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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She walked through the castle in little short of a trot. Myrcella’s eyes stared straight ahead, she was an arrow pointed in only one direction. How dare she. There were some things that went just a little too far, that broke what few rules even this mad place seemed to abide by. It had been just one step too far, and now that bloody Targaryen had to pay. If she didn’t do something now, then it might have repercussions further down the line too. Weakness was death, after all.

Waking up in her chambers she had been enraged to find Doreah exhausted, bruised and crying. She’d been reluctant to speak of it, more than reluctant, in fact. Still, Myrcella had pried it out of her, and then her destination had been set. Apparently Doreah had shared some history with the other woman. That had almost been as hard to pry out as the rest, but Myrcella was persistent if nothing else.

The truth was she would have had to confront Daenerys anyway, sooner or later. The woman had proved to be one of the biggest thorns in everyone’s side. She might have been even more dangerous than Myrcella, though it was only just. Myrcella would have wanted to do this on her own terms, with some kind of preparation in mind. Now, she was heading into the enemy’s den, and that was especially dangerous. From everything she’d seen and heard, Daenerys was more of a wild animal than a Queen, and now she was going to try backing her into a corner.

Still, like it or not, this was necessary. Myrcella had toyed with the idea of doing this for more emotional reasons, but she couldn’t pretend that much. She didn’t really care about Doreah. Oh, she liked the woman well enough, but caring for her was a different matter altogether. Doreah was a good lay, better than most, but she wasn’t a woman to throw everything in jeopardy for.

Doreah was hers. That was the long and short of it when she really got down to it. Not only had Myrcella taken the woman under her wing, she had made a claim to her. Now, it was like someone had snatched her favorite doll and stomped on it right in front of her. That could not go unpunished. Her anger flared at just the thought. 

She was a Princess, someone who had gotten everything she had ever wanted as far back as she possibly remembered. All of that had been snatched away, one tragedy after another befalling her family. Myrcella, a princess, had to live in exile in a country far, far away from her father’s throne, from her family’s throne. Myrcella had lost everything, and only now had she started to claw some of it back. She would not lose anything again, could not lose anything again. If she couldn’t have all Seven Kingdoms, then they would burn.

It was also just purely about pride, when she really got down to it. Did that whore think there wouldn’t be consequences? Did she think she was so safe, so secure, that she could hurt what was rightfully hers? No, most certainly not. In some ways this had gone on too long and now she needed to make up for her own mistakes.

She winced slightly as she rounded the corner, pain flaring up her bottom. That was another thing, Myrcella was definitely not at her best. Her late night romp with Arianne had definitely gotten violent at points. Still, it was fun and something she would have gladly welcomed any time. Myrcella only wished the pain and some of the bruises hadn’t lingered. It would have to be enough. From what she’d heard, Doreah had more than put up a fight against the Targaryen. All she could do was hope that the other woman was even worse off than she was.

She knew at least enough to know that the walk to her destination was going to be long. It gave her time with her thoughts, and the more time she had the more angry she got. Soon, her anger was the only thing coursing through her. How bloody big is this castle anyway? Her destination was the opposite wing, separated from hers by a barren field where the soldiers practiced. It was blessedly empty for now. The tales of what she was going to do would spread either way, but she’d rather not walk to her chambers through a sea of knowing gazes.

Every woman save one had been given rooms on the wings opposite Aegon. The first day, Myrcella had to hold herself back from strangling something when she saw this was where the other servants slept. That had to have been a plot meant to keep her away from the Prince, what else could it be? Luckily, she had a pretty good idea of just who might have been responsible.

Daenerys had somehow managed to take lodging in Aegon’s wing, however. Apparently that was some bit of added courtesy due her as a fellow Targaryen. Doubtless that had been her room, nearest to him. Myrcella wouldn’t have put it past the other woman to have stolen them right from under her nose. Aegon was kind, he likely just didn’t want to be rude and have her thrown out. He should have, but he was too nice. That had to be it.

Now that she was here though, it was a short walk to where she needed to be. There were more guards here, angry looking men who did not hesitate to glower at her. If anything, their faces seemed to darken when they saw who was walking down the halls. That was a bad sign. It hadn’t been that way a few weeks ago. Mistrust and suspicion had found purchase in everyone. Do they think me some kind of assassin? She mused on that idly as she stopped in front of a large, ornate, wooden door. Was it nerves stopping her? She shook her head and pounded on the door, this was no time to be nervous.

She had to stifle a grunt as her maid dabbed her cheek. Daenerys could already feel the beginnings of a bruise that would doubtless rear its head soon. Daenerys had had her share of unfinished business with Doreah. The woman had been a pain in her side for a long, long time. Now, she’d had the audacity to show up here of all places. It was enough to drive anyone mad. It was like she had been gloating right at her. It must have been that, she was sure of it.

Worse still, that whore seemed in some way close to the Prince. More than a few people had gossiped about her slipping out of his room every now and then. Surely that couldn’t have been anything. Surely not. Aegon likely just wanted a talented maid, that must have been it. Even so, the woman had needed to be taken down a few pegs, and Daenerys had been more than willing to do just that.

It had been a while since the two had last met and fought, but Doreah was every bit as fierce as she remembered her being. Daenerys had always known it wouldn’t be easy, but that didn’t make her bruises any better. She grunted again, this time the pain lancing through her still tender womanhood. No, it really hadn’t been easy at all. She needed time to think, time to plan. Everything had been happening so fast around her that she had constantly been swept away by things. That wasn’t how a Queen was supposed to act, least of all the one true Queen.

What would Aegon think of her if he saw her now? Doubtless nothing good, she admitted to herself. Daenerys had long since realized that the Prince would come to love her and only her. After all, that’s why he gave her these special quarters, so very close to where he himself was staying. The other Queen, well, he just had to be polite, as befitting a King, Her King. That was why they’d been made to sleep with the other servants. Oh, her being part of his family was just an excuse, she knew that for a fact.

Any day now he would send for her. Send for her to talk, maybe to warm his bed. While a Queen could not give way to such advances carelessly, she would go after some prodding. It was after all no less than what he deserved for making her wait for so long. When that happened, doubtless the two would crush all Seven Kingdoms under their boots. In a few months, she would be sitting on the Iron Throne -or he would, she admitted reluctantly- with the other would be right beside them.

It was only natural, they were Targaryens after all. Meant not only for each other but meant for a life of authority and power. This land had forgotten that under the hands of one usurper after another. She would remind them, with fire and blood where words would not suffice. All she really had to do was not make any mistakes, and it would all fall into place. That was just her destiny..

A loud thud pulled her from her thoughts. The first thud was soon followed by another, and then another. Her eyes flared and Selene seemed to jump. Looking at her, she couldn’t decide if it was the banging or the look in Daenerys’ eyes that scared her more. These people really are weak, scared by just a glare. All the same, she took a deep breath and smoothed over her expression. That seemed to calm the other woman down a tad.

“Oh, won’t you be a dear and answer? It seems like someone is in a hurry.” Daenerys smiled. “I’m sure it must be something awfully important.”

To her credit, the other woman had regained herself. Aegon had chosen her for a reason, after all. Surely, just another sign of his favor, she had mused to herself before. The woman walked up to the large door, unlatching it. The door opened with a creak that put the earlier thuds to shame.

She’d dare?! Her smile had doubtless faded. She was snarling now, snarling with every ounce of fury she felt welling up inside her. Clad in a long, silvery dress, cut a touch too low to be modest, Myrcella stood, the very image of calm. Looking at her, you would never have thought it was her who had been making enough noise to wake up a crypt. Daenerys was just about to give her leave for the other woman to enter, when Myrcella stepped in herself.

She mocks me. Daenerys took another deep, steadying breath. She paused, staring at her clenched fists, the skin pale as milk. With an effort, she unclenched, her face as blank as she could make it.

 “Why, Lady Lannister, I didn’t expect you. Normally one would send a missive or a servant, anything really.” She turned her legs, moving to sit at the bed’s side. “I have not been in these Seven Kingdoms long. I didn’t know that trying to break down doors was an acceptable way to greet your Queen.” She finished acidly.

Instead of replying, the other woman ignored her. Ignored her! Myrcella was staring at Selene, who was shrinking away from the gaze. The young lion looked almost confused, as if surprised she had a maid at all. “You actually accepted a maid? From the Prince?” Myrcella laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. What was that supposed to mean? She had no time to think about it.

“Selene. Leave us.” The girl didn’t need to be told twice. She bid the briefest courtesy possible before racing out of the door. Thankfully, she had the decency to close the door behind her. The large thud that followed had an odd air of finality about it.

“Now, why are you really here?” She asked, all trace of propriety gone. They could get right down to business.

Myrcella took a step forward, and then another. Soon, the other woman was standing on top of her. Daenerys had always been short, but Myrcella now loomed more than stood. She idly cursed herself for giving away the upper hand.

“Oh, no particular reason. I just woke up to find a rather dear friend of mine distraught and hurt.” Daenerys frowned, now she had a much better idea of where this was going. “I came to find out that she’d been beaten. You understand what wrath her assailant might face, correct?” Her tone was eerily calm, there was no hint of warmth or anger or frustration. It was just dangerously calm.

No matter what the other woman might be feeling Daenerys was furious. Her business with Doreah was her own, and she could see to it as she saw fit. More than that, this trollop had the nerve to barge into her rooms and try to…what? Threaten her? She found her hands clenching again. Looking up at her, she was struck with what could only be described as a faint memory surfacing back to life.

She remembered another woman that had looked oh so very like this one. The same arrogance, the same belief that she could somehow get whatever she wanted. Cersei Lannister had been a vile bitch and curse her soul, but she had passed on every bit of that to Myrcella. Even when she was fighting for her life, Cersei had looked at her as if she was better than her. It had been a joy to see the light leave her eyes when she was done with her.

What’s another broken lion to me? Maybe the Seven Kingdoms could have been better off without House Lanniter altogether. That had been the one thing staying her hand until now. No matter what the Kingslayer and his father had done to betray her House, Targaryens and Lannisters had worked together for generations. It had been her hope to perhaps see that friendship rekindled, it would certainly make her life a lot easier. If only things could be so easy.

“What I do with my servant, escaped or otherwise, is my business. I don’t need a girl missing her wetnurse to lecture me.” Emphasizing the word, she stood up, making the other woman take a step back. She was still shorter than her, but it was certainly a welcome change from when she’d been sitting down. So, she considered Doreah a friend huh? That slut had moved farther up than Daenerys could have ever imagined. A thought for another time.

That was finally enough to break the other woman’s composure. Her eyes now burned with a dangerous light. Apparently she too had only been clinging to composure by the weakest thread.  “Do not speak of my followers like that.” Myrcella snapped, trying to singe Daenerys with her eyes alone. “No barbarian whore will call any of my followers that.”

She really was just like Cersei after all. That woman too had seemed almost sympathetic that her life had been spent across the Narrow Sea. All of it of course, forgetting that her House was one of the main reasons that had happened at all. This could not stand, this would not stand. She was the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She was the Mother of Dragons. She was Daenerys Stormborn. Everyone would either kneel or be knelt.

“Your whore mother spoke like you. Don’t worry, I’ll have every soldier I command have fun with you before I kill you too.” Daenerys hissed, just before the world went white.

It lasted only a moment for everything to start coalescing back into her vision. Myrcella was sitting over her, her hands raining down one slap after another. They rang her heads like the loudest of drums, her cheeks had already started to sting. Dazed, she lifted up her arms, the other woman raining down her blows on her elbows instead. That didn’t seem to be what she wanted, and after a long hiss, she felt cold hands pulling apart her white dress, widening her cleavage.

She only had time to breathe once before she grunted. One slap after another set her breasts on fire. Her vision swam again. Her breasts had already stung, bruised just a little from her encounter with Doreah. Likely the other woman had noticed, likely she was planning on exploiting that for all she was worth. On the verge of fainting, Daenerys looked at her face. Really looked at it. Myrcella was grinning, staring down at her. She looked like a handler taming his favorite pet. She looked like she’d won.

A new fire filled her. The pain she felt retreated to a tiny corner of her mind. When Myrcella raised her hands again, Daenerys struck. One solid punch to the woman’s cheek left her reeling, her head arching back. She followed it up with another, then another. One of her hands connected with the other woman’s nose, and her palm had a thin line of blood when she finally pushed it back.

She’d managed to drive the other woman just far enough away to free her legs. Kicking with all her might, she sent the Lannister toppling off the bed and onto the floor. Daenerys took a single deep breath, and jumped on top of her. That single moment of indecision had been enough for Myrcella to regain her bearing. Daenerys had her pinned down, but not before Myrcella’s hands clawed at her nipples, pinching violently.

Daenerys screamed, her body almost buckling. She blindly reached out, her own hands instinctively reaching into Myrcella’s cleavage until her own fingers were tugging at her breasts. Myrcella’s screams now joined her own, but neither of the two was willing to let go. She pulled hard, hard enough that it was a wonder she didn’t yank the other woman’s nipples right out. Myrcella was doing the same, if the pounding in her chest was anything to go by,

Almost as soon as it began, it ended. Daenerys fell back, whimpering as she clutched at her chest. Blessedly, the other woman was doing much the same, lying on the floor. She was a dragon, and she was stronger than this, previous scars or no. She tried to kick at the other woman and was met with a satisfying whimper.

She crawled her way over to Myrcella, who by that time had made it to her own knees. The two stared at each other, neither of them willing to make the first move. “I should’ve had you killed long before.” Daenerys hissed, raising her hand and slapping the other woman hard. Her victory was truly short lived, as a slap sent her crumpling just the same. 

Myrcella was on top of her again, her face determined. Daenerys tried slapping her again, the other woman clumsily blocking it with her arm. Myrcella tore at her dress, her hands ripping apart her clothes like a wild animal. She shivered, her exposed flesh now bare, her torn dress in tatters underneath her. Daenerys didn’t have any time to brace herself before she felt a claw grasping at her womanhood.

Her legs arched, and her whole body spasmed. “A real whore of a Queen aren’t you?” Myrcella spat, her hand digging even more painfully, her nails grinding against her vagina. There was only one thing to do, only one thing she could think of. With the other woman’s own hands occupied, Daenerys shoved her hands inside Myrcella’s dress. Her nails met skin, and she doubtless left a thin trickle of blood in her frantic attempt to get her hand between her legs.

She was rewarded with a muffled curse as Daenerys found her womanhood, her own hand latching onto her like a claw. It didn’t make the pain between her own legs any easier, but it did give her resolve. She ground her thumb painfully against the other woman’s clit and that was enough for her to release her grip, at least for a moment. Daenerys tried pressing harder, her own grip faltering as she felt a nail trying to carve out her clit with its frantic motions.

Both women were screaming and grunting and moaning. Their eyes were locked, their hate a contradiction to how close they were in that moment. I…will not yield! She grit her teeth, knowing that her resolve was faltering. Her vagina was already sore, and there was more pain than pleasure in what she felt now. From the looks of it, the other woman seemed to be doing much better. Her grip started to falter and the hint of a smirk began forming on Myrcella lips. It was too much, she had to do something.

She brought up her leg and kicked the other woman hard in the chest. She seemed to flail back, her head making a small thud as it hit the floor. Myrcella grunted, trying to stand up and regain herself. Daenerys wasn’t faring much better, her legs refused to listen to her. That’s when she noticed.

The other woman now had her back to her as she was slowly standing up. Her hips were covered in what looked like small, angry welts. Instead of moving towards her, Daenerys jumped, sitting on top of her. The other woman tried turning to throw her off but it was too late. She brought her hand down hard on the other woman’s rump, right where the bruises were. Her screams were now louder than ever, and her whole body seemed to buckle. She did it over and over again, until the stinging in her own hand was the only thing that made her stop. Where Myrcella’s hips weren’t an angry pink they were a bruised purple. 

Daenerys paused, feeling the other woman moving beneath her. She was sobbing, an ugly sob that only made her fury grow. She shakily got to her feet, moving to her bedside. Daenerys needed to ruin the other woman. She either needed to kill or break her. First, she would try breaking her, so that then she may still prove useful. She was the one true Queen, and all would either kneel or be knelt.

Her whole body was fire. She couldn’t summon the energy to turn, let alone the energy to get up and fight. Damn it! Damn her! Damn her! She shouted in her own mind. She had been careless, she was too bruised from her encounter with Arianne. She’d let the other woman get the upper hand. She had lost. Oh Arianne please forgive me. 

Myrcella’s tears had come unbidden but now that they were here, she couldn’t stop them. The slightest motion had brought a searing pain down upon her, and she hadn’t tried moving since then. Thankfully, Daenerys had seemed to have had enough herself. She heard a shuffling along the floor and her head was wrenched up by her hair.

Her eyes focused on this vile woman, smiling down at her. She was dangling a ring in front of her face. Everything stopped. She felt time itself stop. All the pain she had felt, all the bruises, all the aches and the pains they all vanished. Seven help me…

She remembered that ring, how could she not? The large, carved ruby had been one of her mother’s favorites. Myrcella had loved staring at it as a girl, just watching how it shone in the light. Daenerys having it meant only one thing, that her earlier boast had not been a lie. There was a buzzing in her ear, a buzzing that seemed to drown out the sound of the world itself.

“Good. You recognize this. That whore seemed fond of the thing.” Oddly, her voice was the only thing that broke through the void. “She tried to bash my head in with this. Can you believe it?” Daenerys laughed, wincing slightly. She drew her face near, until the two’s noses were only mere inches apart. “I had her choke on this ring. Oh you should have seen her cheeks turn purple as she clawed at her throat. I had it fished out from her corpse, call it a souvenir.”

The void shattered, filled with a horror more deeper and more complete than she had ever felt. It was enough to make her want to run, to escape and never look back. Alongside it filled a burning rage that seemed ready to consume her, that seemed to demand she either break something or herself. She didn’t know when her tears had dried up.

“Maybe I should do the same to you. The Lannisters choking to death on their wealth is…amusing.” Whatever she had been about to say was cut out by Myrcella’s own battle cry. She pulled her head back and slammed it against the other woman, feeling the satisfying crunch of her nose. Drops of blood dripped down onto the carpet, Daenerys’ mixing with her own. That was enough to drive the other woman back, who clutched at her face in shock.

Her exhaustion was gone, at least for the moment. She tackled the Targaryen, sending the both of them racing backwards until they hit a wall. Daenerys let out a pitiful grunt as she slowly sank to her knees, Myrcella sank right alongside her. She needed to pay. She had to. This wasn’t about Doreah anymore, this wasn’t about who could bed Aegon or who could rule the Seven Kingdoms. This was about more than that.

Her fingers trailed down, finding the other woman’s womanhood. They trailed down even more, until her fingers were prodding at her ass. The shocked realization on Daenerys’ face lasted only a moment before she violently plunged two fingers inside. She felt the other woman squirm, saw her whole body quake. Her fingers were now thrusting hard, every pull and push getting something between a moan and a scream out of her. Death is too good for her. She decided, much too good.

She had been too focused on her, and she shivered feeling a set of fingers prying between her hips. Myrcella couldn’t stop now, wouldn’t stop now. The two fingers that violently entered her only made her whimper for a moment before she redoubled her efforts. Daenerys Stormborn lived up to her name. A line of blood ran down her nose, into her snarling mouth. The two locked eyes once again, their arms thrusting wildly between the two.

It was a surprise to her when she heard her own moans. The void had started to fade, and her pain paired with her pleasure drowned out everything in her mind. Daenerys was scowling, something only made less impressive by her periodical moans and grunts. This wasn’t what she wanted, wasn’t what she wanted at all. Pleasure was the last thing that woman deserved. She moved her fingers harder, more violently. A small sob of pain from the other woman made her smile, even as the pleasure in her own self made her ache. This was how it should be. Still, she was starting to near her limit, she could feel it in the numbing that was starting to take over her thoughts.

With luck, the other woman would be nearing her limit too. The gasps and screams were now replaced almost completely by the sighs of pleasure. She was actually enjoying this, relishing this. It was a wild thought, considering all this woman had done to her and her family, but there it was. Just when she thought she could take no more, when Danaerys’ eyes seemed ready to roll into the back of her head. Damn it! This whore is enjoying this. She thought furiously, shoving a fourth finger inside. It didn’t matter that it was a tight fit. It didn’t matter that the other woman’s eyes bulged like large plates. She was going to hurt her. Replace her pleasure with pain, as much as she possibly could.

Her own knees started to buckle, her thrusts faltering. It wasn’t about willpower now, as her body started spasming wildly. Daenerys must have screamed, but she didn’t hear her over the screams from her own throat. The pressure built and built, until the floor between the two women was a mess of the two’s arousal. Myrcella stared at her, the both of them not saying a word. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They sat there, not making a move. The first to move would lose something. As to what they would lose, neither of them could say.

“Lady Daenerys, His Grace wishes to meet you.” A thin voice drawled.

Almost simultaneously, both women lurched away from each other. Her body was spasming now, and she bit her own arm to keep her moans in. Daenerys was biting her hand, one hand resting between her legs. Damn it! I was so close! She thought despairingly.

Myrcella soon regained herself, the pleasure now a distant memory as she looked at Daenerys. The other woman was breathing hard. Her eyes left her gaze to stare at the door.

“Hide.” She whispered. Myrcella nodded quickly, something more important had come up.

“Please, just wait a moment. Tell his Lordship I’ll be right there.” Daenerys called out. It was a wonder her voice hadn’t cracked.

Myrcella looked around, finding her dress. It was a battered mess, but it would have to do. She crawled towards it even as the Targaryen was prying out a dress made of silver lace from a large chest beside her bed. Wordlessly, Myrcella crawled over to the curtains, forcing herself to stand as she put the dress on. She would not talk, not to this whore. The other woman doubtless felt the same.

By the time she had put on her own dress, Daenerys was limping over to the door. She had a small cloth around her nose but the worst of the bleeding had seemed to pass. Serves her right.

The door opened with a loud creak and Myrcella quickly hid behind the curtains, trying her best to be as quiet as she could possibly manage.

“Please, lead me to Aegon, I do miss him dearly.” She heard her say. The man outside must have answered, for she continued. “Oh this? Just a tumble, really. I suppose I will see the Maester, but it’s nothing to trouble Aegon over.” 

The door banged shut with a loud thud and Myrcella snuck her head out. She was now blessedly alone. All the signs of their battle were still there. Myrcella shook her head, she didn’t have time for this. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw her here, if someone knew what had happened or connected it to her.

Now that she finally had time to think, her fury had started building up anew. She thought she hated the other woman before, thought she simply needed to be disciplined. Oh Mother…No, that was too good for her. Myrcella would see the other woman killed, no matter how long that took. Daenerys had crossed one line too many now, that woman would pay. She would have to pay, if Myrcella was ever to sleep peacefully again.

She waited several agonizing minutes. When the door didn’t open, she limped over towards it, opening it. The hallway outside was empty. Thank the Seven. She made a silent prayer, before doing her best to sneak down the hall.

The End

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