uncle Tyrion inherited Casterly Rock but died himself within the fortnight when he fell from his pony, an event that her other uncle seemed to find suspicious. He had asked the king to release him from the Kingsguard so he could take over the Rock and had visited to inform her mother in person about that when everything went even more wrong.
“My lady?” Tyene Sand asked, knocking on the door. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fi...fine,” Myrcella replied, trying to stop her crying. She honestly didn’t know how she still had tears left after the past couple weeks.
“Lady Myrcella, I’m here if you need to talk,” Tyene said, opening the door, and Myrcella sighed, taking in the sight of the beautiful blonde.
She wasn’t exactly what Myrcella pictured a Dornish woman looking like, but then, her mother wasn’t Dornish, being an apparent Septa from the Reach. She let her eyes roam over her white-clad form, settling on her round belly for a moment. The Dornish beauty wasn’t wed, and her child would be a bastard like she was, something they all had in common, as it turned out.
“You don’t need to call me that,” Myrcella sulked. “I’m no lady.”
“You lived your entire life thinking that you were,” Tyene replied. “You’re more of a lady than I am.”
“I’m not, though,” Myrcella spat. “I’m a Storm…”
“And I’m a Sand,” Tyene cut her off gently, sitting down on the bed. “Where we’re going, your status won’t matter. We Dornish are a more...refined sort in that regard.”
“And the fact that I’m an abomination?” Myrcella glared.
“I wouldn’t call yourself that around Prince Daemon,” Tyene warned her. “The Targaryens practiced incest for generations, Myrcella, and no one considers them abominations.”
Myrcella looked down at that, her dream still haunting her aching heart. She hadn’t even had time to process the fact that she was her uncle’s daughter instead of her father’s and that her mother had been caught in bed with her twin because that mortifying revelation had come paired with the knowledge that her entire family was gone. Robert, after getting a lucky blow in against her uncle, had proceeded to murder her mother and both her brothers before the guards could do anything and would have slain her too if his heart hadn’t given out from the stress and decades of poor living.
“It’s different for the…” Myrcella went to argue when a deafening roar from nearby nearly made her jump out of her skin, and she leapt to her feet, earning a laugh from the pregnant blonde.
“That’s just Morghul,” Tyene chuckled. “We’re nearly to port, and Daemon’s flying overhead. Would you like to see him?”
“Alright,” Myrcella replied, happy for any distraction.
Tyene took her hand and led her out of her cabin to the deck, pointing up towards the sky, though she hardly needed to. The massive black dragon was immediately noticeable, even flying as high as he was. She’d seen him once before, not long after the prince apparently found him in the isle of Skagos and bonded to him. Her family had gone to King’s Landing for the tourney that King Rhaegar was throwing, and she’d seen glimpses of him from her window a time or two. Joffrey had wanted to get a closer look, but their mother had forbidden it, and she’d been more than happy to keep her distance, though she imagined that she’d be seeing more of him and his famous rider now.
“He was the Cannibal right?” she asked and Tyene nodded.
“He was,” she replied. “The only living dragon left now, he called him Morghul in the hopes that he’d someday be known as The Black Death, a moniker he’s earned.”
Myrcella shivered at that, recalling the stories she’d heard of the prince’s exploits atop the massive dragon.
“It’s a little early yet, but welcome to Dorne,” Tyene smiled, and Myrcella looked down, noticing the shore, which was so close by then.
Sunspear stood out, and the young blonde marveled at the architecture. The Dornish had always kept significant aspects of their Rhoynish identity, and that could be seen in the way they built things too. The tall, thin Tower of the Sun gleamed in the bright light of the day, its golden peak shimmering. Other shorter towers like it littered the city, and she could tell that quite a bit of construction was underway, something hardly surprising for how much wealthier Dorne had become in recent years.
“Wow, Dorne really has become green,” Myrcella remarked as she looked around, noticing how little the land she was sailing towards resembled what she’d read about when she was younger.
“When the prince conquered the Dothraki, he found ancient Rhoynish texts among their possessions,” Tyene explained. “One of them contained a ritual of water magic that helped turn our once desert sands into fertile earth.”
She had heard as much, knowing that her septas and septons thought that it was a great evil, though the people of Dorne clearly disagreed. Where once they possessed only a little arable land, now their kingdom was a verdant paradise.
“He’s had many conquests, Prince Daemon,” Myrcella commented, and she furrowed her brow as she noticed the other blonde’s cheeks turn pink.
“Indeed,” she grinned, twirling a lock of her hair around one of her slender fingers. “The Ironborn, the mountain tribes of the Vale, the Wildlings, the Dothraki, Saath…”
“Saath?” Myrcella asked.
“It’s a coastal city in Northern Essos,” Tyene replied. “It’s all that remains of the Kingdom of Sarnor, and Daemon took it while we were all adventuring in Essos just before Uncle Doran passed away. With the Dothraki gone and the Free Cities focused on developing their own lands more now that they’re free of them, he figured that moving on the ruins of Sarnor now would be a good idea. It’s technically a Dornish colony now.”
“For what purpose?” Myrcella asked, curious.
“He wishes to rebuild Sarnor and move eastward, taking the largely empty land and developing it into another kingdom,” Tyene replied. “The warrior women of the Bone Mountains have set before him quite the task, and undertaking it would require greater resources than we can realistically transport in by sea, so having an established power base there is going to be necessary.”
“What’s the task?” Myrcella asked and Tyene just grinned.
“Bringing peace to the region,” she replied. “Technically it’s already half done, but the other half will be harder. The promised reward, though, would be...incredible.”
She bit her lip then, her eyes darkening, and Myrcella was going to ask further questions when she saw that they were just about to dock. Steeling herself for the meeting to come, she prayed again that she hadn’t made a mistake in accepting Princess Arianne’s offer of shelter instead of her great-uncle’s. Kevin Lannister was the Lord of Casterly Rock now, and while he had extended an invitation for her to stay there, given that Stannis Baratheon wanted her out of Storm’s End, the letter had been cold and tinged with reluctance. She was about to take him up on it anyway when another letter came in, one far warmer and more sympathetic.
“Please let this not be a mistake,” she thought to herself as she saw the sailors work to dock their ship.
The journey from the docks to the Old Palace was mercifully short, and Myrcella was surprised to see Princess Arianne herself waiting for her.
“Myrcella,” she smiled as she spotted her, holding out her hands, which the blonde took, “gods, how you’ve grown. You were still half a child when we met in King’s Landing.”
“It has been a few years,” Myrcella replied shyly, though she quickly relaxed under the princess’ warm gaze. She had met Arianne when they were in the city together for that tourney but hadn’t thought that she’d made nearly the impression that she clearly did. “Your invitation came as a surprise, Princess.”
“You were such a sweet, beautiful thing back then, and when I heard the terrible news, I didn’t hesitate to reach out and see if you needed my help,” Arianne replied. “Thank you for escorting her, Tyene.”
“You know I’d do anything for you, Ari,” Tyene purred, and the princess grinned.
“All too well,” she laughed, the throaty sound making Myrcella smile.
“Come along, it’s time you met the others,” Arianne said, and Myrcella followed along.
The throne room was richly decorated, far more than she would have imagined from how her mother spoke of the Dornish back in the day, but she had no idea how much of that was a recent change. The princess had clearly finished hearing petitions just before she came to greet her, as her courtiers were still standing around, and Myrcella furrowed her brow as she looked at them. Most of the people in that room were women, their skin tones ranging from milk to nut brown, and, curiously, they almost all seemed to be in varying stages of pregnancy. They were all beautiful too, and Myrcella couldn’t help but think that her mother wouldn’t have dared keep so many beautiful women around, the thought making her face sink.
“Myrcella, these are my cousins, Obara, Nymeria, and Elia,” Arianne smiled. “You’ve already met Tyene.”
“Good day,” Nymeria said warmly as Obara grunted and nodded.
“I hope your journey was pleasant,” Elia added, and Myrcella noted that she was the only one who didn’t look to be with child.
“I’ve always enjoyed sailing, thank you,” Myrcella replied.
“This here is Bellegere, a dear friend we met in Braavos,” Arianne said next, gesturing towards a very beautiful, brown-skinned woman whose bright blue eyes shone with mischief, “and this is Missandei.”
She was also darkly complected and had the most startling eyes, which looked like pools of molten gold.
“Finally, these are Irri and Jhiqi of the Dothraki,” Arianne smiled, pointing out a pair of copper-skinned women whose dark eyes held something that Myrcella had only ever seen in Robert’s as they gazed at the princess. “I have other handmaidens, and you’ll meet them later, but that likely won’t be before the feast tonight. Irri and Jhiqi will show you to your quarters, and Missandei, I’d like you to go along with them and help get her settled. We’ll speak later.”
“Of course, Princess,” Myrcella nodded. “I swear I won’t disappoint you.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” a deep, rumbling voice that reminded her almost of the man she had to stop thinking of as her father, and Myrcella went still before she forced herself to turn around.
She looked up into the deep purple eyes of Prince Daemon Targaryen, and her breath hitched. He was tall and so broad that he appeared taller than he was. A living legend, he’d been in more battles in his relatively short life than most men twice his age, having distinguished himself as a warrior when he was quite young. He’d been the one whom his father had sent to settle all manner of disputes before he wed Arianne, including the trouble with the wildlings some years ago, and he’d quickly gained a reputation as a most effective and brutal commander. She’d met him during the tourney in King’s Landing, though only briefly, and thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, something that had become only more true in the years since.
“Myrcella,” Daemon smiled, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles, “what a beauty you’ve become.”
“I…” Myrcella squeaked, feeling suddenly quite hot for reasons that had nothing to do with the Dornish climate.
“I don’t want her fainting now, my love,” Arianne chuckled, reaching up to cup one of his bearded cheeks, something that Myrcella was surprised that she could do without standing on her toes, given how much taller he was than her. “Did you stop by the nursery?”
“I did,” Daemon smiled. “Aenar and Elaena were both glued to the window, watching Morghul fly around the city.”
“Such little darlings,” Arianne cooed. “Anyway, you three show Myrcella to her chambers, and Missandei, answer any questions she might have. I’ll see you at the feast.”
“Of course, Princess,” Myrcella nodded, following the others as they led her further into the palace. As they turned the first corner, she turned to Missandei and said, “You have the most remarkable eyes.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Missandei smiled. “They’re actually common where I’m from.”
“Where is that?” Myrcella asked.
“Naath,” Missandei replied.
“Naath?” Myrcella asked.
“It’s an island west of the Basilisk Isles,” Missandei replied. “I was taken from there when I was quite young and sold into slavery in Astapor.”
“You were a slave?” Myrcella asked, aghast. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Missandei replied quietly. “The prince and princess went there seeking to sell a treasure of great value to the Ghiscari and acquired me alongside thousands of Unsullied in return for it. They freed us the moment we were outside the gate and offered to bring us here, something that we all happily accepted.”
That explained why their guards all looked so odd. Myrcella wondered if their armor was just typical of the Dornish, though she didn’t believe that was the case.
“He then took you two after warring with the Khals, right?” she asked, turning to the Dothraki, who shrugged.
“He proved himself the strongest khal and so took what he liked from the spoils,” Irri replied.
“Luckily, that included us,” Jhiqui grinned, and Missandei gave her a pointed look.
Before Myrcella could ask what they meant, another few women stumbled out of a nearby room, each one walking so bowlegged that one would think they’d just ridden on horseback for hours. Two of them were blonde like her, and the other two had hair like copper and fire, respectively. All four wore almost identical looks of glee and exhaustion on their pale, beautiful faces, though they regarded her curiously as they spotted her.
“This the new girl?” the shorter, more curvaceous redhead asked. “You’re a pretty one.”
“She’ll fit in just fine here,” the other redhead smirked.
“Munda, Ygritte,” Missandei said warningly, and one of the blondes chuckled.
“Relax, Missandei,” she sighed. “We were just going to find somewhere to lie down. Our...training with the price was even more vigorous than usual.”
“What, like sparring?” Myrcella asked, and they all looked amused at that.
“Something like that,” Ygritte grinned. “Anyway, welcome to Sunspear. Yer going to fucking love it here, trust me.”
All four of them limped off at that, and Myrcella wondered how common it was for Prince Daemon to spar with the various women around the castle.
“Please forgive them,” Missandei sighed, her tone one of long-suffering annoyance. “As wildlings, they’re a little more uncouth than the others.”
“Obara swears more than all of them combined, though,” Irri pointed out, and Missandei chuckled.
“Most of the others,” the former slave amended, turning another corner and opening the first door they came across. “Myrcella, this is where you’ll be staying.”
“Oh, wow,” Myrcella marveled.
She’d not expected much from the prince and princess, given that she was a bastard born of incestuous adultery, and had resigned herself to the knowledge that she would have to get used to living in far less splendrous chambers than she was used to, but if anything her new accommodations were even more richly furnished than her old rooms at Storm’s End.
“The princess was adamant that you be placed in chambers right next to her own,” Missandei explained. “We are all...aware of your situation, and I am so sorry. You lived your entire life thinking that you were a lady of noble birth, and Princess Arianne wants you to continue to live relatively as you are used to.”
“I...I don’t understand,” Myrcella stammered, feeling her eyes water. “Why is she being so kind to me?”
“She is kind,” Jhiqui shrugged, like it was obvious.
“And generous,” Irri added, “especially with Pr…”
“Girls,” Missandei cut her off. “I think we should give Myrcella time to settle in. The last of your possessions will be brought here shortly.”
“Thank you,” Myrcella smiled warmly. “Truly, thank you all.”
“Come,” Missandei said firmly, gesturing for the two Dothraki women to follow, which they did.
Myrcella watched them leave and blushed when she saw just how much skin the vests they were wearing above their woven breeches showed off. She’d been too awed by everything when she first arrived to properly notice the attire of the various women who served as the princess’ handmaids. Most of them, whether they wore gowns or tunics and breeches, showed off far more than her mother would have ever allowed anyone back in Storm’s End to, and she wondered if she was going to be expected to dress like them in time or not.
“It would be a small price to pay for being treated so well, despite what I am,” she thought to herself, noticing that the servants had already delivered her wardrobe.
Stannis hadn’t been terribly cruel, all things considered, and gave her both time to find somewhere else to live and the ability to take her things with her, including her jewelry, but that was as far as his charity went. She opened a very familiar chest and pulled out the small emerald-encrusted tiara that she’d just barely managed to take from her mother’s chambers before Stannis and his family arrived.
“I miss you so much,” she whispered, feeling her eyes grow damp again and her heart clench. She missed her brothers too, and even the monster she’d called Father.
“It gets better, you know,” a voice said behind her, and she whipped around, looking up at Nymeria, who gazed at her sympathetically.
“I don’t know how it can,” Myrcella replied, and the tall, dark-haired woman slipped in close and hugged her as well as she could, given her protruding belly.
“I didn’t either when my father died,” Nymeria replied.
“What happened?” Myrcella asked. “I remember hearing that he died not long after Prince Doran, but I never got any details.”
“Poison,” Nymeria scowled, and Myrcella gasped. “An old rival decided to get back at him, thinking we’d be too distracted by mourning Uncle Doran to look too closely, the dumb cunt. Needless to say, he died screaming. I bring this up to say that I understand at least a little of what you’re going through, and though the pain never goes away entirely, its sting does dull in time.”
“Thank you,” Myrcella nodded. “When are you due?”
“Our maester thinks I’ve got another three moons or so to go,” Nymeria replied, smiling down at her belly as she rested a hand on it.
Part of Myrcella wanted to ask about the father, but she’d just met the woman and wasn’t about to pry, curious as she was. Nymeria excused herself a moment later, and Myrcella sat down, staring at the tiara and considering her words. If she was ever going to move past the horrors of her life, being in a place like Sunspear, so different from what she was used to, would likely help. At the very least, serving Arianne would give her something else to focus on, though as she put the tiara away, she realized that no one had yet said what exactly would be expected of her. Shrugging to herself, she set about getting ready for the feast.
*****
The feast had been a rather quiet affair, something that Myrcella was grateful for, and without too many surprises, though there were still a couple. It had been an almost entirely female affair, for one, with Prince Daemon being the only man in attendance, and most of the other women turned out to be with child too. Learning that a former prostitute was among Arianne’s handmaidens was a surprise, as it turned out that Bellegere had served as what she called a courtesan before coming to work for the princess, but no one there seemed to think anything of it, so Myrcella elected to hold her peace. She knew what her mother would have said, but she doubted that saying many things that her mother would have would serve her well here.
She’d eaten and drunk with them well into the night, mostly keeping quiet and enjoying the calming atmosphere, until Daemon declared that he and Arianne were turning in for the night. With that, the feast was over, and she’d happily retired too, wanting to see if she slept any better in her comfortable-looking bed than she had on the ship. At the very least, she hoped that she wouldn’t be woken by nightmares, and she ultimately got her wish, though that didn’t mean that she wasn’t woken at all.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” a woman screamed, and Myrcella’s green eyes fluttered open.
“Whathafu,” she grumbled, irritated as she looked around and saw how dark it still was out.
She tried to close her eyes and drift back off when a keening wail forced her to wake fully, and she sat up in fright, her mind immediately flashing back to that terrible night. As her heart hammered in her chest and she pulled her knees up against it, desperately hoping that she’d wake up soon, a series of staccato cries started erupting from the chambers next to hers. Realizing finally just what she was hearing, she flushed scarlet and pulled the bedding over her head.
“More, more, more!” the woman shrieked. “Fuck me, Daemon. Oh gods!”
Myrcella had overheard people having sex before, particularly any time she ventured too close to her Robert’s chambers in Storm’s End, but she’d never been quite this close to a couple entwined in passion before, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about it.
“My love, you have a little something here,” Daemon had said a little while into their feast.
“Where?” Arianne asked, sounding more amused than curious, and a moment later Daemon leaned in and captured her lips with his own, cleaning them of whatever bit of food he’d spotted, if he had at all.
The feast had been full of moments like that, and she was sure that she saw more genuine affection between the pair of them over the course of those couple hours than she had in her entire life between her parents. With them being so open with their affections in public, it didn’t surprise her to hear them being so enthusiastic in private, but on the other hand…
“Oh gods, you’re so big!” came another passionate cry, and Myrcella pulled one of her pillows over her head too.
If she’d been willing to contemplate what she was hearing even a little, she might have wondered why Arianne’s voice sounded so much higher in pitch just there than it had before, but she really didn’t want to think about it and just closed her eyes, hoping that she’d get back to sleep soon enough. It was better than being woken by memories of the worst day of her life, but she’d still have rather not heard any of it.
*****
“Your brother writes to inform you that the Ibbish have agreed to your terms, Princess,” Missandei reported as she finished reading through another of Arianne’s letters. “They will trouble you no further about Saath.”
“I suppose seeing Morghul burn half their ships in mere moments finally made them realize that fighting us was folly,” Arianne grinned. “Mmm, nicely done, Irri.”
“I live to serve, Princess,” Irri purred as she continued to trim the princess’ toenails while Jhiqui brushed her hair.
They were sitting around her sonar early in the morning, going over some correspondence while they helped her get ready for the day. They’d all already broken their fast, and most of the other handmaidens were out performing other tasks for her. Myrcella had picked out the gown that Arianne wished to wear that day, a golden thing that she knew would look wonderful on her, even if it was rather low-cut. She’d been there for three weeks at this point and had adjusted well enough to her new surroundings. The heat, which she had been informed was far more humid than it used to be, was beyond that of the Stormlands, but she was getting used to it. What was proving harder to get used to was what she heard coming from the princess’ chambers most nights.
Almost every night the sounds of pleasured cries and screams rang out across the keep from Arianne’s chambers. Daemon’s passions, it turned out, were nearly endless, and it often took hours of what sounded like athletic, rough sex to sate the bull of a man. Myrcella had trouble looking the princess in the eye the morning after the first time and still couldn’t look at Daemon without blushing, stuck imagining just what it was he did to his loving wife to make her sound like that.
She hated herself for it and knew that it could never be, but she had begun picturing what it would be like to be in her princess’ position. Having learned just enough of what went on between a man and his wife in their bedchambers to fuel her imagination, her fantasies had been getting more and more vivid, and she didn’t know if the heat or her sinful thoughts were more responsible for how sweaty she often was when she woke. At least her dreams had become less terrifying, though.
“Myrcella?” Arianne asked, and she blinked at the princess in confusion.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question,” Myrcella replied.
“I’m ready to get dressed,” Arianne said softly, and Myrcella mumbled an apology, thoroughly embarrassed, before rushing over with the gown.
It had taken her a few days to learn how to help get the princess in and out of her clothes, having only ever been on the receiving end of such treatment, but she’d learned quickly enough.
“I suppose you can’t hear petitions in the nude,” she chuckled, and Arianne laughed.
“Our people wouldn’t object,” Obara chuckled.
“They would when Daemon started feeding them to Morghul,” Nymera laughed.
That was one thing that Myrcella couldn’t wrap her head around. Few among them actually used their titles when speaking or referring to them, being far more familiar than servants generally were. The Sand Snakes, she could sort of understand, as they were related to Arianne, even though that wouldn’t have been enough for others to be given such privileges outside of Dorne, but most of the others were no different. The Dothraki women stripped away Arianne’s nightgown, and Myrcella forced herself not to stare at the older woman.
Two pregnancies had done little to mar her gorgeous figure, which was curvaceous in the extreme, and only a slight softness at her belly and on her hips was proof that she’d even borne children. With her wide hips, relatively narrow waist, and large, full breasts, she was a vision, and Myrcella couldn’t help but compare her to her own, slimmer figure. She set about helping her into her gown when someone rushed inside the room without knocking.
“Ari, Ari!” Elia exclaimed. “The maester confirmed it!”
“Really?” Arianne beamed. “You’re…”
“I’m with child,” Elia effused, and a round of excited cheers broke out.
“Congratulations, my dear,” Arianne replied happily.
“Yes, congratulations,” Myrcella added, trying to force herself to sound sincere.
This was one thing that she really didn’t understand about Sunspear. She knew that the Dornish were more accepting of bastards than the rest of Westeros; it was part of why she agreed to go there, but she didn’t understand why they were all so enthusiastic about it. With Elia pregnant, that meant that every single handmaiden was carrying a child now, as Val, Dalla, and Munda had all announced that they were over the past few weeks. None of them were wed, and none of them even seemed to spend any time around specific men. It certainly wasn’t any of the guards, as they were all eunuchs, as she’d been horrified to learn.
“If this were Sunspear, Mother would think that Robert was responsible for their conditions,” she thought to herself, “and she’d probably be right.”
It confused her to no end, but she wasn’t nearly comfortable enough to ask any of them who had fathered their babes yet, and she didn’t want to risk offending someone close to the princess and potentially ruining the good thing she’d found. Sunspear had been good for her so far, confusing as aspects of it could be, and she desperately wanted to avoid anything that might see her lose even more than she already had.
“Missandei, did Quentyn’s letter mention how Trystane’s settling in?” Arianne asked.
“No, Princess,” Missandei replied, “though his last one did say that he seemed to be quite taken with his new bride. His main focus was on the peace terms with the Ibbish and how many more thousands of men have already shown up.”
“I’m surprised you were able to find so many willing to leave everything they ever knew to go build up this restored Sarnor,” Myrcella commented.
“There is no shortage of second sons, third sons, and so on with little to inherit willing to try their hand in Essos now that the Dothraki are gone,” Daemon replied as he walked into the room, his confident smile made all the more alluring by the sheen of sweat on his handsome face, the result of the hours he’d spent in the training yard. “It doesn’t hurt that there are so many unattached women there for them.”
Arianne grinned at that, and Myrcella knew why. Even before she went to Dorne, she had heard of how Daemon’s many conquests had gone. Invariably, whenever he went to war against a group of people, that ended up being a cataclysmically bad thing for their male population. He rained devastation on everyone he tangled with, marching or sailing their women back to Dorne in the aftermath. When she asked him once why he’d seen fit to be so particularly brutal in his many campaigns, he’d replied, saying, “I’ve never warred with a single group of people who didn’t rape, pillage, and murder with impunity in their lands. If they had not committed such grave sins, the gods would not have sent me to punish them for them.”
She didn’t know if he actually believed that or just found it funny to say, but either way, she couldn’t fault his logic. As he looked over Quentyn’s letter, he chuckled.
“With the Ibbish fucking off, we can be certain that Lorath will too,” he grinned. “They wouldn’t fight us alone, and their little fishing village can’t hope to bother us anyway. If they try, we’ll take it, but otherwise, I’m content to leave it alone for now.”
“Soon enough, the population will swell enough that they’ll be able to move into the ruins of Essaria,” Arianne smiled.
“Isn’t there a ruined town much closer?” Myrcella asked, having read up a little on the Kingdom of Sarnor.
“Sarys, yes,” Daemon replied, “but I’d rather move on Essaria now than give Qohor more time to get ideas. We’re fortunate that they’re embroiled in the conflict with Norvos that they are right now. Speaking of, I heard from Areo.”
“Oh?” Arianne asked.
“He managed to get Mellario out of the city and safely to shore,” Daemon replied. “I expect that Quentyn’s next letter will be about her arrival.”
“Good,” Arianne smiled. “Well, I’m ready for the day.”
“Remember, love, you’re going to need to cut things short today,” Daemon smiled. “We have the ceremony formally opening the area around the horse statues we seized from Vaes Dothrak up to the public today.”
“You two really don’t mind that they essentially pillaged your people’s only city?” Myrcella asked Irri and Jhiqui quietly, and the two of them just laughed.
“The strongest man has the right to take what he likes from the weaker men he crushes,” Irri replied. “The Great Stallion charges across the sky, never letting anything slow him down, and he favors men who do the same.”
“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed. With hooded eyes, she looked over at Daemon and, licking her lips, added, “There is no man stronger than Daemon. He proved himself the greater stallion many times over and won the right to…”
“Myrcella, you wanted to continue your Valyrian lessons?” Missandei cut in.
“Yes, thank you,” Myrcella replied. “I’ll see you two later.”
The Dothraki smiled and nodded as Missandei led her away. The former slave had been the one to teach the two Dothraki women the common tongue of Westeros, and they spoke with surprising fluency. With that in mind, she decided that she’d like to brush up on Valyrian, having heard Daemon and Arianne speak to each other in the tongue and finding it beautiful. She’d learned some as a child, but she wasn’t fluent in the language by any stretch of the imagination, and she wanted to change that. It absolutely wasn’t because Daemon was half-Valyrian and she was increasingly infatuated with him or anything. Not at all.
*****
“Harder, harder, gods!” Arianne screamed, and Myrcella groaned, burying her face in her pillow.
She’d made the mistake of staying up late that night, reading through the simple Valyrian text that Missandei had suggested, and hadn’t managed to get to sleep before the couple in the room next to her started having sex. Now she was going to be awake for at least the next couple hours until they exhausted themselves.
“I didn’t think I was that sleep-deprived, but I swear Arianne’s voice sounds like multiple voices at once right now,” she thought to herself, rolling onto her back and running a hand down along her cheek.
The same heat and tension in her core that struck her every time she overheard them going at it quickly afflicted her, and she whimpered as she rubbed her thighs together. Closing her eyes, she pictured Daemon’s rugged face, his square jaw, high cheekbones, straight nose, and piercing purple eyes. She imagined him staring down at her as he settled between her parted thighs, his member pressing against her entrance.
“Tell me what you want, Cella,” he whispered in her mind, and she gasped, unable to form the sinful words even in the safety of her own mind. No matter how much she might have wanted him, she couldn’t do that to Arianne.
“Gods, I owe Arianne so much!” the voice screamed, and Myrcella felt like something in her mind froze.
“Huh?” she asked aloud, getting out of bed and rushing over to the seemingly very thin wall that separated their bedchambers.
She listened more closely than she had allowed herself to before, noticing for the first time how little the moaning, screaming woman in there sounded like the princess. Arianne’s voice was relatively high, though she had this throaty laugh that sounded deeper than she did generally. The woman screaming for Daemon to fuck her harder just then had a slightly deeper voice, and Myrcella’s jaw dropped when she realized that it really wasn’t her in there. She knew deep down that her mother and Robert hated each other, so though she tried not to think of how often he dishonored her, it wasn’t all that surprising. Daemon and Arianne seemed to be so deeply in love, though, and knowing he was having sex with another woman despite that was so disappointing that it actually hurt.
The fact that she’d just been fantasizing about him being about to fuck her she chose not to dwell on just then.
“If that isn’t her, though, where is she?” Myrcella wondered to herself.
Curiosity burned within her, warring with the general nervousness and fear she’d had since her life first fell apart. She’d felt like she was drowning from the moment Robert died in front of her, and life in Sunspear was like finding a piece of driftwood large enough to climb up onto for safety. Arianne and Daemon had been her salvation, her only other option being living with her great-uncle, who she didn’t know all that well and who might not treat her nearly as well, given what she’d turned out to be. She didn’t want to insert herself into their affairs, for fear of losing everything again, but she’d also come to adore Arianne, and she desperately wanted to know who Daemon was dishonoring her with. Cursing herself for her stupidity, she got out of bed and padded across the floor, hoping desperately that curiosity wouldn’t kill this particular lioness.
She opened the door to her chambers as quietly as she could and poked her head out, furrowing her brow in confusion when she noticed that there was no guard outside Arianne’s chambers. That was one difference that she had experienced between life in Storm's End and life in Sunspear: she wasn’t under constant guard, though given that she wasn’t the daughter of a Lord Paramount anymore, that wasn’t all that shocking, and the keep seemed quite secure anyway. Arianne’s chambers were generally as guarded as one would expect, and she didn’t know what to make of the lack of guards, other than the fact that it robbed her of her last reason not to go venturing further.
“Gods, I love that fucking cock!” the woman inside Arianne’s chambers screamed, and Myrcella felt heat bloom between her legs.
It occurred to her, of course, that if she did this, she was going to get to see Daemon in all his glory, rutting some servant girl like a wild beast, and she knew that she was going to have to pray for forgiveness for this because that was definitely a factor pushing her into it. She opened the door as quietly as she could and poked her head inside. The screaming coming from the next room grew louder, but there remained another door between them, and Myrcella carefully shut the first door behind her before rushing across the room.
“Okay, this is it,” she thought to herself, steeling herself for what she was about to do. “Just poke your head in, see who it is, and get out.”
She swallowed thickly, feeling her heart hammer in her chest, and quietly opened the door. The screaming grew louder, and she shivered, feeling the heat in her core flare hotter. Taking a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart, she poked her head inside, only for her jaw to drop at the sight that greeted her.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” Elia cried, bouncing up and down on Daemon’s cock as he lay on the bed off to the corner, holding her hips and rutting up into her in time with her bounces. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her breasts bouncing on her chest as she rode him fiercely, and Myrcella would have focused on her and how gorgeous Daemon’s muscular body looked if that was the only thing in the room to draw her eye.
“Gods, don’t stop!” Obara sighed as Val lapped at her heated sex. “Fucking hells, you’re good at that.”
“So’s...mmm...her sister,” Nymeria moaned as she rode Dalla’s face, grinning down at Missandei, who was eating the other wildling out, while Bellegere took her from behind, a large fake cock strapped to her.
“Fuck me, this does feel good,” Ygritte moaned as she and Irri ground their sexes against each other, while Munda and Jhiqui did the same next to them.
“Told you,” Jhiqui grinned. “Bellegere showed us how to do it.”
“It’s...oh fuck, fun on occasion,” Missandei said before Dalla pulled her back down between her thighs.
Myrcella looked around the room in awe, shock, and bewilderment. She had, she realized, heard multiple female voices in here before, but, unable to even picture what that might have looked like, she dismissed it as her being mistaken. Even if she had tried to figure out what it meant, though, she’d have never imagined anything like this. If her old septa had seen this, she’d have dropped dead on the spot. It was debauchery on a level that she couldn’t fathom, and she’d have been horrified for Arianne had the woman not been right there, enjoying it.
She was seated on a chair, with no more clothing on her than there was on any of the others, and though it wasn’t as august as her formal seat, she made it look like a throne. The look on her face was pure pleasure and contentment, and she looked utterly in control as she watched everyone around her fuck. Power suited her generally, and she wore the mantle of authority well, but in that moment, sitting on her throne, with a kneeling Tyene between her legs as she surveyed the room around her with undisguised glee, she’d never looked more powerful.
“Myrcella,” Arianne said suddenly, as her lust-darkened eyes fell on the blonde, who thought she might faint.
It spoke to how enthralled the others were by what they were doing that none of them looked over, save for Tyene, who grinned at her, her mouth and chin glistening.
“I…” Myrcella squeaked, trying to will herself to turn around and flee, only to find her body frozen.
“None of that now, darling,” Arianne giggled, standing up and making her way through the orgy to reach her. “I must say, I didn’t expect you for a few more weeks.”
“What?” Myrcella asked, her green eyes going wide as Arianne took her hands in her own.
“I figured your curiosity would get the best of you eventually and you’d come by,” Arianne replied. “I just figured that it would take longer. So, what do you think?”
“What do I think?” Myrcella asked, her wide eyes looking around the room in shock. “What is this?”
“Love, lust, and a desire for a large family in one,” Arianne replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and gesturing towards Daemon. “He’s magnificent, is he not?”
“Gods, don’t stop!” Elia cried, her hips a blur as she rode him hard and fast. “I’m getting close.”
“I know you are,” Daemon chuckled, kneading her perky breasts and pinching one of her hard, brown nipples. “I can feel your sweet, tight cunt fluttering already. Cum for me, Elia. I want to hear you scream my name.”
“DAEMON!” Elia squealed as she was sent hurtling over the edge.
Daemon grinned and lifted her up the second she came, letting his long, thick cock slip out of her and pointing her towards Irri and Ygritte, who both laughed as she squirted all over them.
“Did...did she just pee?” Myrcella asked and Arianne laughed.
“She squirted, Cella,” she explained. “It happens sometimes when we cum particularly hard. That was actually the key part of the ritual that turned our desert green. We traveled to specific spots across the dunes, and Daemon fucked us all senseless, making us squirt onto the sands below. From there, I was able to make use of the fluids with the Rhoynish water magic we found texts on to transform it.”
Magic, adultery, and the siring of legions of bastards, since Myrcella realized just who had fathered all of their children. It was everything the septons warned against all at once, and the blonde looked over at her new friend, wondering what the hell could possess her to allow all of this.
“How are you okay with any of this?” she asked as Daemon set a still-shaking Elia on the soft, carpeted floor and stood up. “Your husband is dishonoring you in front of your eyes, siring bastards at will, and you…”
“Do I look dishonored?” Arianne chuckled. “Do I look even mildly upset? I bore my heirs of my own womb…”
“I had a little to do with that, my love,” Daemon chuckled as he joined them, and Myrcella flushed scarlet at seeing him in all his glory up close.
It took all of her willpower not to gawk at his massive cock, the hard pillar of flesh so long and thick that she couldn’t imagine it fitting inside her. Just thinking that made her face grow hotter, and she felt her legs shake as he grinned down at her. She couldn’t believe how strong he looked, his thick arms, broad shoulders, and flat, muscled stomach all making her mouth water. He was covered in scars, trophies from the many, many battles he’d fought, and she shivered as she thought that she wanted to lick every one of them.
“There’s nothing little about you, Daemon,” Arianne purred, wrapping a hand around his cock and grinning at Myrcella. “Look at him, Cella. Isn’t he magnificent? How could I keep such a wonderful cock all to myself? From the first night he ravished me, ruining me for all other men with this massive thing, I knew that I had to share with the others. I brought Tyene into our bed, and then Nymeria, and before long, we were testing his limits nightly and finding that he didn’t really have any.”
“He’s too much for any one woman, Myrcella,” Tyene grinned. “It takes all of us to sate his lusts.”
“And the children?” Myrcella asked, staring down at her distended belly.
“As I was saying before, because the succession goes through me, no other children of his could threaten mine, even if we weren’t planning to raise all of them to be one loving family,” Arianne explained. “Daemon can sire an entire army, and it will only make him more gorgeous in my eyes.”
“He has the cock of a stallion,” Jhiqui grinned. “Why shouldn’t he breed like one?”
“You can join in if you like,” Arianne whispered, stroking Myrcella’s cheek with the backs of her fingers.
“I...shouldn’t,” Myrcella breathed, feeling like her entire body was on fire. She knew very well what her mother would have said about that, but as she saw the deliriously happy look on Elia’s face, still lounging on the ground and running fingers lazily over her sweat-soaked chest and belly, part of her really wanted to experience such bliss herself.
“That isn’t a no,” Daemon rumbled, and Myrcella’s breath hitched as he leaned in, his purple eyes boring into hers. “Why don’t you stay and watch, and when we’re done here, you can decide what you want then.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Arianne grinned, taking Myrcella’s hand. “Come join me on the bed, and we can watch Daemon reduce my handmaidens to mindless, sweaty, exhausted puddles of goo.”
She followed the naked woman along, being led through the room, and marveled at the sights, sounds, and smells she came across. Arianne sat down and pulled her in until she was seated between her legs, her hands resting on her flat belly. Clad only in a nightgown, she knew that her nipples had to be visible through the fabric by now, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at all just then. She pressed herself back against Arianne, feeling her large breasts press into her back, and shivered when the Dornish beauty rested her head on her shoulder.
“Observe how he is with them,” she whispered. “Each one is a little different and likes to be treated in different ways.”
Myrcella panted for breath as Tyene settled on her back, and he immediately started kneading her large, swollen breasts, sucking on her pink nipples. She was the most heavily pregnant of them all, and he had to be more gentle with her, but he could clearly still fuck her, and he quickly buried his entire length inside her dripping slit.
“How does all that fit?” Myrcella asked, and Arianne grinned.
“Having had two children by now, trust me when I say that your cunt can stretch more than you can imagine.” she purred in her ear. “So long as you’re wet enough, he’ll fit inside you. May I?”
She rested a hand on her thigh, and Myrcella whimpered, opening her legs to let the older woman brush her fingers through her golden curls. She cried out just as Tyene did and quivered in Arianne’s grasp as she felt her stroke her soaked folds.
“Mmm, so wet already,” Arianne grinned, cupping one of her breasts and kneading it softly. Leaning in, she whispered, “He’ll fit, sweetling. Say yes, and he’ll bury every wrist-thick inch of his cock inside you, stretching you out in ways you can’t even fathom.”
“Oh gods,” Myrcella whimpered, feeling the pleasure of another person’s intimate touch for the first time in her life.
“He’ll ruin you like he has the rest of us,” Arianne purred. “Soon you’ll be utterly hooked, desperate to feel his cock inside you.”
Myrcella whimpered and watched the orgy before her unfold. The women throughout the room all enjoyed each other, pleasuring their fellow handmaidens in ways that Myrcella had never even imagined, but the main attraction lay in the center of the room. One by one, Daemon fucked them all into squealing, shaking messes. With some of them, like Tyene, he was gentle and sweet, while with others, like Munda, he was so rough that Myrcella didn’t know how she didn’t find it painful. No matter how he took them, though, or in which positions, they all ended up the same way, screaming, squealing, and writhing in ecstasy. They praised his cock, or in some cases, tongue, like he was their god, and by the time he was done, hours later, they all lay in a pile together, their sweat-drenched forms cuddling up with each other.
Through it all, Arianne teased her, driving her mad. Again and again she felt something build inside her that she assumed was the orgasms she watched the others have, only for Arianne to ease off, telling her that Daemon would be the one to make her cum. He finished inside half of them, his indefatigable cock only ever wilting for mere moments before rising again, and by the time he pulled out of Val, who had passed out under his rough rutting, he barely even looked tired. She watched him walk towards them, his heavy cock bobbing in the air, and quivered, barely able to focus on anything other than the veritable god in front of her and the all-consuming, throbbing ache between her legs.
“So tell me, Myrcella,” Arianne grinned. “Do you want my husband to fuck you?”
“Yes,” Myrcella breathed, “gods, yes.”
Daemon grinned down at her and rested his hands on her shoulders, saying, “Then ask nicely.”
“Please fuck me, Dae…” she went to say, only to squeak as he cut her off with a kiss.
This was wrong, she knew, but she didn’t care. If she’d truly been Myrcella Baratheon, daughter of Robert and Cersei, then this would have been unthinkable, but she wasn’t. She was a Storm, a bastard, and a product of incest on top of it. Her mother would have objected if she were alive, but if her mother hadn’t gotten caught fucking her own brother, Myrcella wouldn’t be in this position. All that the blonde bastard knew was that she needed Daemon more than she needed air; she moaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped between her lips.
Arianne grinned and started peppering her neck with kisses as Daemon tore her gown open, revealing her nubile body to him. She pulled back in shock at her sudden nakedness and would have objected to losing the gown if she could think straight.
“Look at him, Cella,” Arianne purred, pointing down at his cock. “Look how hard he is, how much he wants you. Why don’t you give him a kiss?”
“Kiss his…” Myrcella spluttered.
She’d just watched him fuck a dozen women, and the creamy mix of their fluids and his own covered his entire length. That should have revolted her, but as she stared down at the proof of his desire for her, all she felt was hunger. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against the bulbous head, moaning at the musky scent that filled her nose.
He stepped back, and she followed, her knees hitting the ground before she even realized what she was doing. Arianne crawled with her, removing her ruined gown as she went, and she ran her hands over Myrcella’s back as Daemon stopped.
“Wrap your lips around the tip and let the weight of it settle on your tongue,” Arianne instructed. “Be very mindful of teeth; you don’t want to bite him, after all, and then push down slowly, being careful not to take too much of him.”
“Okay,” Myrcella breathed, leaning in and doing as she said. Daemon groaned as she wrapped her lips around his head, and she swore it felt like when Arianne had been toying with her cunt.
He tasted tangy, salty, and slightly bitter, but she didn’t care at all as he stared down at her with obvious desire in his eyes. She pushed down further, as Arianne said to do, being careful not to push ‘too far,’ whatever that meant, and when she felt him touch the back of her throat, she frowned and swallowed, managing to go down further.
“Holy fuck,” Daemon groaned as Arianne watched in wide-eyed shock.
“How are you...you’re not gagging,” Arianne spluttered, and Myrcella just shrugged, continuing to push down until her nose was buried in his matted pubic hair.
She pulled back up then and asked, “Okay, now what?”
“You...don’t gag,” Arianne marveled, and Myrcella furrowed her brow.
“Should I?” she asked, and Daemon just laughed.
“I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together,” he rumbled, pulling her up by her sides and kissing her deeply as he walked her back to the bed.
She followed his lead without hesitation, desperate to have him after hours of torment, and she gasped when her legs hit the bed and she fell back. Daemon kissed down along her neck, making her moan in pleasure, and cupped her breasts. She was nearly as buxom as her mother had been by then, but his large hands made her sizable breasts look small, and she gasped as he started kneading them.
“Please fuck me,” Myrcella whimpered. “If the pressure inside gets worse, I fear I’ll die.”
“Oh, I’ll fuck you,” Daemon grinned, licking one of her nipples before sucking on the other, “but I want to taste you first.”
Myrcella watched, her green eyes wide as saucers, as he started kissing his way down along her soft belly, inching his way towards her forest of blonde curls, and she nearly screamed when she felt his breath on her overflowing cunt.
“You really tormented the poor girl,” Daemon chuckled as he realized just how wet his new lover was.
“You can spank me for it later,” Arianne purred, lying on her side and watching them eagerly. “For now, we both know that she’s desperate for your touch.”
Daemon smirked at that and spread her pubic hair apart, revealing her taut, small nether lips. Her clit wasn’t very big either, but it was so engorged by then that it was poking out past its hood, clearly throbbing with need, and he grinned at the sight. Leaning in, he gave her one long, slow lick from her dripping hole to her clit, his eyes locked onto hers. He’d expected her to gasp and throw her head back when he reached her clit, but what he didn’t expect was for her to squeal his name and squirt all over his face.
Arianne burst out laughing as Myrcella writhed in orgasm, having clearly been even more worked up than she realized. She had spent the entire time that the pair of them sat together watching Daemon fuck her dearest friends in all the world into mindless wrecks, edging her, but she still expected it to take more than a single lick to get her off. She sat up and crawled over to Daemon, licking his wet face and grinning up at him as she tasted Myrcella’s fluids.
“Fuck her, my love,” she whispered. “Fuck this beautiful little slut and make her ours.”
“Gladly,” Daemon grinned, looking down at the blonde as she panted for breath, still shaking from how hard she’d just cum.
“What was...how did...what the…” she babbled, her eyes unfocused as she stared at him in awe and shock.
“But a taste of the many pleasures we’re going to show you,” Daemon grinned, spreading her legs wide and fisting his cock as he lined himself up with her still quivering cunt.
“Fuck...me,” Myrcella panted, and Daemon chuckled before pushing forward.
She screamed as he popped inside, tearing through her maidenhead, and quickly wrapped her arms around him. Daemon groaned at how tight she was and went still, holding her to him. It had been a long time since he’d had a maiden, but he remembered the need to be patient early on.
“H...hurts,” the blonde whimpered, and Arianne crawled behind her, wrapping her arms around both of them.
“It will pass, Myrcella,” she assured her.
“It will,” Daemon added. “Soon, all you’ll feel is pleasure. I’ll hold still until you’re ready, and in the meantime, just try to calm your body.”
“Okay,” Myrcella breathed, shivering as he wiped away the few tears she’d shed.
He was so big that she feared he was going to split her in two, and she’d certainly felt like she’d torn something just then, but her mother had warned her that the first time would hurt, and so she’d expected it. Trapped between the pair of them, she focused on breathing deeply and let herself enjoy their warmth and gentle caresses. Daemon stared into her eyes with more tenderness than she’d seen Robert show her mother during their entire disastrous marriage, and she felt heat bloom again in her core at that. Reaching up, she kissed him softly, and he responded in kind. Just as she was starting to feel her body relax a little, he broke the kiss, and Arianne took his place, shocking her for a moment.
“Gods, I’ll never tire of this,” Daemon chuckled as he watched his wife kiss their new lover, and she caressed his cheek softly in response.
Her kiss felt different from his, lighter and gentler, but with the same sort of commanding nature that made Myrcella melt. She was never meant to rule anything and would have ended up some lordling’s wife if her true origin hadn’t been discovered. Meekness and submissiveness were things that her septas had taught her were good things in women, and while nothing else she was doing just then would have been approved of by them, she had taken those particular lessons to heart. As Arianne continued to kiss her, their tongues dancing languidly in their mouths, her inner muscles relaxed around Daemon’s cock, and the pain dissipated.
“Keep going,” Myrcella whispered as she broke the kiss for air, and Daemon pushed forward, burying another couple inches of his thick cock inside her.
She gasped and whimpered but didn’t ask him to stop, wanting to see how much of him she could take. He felt so big and stretched her inner walls so wide that it still hurt, but it was manageable and it was starting to feel really good too. She leaned back as Arianne slipped over to the side and looked up into Daemon’s eyes as he continued to push further inside her. He’d started fucking her with slow, short strokes by then, and she gasped as he brushed against something that felt really good. Inch by inch she took him, and bit by bit the lingering pain and discomfort gave way to pleasure.
“I see...oh...why I needed to be so wet,” Myrcella moaned as he pushed ever further inside her.
“I’m really large,” Daemon replied, and she laughed.
“That’s...putting it mildly,” Myrcella whimpered.
“How does he feel?” Arianne asked.
“He burns a little, but it’s not too bad,” the blonde replied. “It’s also starting to feel really good.”
Daemon kissed her again and started fucking her with longer strokes, burying more and more of himself inside her quivering quim until finally, she felt his large, heavy balls come to rest against her arse.
“I did it,” Myrcella gasped, staring down at herself in awe.
“You took me so well,” Daemon whispered. “You’re such a good girl.”
“Oh gods!” Myrcella gasped, feeling her insides spasm at his words. “Fuck me, Daemon.”
Daemon grinned and pulled most of his length from her depths before plunging back inside, making her cry out. She grasped his thick arms, throwing her head back as pleasure sparked through her body, only to moan when Arianne leaned in and wrapped her lips around one of her nipples. Her prince quickly worked his way up to a steady pace, fucking her with long, slow strokes as he let her continue to get used to him.
“You’re so damn tight,” he groaned, and she smiled at the obvious pleasure in his voice, happy to know that he was enjoying her too.
Arianne switched from nipple to nipple, her touch driving her wild, and when she started ghosting a hand down along her belly, Myrcella looked at her curiously.
“When Daemon licked you just now, was that the first time you’d ever cum?” Arianne asked.
“Yes,” Myrcella breathed. “Nothing...oh gods, don’t stop...had ever felt that good in my life.”
“You didn’t touch yourself?” Arianne asked curiously.
“Mother said only whores do that,” Myrcella replied, and Arianne scowled.
“We’re meant to feel pleasure, Myrcella,” Arianne whispered. “It isn’t something to scorn. I honestly feel bad knowing that you spent the past few weeks listening to Daemon fuck our brains out without even knowing that you could do this.”
She reached Myrcella’s clit as she finished speaking, and the blonde cried out. Grinning, she went back to sucking on her nipples while rubbing her clit. Between that and how good Daemon’s invading cock felt as it speared into her again and again, she felt herself soaring towards another peak. Reaching behind her head, she clawed the bedding as still-unfamiliar pleasures coursed through her. She’d never imagined that she could feel this good and hoped in that moment that this couple, who had so kindly taken her in, would fuck her nightly. She imagined herself in the middle of the very orgy of flesh she’d watched in Arianne’s maddening grasp, surrounded by writhing, undulating bodies as she gave in completely to pleasure, and the thought made her moan.
“Don’t stop!” she screamed, barely recognizing her voice, tinged as it was by desperate need. “Gods, don’t ever stop!”
“Cum for me, Cella,” Daemon growled. “Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”
“DAEMON!” she squealed, her back arching as she came hard, and Arianne pulled back, watching eagerly.
He fucked her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure for as long as he could, and when he finally felt her go limp under him, he pulled his cock from her depths and leaned in close.
“If you want more, then you’re going to bury your face between Ari’s thighs and show her just how thankful you are for her generosity,” he whispered, and she shivered.
“I’ll do it,” Myrcella gasped. “I’ll do...anything.”
“Good girl,” Daemon grinned, flipping her onto her belly and swatting her arse, making her scream and push herself up onto her hands and very shaky knees. As he admired her plump arse, he smirked at Arianne and said, “You have such exquisite taste, my love.”
“As if there was still any question of that,” the Princess of Dorne replied, spreading her legs wide.
As Myrcella gazed down at her forest of black curls and the pink lips that she could see hints of under it, she said, “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll show you,” Daemon assured her. “She tastes divine.”
Myrcella nodded frantically, willing in that moment to lick just about anything if it would get him to shove his cock back inside her and quell the fire of lust that had been lit in her belly. It was a far cry from the life she’d once lived, but that life had been built on lies, and in Dorne, she’d found one far more honest. Her old septas would have been horrified, and she knew that her mother would be furious if she could see her just then, but all the blonde knew was that she’d found happiness after experiencing unimaginable horrors, and for her, that was enough. She buried her face between Arianne’s thighs without hesitation, breathing in the heady scent of her arousal, and wondered what other pleasures they’d all end up showing her.