A Comment on Age
All characters in this story are 18 years or older, despite their ages in the original fiction.
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Margaery sat with her back against the wall. She felt disgusting from head to toe, only having been provided with the most basic sanitary tools one could think of. She was a prisoner, caught for an act of adultery that she had not committed. To Margaery, the cause of her incarceration was no mystery. The old Queen had made no secret of her desire to get Margaery out of the way, leaving Margaery to simply sit there thinking of ways to get herself out of her predicament, and to get her claws into the Queen’s flesh to tear the old hag limb from limb.
In the time she had gotten to think about the state she was in, her thoughts had become more violent. At first, she had wanted Cersei to suffer as grand of a humiliation she had suffered herself. She had wanted the Queen to see her whole life flash before her eyes, every person who still — somehow — clung to the idea of her status completely forgetting that she meant anything at all. That was what she deserved for what she had done to Margaery.
She had been given a cell that was nothing like anything she was used to. It was just one in a row of many, each separated by rusty metal bars that she could hardly reach through. She had tried pushing herself through, but even her figure was too big to fit through. All she could manage was a leg, two if she tried hard, but further up towards her thighs there was no way to push herself through any further than that.
The days were lonely. She switched from anger to sadness from time to time, only for her anger to come back harder, tormenting her more. It almost made her wish that she would have a way to let it out, one that didn’t involve sitting against the wall and absent-mindedly banging her head against it. The pain, however, was but a dull distraction.
There was rarely noise around her, but when there was, Margaery was upright within seconds. She had long since given up on the idea that it might grant her her release, but still there was a bit of hope within her. Not that anyone would take a lie over her truth, especially when Cersei was behind it.
However, her heart jolted now. She heard a familiar voice, shouting in that particular way that made her skin crawl. Instantly, she could feel her own anger beginning to well up deeply within her, making her whole body respond so violently that she was overcome with a sudden urge to fling her straight at the bars she was locked between.
“You’ve lost your minds!” Cersei shouted. Margaery could feel her blood boil. “You’ve—”
Without letting her finish her rampage, the cell next to Margaery’s was opened. She watched as the old Queen was pushed into a similar space, and became painfully aware of how their space
— the air they breathed — was shared once more. “For how long is this cunt going to be here?” Margaery could hear herself say. It was a stupid question to ask, she realised, as it was painfully clear that Cersei deserved to be here much more than Margaery did herself. “How much longer am I?”
There was a smidgen of hope, no matter how naive she knew that thought was, that she would be granted her release, but in the end her cell remained as shut as it had always been and, without being given a word — the septas that had taken Cersei here had probably been ordered not to speak to them at all — the two were left entirely to themselves.
She looked at Cersei, completely naked, probably having rejected the covers she had been granted, and felt nothing but an all consuming rage. Of course the cunt had felt too good for what she had been given and, of course, she would rather be naked than dress herself in the fabrics of those far beneath her standards. Of course she would refuse to visibly be reduced to nothing, while, in every other aspect of her life, she already was.
Margaery could not deny that it was a strange sight. Without her dress of red and gold, she looked like nothing more than just another old woman who had nothing to show. Instead of representing the House she belonged to, she now looked like she had never filled the role of a Queen in the first place.
“How does it feel?” Margaery asked, her system filled with rage. It could only scarcely be heard in the tone of her voice, but she knew that soon enough she would no longer be able to subdue any of it. “To know that the only reason you are here now is you?”
Cersei rose to her feet, flinging herself to the fabric she had been provided with, and instantly began to cover herself. Margaery wanted to tell the old Queen that there was no need to hide, that Margaery was already well aware of how old and shriveled her naked body looked, but she was interrupted by a sneer. “Don’t come near me and don’t you dare speak to me or push blame on me, you measly little cunt, or…”
“Or what?” Margaery asked her. “What can you do to me that is worse than this? Or are you afraid?” she stepped towards the bars and grabbed them between her fists, already getting as close as she possibly could, already having dreamed of ripping the bitch before her to nothing but broken flesh, and rattled them slightly in her grip. “I must console you, bitch. Nothing I could do is worse than what you have already done to yourself.” She threw her body against the bars again, grunting alighting. “But I sure would like to try, if you at all dare to come near, and if those sagging tits could look any worse than they already do.”
It was the challenging tone that had Cersei get closer towards the bars again. She looked rough, her hair still messy from the struggle. Margaery wondered whether she had looked the same when she had first been brought in, but then she quickly realised she would never look this pathetic herself. She also didn’t struggle nearly as much, as entitlement was a language only Cersei perfectly mastered. Still, the woman approached her and tried her best to tower over her in that way she always did, only now it was even less effective as it normally was. They were in the same position. No amount of age, experience or posture changed anything about that. “This is you, little cunt. You brought this on yourself, you…”
Margaery reached between the bars, grabbing a hold of Cercei’s left tit and squishing it firmly in her grip. She yanked at it, forcing the old Queen to come closer. “All you have, cunt, is jealousy,” Margaery said. “Had you, your Grace, not behaved like a fragile cunt, none of this would have ever happened to either one of us. But, oh, of course you had to behave like a jealous bitch. Well, now everyone can see how pathetic you are.”
Margaery would have been able to continue her rampage for hours on end, knowing well that Cersei — the old whore — had in fact been guilty. Her reason for being here was just, but Margaery’s wasn’t. She also knew that Cersei, no matter how she may not have wanted to admit it, was coming to realise the very same thing, causing her to grab for Margaery’s tit through the shift that she was wearing.
Margaery winced, able to feel her tit being twisted through the rough grip and reached her other hand between the bars as well to grab Cersei’s other. She dug her nails in, which pierced straight into her skin, while Cersei had trouble keeping her grip on Margaery’s through the thick wool. “You wish you didn’t feel too good for that rag now, don’t you, cunt?” she sneered, after which she made sure Cersei couldn’t answer if she wanted to by pulling her in closer.
As she yanked, pulling each tit between a different set of bars, the tough metal dug into the space between Cersei’s tits. It gave Margaery the opportunity to pull harder, while simultaneously causing Cercei’s grip around her own tit to falter. Despite her anger, Margaery revelled in the pain of the eyes of the old Queen, and began pushing her foot back against one of the bars for more leverage.
“Let go, bitch!” Cersei wailed, her left cheek forced against the bar as Margaery continued to pull. “Let go at once—”
Instead of obliging — there was not a hair on her head that thought of listening to the old bitch — Margaery began to twist each tit into a different direction, twisting the skin around her tit while simultaneously causing the tissue underneath it to throb. She truly has an advantage here,
and she wants to make full use of it before the old Queen figures out how she is going to fight back.
Cersei is visibly and audibly in pain, the room filling with noises of torment that echoed through the damp cells. She tried to reach for Margaery, but the sack, crude and shapeless as it was, was so thick around her body that she couldn’t grab much more than a fistful of wool. It caused relief to settle within Margaery’s body each time it happened, giving her more time to make sure each one of Cersei’s saggy tits was going to be chaffed and bleeding by the end of what Margaery was planning to do to her.
To make matters even harder on Cersei, Margaery began moving her own body up and down a little, squatting to scrape the space between Cersei’s tits against the abrasive rust of the cold steel bar she was trapped against. The ugly old Queen grabbed a hold of Margaery’s shift once more, but her grip was so weak that it faltered immediately after, giving Margaery free reign to continue moving her up and down and to continue pulling at her weakening tits.
Margaery’s free reign over the old bitch wouldn’t last long, because soon Cersei had caught up with the pain to the point where she is able to fight back. As grabbing hold of Margaery’s tits was useless — Margaery was making good use of the advantage — she grabbed the underside of the shift and snaked her hand between Margaery’s legs.
Margaery’s breath hitched when she felt the grip around the hair on her mound. Only a few aggressive tugs had her sinking through her legs.
Now it shocked through her, making her fists first cramp up after abruptly losing hold of the grip around Cersei’s tits. She heard the quiet gasps escaping her own throat, indicating that she was slightly fearful of what was about to happen now that she had caused the space between the old cunt’s tits to bleed. Judging by the state of the tits themselves, they would likely start to swell in barely any time at all, and therefore there was no doubt that Cersei was starting to feel it too.
It was the pain that fueled the old cunt. As soon as Margaery’s grip faltered, Cersei took it upon herself to sink through her legs to grab a hold of Margaery’s. With all the strength that the old bitch had within her, she pulled Margaery’s legs between the bars so hard that her bare cunt was pressed against the abrasive rusty steel now. It allowed Cersei to put some distance between them, as destroying Margaery’s cunt was all her mind was set on now.
“I’ll destroy what got us here,” Cersei sneered. Her voice was nowhere near steady, and Margaery could clearly hear the pain, but she sounded no less determined then she always did. “You may never use your slut cunt again.”
To Cersei it didn’t seem to matter that the accusations of adultery were false. For a moment, Margaery wasn’t even sure whether the old Queen even knew. Perhaps she had convinced herself of her own lie, no longer being able to see the stunt for the scheme that it was.
However, Margaery could say nothing about it, as a moment later she felt her clit pressed against the cold rusty steel of the cell bar, pulled so firmly against it that it almost felt like the sensitive bone might break under the pressure.
Before it could get there, Margaery kicked her legs in Cersei’s direction just to get her off, but that simply resulted in a Cersei changing her tactic again. She scooted closer, then straddled Margaery’s thighs and wrapped her hands underneath Margaery’s ass. Like this, she could lift Margaery up and down a little, or at least enough for her to scrape her clit against the steel.
She heard herself wailing, pain shooting through her body as her clit was scraped up and down the rusty pole. She could feel the skin around it starting to tear already, the wetness around her cunt already feeling more like blood. She felt blinded by the sensation, which for now only resulted in her trying to move herself back, rather than plan a next attack.
“Get your fat, heavy body off me, old bit—” she tried to utter, but her already broken words were cut off by the sharp stinging pain that the steel against her bone then caused.
She grabbed a hold of the cell bars to try and push herself back, but occupying her hands like that only gave Cersei the opportunity to use her hands to rid Margaery of her advantage. While the old bitch sat down on her thighs to keep her in place against the steel, she reached through the bars to yank Margaery’s woolen shift upwards.
As Cersei attempted to pull it off, the wool got wrapped around her head. She held on to the bars a little tighter as if to deny the old bitch the satisfaction of having undressed her, but it was undeniable that her tits were exposed now already. She could feel the damp air against them and then, when Margaery refused to let the shift be removed, a firm fist clenched around her tit.
There, Cersei got even more of a revenge, twisting and turning the flesh in her grip until Margaery could feel that the nerves inside of it were starting to protest. She screamed through gritted teeth, until she had no choice but to allow the bitch to remove the rag off of Margaery’s body. Margaery had just enough brain to grab a quick hold of the sack as it happened, if only to prevent Cersei to pull it out of Margaery’s reach altogether.
While yanking it back and throwing the shift further into her own cell, she then grabbed a hold of Cersei’s. She had never worn it, but because she had held it in front of herself, to cover up her body, Margaery could reach towards it and do what she had worried Cersei might do to hers.
Now Margaery had two pieces of rag, while Cersei had nothing but a pair of swollen tits and an ugly old cunt.
She could clearly see the anger in Cersei’s eyes when she faced her next. “Stupid, stupid little cunt,” she spat in her direction, after which she didn’t care to explain why this made Margaery a stupid cunt, and simply reached forward to grab a hold of her hair instead.
Margaery’s head was forced against the bars as a result of the pull, her skull smashing against the hard steel. It dizzied her for a second or two, until she was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to fight back again. It led her to doing the same, though harder, as the sole purpose of what she was doing was to daze her so intensely that she would be forced to let go of Margaery’s painful tit. At the same time, her cunt was starting to burn so intensely that she wondered just how long the sensitive flesh would be able to hold out, her eyes stinging upon the severe pain of it.
She yanked Cersei’s head against the bars once, and then twice. The bitch did let go of Margaery’s tit, as expected, and was surprisingly capable of fairly little straight after. The collision of her head and the steel made a terrible, cracking noise, indicating that maybe something inside of Cersei’s head would soon be broken, if it wasn’t already.
When Margaery let go and gave the cunt a second of space, she could already see the drops of blood that had started to pour from her nose. The crimson sight felt good, and prompted Margaery to do it again, so hard that it must be making the old Queen sick. She seemed dazed, her eyes unable to focus, while her hands tried to do everything they could to grab a hold of Margaery in a similar way. She too managed it, yanking Margaery back for another droning punch. Margaery could feel the rust scraping against her skin, as the violent banging continued.
The room was filled with noises of pain, two women moaning as their faces were slowly being turned into something barely recognisable. While there wasn’t enough for any permanent disfiguration just yet, they were bleeding. Cersei from the nose, pouring out in thick red streaks, and Margaery from the side of her head and the corner of her eye, which had split open upon the aggressive impact.
The two couldn’t go on for a moment, clinging against the bars to deal with the pain. Margaery’s eyes remained shut, hissing to herself as if to make it more possible to deal with it. When they opened, she could see that Cersei was looking at her, scanning Margaery’s face for blood. Margaery couldn’t see herself, but wanted to believe that she wasn’t in as bad of a state as Cersei was. It just hurt. Her entire body was in agony.
When Cersei finally shifted, Margaery grew aware of how her cunt was stinging against the rusty steel, tiny cuts forming along her clitoral hood and adding so much pressure that she immediately wailed for an entirely different reason.
Margaery quickly leaned in, grabbing a hold of the backs of Cersei’s thighs. To prevent herself from losing balance, Cersei grabbed a hold of one of the bars as she gasped. She also put more weight on Margaery’s legs, as if to deny her the liberty to give her cunt some release.
Although it sharpened the pain, it also gave Margaery the chance to give the old Queen a taste of her own medicine, as soon she yanked the Queen’s thighs so hard that she landed herself in a similar position. To keep her in place, Margaery managed to get one of her legs on top of Cersei’s, so that they were now trapped with their cunts together, the only thing that separated them being the rusty pole in between them.
From there, Margaery grabbed a hold of Cersei’s labia instead, pulling her in by the yellow hair on the bitch’s royal cunt. It had her hissing, though the true noises of pain only erupted when Margaery yanked her so hard that her clit was rubbing against the bar as well. Margaery knew how it hurt, as her eyes were still filled with the same kind of pain Cersei was now feeling.
The pain was overwhelming enough for Cersei to let go of her hair and move onto the same tactic Margaery was using, grabbing a hold of her labia and beginning to yank at the dark hair that adorned it. It pulled at her skin, burning her, though was nothing compared to the bleeding of her clit. Although she couldn’t see her own clit, Margaery can feel that it is in a much worse shape compared to Cersei’s – a situation she’s determined to remedy.
However, while she scraped the sensitive flesh against the abrasive rust, Margaery’s feelings again changed. She wanted blood, and she had already gotten it, but what she hadn’t gotten was the subtlest hint of the old Queen’s inferiority. Margaery hadn’t yet managed to humiliate her, despite the obvious disadvantage from the beginning, and despite the ugly, broken nose that kept pouring ugly, snotty blood. The old Queen hadn’t gotten any glimpse of what it was like to be beneath Margaery.
Though her clit was probably already bleeding slightly at this point, Margaery began tugging the bitch’s cunt in an entirely different way instead, making sure that the bar was still pressed against Cersei’s clit, but no longer firmly enough to make it hurt
The result of her tugging, which Cersei strangely enough allowed to happen after the beating she had received, escaped the old Queen’s mouth in the form of a pleasured moan. Encouraged by her success, Margaery continued, rubbing the clit against the bar firmly and quickly, drawing out more and more of those tortured groans. She could see the beginnings of humiliation in Cersei’s
eyes already — how was it possible that that whore could even feel pleasure in the first place under such circumstances?
It didn’t take long for Cersei to return the favour. The grip the old Queen held around the lips of her cunt was firm and rough, but the way she used the pole to create subtle friction against Margaery’s clit had her body filled with something she desperately wanted to avoid. It had her stomach fluttering wildly, teeth gritting upon the pleasure. Her heart thumped through her chest, though nowhere near as severely as it had done when her clit had been cut into. The sensation now felt almost pleasant, yet more terrible than any of the pain had been.
Soon enough, the room around them was filled with moaning. Their breaths hitched, made worse by how intensely they tried to suppress the feeling. Their hatred made the both of them determined to hold it in, despite the swirling within their stomachs and the built up adrenaline that made them — or at least their bodies — desperate for some release.
Neither one of the women wanted to be the first one to give over, while simultaneously they wanted nothing but for the other woman to fall victim to incomparable pleasure.
After a particularly loud moan, Margaery raised her voice. Although she sounded hoarse and unstable, she couldn’t help but let her anger reach the surface. Especially because the woman was wailing. “Can’t help yourself, hm?” she moaned. “Ugly whore?”
However, the taunt resulted in a rush of adrenaline, making the sensations in her cunt all the more severe. It had her moaning, and then so angry that she tugged at the lips of the old whore’s cunt with renewed vigor. In response, Cersei, of course, did exactly the same thing to her. She wasn’t taking the insult, and under her breath she muttered her insults. “Stupid cunt. Stupid, stupid slut.”
Margaery could barely stand it. The adrenaline was making it almost impossible to keep her orgasm at bay. She was embarrassingly close. Despite the pain, and despite her hatred for the old Queen.
Another few seconds, and the pair slipped over the edge. Now they pressed themselves back against the bar, unable to accept the momentary relief to be torn away from them so abruptly when they both knew that what was about to follow was pain. Margaery could already feel that coursing through her, her orgasm, no matter how physically satisfying, having humiliated her to an extent that left her with nothing but a desire to hurt the old Queen further.
It made her determined to tear herself away. She tried to pull in her legs, which the old Queen quickly grabbed hold of. In response, Margaery did the same, squeezing her fists firmly around the skin of the bitch’s thighs. She even dug her nails in, as if to say if I can’t go anywhere, you sure as hell aren’t either.
Instead of continuing what she had been doing — making the old Queen slip over the edge another time — Margaery grabbed straight for the tit again, yanking it between the bars and pulling at with all of her weight.
“You only know how to fight like a whore,” Margaery spat, talking her own humiliation right again. “But there’s no other way to win for you, is there?”
Cersei, while wailing, had no choice but to continue down the path she had been going before. All of her attention was spent on Margaery’s womanhood, attacking it with wild abandon. She grabbed a hold of Margaery’s public hair, while her cunt was still pressed against the pole, and yanked so hard that the pain tore through her skin, as well as the burning, sensitive flesh between
her legs.
“You shouldn’t speak,” Cersei hissed. “It just makes you sound like a stupid cunt.”
A noise escaped from Margaery’s throat through the room. Blinking back tears, she shifted her attention to Cersei’s nipple, gripping one in between her thumb and forefingers, and twisting it until Cersei’s moans joined her own. Her other hand clamped to a fist and dug into the cunt’s other tit. Margaery took some brief solace in the way the old Queen continued to moan, but couldn’t take any satisfaction in it as Cercei began digging her dirt covered feet into Margaery’s body as hard and fast as she could. It had Margaery pull at the Queen’s grip in a desperate attempt to get out of range, her pubic hair pulling out and her skin suffering the consequences. After much effort, she finally got away from Cersei’s kicks, leaving tufts of blood stained pubes by the rusty pole.
Cersei seized that opportunity without hesitation, her foot slipping between the bars and Margaery’s legs once more. She kicked her foot into the young Queen’s sex — a feeling that Margaery could still remember — and pushed as many of her toes inside as she could. Margaery’s eyes squeezed shut from the intrusion, and tightened her grips on Cersei’s sagging tits — he would not move her hands away until Cercei’s nipples were barely hanging on by a thread.
The two drove each other to exhaustion from there. Cersei continuously attacked Margaery’s cunt, making it bleed and practically tearing it into pieces, while Margaery painted Cersei’s tits with blacks, blue, and red. Judging by the amount of noises, it could not be determined who was inflicting the most pain, but it was clear that neither one of them was seeing straight any longer.
They were focused, yet blinded by pain, and their exhaustion was running so deep that they couldn’t hold on any longer. Yet, it was as though their bodies were moving automatically. The pain they felt barely registered anymore, and yet every moan and every groan felt like too much of an effort. However, the noises were too hard to keep in and therefore sounded almost like a signal that, eventually, led them to collapse at the same time.
Cersei’s nipple was so sickeningly twisted that it was flattened near her areola that Margaery wondered whether there was any feeling left in that anymore at all. The same could be said for her own cunt, which was bloodied by all of the hair that had been torn from it. It felt so numb that she could barely even feel the pain.
Flat on their backs, they breathed heavily as if to still the pain in their bodies. But with the adrenaline fading and the exhaustion setting in, a desire to sleep starts creeping towards Margaery. Absentmindedly, she turned her head to look at the layout of the cells. She may have observed it before, when she was still alone, but only now with Cersei here did she realise what their sleeping situation was going to mean.
In the corner of their two respected cells, by the metal bars that separates them two beds stood. Sleeping in them would practically mean sleeping next to one another and, no matter how severely exhausted she is, Margaery would sooner see her own death than to sleep next to the old cunt. Yet, there seemed to be no other way, and the two Queens, after eyeing one another with a pained sneer, began crawling their naked, broken bodies over the floor to where the beds were.
“You…” Cersei panted while she noticed that Margaery was planning on taking the bed for herself too, “haven’t earned your spot here. Stay on the fucking floor if you still want to stay alive.”
“Tell that to your bleeding tits, cunt. How will you sleep…” Margaery continued to crawl. “While you can’t even… even lie at all. The pain will keep you awake no matter what… Won’t it?”
With both visions still spinning, that in itself was difficult enough, but it was nothing in comparison to what happened afterwards. As most of the damage on Cersei had been inflicted upon her tits, it was a whole lot easier for her to get to her feet than it was for Margaery. Her cunt was throbbing too badly, leaving her to drag herself over the floor while Cersei took the spot first. Once Margaery finally managed to crawl on to her bed, she instantly felt a hand in her hair that yanked her closely towards the bed. “I said get on the floor, little cunt,” Cersei spat, breathing heavily with pain, “before I slam my whole fist into you.”
Margaery didn’t move at first, but that abruptly changed when Cersei gave her a taste of her threat. While her hair was yanked at, three fingers made their way into her cunt again, spreading open so firmly that Margaery’s exhausted mind was once again overwhelmed by pain. She could barely contain it, and could barely find the energy to fight back.
However, when it became clear that Cersei was trying to get her to get off the bed, Margaery began to slam her hands through the bars, again into her tits. But when Cersei kicked back, Margaery knew that her attacks on Cersei’s tits had only numbed her for the moment, while she felt practically obliterated by what had been done to her. She tried to kick Cersei in the shin, but moving her legs brought a tearing sensation into her cunt that almost blinded her.She was exhausted and her bottom half no longer cooperated properly. She did not know how she was going to hold out any longer, and eventually decided that maybe it wasn’t worth it.
After all, chances are they will be here for quite a while…
When she felt the old cunt’s fist against her entrance, aggressively slamming and trying to make its way in, Margaery finally decided she’d had enough. Suffering the momentary humiliation is not the worst thing that could happen, after all, especially if she wasn’t sure whether her recovery would come soon enough to attack the cunt again. On top, she felt broken, and the pain was severe enough to no longer think about ways to break Cersei. She just wanted it to stop, so for now she would sleep away from the bed, no matter that she had nothing but a cold, damp floor that would inevitably make her sick.
***
Margaery woke up earlier, the damp floor and the lack of food in her system leaving her with a feeling of excessive nausea in her stomach. Her cunt throbbed along with it, instilling a type of adrenaline that had her insides churning. She felt out of breath and, gasping, she finally made her way to where their food had been left for them. Apparently of all the ways the High Sparrow wanted to torture them, starvation was not one of them.
This gave Margaery a brief advantage. She silently crept towards the food, and did her best to keep it down, while Cersei recovered by sleeping on her injuries. The breakfast consisted of some bread and a jug of water. The bread was dry and tasted like dust, while the water was cold as ice and tasted like metal. Margaery’s stomach protested loudly against the food and water, threatening to throw it all out where it came from. Despite her effort, Margaery was only able to force down a single slice of bread no larger than her hand, washed down with 2 mouthfuls of drink.
Looking at the bed where the old Queen still slept, a twisted grin surfaced on Margaery’s face, and she reached across the bars and stole Cersei’s ration as well. Margaery could hardly wait to see what would happen once the cunt realised she had been left without a chance to eat.
Once the nausea had passed and all she was left with was an uncomfortable ache in her bowels — something she could deal with as the rest of the pain was much worse — she crept towards the bed, her legs still stiff from the night on the stony floor, with Cersei’s jug of icy cold water in her hands, and poured the ice cold water across the bar. The sudden cold had the old Queen on her feet in an instant, gasping as though her life was being threatened. It was.
Margaery could see that the old Queen would have spoken, was it not for the pain in her chest, but instead she managed to utter nothing more than yet another broken “Bitch…”
Margaery looked her over, seeing the state of her tits. They were black and blue, one nipple having slightly flattened while the other looked blue around its areola. The swelling had already started, meaning that their shape — even though they had pretty much been sagging for years — had been lost altogether. The sides of her tits were bulging slightly, swollen glands and built up fluid causing the sacks of lymph to deform. Her face didn’t look much better. Her nose wasn’t in the right position anymore either, evidently having been broken or at least fractured as remnants of her pouring blood were still visible just above her upper lip. Without medical attention, Margaery was almost certain that it would never take on its normal state again.
It was hard to say who was in a worse state, though. Margaery’s injuries were visible on her cunt. Hair had been ripped from her mound, and the pain inside of it was searing. It may not have been as visible as what she had done to Cersei, but it probably hurt just as much if not more. Her stomach had been punched into and her face was stained with blood from the side, while internally her clit and cunt were throbbed with pain whenever she moved her legs. Fury rose in her gut, blending in perfectly with the nausea she was already feeling.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Margaery asked, though sounding more exhausted than she had intended. She waved a piece of bread in front of Cersei’s face – recently taken from Cersei’s cell. “Why don’t you get yourself something to eat?”
Trying to seem completely unintimidated, Cersei took a step forward. Ah, clearly she still felt above the young Queen. Well, Margaery thought, not for long.
As soon as Cersei stepped towards the bars, Margaery dropped the slice of dry bread and moved forward. Her steps were laced with fury and instantly she reached out to the tit that had not yet been given the worst. The old nipple was instantly clamped between her fingers, and Cersei was pulled towards the bars by her nipple. Margaery’s other hand disappeared in the old Queen’s
blond cunt, grabbing a handful of hair andyanking at it. At the same time, for lack of a better option — both her hands being occupied — she reached down to the bitch’s flattened nipple, and began to bite and grind her teeth just to make the damage she had already inflicted worse.
Fighting through her wails, Cerseigrabbed a hold of Margaery’s tit again. The roles seemed to have been reversed for a moment. Where Margaery was now actively tugging at Cersei’s pubic hair, Cersei was primarily tugging at Margaery’s intact nipples. It was as if the two wanted to set right what had been done to them the night before. They were driven by that pain, and now wanted each other to have a taste of their own medicine.
Margaery had given herself a head start, enabling her to attack the old Queen at three places at once, dealing more damage to the bitch than the bitch was doing to her. If Cersei was able to rid Margaery of her basic needs — forcing her to sleep on the damp floor and making her sick with cold — then Margaery could deprive her of food. Margaery could practically hear Cersei’s stomach rumbling with the nauseating sensation.
“Starving, aren’t you?” Margaery hissed, voice muffled by the tit flesh and strained with pain as it had been for ages. She yanked out a few stands of her blond pussy hair, causing the skin to sting and burn. “maybe you’ll even fit into some of your old dresses if you ever get out.”
The taunt was enough for Cersei to pull herself together, her one free hand reached towards Margaery’s cunt to spread her lips apart and dig her claws into the inner flesh of her cunt. It hurt much worse than the squeezing grip around her tit, as her cunt still throbbed from the punishment it took the day before, but Margaery knew that the old bitch was too tired to keep up this temporary attack.
Steeling her resolve,t Margaery went back on the offensive. She attacked Cersei’s nipple with her mouth again, grinding the leathery nub between her teeth until she tasted blood, and pulled out strand after strand of pubic hair at the same time. Cersei made Margaery pay for every scream with moans of her own, undoubtedly making the inner flesh of her cunt sting and bleed, but eventually it was Cersei who got weak in the knees and collapsed. She grabbed for the bar to keep herself up, but eventually the grip on her tits and cunt got too severe to remain upright. It caused an immaculate strain, as Margaery had no intention to unclench her teeth from the cunt’s nipple. Margaery could feel it tearing, blood spurting in her mouth and making her feel almost sick. However, it was not that that made her let go, but the fact that the bitch was way too heavy. Margaery couldn’t hold her entire weight between her teeth any longer.
That was when Cersei aimed for the stomach again, furious fists pounding into her abdomen. Margaery could feel a wave of nausea overwhelming her, upon which she decided to use her knee to knee Cersei in the chin. She clattered backwards upon the impact, hands shooting
towards her jaw. Margaery instantly hoped the jaw was dislocated. On top of that, with the legs spread towards Margaery, Margaery was now offered the opportunity to kick the bitch straight into the cunt. It seemed to finally be enough for Cersei to scrape herself over the floor into the corner of her cell.
Margaery wanted to call her a coward. She would have done so, was it not for the severe ache in her stomach that Cersei’s punches had left there. She could feel her insides convulsing, nausea once again befalling her. Still she decided to keep it in, as she was unwilling to betray any sign of weakness that might sour her moment of triumph. After all, this was the moment Cersei had pulled back. Despite the pain, she ought to revel in it.
For a good amount of time, the old Queen continued to look to the side. Her body was naked and lifeless, but it was apparent that she didn’t want to acknowledge Margaery was even there. She must have been hungry, as her hand remained on her stomach as if to suppress the ache, but she didn’t seem willing to give into it. She knew — or at least she seemed to think — that Margaery would attack at the very first chance, and therefore it seemed better to suffer through the hunger, than to set herself up for yet another round of exhausting pain.
It was a good thing for Margaery, however, as her stomach continued to churn so violently with nausea that she almost found herself curling in on herself. The nausea was so severe that she caught herself sweating. She knew that sickening feeling was there, in combination with what happened to her body through the night, because of the pain Cersei had left on her body, and that in itself was reason enough not to let the bitch notice it. She shivered instead, while trying her very hardest to relax.
She couldn’t. Convulsing violently, Margaery eventually crawled towards the corner of her cell. Cersei seemed to notice it, but the feeling was so overwhelming that she no longer seemed to care. She needed to get to that bucket of theirs that was meant to store their waste, or else her entire cell would be reeking of the sour remnants of her breakfast. Finally, Cersei took the opportunity to shoot to the other side of the cell to get the slice of bread that had fallen on the floor during their struggles. She stuffed her mouth with it in an instant, obviously starved, and seemed to watch Margaery as she emptied whatever was in her stomach straight into a wooden bucket. She shivered violently as she did it, her entire body convulsing so desperately that she felt her cunt leaking urine. Her heart beat rapidly, while the acid forced itself upwards through her throat.
It was then that she felt a hand in her hair, dragging her towards the bars. Her vision blurred with involuntary tears and then began spinning. There was strain on her skull, yanking so agonisingly hard she could feel her hair being pulled out. While throwing up, waves and waves of vomit coming up from within, she was no longer near the bucket. Instead, the acidic content dribbled
down her body, covering her entirely and coaxing her in a layer of her own waste. This time, it had become clear, it was Cersei who had given herself an advantage, and it was Margaery whose pain had now overtaken the anger. She felt her skull throbbing so violently that, for a moment, she no longer wished to damage the old Queen any further. Instead, she wanted to get away from it. She felt sick to the core and was no longer in any state to fight on. Only if she had to…
“That’s what you get, you little cunt,” Cersei spat. “Now you finally get to deal with the consequences.”
Apparently Cersei had decided that Margaery’s cunt was now too filthy to touch, because the rest of her attacks were once again focused on scarring her face. She did so by yanking out hair, and then by continuing to slam Margaery’s face back against the bars. The side of her head was throbbing again, blood pouring out, while her once beautiful brown locks slowly detached from her head one strand at a time.
Once the worst of her vomiting had stopped, leaving her body soaked, she finally began to struggle against the grip of the old Queen. Despite the strain, along with the severe, overwhelming pain, she tried her best to pull back. For every inch she managed to move away, however, Cersei pulled her back even harder, leaving her vision to blur upon the several collisions her head had made with the cell bars. Seeing that she can’t pull free, Margaery decided to drown out her own pain with Cersei’s, aiming for Cersei’s tits once again.
As soon as she had clamped one of the bitch’s nipples again — the one she could feel her own teeth marks in — the grip on her hair faltered. She took the opportunity right away, yanking back so hard that she could feel her body falling backwards. However, her body was not the only thing that had clattered to the floor, as the next thing she smelled was the acid of her own vomit, suddenly spreading throughout her entire cell. Through her blurred vision, she could see that the bucket had fallen over, the contents leaking out before she had the energy to respond.
Under different circumstances, she would have found it really hard to deal with the prospect of sitting in a cell that reeked of vomit, but now she didn’t have the strength to think about it. She just had to get away and drag herself into the corner of her cell. Not only to get away from the
smell, but also to get away from Cersei’s clear desire for revenge and destruction. Her body wouldn’t be able to handle it. At least not now.
Margaery had no clear concept of the amount of time that passed in this state. She was curled up in the corner, hands wrapped around her knees as her face, throbbing violently, was buried into her legs. She rocked herself gently back and forth, both for comfort and for warmth, as she tried her very best to come back to her senses again. When she finally did, their cell was dark again, the only light coming from the hallway their cells were attached to. It was just enough to see by.
“I see.” Margaery heard Cersei’s voice droning through the cell. It was a voice that made her insides churn all over again. The old cunt made her feel sick to her stomach, and not only because of the fury and fear she was tormented with. There was somewhat of a tone in Cersei’s voice that made it difficult for Margaery to keep her gag reflex under control. Just like Margaery herself, the cunt seemed to have difficulty speaking properly. “The little bitch has awoken.”
Margaery didn’t say anything. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. On one hand, she felt like she would sooner die than let the old hag talk to her like that, but on the other she was much too exhausted from everything that had happened to her. Alas, her hatred had her sit up straight. She knew that her sneer would be hardly visible, but still it was all she could do. Looking over at where Cersei was sitting, though, she could see that the cunt was clutching her stomach in a similar way as she had been doing herself earlier. For a brief moment, it made her wonder whether the piece of bread they had been given had been too old and moldy to be consumed.
Next thing she heard was a hitch of breath. Margaery looked up once more and watched Cersei rush towards the bars again. This time, though, she didn’t seem to be doing it because she wanted to attack Margaery again, but because the same thing was happening to Cersei now instead. This time, it gave Maragery the opportunity — despite the stiffness of every last one of her bones — to move herself towards the bars as well, where she aimed to grab a hold of Cersei’s blond hair herself. The two seemed to be out to get revenge. Whatever had been done to them, had to be returned.
Not that Cersei was giving her the chance for anything at all, because Cersei didn’t even try to aim for the bucket. As soon as she noticed her hair being grabbed, she changed direction, vomiting in the direction of the bars, and therefore coaxing Margaery’s thigh into the sickening remnants of the moldy bread. Warm, chunky liquid poured down her legs, raising so much fury within her that she sunk through her legs and pushed them through the bars into Cersei’s cell.
With her hand still around Cersei’s locks, she yanked her down against her skin, rubbing her face all over the acidic content. “Fucking choke on it, cunt,” she hissed in a broken voice. She meant it all the same, though. “Filthy… filthy old bitch.”
Cersei gasped and for a moment it seemed like Margaery was successfully choking her on her own vomit, but then the vomiting simply continued. More of the nauseating fluid dribbed over her leg, making her feel so disgusting that she had to move away. She had nothing to wipe this on either, except for…
Margaery rushed to the woolen shift that she had ripped off Cersei’s body earlier that day, wiping her legs dry before she tossed it in the direction of where Cersei was still sitting. “There,” she snapped. “Now you fucking try to take the bed tonight.”
It was more than clear that Cersei was furious in response, but before she could do anything in return, Margaery snatched her shift as far away from the cell bars as it could go and left Cersei with absolutely nothing to grab for. Like this, it was clear that the old bitch would have to sit in her own vomit, until someone decided to acknowledge her predicament and give her at least a little bit of help to save some of her dignity.
“Now I suppose you deal with the consequences,” Margaery gasped, after which she collapsed back into her corner again. There was more than enough reason not to look at the bitch for the next foreseeable hours, until they had at least somewhat recovered from all the torment they had suffered through.
Margaery must have fallen asleep for a few hours, because when she opened her eyes, it was suddenly a little lighter out. The space around them reeked of filth, but the vomit that was now practically everywhere was nothing in comparison to the state of both their bodies. Neither one of them had taken the bed, probably because the two were equally exhausted and in no state to suffer through another few rounds of fighting for the somewhat soft bed. They had been torn to pieces, and for what?
The two of them looked utterly disfigured. The day before, Margaery’s tits might not have received as badly of a beating as Cersei’s had — or a beating at all, for that matter — but now she could feel that they were bruised and somewhat swollen. Her cunt was in a worse state, and her scalp still hurt from the strands that had been aggressively yanked out. It was hard to see out of one of her eyes, and it was clear that Cersei was having a similar difficulty. Her nose was in no better state, and wouldn’t heal properly for the time being either.
Overall, they were black and blue from head to toe. When feeling down her body. Margaery could feel the patches of raw, bloodied skin. Although Margaery had mainly aimed for Cersei’s sagging tits, which were both bruised — one of her nipples barely hanging on by a thread — Margaery could see the same patches on the cunt of the old Queen, meaning that they had ended up in quite a similar state.
Their state was made most clear by the way they were sitting now, however. They weren’t facing each other aside from the quick glances they threw one another to check whether they were awake, and neither one of them had moved in what felt like hours. They had clearly reached their absolute limit, and now it was Margaery who finally wondered what this had all been for.
It was then that Margaery began to wonder how long the High Sparrow was planning to keep them there. They hadn’t been spoken to in nearly three days, but a septa must have been here at some point — Margaery had not been conscious at any point that that might have happened — she must have seen that the states she and Cersei were in were only getting worse and worse. After all, they weren’t wearing anything and their bodies were on display at all times. It must have been obvious that the harm coming to them wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Of course they were both entirely worn out now, but she knew that the minute she or Cersei recovers, they will be at each other’s’ throat again. Margaery, at least when it came down to this particular woman, could not keep her fury under control and it was clear that the feeling was mutual.
So clear, in fact, that Margaery could almost swear that this was exactly what the High Sparrow had hoped would happen. How would he ever have gotten away with torturing the two of them himself? Was it not much more convenient to let them sort it out on their own, while he sat and waited for the two of them to break and eventually seek for his forgiveness?
The realisation weighed so heavily on Margaery that she could feel it pounding through her ribcage. Once again, her hands balled to fists, but it was not directly because of Cersei this time around. Of course it was the cunt who had landed them here in the first place, but now it was the High Sparrow playing a vile, powerful game that Margaery had no chance to win.
She remained on guard from that moment, trying her very best not to fall asleep even though she knew the old Queen had failed to stay conscious on many occasions. She had to catch the moment she would hear life beyond the walls of her cell. She refused to stay here any longer, and would much prefer the old Queen to rot here all by herself.
It was night and dark out when a jug of water was shoved into her cell. Margaery crawled towards it right away. Instead of grabbing it to soothe the dehydration, however, she lifted herself up and gently knocked her fists against the door. “I confess,” she said. She cleared her throat and made sure that she sounded as remorseful and genuine as she could possibly muster. The time she spent pretending to get along with the bitch in the other cell had certainly done her acting skills some good, she thought. “I have sinned. Please, in the name of Mother’s mercy, please take to the High Sparrow. I seek his forgiveness.”
No response followed, though the footsteps that sounded through the hallway indicated that they were alone again. She knocked harder, her voice now a little louder. She no longer cared that Cersei might be awoken by her desperation, because she knew well that Cersei would never see through her plan. The old bitch was dumb and obsessed with herself. How could she see Margaery’s behaviour as anything but her own victory? No, whatever guard this was had to believe that she was genuine, only so that the High Sparrow may get a word of this and consider letting her repent.
“Finally ready to give up?” Cersei asked. “Has the precious little whore of Highgarden finally realised that there is no winning from me?!?
Margaery didn’t say anything, deciding to save her anger for a later moment. After all, there was no way in the world that she was going to let the old bitch get away with what she had caused. She was going to lead Cersei to an ultimate destruction, so that she could possibly die knowing that every single person within theSeven Kingdoms would now know what a weak, worthless piece of whore she had always been. But she’ll be damned if she let’s the High Sparrow steal the fruit of her labour.
That was, at least, if she would ever be able to get the High Sparrow to listen to her. ***
The door to her cell was opened a mere few hours later. She was treated as roughly as she had been when she had been brought in. The difference was that, right now, she was no longer wearing her shift and that, instead, her naked body was now being dragged towards a bathroom. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that she would be granted a nice, warm relaxing bath, but of course the stink had to be washed off her body. That was done by two ice cold buckets of water and three septas armed with horsehair brushes that left her screaming and shivering in the aftermath.
It had to be done, she knew, because she was finally being taken to the High Sparrow. Her confessions — or, much rather — her attempts to make a confession, had been heard and now she was finally going to get a chance to see whether her plan would work. She was anxious to find out, but even more furious in anticipation of what that smug face would look like as it pretended not to know even the slightest thing about what had happened. Margaery knew better now, and she confirmed it the second she was brought in to face him.
Her body was covered by another clean, woolen shift. Her bruises were covered, the damage on her body no longer visible. She wondered whether that had been done on purpose, so that the wrinkly old man in front of her could continue to pretend.
“You look restless, child,” the man said. He wore a slight smile upon his features, as if she hadn’t set Margaery up to fight Cersei practically to the death. “Is the bed not to your grace’ liking? Or is it a guilty conscience that is keeping sleep at bay.” Margaery could see a twitch in the man’s eyes — a little twinkle of amusement — that had her blood practically boiling. “But it has come to my attention that you are here to do something about that. I am under the impression that you have come to admit to your wrongdoings, and that it is forgiveness that you seek.”
“That is…” Margaery looked down, continuing her act. It’s now or never. She sighed a broken sob for good measure, as if to confirm that she really felt terribly for what she ‘had done’. “That is true, Your Holiness. I have sinned; I can no longer live with the guilt on my heart; the mistakes I have made, and the crimes I have committed, I pray only that the Mother will have mercy on my soul, and that the Crone may guide me back to the path of righteousness.”
“I see,” the man replied. “But you must already be aware that adultery is no sin to be taken lightly. The Gods are merciful, but they are also just, and sins must be punished if the soul is to rise free from it.Absolution without punishment is a crime against the soul, as well as against the Faith. You must understand that, do you not?”
Margaery, despite noting the hypocrisy behind it, nodded with a look of remorse and despair in her eyes. Since the High Sparrow seemed to completely stand by his faith, Margaery was certain that he was beginning to fall for it. Wasn’t it this his plan all along? Hadn’t he wanted Margaery to confess because she could no longer handle the torture that Cersei had put her through? Well, that wasn’t what had happened, but the High Sparrow would only learn about that later.
“I understand that,” Margaery whispered, putting a tinge of fear in her voice. Her bottom lip quivered. With the backs of her hands she rubbed her eyes, as if she was beginning to cry again. At this point, that wouldn’t be far removed from the truth. “And I don’t know what I could do to be given this forgiveness,” she continued. “Please have mercy, and please guide me to the path of redemption.”
It was then that she really managed to feel her eyes filling themselves up with tears. She knew she was doing a good job at convincing the old man, because through her blurred vision he could see that there was a small part of him that might feel for her. No matter what he had done, he is a man of Faith, and his precious Faith didn’t involve locking her in a cell with a woman who would jump at the opportunity to rip her guts out.
The High Sparrow remained silent, letting her go through her emotions. It was enough for Margaery to continue playing it up like she had been doing. “I should have…” she sobbed, “I should have spoken up sooner. I should have admitted to the assault, and I should have confessed — as soon as it happened — that the vile old Queen took my… my…” She looked up into the eyes of the High Sparrow, spotting the glimmer of empathy once more, and something else much less comforting. “My maidenhead. With the Gods as my witness, I have never lain with another man. My only sin, Your Holiness, is not speaking up sooner.”
She felt a hand upon her shoulder, making her look up once more. “I have seen your regret, child,” he spoke. “And so will the Gods, for they are merciful. You need only ask to earn their
forgiveness.” Margaery, despite wanting to rip the man’s hand off the rest of his arm, let her shoulders sink with make-belief relief, which prompted him to continue. “I will allow you to seek this forgiveness by making a public confession, so that the Gods and the people shall see your regret and witness your journey back to righteousness.”
Margaery, as soon as she heard those words, made her body practically collapse. Her body curled in on itself and the sobbing continued. Well, if that wouldn’t do, then nothing would. “Thank you, Your Holiness. Thank you… Thank you so much.”
***
Margaery had thought she would be sick with nerves, but once the day of her confession arrived, she felt strangely at peace. Of course she knew there was still a lot at stake, and that she would not be surprised if the High Sparrow still had a plan to counter her own, but the situation was in her control again. She was finally in a position to do something about it.
After her conversation with the High Sparrow, she had been taken to a private cell, where she awaited the day of her confession. The way she thought it would plan out, was ultimately also the way it went. Without any preparation, after two mornings of having been fed slightly better bread, she was taken by some septas who, once again, did not speak a word to her at all. Margaery followed them, knowing well that she would be taken to the Sept of Baelor, where the High Sparrow would already be delivering his speech to his following. Margaery was only in time to hear the last few words, which already tried her patience to no end.
“Today, a sinner has joined us,” he spoke. “Once more, we will lay witness to how just and merciful the Gods are; how any wayward person may always be welcomed back onto the path of redemption. The sinner in question has confessed to her sins and renounced her ways. She sheds her regal arrogance, and comes as a humbled servant of the Seven, ready to welcome their light into her heart, and be welcomed back to their grace.”
By a septa, Margaery was given a gentle push forward. She knew this meant that she was expected to kneel before the statue of the Father, and that she was there to make herself ready to, once again, confess.
She hesitated for a few seconds, keeping quiet as if the humiliation would be too great for her to bear, but then rose to her feet again. “The Gods are merciful and just,” Margaery said, speaking directly to the High Sparrow. “But their spokesmen on this earth, Your Holiness, are not.” She paused once more, hearing a series of gasps around the room, along with the tremble and pale look on the High Sparrow’s features, that fuelled her to say more: “I am not here to confess to my sins, but to prove my innocence. We are all aware of the hypocrisy of the Faith, and how
each claim made against a humbled servant of the Seven, is taken as truth without any proper trial. The Faith locked me up without evidence, believing that no lie can be told, and made me suffer for long, hard days without barely getting a bite of food to eat.” She cleared her throat, now addressing the audience that had gathered for her confession. They listened intently, but Margaery wasn’t sure whether that worked in her favour, or against it. “But I do not ask you to simply believe me. I ask you to allow me a fair trial — a trial by combat — in which I will fight for my innocence against the Queen Mother Cersei Lannister, my accuser. Like this…” Margaery took a deep breath, before blurting out the rest of her speech: “I will place my fates in Gods’ hands. May the father judge me justly, and may the warrior lend strength in defense of my innocence.”
After a few noises of disbelief coming from all around her, the space suddenly grew quiet again. All eyes were now on the High Sparrow, awaiting his response.
“Very well then, Child” The High Sparrow spoke with difficulty. There was venom in his expression, making it very clear that he had not foreseen this and that, foremost, he was not happy with the sudden change of events. “Then so it shall be. May the Gods grant you the justice you deserve.”
The End
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