Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9275831.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sansa_x_Ned, Ned_Stark/Sansa_Stark, Cersei_Lannister/Jaime_Lannister,
      Myrcella_Baratheon/Jaime_Lannister
  Character:
      Ned_Stark, Sansa_Stark, Cersei_Lannister, Myrcella_Baratheon, Jaime
      Lannister, Arya_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Parent-Child_Relationship, dad_and_daughter_incest, dad/daughter
      incest, dad/daughter_fucking, Taboo, Forbidden, Consensual_Non-Consent,
      dad_and_daughter, Smut, smut_galore, Sibling_Incest, Sibling_Love, Rape,
      BDSM, Dom/sub, Anal_Sex, Anal_Play, Orgies
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-10 Updated: 2017-08-30 Chapters: 9/? Words: 11951
****** The Garden of Evil ******
by SinfulSecrets
Summary
     Sansa Stark is forced to follow an archaic tradition that demands
     that she lay with her father...
     Cersei/Jaime/Myrcella love triangle
     Tywin Lannister is a tyrannical sex master
     Joffrey is a voyeur and sexual deviant
     smut, incest, and love triangles!
Notes
     18+
     taboo fanfic
     read at your own discretion
***** Chapter 1 *****
It was the night of the winter solstice in Winterfell, and while the House of
Stark was bustling with servants in preparation for Sansa’s birthday banquet,
Sansa Stark was absolutely miserable. Waves of steam evaporated off her creamy
skin as she lay in hot bath and allowed her handmaids to wash her. Tonight she
would finally turn sixteen, and for the longest while Sansa had always been
looking forward to it… but everything changed three night ago when Septa
Morgaine informed her of the Stark tradition: Every Stark daughter shall be
deflowered by her father on her sixteenth birthday. According to Septa
Morgaine, it was an honorable rite of passage into womanhood, but for Sansa she
could hardly fathom being betrothed to Joffrey Lannister, let alone sleeping
with her father.
For days she had protested and begged her mother to put an end to such archaic
traditions, but Catelyn was powerless. Eddard Stark was Lord of Winterfell, and
his word was the law.
Crystal tears streaked down Sansa’s cheek as she stared into space and waited
for her servants to finish lathering her hair. She was expected to look
flawless for the celebration—but more importantly, her handmaids were preparing
her for the mating ritual with her father. The hair between her loins had been
ripped off with wax, including her legs, which was a very painful experience
for Sansa. She had no choice but to shut her mouth and comply.
When her bath was finished, her servants helped her into a sparkling red gown
and braided her hair. Catelyn Stark entered her daughter’s bedchamber shortly
after to have a brief discussion to prepare her for the ceremony.
“Come now,” she said. “Dry your eyes and listen to your mother.”
Sansa wept as she sat on her bed, promising herself that she would surely put
an end to her life before the festivities would begin.
“This is something every young girl must endure before she becomes a woman.
Your father will be gentle with you; he is preparing you for a husband. Be
thankful that he will be your first.”
Sansa was unconvinced. Her mother spoke with such bitterness, almost as if she
hated the tradition and had endured something similar herself.
“I’m afraid!” Sansa cried out.
“Dear girl, there is nothing to be afraid of. All you have to do is lie there
and your father will take care of the rest. It will be surprisingly quick, I
promise you,” Catelyn assured her.
“I don’t want to lay with Father,” Sansa said, stifling her sobs.
“You have no other choice. You are his daughter, and this is part of Stark
tradition. Arya will have to go through this ceremony too when she is of age.”
Feeling desperate and miserable, Sansa steeled herself when Septa Morgaine
entered.
“M’lady.” She curtsied. “The guests have arrived.”
“Wonderful,” Catelyn said. “Please help my daughter compose herself before she
enters the hall.”
“I shall, my lady.” She curtsied again when Catelyn left.
Septa Morgaine was a hard hearted woman. Her ice blue eyes always froze Sansa
in place whenever she spoke to her.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, child,” she said. “Cease your incessant
weeping and accept your fate. Your father has always been good to you, has he
not?”
Sansa could not argue otherwise.
“Be a good daughter and trust in the gods, for it is their desire that this
tradition exists.”
Sansa wanted to curse the gods and curse Septa Morgaine.
                                     *****
 
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Sansa’s heart was racing as she was ushered into her father’s bedchamber. Her
birthday banquet had been enjoyable for all who attended, except for Sansa. The
entire night she kept dreading the moment she would have to undress and stand
naked before her father. She contemplated taking her life and throwing herself
out the window while she still had the chance, but her suicidal thoughts were
interrupted when Eddard Stark entered the chamber, followed by a row of
handmaids.
They circled Sansa and began to undress her while Ned removed his gauntlets.
When the servant girls left, Ned fixed his soft blue eyes on his daughter and
watched her quiver in place. She was afraid and shaking like a leaf.
“You need not fear me,” he said.
Sansa closed her eyes when he stepped toward her. The next thing she felt was
his hand softly grazing her cheek.
“You’re very beautiful… my first born daughter…”
A teardrop streaked down her face as she fought against the impulse to cry.
“Look at me, Sansa.”
With much reluctance, she opened her eyes and looked into her father’s face.
His gaze seemed compassionate and loving. She wanted to beg him to allow her to
leave with her virtue intact. But before she could utter a word, Ned cupped her
face and kissed her softly on the mouth.
Sana froze in place and resisted the urge to push him off. Joffrey had kissed
her before—and the kiss had been far from amazing. The shameless brute had
forced his lips on her and had groped her breast. Sansa had slapped him for the
unwelcomed touching, and rightly so… but she couldn’t slap her father.
As she slowly succumbed to him, she realized that he was kissing her with great
care and gentleness. He hadn’t groped her breast or crotch like Joffrey had
done. He was simply kissing her, lovingly. A forbidden heat began to spread
between her thighs, which made Sansa weak in the knees.
When her father finally withdrew, she thanked the gods and tried to cover her
nakedness with her arms.
Ned noticed her embarrassment and frowned. Instead of instructing her to go and
lie on the bed, he cradled her in his arms and gently placed her on his bed of
furs. Next, he divested himself of his clothing and faced her.
Sansa’s eyes immediately widened. She had seen a penis before… when Joffrey had
exposed himself while they were children, but she had never seen a man’spenis…
so large…engorged… and hard. Her father’s testicles were noticeably large and
she blushed at the sight. The sweltering heat was worsening between her loins.
Sansa’s legs were trembling as he slowly hovered over her and allowed his lower
body to sink into hers. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure she would
faint. But her father remained gentle with his caresses as he tenderly kissed
her and brushed his hand down… down… down to her swollen clitoris. He began to
massage her with his fingers while he kissed her. Sansa felt the strangest
sensation; something she had never felt before: pleasure.
Her breathing quickened and became more labored as he continued to touch her
and roll his digits over her swollen bundle of nerves. She felt as if she was
on the edge of a cliff, ready to be pushed off. Something was building inside
of her: a pleasurable pressure. She noticed that she was growing increasingly
wet down below as she involuntarily let out a feral moan.
Ned paused and stopped what he was doing as he watched his daughter writhe and
squirm for more. She was enjoying the way he was touching her. Sansa’s rosebud
nipples were painfully hard. He sucked on her right nipple while he continued
to flick his fingers up and down her soaking slit.
To prevent herself from crying out, she covered her mouth with her arm, but her
father wouldn’t have it. He pinned her wrists above her head and pressed his
cock against her. She was more than ready for penetration, though he was
certain she was still afraid.
“Father,” she breathed. “Father, please…”
Ned licked her cherry lips and began to tease her with his cock. Her lips had
become red and swollen from her unspeakable arousal. He continued to kiss her
with more passion and fervor as their bodies rubbed together in a slow rhythm.
Ned was an experienced lover. He had bedded many women in his youth, but never
had he felt as aroused as he was right then.
Sansa closed her eyes when she felt the loss of contact between their bodies.
Shortly after, she felt something wet, probing her below. When she opened her
eyes, she saw that her father was kissing her in the same place Septa Morgaine
had always warned her neverto play with.
Unable to control herself, she moaned so loud that she was sure the inhabitants
of the castle must have heard. She no longer had control over her biological
impulses. That racing pressure that had built up was finally released, as every
muscle inside began to spasm. She was delirious with pleasure and could hardly
breathe.
Ned licked her up and penetrated her with his tongue until he was satisfied.
Sansa’s eyes were drenched in lust as she gazed up at her father. His cock was
so thick and throbbing, as a clear wet liquid dripped down his shaft. Her
mother had instructed her to just “lie back and allow him to deflower her,” so
she slowly parted her legs and accepted what was to come next. But he did not
enter her… he lay next to her and kissed her tenderly.
“Sit up, my love,” said Eddard as he instructed his daughter to carefully lower
herself on his shaft.
Sansa obeyed him, but was frightened again. She was worried he would not fit
inside, and more than anything, she feared the searing pain that would follow.
Ned remained patient with her as he carefully positioned himself at her opening
and instructed her to slowly drop her weight. He took the opportunity to admire
her beautiful body while she took him inside inch by inch. Sansa winced in pain
when she felt her curtain of chastity begin to tear.
“Slowly,” said Eddard. “Take your time…”
He was insanely aroused, but determined to be gentle with his daughter. If it
had been anyone else, he would have slammed his cock into their cunt and had
fucked them roughly. Though he had no intention of making this experience
unpleasant for Sansa. He loved her to an immeasurable degree. He showered her
with affectionate words and caressed her hips as she lowered herself on his
shaft until he was completely submerged.
Her walls were so tight and wet as he throbbed inside of her. Sansa looked as
if she was in pain and panic, so Ned to control of the situation and grabbed
her hips. He slowly rocked her back and forth on his cock so that she would
adjust to his size. Her long red locks covered her breasts as she closed her
eyes and released shallow breaths.
This sensation was much different than the latter, Sansa thought. It was a
stinging sharp pain that was slowly numbing and fading into amplified pleasure.
Within minutes she was bouncing on his cock and determined to feel that rush of
pleasure he’d given her when he’d kissed her down below.
“Ohhhh….ohhhhh…”Sansa moaned as she kept her eyes closed and felt that
uncontrollable wave of pleasure ripple through her body. Every muscle inside of
her had tightened and began to contract. Her cries of pleasure were shamelessly
loud; so loud that she managed to wake her mother.
                                     *****
Sansa’s endless moans echoed through the west wing of the castle all night. By
twilight, Catelyn had had enough, as she ventured toward her husband’s
bedchamber and asked the guards how long her daughter had been inside.
“She hasn’t left yet, my lady,” said one of the guards.
Catelyn looked distressed as she heard the shameless sound of their lovemaking.
Her daughter was not crying or screaming in pain. Instead she was enjoying the
mating ritual like a brothel whore.
“I demand to speak to my husband at once!” Catelyn bellowed in anger.
“Apologies, my lady, but we were given strict instructions not to disturb Lord
Stark.”
“Unhhhhh…” Sansa moaned in unison with her father’s grunts of pleasure.
“Husband!” Catelyn yelled. “Open this door at once!” She was shaking with anger
and yelled even louder this time.
Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the chamber door swing open. Ned was
completely naked and painfully erect.
The guards stepped aside and pretended as if they were invisible.
“What is the meaning of this?” Catelyn cried in outrage. It was the first time
in a long time that she had laid eyes on her husband’s naked body. For years
she had been sex deprived because she resented him too much to sleep with him
after he’d returned with John Snow. The bitter twinge of jealousy stung her
like a thousand bees.
“I gave strict instructions not to be disturbed tonight,” Eddard said. “Why are
you here, Catelyn?”
“The ritual was supposed to have ended hours ago!”
Ned disregarded her outrage and said, “Return to your chamber. Go back to
sleep.”
Sansa was able to hear her parents’ argument as she hid herself beneath the
furs and felt pangs of guilt and shame. She had been making love with her
father all night… and she enjoyed every second of it; she didn’t want it to
stop.
“Summon Septa Morgaine and send our daughter to her chambers!” Catelyn
demanded.
“I will send her in due time. Do not trouble yourself. I am simply fulfilling
my duties, you know this.”
Lady Stark had always harbored resentment against her husband. But right there,
in that moment, it had intensified. Reluctantly, she turned away and headed
back to her chamber. Sleep would not come, this she was sure of.
                                     *****
Lips, teeth, and tongue… jagged, shallow breaths… bodies rocking back and
forth… moaning… breathing… licking… kissing…penetrating… Sansa had tangled
herself around her father with her legs wrapped around his waist as she slowly
kissed him. They were sitting in a lotus position, close and intimate—far from
what Septa Morgaine and her mother had described. After hours of torrid love
making, she was finally able to admit that she loved her father’s cock,
twitching and throbbing inside of her. Sansa finally realized that she enjoyed
pleasing her father until he filled her womb with incestuous seed. Despite his
age, his muscular stature revealed his exceptional physical shape; and his
stamina was astounding.
Determined to send him over the edge, Sansa vigorously fucked him harder and
faster until he was no longer able to control himself. Jets of cum erupted
inside her as she kissed him passionately until they were both satisfied and
out of breath.
Sansa collapsed on her father’s chest and listened to his racing heart. Dawn
was breaking, and both their bodies were sore from exertion. They had exchanged
few words that night. Their sex had been purely carnal and animalistic. She
didn’t know if she could ever look at her father the same again after this
night. How could she face him without remembering the way he kissed her… the
way he thrust himself inside her so deeply that she was sure she’d shatter
beneath him in pleasure. There was no way of undoing what they had done.
According to tradition, this was to be a onetime occurrence, and Sansa had been
dreading that it had to happen at all. But now she was depressed that her time
in her father’s bed would end. She did not want to leave his side. He was the
only lover she had ever known, but he was better than any prince she would have
ever lain with: this she was certain of. The fact that she was to be married
off to Joffrey made her sick with melancholy. She began to weep at the thought.
“Sansa?” Ned murmured her name. “What is it, my love? Have I hurt you?” He
rolled on top of her and looked into her misty blue eyes. “Are you in pain?”
Sansa shook her head and sniffled. Her heart was breaking and she felt so
ashamed.
“Then why are you crying, love?”
She caressed her father’s face and realized just then that he had always been
so handsome. Without uttering a word of her pain, she kissed him softly and
slipped her tongue inside, just like he had done, losing herself in forbidden
bliss. She felt his manhood harden against her, indicating his insatiable
desire for her. Sansa parted her legs and allowed him inside. She wrapped her
legs around him, inviting him deeper into her.
Ned fucked her hard and relentlessly this time; exhausting himself of all his
strength. He focused solely on his pleasure as he ejaculated inside his
daughter within minutes. Surprisingly he still had enough semen to fill her up
with.
They had very little sleep that night—including the guards. Ned did not summon
anyone to come and escort his daughter back to her chamber. Instead, she slept
in his arms till sunup.
                                     *****
By the time Sansa woke up, she was slightly disoriented, believing that last
night had been nothing but a dream. Reality hit her hard once she realized that
she was still in her father’s luxurious bed…except he wasn’t beside her.
One of her handmaids was present. She immediately curtsied when she saw that
her lady had finally woken up.
“Where’s Father?” Sansa asked.
“I was given orders to help you dress once you’ve waken, my lady.”
 
To be continued... 
 
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
“Lady Stark is expecting you in the Great Hall,” said the servant girl.
“I want to know where my father is.”
“He is hunting with your brothers.”
Sansa got up from bed and let her handmaid help her into a robe. She was taken
to the bath house to wash up before she was properly dressed.
A disconcerting tension was in the air when she came face to face with her
mother. She expected to be interrogated, but Lady Stark only asked her to check
on Bran. Catelyn did not embrace her daughter or ask her if she was all right.
In truth, she was furious at Sansa and Ned.
                                     ****
Septa Morgaine said nothing to Sansa either about last night. Anyone who knew
acted as if last night had never happened… including her father. All throughout
supper there were lingering glances between Ned and Sansa, which infuriated
Catelyn. But she held her tongue and focused the conversation on their sons.
“I must travel to King’s Landing in three days,” Eddard said.
“So soon?” Catelyn replied.
“Yes. I’ve put it off long enough. Robert is expecting me. I cannot ignore the
duty that is bound to me.”
Arya suddenly spoke up. “Please take us with you, Father!”
“Mind your manners, Arya!” Catelyn said.
“I’m afraid I cannot,” he expressed. As he glanced at Sansa, he noticed that
she looked physically ill.
“When will you return?” asked his wife.  
“Within the year. Sansa will be married to Joffrey by next spring, so I will
return to escort our family to King’s Landing for the wedding.”
Sansa dropped her utensil quite loudly. All eyes were on her as she said, “May
I be excused?”
Catelyn frowned. “You haven’t finished your supper.”
“Forgive me, Mother, but I am feeling unwell.” She couldn’t hide the tears in
her eyes and felt as if she would die if she cried in front of her father.
Catelyn excused her. “I shall fetch Maester Luwin to examine her.”
“No,” Ned interjected. He stood up and wiped his mouth. “I will tend to her
myself.”
Catelyn wanted to stop him and demand that he allow the maester to go, but she
was powerless. As a wife she was limited to make demands when it was simply not
her place to do so. A woman was never to hold dominion over a man, so she had
been told.  
 
                                     *****
Sansa had ordered all her handmaids to leave so she could cry in peace as she
sat in her chamber and mourned the loss of her father; he would be leaving her
shortly and she was simply not prepared to cope with his absence. Her solitude
was suddenly disturbed when her chamber doors were opened.
“Sansa?” The gentle sound of her father’s voice made her sob even harder.
“Please,” she said. “Just leave me alone.”
“I will not leave you alone,” he resolutely replied, making his way to her bed.
“Joffrey is vile and cruel! I refuse to be his wife! How can you give me away
to such a repulsive person?”
Ned frowned and was about to sit next to her when she stood up.
“I can’t be around you right now. Please just leave me alone.”
“No.”
Accepting that he wouldn’t leave, Sansa found the courage to leave her chambers
instead, but her father immediately followed behind.
“Sansa!” he called out. “Sansa, stop!”
She ignored him and continued to stride down the corridor.
“Stop, I said!” He grabbed her arm and pushed her against the stony wall.
Feeling startled, angry, and hurt all at once, Sansa pushed her father away and
slapped at his chest when he closed the space between them.
“How could you?” she cried. “How can you leave me? Have you no love for me at
all?” Just as she was about to deliver another strike, he clutched her wrist
and stopped her with a kiss.
She found herself paralyzed and unable to resist the attraction between them.
Desperate to feel him inside her again, Sansa unfastened his belt and pulled
out his cock from his trousers. Ned groaned as she stroked him. Before they
could realize what was happening, he lifted her up, lifted her skirt and thrust
his cock into her dripping entry. Sansa moaned in pleasure and snaked her arms
around her father’s neck while he fucked her hard against the wall.
The only thing the guards could hear was the sound of flesh slapping against
flesh, labored breaths, and pleasurable groans. Ned fucked his daughter like a
man possessed. Last night’s excursions had dangerously ignited a flame that did
not want to be extinguished.
Sansa kissed her father passionately and locked her legs around his waist as he
shamelessly fucked her out in the open.
“Take me with you,” she breathed against his lips. “Please…”
He was on the verge of exploding.
“I want you inside me… every day,” she said between kisses.
It was enough to get her father to groan in pleasure as he shot jets of cum
into her womb. She felt his seed pooling inside her as she found her release
and shuddered against him.
They were both out of breath and coming down from their spontaneous sexual
encounter when he heard footsteps coming toward them. Ned quickly placed Sansa
down and fixed his belt and trousers. Worried that it was his wife, he was
relieved to see that it was only Maester Luwin.
“My Lord,” he said. “Forgive me, but Lady Stark was worried…”
“I won’t be needing you, Maester Luwin, thank you. My daughter is quite well.”
“Oh. Well, if you insist.”
The old man turned away and left.
Sansa’s cheeks were flushed and there was perspiration on her forehead. She
caught her father staring at her cleavage and teased him further by placing his
hands on her breasts.
“I miss the way you touch me, Father,” she whispered.
His cock began to twitch again.
“You truly are a nymph, aren’t you?” He chuckled.
“If I am, it is entirely your fault.” She simpered. Sansa kissed him deeply and
said, “Promise me you will take me with you.”
Ned hesitated at first.
“Promise me, Father.”
“I promise.” He finally surrendered and kissed her before they parted.
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 4 *****
Cersei Lannister was restless as she paced her chamber while Jamie sat across
from her, drinking a chalice of wine.
“We’ve got to do something about that boy,” Cersei bitterly said.
“Joffrey’s always been out of control.”
“He tried to rape Myrcella!”
Jaime nearly choked on his drink as he looked up at his sister, wide eyed in
shock. “What did you say?”
“He’s just like our father. Why else do you think I was such a strumpet? Father
had turned me into his whore long before I started sleeping with you.”
“Our father raped you?” Jaime looked so disturbed by Cersei’s confession. “How
come you never told me?”
“What good would it have done?”
“I would’ve killed the fucking bastard! In fact”—he stood up and pulled out his
sword—“that’s what I’ll do right now.”
Cersei blocked his exit before he could leave. “Sit down. You will do no such
thing. We need our father alive for the time being. It would be a very poor
political move to eliminate him.”
Jaime’s blood was boiling with rage. He loved his sister and could never
imagine anyone harming her under his watch. “He deserves to die,” he coldly
expressed.
“I know, my love.” Cersei stroked his cheek and kissed him. “But you must
listen to me.”
Jaime’s love for his sister was always overwhelmingly strong, but his love for
his daughter was even stronger. “Joffrey has been a bad seed from birth,” he
said. “I’ll teach that boy a lesson on how to respect the opposite sex."
There was a long paused before Cersei said, “He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That you are his father.”
“So?”
“So that’s why he’s the way he is. He’s repulsed by our union and hates
himself.”
Jaime frowned in disdain. “I may have loose morals, but I have never forced
myself on you or any other woman for that matter.”
“Punishing Joffrey will only make him worse.”
“Then what sort of disciplinary measures do you suggest we take, dear sister?”
Cersei sighed. She was exhausted and tired of being tired. There was simply no
way of controlling her out of control son—not unless she locked him up and
threw away the key.
“I think it would be best if you accompanied Myrcella on her travels to Dorne.
The sooner she leaves King’s Landing, the safer she is.”
Jaime gulped back another swig of wine before he stood up and faced his sister.
“I still feel that we can easily resolve this issue if we punish Joffrey and
send him away.”
“To where? His coronation is approaching. He cannot shirk his duties as king.”
Jamie snickered under his breath. “He’s hardly a prince, let alone a king.”
“He needs our support more than ever right now, Jamie.” She slithered toward
him like a snake in the grass, and kissed him deeply before she cast her dark
sorcery on her brother. She made him take her right there in the open as she
moaned in delicious delight. It was a much-needed vigorous fucking.
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     smut galore ...
 
There was something about the ocean that was so incredibly freeing to young
Myrcella. She had set sail on the open sea for two weeks before reaching the
kingdom of Dorne. Most importantly, she was grateful that her Uncle Jaime had
accompanied her. Myrcella had always been fond of him ever since she was a
child. Now, at sixteen, with her nubile body bursting with life, she was well-
aware of the way her heart would flutter about in his presence… and the way he
would mesmerize her every time he held her gaze. Her Uncle Jaime was simply so
beautiful—handsome beyond comprehension. She always wondered why he had never
taken a wife. It seemed to her that every woman would throw themselves at him.
She would have, had she not been related to him, or so Myrcella thought.  
The first time she had dared to indulge in self-pleasure, she shamefully
fantasized about her uncle. Their interactions had always been very limited,
and she had never been close with him. But now that they were in Dorne
together, she hoped that that would change. Far beneath the surface of her
secret lust, was a young woman who simply wanted to be loved. Little did she
know that the man who was known to her as an uncle was in fact her biological
father.
She found the golden-haired knight waiting for her on the terrace when she
entered through a pair of heavy doors. The heavy scent of jasmine and roses
trailed behind her as she caught Jaime’s eyes and blushed when they cascaded
downwards to her cleavage.
“You look… lovely.” He smiled, noticing the rosy pink blush that had spread
across her cheeks.
“Thank you, Uncle Jaime.”
Now that her breasts had fully developed and she had passed the early stage of
pubescence, Myrcella felt more confident in her body. She knew that she was
desirable—Joffrey had tried to rape her, after all. It sickened her to recall
the memory, so she pushed the recollection out of her mind and hovered closer
to the man she adored.
He had been admiring the lush green gardens as the sun began to set. A flock of
birds flew across a magenta sky, drawing both their attention to the heavens.
“Such a beautiful city,” said Jaime. “Isn’t it?”
Myrcella’s heart began to pound when he glanced at her once more.
“It’s like a dream,” she replied. “I’m so happy you’re here with me.”
He smiled warmly and caressed her face. It was the first time he had expressed
such unrestrained affection toward her.
“I still don’t understand why we’re here, though,” Myrcella added.
“Your mother wanted me to bring you here so that you’d become acquainted with
your betrothed.”
Her heart instantly sank and she felt so depressed from the news.
“Betrothed?”
“To Trystane Martell.”
“But… I’m still so young… I… I don’t under—”
“You won’t be married off until your eighteenth birthday. Your mother and
father thought it would be best if you at least came to Dorne to meet your
future husband.”
Myrcella felt nauseous and foolish at the same time.
“Are you all right?” Jaime asked, looking genuinely concerned. “Myrcella, my
dear?”
“I’m fine.” She straightened her posture and composed herself. “I just—I
thought…”
She thought that she was off on a wonderful holiday with her mysterious Uncle
Jaime.
Stupid,she scolded herself in her mind.
 “Prince Doran will be hosting a feast tonight, and we are his honorary guests.
You will meet Trystane at the celebration.”
Myrcella looked away as her eyes began to tear up. She did not want to marry a
man she did not love.
“I’m certain he will adore you,” Jaime said, oblivious to his daughter’s
anguish.
They watched the sunset in the horizon for the longest time in silence,
tormented by unspoken secrets, and bonded by blood.
 
                                     *****
Cersei was moaning like a cock hungry brothel whore as Tywin plunged his rigid
cock inside her cunt while she remained on all fours on his bed. An iron collar
was clasped around her neck, and he yanked the chain connected to it while he
fucked his daughter senseless. Cersei was always disgusted by the idea of
laying with her father, but he had been fucking her for years since her youth,
she’d become addicted to the sinful pleasure.
“Take my cock!” Tywin groaned. “Take it like the whore you are…” He slapped her
shapely fair bottom until it was scarlet red.
Cersei’s breasts kept bouncing back and forth while her father shoved every
inch so deep inside her cunt. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure and her entire
body shuddered when she felt her release approaching, rippling through her.
“Yes, yes!Fuck me harder!” She panted.
“Such a good fucking bitch of a whore!” Tywin slapped her ass again before he
pulled out his throbbing cock and shoved it into her tight ass.
Cersei screamed in pain and pleasure, feeling her insides stretch and pull
apart. She secretly loved being fucked in the ass by her father. The weight of
his balls slapped against her as he increased his speed and fucked her
aggressively—selfishly focusing on his own pleasure.
“Dirty cunt!” he cursed, pushing her ass cheeks open and spitting into the
gaping hole.
Cersei moaned when he licked her cunt all the way up to her butt crack over and
over before he fucked her dripping cunt and switched to her ass.
Her wrists were bound in chains and her nipples were clamped.
Tywin demanded that she mount him, and she obeyed. Back and forth she rocked on
his throbbing pole, while closing her eyes and trying to fantasize about Jaime.
But she couldn’t. Tywin circled her swollen clit with a thumb and pounded his
cock inside her deeper.
“That’s it… make Father explode in that beautiful cunt….”
Cersei remembered when she was thirteen years old, bouncing on Tywin’s prick
and enjoying every moment of it. The memory was enough to send her over the
edge as she shrieked in forbidden pleasure and felt him explode. He throbbed
violently inside her, gasping for breath and groaning as he filled her with
incestuous seed.
Cersei collapsed next to her father, still writhing in pleasure as she rubbed
his hairy, oversized testicles.
“You know what’s next,” he warned, reaching for the cat o’ nine tails…
She got on all fours again like a submissive slave and cried out in pain when
he began to flog her ass and cunt.
“Wicked girl!”—[whip!]—“You wretched”—[whip!]—“diabolical…”—[whip!] “Cunt!”
He flogged her until she cried and begged him to stop.
“This is what you get for seducing your father!”
Cersei hated herself. Many times she’d wished she could break free from her
father’s wicked compulsion over her, but it was impossible. It was far worse
and much more difficult with Jaime gone.
Unbeknownst to Cersei and Tywin, Joffrey had been spying on them through a
peephole in the tapestry. He stroked his raging erection as he watched his
grandfather fuck his mother. This hadn’t been the first time he had watched
them fuck. Joffrey was a serial voyeur and often fantasized about fucking his
mother and sister at the same time.
When Tywin was finally satisfied, he dropped the instrument of pain and began
to dress himself.
Cersei was exhausted and thoroughly ached all over. Tywin had used her to the
fullest like he always did, and then “tossed her away” as if she were nothing
to him.
“Dress yourself,” he coldly demanded.
Her arms and legs trembled as she struggled to stand in chains. If anyone had
walked in they would have screamed at the sight of the queen; she looked so
roughed up and battered.
“Father,” Cersei weakly uttered. All she wanted was his love and affection.
Tywin was about to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Please, don’t—” But before Cersei could finish, she was swiftly assaulted with
a hard and heavy slap.
“If you dare to seduce me again, your punishment will be far worse. I promise
you, girl!”
He watched his daughter cower into a corner, her long locks covering her
breasts. Every time she was around this man, she felt as if she was thirteen
years old again. Cersei hated herself, and she hated Tywin, but she could not
stop herself from fucking him; she needed it like she needed Jaime.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     A/N: Jaime still has his hand in this story—it hasn’t been chopped
     off lol
     Music inspired: Lana Del Rey-Cruel World
 
Prince Doran’s celebration had gone smoothly, as expected. Myrcella though that
Trystane was a handsome young man, but he was nothing compared to Jaime. All
throughout the banquet she only had eyes for the devastatingly handsome “king
slayer”—though Jaime hadn’t the slightest clue how smitten she was with him.
She tried her best to please Prince Doran by dancing with Trystane and spending
time with him, but as the late hours of the night approached, the guests had
become much more uninhibited from all the wine consumption—including Jaime.
Myrcella couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever she saw the other
maidens flirting with her uncle. The women of Dorne were very voluptuous and
showed a lot more skin than the women back home. Her mother would have frowned
upon her choice of gown, had she been there that night; it was simply too much
cleavage for a girl of only sixteen. Myrcella’s shoulders were nakedly exposed,
revealing her creamy skin.
Jaime’s laughter could be heard from across the hall as she fixed her gaze on
the raven-haired woman who was touching his chest and giggling. Trystane had
been walking beside Myrcella and engaging her in deep discussion, but she could
no longer tolerate his company; she was far too upset by what she had seen.
Without attracting too much attention, she apologized to Trystane and excused
herself, rushing past the dancing crowd.
Jaime noticed his daughter’s sudden exit as she disappeared behind a curtain.
He abandoned the woman he was flirting with and followed Myrcella outside into
the garden; it looked like a beautiful labyrinth.
“Myrcella!” he called out to her.
As soon as she heard his voice, she wiped her tears and tried her best to
compose herself so that he wouldn’t see her crying. Jaime’s voice echoed behind
her as she rushed deeper into the maze. He was getting close and she felt so
trapped by her feelings and surroundings.
“There you are!” Jaime said in relief. “I was worried you were planning an
escape,” he jested.
“I just needed some air.” She forced a subtle smile.
Jaime seemed unconvinced. Something appeared to be bothering her and he needed
to find out what it was. “Are you not having a good time?” He stepped toward
her, grateful that he wasn’t too intoxicated.
“The banquet is beautifully extravagant.”
“But?”
“I’m just a bit homesick,” she lied. She couldn’t possibly tell her uncle that
she was raging with jealousy on the inside. She couldn’t tell him that she had
inappropriate feelings for him.
Jaime softened his gaze and reached for her hand. She truly was stunning, like
her mother, only younger, with nothing but warmth in her eyes. The ice in
Cersei’s stare was cold enough to paralyze any man in place. However, the ocean
that he gazed into in that very moment was calm and inviting—it warmed him to
the core. He caressed his daughter’s face and felt the strongest urge to
envelop her body with his arms and make her feel safe. From the day that his
children were born, he had been robbed of the joys of fatherhood. But right
there under a blanket of stars, he finally felt as if he was truly Myrcella’s
father and protector.
“It pains me to see such sadness in your eyes,” he murmured.
His confession was enough to release the floodgates as Myrcella finally let
down the barrier that contained all her emotions. Her tears were flowing freely
and rapidly as they streaked down her face.
Jaime felt as if his heart had been penetrated by daggers. He frowned and wiped
her tears away with a gentle thumb. “Please tell me what has upset you so.”
Myrcella shut her eyes and turned her head. “I apologize. I’m not sure why I’m
crying. I feel ridiculous.” She tried to laugh her sadness away.
He felt helpless. If there was one thing Jaime hated, it was helplessness. He
was about to ask her another question when she suddenly rushed into his arms
and sobbed into his chest.
Does she know the truth?Jaimie wondered. Did she find out?
As confused and distraught as he was, he allowed himself to hold his daughter
for the first time in his life and comfort her. He could tell that she needed
him.
“Please don’t cry, my darling.” Jaime brushed her silky golden locks and kissed
the top of her head.
“I don’t want you to leave me here.”
“I won’t. You’ll be returning safely with me.”
She looked so innocent and frightened as he gazed into her eyes. What was it
that she was so afraid of? Jaimie wondered as he caressed her face and left a
chaste kiss on her forehead.
The intimate contact sent shivers down Myrcella’s body. She breathed Jaime in
as she embraced him more closely than before. The music from inside the hall
echoed into the garden, adding to the magical ambience around them. Myrcella
didn’t want to let go. If it was possible to freeze this moment in time
forever, she would have.
When she finally withdrew, she worked up the courage to confess something that
she’d always wanted to say.
“Uncle Jaime?”
“Yes?”
“… I love you.”
Jaime’s smile seemed to touch his eyes as he took his daughter’s hand and
kissed it. “I’ve always loved you, Myrcella… from the moment you were conceived
in your mother’s womb…” He stopped himself, knowing that he could not reveal
the fact that he was her father.
Myrcella’s heart fluttered to life and shattered to pieces shortly after
hearing his admission. She knew he did not love her the way she loved him. It
broke her completely.  
“We better return to the festivities before the guards start looking for us,”
Jaime said.
Myrcella smiled and hooked her arm around her uncle’s as he escorted her back
inside the palace.
                                     *****
A terrible thunderstorm had violently made its way into Dorne during the
twilight hours of the night. The roaring claps of thunder woke Myrcella from
her sleep, as she began to panic. She was afraid and alone. There was a small
passageway behind a tapestry that led to Jaime’s chambers, which was right next
to hers. Even though her room was guarded, Myrcella felt terrified.
She crept out of bed and lit a candle before she followed the passage to
Jaime’s chamber. She pushed through a door and found her uncle sitting near a
table, pouring a bottle of wine into a golden goblet.
He reached for his sword out of instinct, but relaxed when he saw her.
“Myrcella, what are you doing here?”
“Forgive me, Uncle Jaime… but I’m so afraid of thunderstorms. Joffrey used to
say that the gods were angry with me and would strike me down with lightning in
the middle of the night.”
Jaime stood up, chuckling. “Your brother is simply a bad seed. I wouldn’t
believe a thing that came out of his mouth if I were you.”
Myrcella rubbed her shoulders and realized that she was almost naked. One of
the traditions in Dorne was to dress accordingly to the culture. Much of the
clothing for Dornish women were designed to flaunt a lot of skin; they took
pride in their bodies and felt no shame to show it.
Jaime’s captivating eyes cascaded down his daughter’s body, noticing the deep V
in her white nightgown that exposed her cleavage and midriff. Like a perfect
gentleman, he reached for his robe and wrapped it over her shoulders.
“Your mother will kill me if you return to her with a fever.”
Myrcella smiled gratefully and watched him close the shutters to drown out the
angry voices of heaven.
“I apologize for intruding,” she said.
“You’re not. I’m here for your protection.” Jaime sauntered toward the majestic
bedspread and pulled back the silk sheets. “Sleep here. I’ll rest in the
chair.”
He was about to walk past her when she grabbed his arm. “Lie with me… just
until I fall asleep, please?”
It was impossible to say no to her. Intoxicated with weakened resolve, Jaime
acquiesced. He divested himself out of his tunic and shirt, keeping his
trousers on.
Myrcella curled up next to him once he slipped in beside her.
Lightning lit up the candlelit chamber as the thunder continued to roar above
them. For a moment, he was mesmerized by his daughter’s ravishing beauty. He
wanted to trace the delicate curves of her face, but resisted the impulse.
“Uncle Jaime.”
“Yes, darling?”
"Why must I marry Trystane?" 
"Because your marriage to him will unite the Baratheon name with the
Martell’s.”
“So, I’m merely a pawn on a chessboard.”
“You certainly are not.” He frowned in disdain. “Your happiness is important to
your mother and I.”
“But not my father?”
“Unfortunately, Robert has not been himself as of late—that’s not because of
you or your brothers.”
“I wish I had a real father who loved me.”
Jaime looked at his daughter so lovingly, it overwhelmed him. He hated hiding
the truth from her. All the love that he had buried for sixteen years suddenly
resurfaced.
“You’ll always have me, Myrcella. I’ll always protect you.”
He was taken by surprise when she moved in closer and gently kissed his lips.
It was far from anything sexual—more innocent… a genuine act of affection. What
disturbed Jaime the most was the fact that something throbbed and came to life
when his daughter kissed him.
Without exchanging any words, she rested her head on his naked chest and sighed
softly. The two of them lay together for the longest while Jaime remained
frozen, lost in his racing mind. It seemed a relief when Myrcella broke the
silence.
“You have so many scars on your body.” She ran her fingers along a five-inch
scar close to his heart.
“I’ve fought one too many battles. It’s a miracle I’m still alive. All my life
I’ve danced around death.”
She gently stroked his chest and other areas on his body that had been marred
with battle scars. Jaime wasn’t sure what was happening between them, but he
was suddenly afflicted with panic. The way she was touching him… was arousing
him.
He closed his eyes briefly, mustering up all his strength to control his
arousal.
I’ve been sex deprived for weeks, that’s why,he tried to rationalize.
“I wish I had someone I could talk to openly,” Myrcella expressed. “I feel so
alone.”
“You have your mother.”
“It’s impossible to speak with her. She’s not like you… she’s very…”
“Critical.”
“Yes.”
Jaime ran his fingers through Myrcella’s lush long hair and slipped the robe
back over her shoulder when it sagged downward.
“I wish you were more involved in my life, Uncle Jaime.”
Many nights he had fantasized about killing Robert in his sleep. If only things
had been different. If only he didn’t have to hide in the shadows all the time
and watch his children grow from a distance.
“I will always be a part of you,” he whispered. “Just like you’re a part of
me.”
Myrcella hugged him tightly and released a lengthy sigh. She, too, wished that
circumstances were different. She wished she could have been bold enough to
seduce her uncle that night. But the truth was that she was terrified. He made
her so nervous and the last thing she wanted was to disgust him. So she closed
her eyes and drifted away to a paradise lost: a place where Jaime was madly in
love with her… if only in her dreams.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 7 *****
Grand Maester Pycelle could not help but ogle Cersei’s visible cleavage as she
sat across from him inside the Red Keep for a privy council meeting. He was a
crotchety old man, but he sure maintained an insatiable appetite for whores.
Everyone was almost falling asleep as Tywin rambled on about taking
precautionary measures, so on and so on. After a painstaking hour, he finally
dismissed the members of the council and requested that Cersei stay behind.
When the doors finally closed shut, Cersei faced her father and began to
unravel the string that was keeping her breasts in place inside her dress. It
was as if she knew it was to be expected of her, and she was obeying his silent
request.  
Tywin pulled out his throbbing cock and began to stroke it. “Evil witch… sly
serpent… I should punish you for your wicked ways…”
His insults only excited Cersei more as she straddled his lap facing him and
reached for his engorged manhood. Precum kept dribbling down his shaft as she
positioned herself and slowly dropped her weight down until he was completely
submerged inside of her.
Tywin groaned in pleasure, loud enough for the guards outside to hear; they
were fully aware of what was happening inside—but of course there was nothing
they could do to stop it, and wouldn’t dare to try.
“Shameless… whore!”  Tywin panted as Cersei bounced on his prick and rocked
back and forth, enjoying the girth and length of his cock to the fullest
extent.
He fondled her breasts and sucked on her nipples when she decreased her speed,
moaning softly.
“Does my dirty slut of a daughter enjoy her father’s cock?”
Cersei was in a sheer state of ecstasy, she could hardly speak. “Y-yes…”
Tywin wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed. He had done this many
times before: asphyxiated her, which only aroused her more.
“Grind that sopping wet cunt on my cock… that’s a good girl… You love pleasing
Father, don’t you?”
Cersei couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. She fucked her father vigorously
like her life depended on it. She loved to please him, even if it meant she had
to be his private whore.
Tywin released his grip for a moment so his daughter could breathe before he
choked her again and let her cum all over his cock. As soon as he felt those
muscles contracting, he released her from the chokehold and let her moan in
delirium.
“Uhnnnnnnnnn…. Ffffffffffffffffuckkkk!”
Cersei’s earth shattering orgasm splintered through her body as she squirted
all over his cock in high pressure, till she was thoroughly satisfied and
breathless.  
“On your back,” Tywin demanded. “Now!”
She obeyed him and leaned back on the table with her legs spread open. Tywin
wasted no time and ripped her gown so that her body was completely exposed. He
shoved two fingers inside her dripping cunt and grinned when she winced in
pain. She was always tight after an orgasm.
Tywin grabbed his cock and slapped it on Cersei’s clit over and over, teasing
her until she was squirming and writhing in pleasure. After she begged him
repeatedly to shove his prick inside of her, he finally thrust into her and
began to fuck the life out of his daughter’s cunt.
She locked her legs around his waist and reached for his ass, encouraging him
to go deeper.
While all this obscenity was occurring, Joffrey was once again watching through
a hidden peephole… but he wasn’t alone.
“See!” he whispered. “I told you my Grandfather was fucking my mum!”
Sansa’s blue eye peered through the peephole as she watched Tywin plowing into
Cersei’s cunt from behind…
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Music Inspired:
     DJ Quincy Ortiz- A Quiet Perfection
 
A golden-haired knight: Myrcella often dreamed of marrying a chivalrous knight
who much resembled her Uncle Jaime. A royal lineage didn’t matter to her.
Unfortunately, those dreams would never come to fruition. Her girlish fantasies
were the only sanctuary that protected her from the reality of her fate. Her
royal status was a burden, not a privilege.
The young princess was lost in thought as she cast her gaze on the calm waters
of the Sea of Dorne. A full moon had shone its silver light into the ocean
below.
A lengthy sigh escaped Myrcella’s sultry lips. She stood on a veranda in her
bed chamber and romanticized her sinful attraction to her uncle. It wasn’t
simply lust that she felt; she was certain it was more. Ever since she was a
child, she only had eyes for her Uncle Jaime. Now that she was old enough to
recognize her sexual wakening, the love that she felt for him had
evolved—transformed into two of the four loves: Agape and Eros.
If only she could have felt that way toward Prince Trystane, but all she felt
was friendship. She only hoped that it would become more, after they’d wed.
Myrcella closed her eyes and let the wind kiss her hair and caress her body.
The climate in Dorne was unbearably hot in the summer season, but the
temperature always cooled by sundown.
With a heavy heart that wanted nothing more than to pour its unspoken secrets,
she turned around and collided straight into a muscled chest.
“Uncle Jaime…” Her heart fluttered and accelerated.
“You didn’t answer when I knocked. I was concerned and let myself in. I’m sorry
to have startled you.” He offered a gentle smile.
That smile was her undoing. She wanted to melt in his arms and become one with
his body. She wanted to hide forever in his chest and never escape; it seemed
like the safest place to live, rather than endure the cruelties of the world.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Myrcella snapped out of her spell when she noticed a look of concern wash over
his face.
“Forgive me. I was so lost in thought… I didn’t hear.”
His charismatic smile warmed her heart, radiating into her belly.
“I just wanted to check on you. You retired early from tonight’s festivities.”
She couldn’t tell him that it was too painful to watch him laugh and flirt with
other women—especially the Dornish women who were extremely open with their
sexuality. If this was all she had to look forward to every evening during her
stay, then Myrcella was almost ready to consider forfeiting her life. Her
teenage heart was hopelessly in love, captivated by a man who was forbidden to
her. She wanted her heart back. She would have gladly given it to
Trystane—anyone but Jaime, though it was merely wishful thinking.
Tears pricked her eyes when he caressed her face. Myrcella hated how powerless
she felt around him. She was a sort of girl who had never been good at
restraining her feelings, unlike her mother who was notorious for her cold
demeanor and expert self-restraint.
If only she knew how easily that restraint disappeared around Jaime and Tywin.
“You have me worried, Myrcella.” Jaime frowned. “Please, talk to me.”
She shook her head and felt a crystal tear roll down her cheek. Her feelings
were betraying her and she was terrified that he would figure it out. It scared
her more than death if Jaime were to discover her true feelings. It was a
secret she swore she would take to her grave.
“I’m fine. I just tend to think about the future sometimes and become
overwhelmed,” she lied.
Compassion seemed to seep into his soft blue eyes, calming the turmoil in
Myrcella’s chest.
“I understand how you feel.” He brushed back a fallen lock of her golden hair.
His gentle touch whispered through her skin and made her shiver. The seductive
undertone of his voice ripped her corset open and licked her nipples; she
imagined it this way. She desired every part of him, especially the parts that
were forbidden.
Pain and pleasure was all she could feel when Jaime pulled her into his arms.
She was shielded, protected, safe.His warm embrace healed and hurt her at the
same time: a masochistic delight. She didn’t want to let go. She never wanted
to let go.
                                     ~oOo~
Pain: it was all he could feel as he gazed into his daughter’s doe-like eyes.
An innocent beauty born in sin, created from raw, feral passion. Jaime loved
all his children; he wasn’t ashamed of them. Society frowned upon incestuous
unions, but he didn’t give “two-flying fucks” about society. In his mind,
Cersei had been his first and only love. He’d never been tempted by any other
woman.
“You’ve always been a sensitive soul,” he whispered, wiping his daughter’s
tears away. “Just like me.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He nodded, cupping her face and kissing her forehead. The contact made
his body tremble, if only in that tender moment.
This was the first time he’d had the privilege of spending time with his
daughter, to truly get to know her. Jaime had missed too many years of his
children’s primary stages. The distance between his progeny had always been out
of his control. Watching them from the shadows as they grew had been the
ultimate price to pay for loving Cersei the way he did.
“We’ve been here for so long it seems,” Myrcella stated.
“I can relate.”
“I almost don’t want to return to King’s Landing.”
“Aren’t you homesick?”
“I am, but…”
He searched her eyes and felt his heart sink when he saw the depth of her
sadness.
I’m her father, and all I’ve managed to do is make her cry constantly in my
presence.He beat himself up and begged her to open up to him. Whatever was
distressing her, he need to know. He wanted to sooth her pain and ease her
mind.
Cersei was the destructive one; Jaime had always preferred to build bridges.
“I’m not looking forward to being away from you, Uncle Jaime,” she finally
expressed, casting her eyes towards the sea.
Her candid confession touched his heart. Jaime’s gaze cascaded from her neck to
her cleavage, now that her face was no longer in plain view. If it were up to
him, he never would have allowed his daughter to dress in such provocative
attire. These Dornish gowns exposed far too much skin for his liking. But they
were no longer in the capital city, which meant adhering to dress codes and
traditions on this end of the coast. If Myrcella was to make a good impression
as a future bride, then she had to respect Dornish ways.
Her beautiful globes of flesh seemed to glow in the moonlight, causing
something to throb in Jaime’s breeches.
Disturbed by such a strong reaction, he reached for her chin and coaxed her
face in his direction. He needed a distraction, and her beautiful face did
exactly that: distracted him.
A seductive drumming rhythm and wooden flute echoed below them. The celebration
was still going well into the night. The music was so different from what Jaime
was accustomed to, as if the musical score had been written by a goddess of
mortal men: a seductress. Every note, every drum beat, every melodic call of
the songstress enchanted him and awakened something buried deep inside his
consciousness.
 He had to break free from its clutches. He had to tear himself away from his
daughter. He couldn’t be around her when he was like this… slowly… unwinding…
unraveling.
Jaime was only a man, after all. He’d never found anyone in his life who
matched the beauty of his sister… until that moment right there. Myrcella with
her golden tresses and ocean eyes; her hourglass figure and blooming breasts
that were nearly visible through the mesh fabric of her gown. Those sultry,
pouty lips…
The feral beast behind the man was beginning to emerge. He wanted to taste her
innocence—devour her and possess her. He wanted to impale himself so deep
inside her, her eyes would roll back in sinful pleasure.
Was this his sickness? A curse that required a lifetime of servitude to
forbidden desire?
Through lust drenched eyes, Jaime felt as if he wasseeinghis daughter for the
very first time, as the stunning young woman she had finally become.  
Arousal rushed through his veins and imprisoned his mind. A blazing inferno was
about to engulf them. He knew he had to douse the flames before it would burn
them both into nothing but ash.
“Myrcella,” he murmured in a husky voice, filled with scorching desire.
She held his gaze, never looking away, not even for a second.
He wondered if she felt the atmosphere shift—the way the air had changed
between them.
It was the music. It was this cursed music, Jaime thought, desperately trying
to justify his unexpected arousal.
He ached. Oh, how he ached. He longed to ravage her. He yearned to infect her
with the same sickness that coursed through his bloodstream: a sickness
contracted by his sister. She’d done this to him. It was all her fault. Jaime
needed someoneto blame.
It’s allyou, you bastard,a voice whispered in his mind.
He reached for Myrcella’s angelic face and gently brushed her bottom lip with
his thumb.
She responded to his touch and parted her lips, ever so slightly, as if she was
waiting, giving her consent to the potential promise of a kiss.
His heated gaze was fixated on those kissable lips, yet he could still see her
breasts rising and falling.
Does she want this, too?Jaime wondered, reaching for her waist with his
freehand.
Everything in her body language indicated that she wanted him to touch her. She
had not recoiled and it terrified him more than rejection.
“Jaime,” she whispered his name, almost in a hushed moan—and Goddammit it did
things to him; things he daren’t accept.
He was painfully restricted in his breeches. She needed only to look down to
see the monstrosity, but Myrcella was determinedly fixed on his lips.
His lust was far too strong. Everyone’s libido in Dorne was far too hyper-
active. The heat of the city, the sun-kissed women who frolicked about nearly
naked left any hot-blooded man sexually frustrated.
The space between their faces was closing inch by inch. Jaime was going to kiss
her and he knew that he had no time to mentally prepare for the impact of that
decision. Possessed by pure animal instincts, he pressed his mouth against her
sensual lips.
It was too late to go back now. He’d crossed a boundary he’d never imagined
he’d cross. The gift of her innocence… it wasn’t enough to feel against his
lips. He needed to open her up and consume her; he needed to tasteher, taste
her lust.
What began as a gentle kiss quickly dissipated, replaced by newfound passion
that yearned to be unleashed, to burn their souls alive, incinerating them from
the inside out.
Lips, teeth, and tongue fought for dominance as he ravished her in his arms. In
the short time frame of rational thinking, Jaime wondered if his daughter had
ever been kissed before. She seemed to be an expert at kissing him to the brink
of orgasm.
On the precipice of mind numbing pleasure, he knew he had to stop what was
happening. He had to rip himself away from her scorching lips that only
beckoned for more, begged him to consume her in his fire.
But his body was not obeying his mind. Before he knew it, he had hoisted
Myrcella up on the cement railing of the veranda and pressed himself in between
her thighs.
He needed release more than air. He wanted to take her right there and then,
not caring about the fact that she was promised to another—a prince, no less.
She moaned into his mouth, forcing him to come undone. His resolve was
dangerously crumbling, all self-control abandoning him. He wished she would
slap him. He wished she would scream and summon the guards to storm inside and
arrest him for accosting her the way he was. But she did no such thing. His
lustful infection was now in her bloodstream, just as he’d feared. She had
contracted his disease. He could not abandon her to suffer the side effects
alone.
No.
He had to give her the cure. A temporary one, for there was no real remedy for
this sickness… this obsession… this obsessive need to consume, fuck, and
devour.
“Fuck!” Jaime cursed, pulling back for air. “Tell me to stop.” He begged her as
he planted a trail of wet kisses on her neck, sucking and licking her flesh.
“I can’t,” Myrcella panted. “I don’t… want you… to stop.” She was just as
breathless as him, needing, cravingso much more than what he was selflessly
giving her.
Jaime didn’t stop. Not even when he heard the loud tear of Myrcella’s gown when
he pulled her thighs around his waist.
He groaned in pleasure as she raked her nails down his back and moaned. He was
sure to bruise her. Her neck would be covered in bruises by sunup.
Must… stop.
But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t.
Myrcella’s scent, her kiss, the feel of her body was driving him to the edge of
insanity. There was no way he could give his daughter away before possessing
her first. She wanted him just as much as he did. He felt it as soon as he grew
bold enough to squeeze her breast through her gown.
A feral moan escaped Myrcella’s lungs. He drowned out the sound by crushing his
lips against hers, kissing her deeply, all while stimulating her rose-bud
nipple.
His body was hyper-sensitive to her touch. He needed her to stroke him so
badly. He wanted to come. He wanted to ram his cock so deep inside her womb
that she would cry out from pain that would soon fade into sinful pleasure.
The stifled sound of moans, lips, and tongue resonated into the night sky.
All he had to do was carry her inside, toss her on the bed, and initiate her
into womanhood. Every fiber of his body longed for it with such urgency. His
mind didn’t even need to contemplate the consequences. Something was raging
within him and needed to be purged. The only way to do that was in between
Myrcella’s thighs… thrusting… impaling… penetrating… spilling his seed… filling
her womb with cum.
As soon as she reached for the painful bulge near his crotch, Jaime broke the
kiss.
He thrust his fingers through his hair like a madman and shouted a string of
expletives.
Reality was quickly sinking in. He’d gone too far. Much too far.And it was all
his fault.
“Uncle Jaime—”
“We can’t do this, Myrcella!” He avoided her eyes, pacing, desperately trying
to calm down. But his evident arousal was so painfully hard. 
“But I—”
“No!” He cut her off once more, holding her face in his hands. “This is my
fault, not yours. I’ve had too much to drink.” He lied. “I must go. We’ll
discuss this tomorrow.”
“Please!” She reached for his tunic and grabbed it in time.
Jaime stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
“Myrcella, my love, if I do not leave you now, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“… I don’t want you to stop.”
He found the courage to turn his head and look her in the eyes. Seduction
danced in her gaze; he wasn’t hallucinating it.
In a last-ditch effort to rip himself away, Jaime grabbed her face and kissed
her hard and wildly before he forced himself back and disappeared as fast as he
could. He had to leave her; he just had to. There was no other choice.
                                     *****
Relief came rushing swiftly as soon as he entered his bed chamber, pulled out
his swollen cock and fisted his heavy shaft. He stroked and pumped with a
relentless wrist, determined to shoot immeasurable loads.
Myrcella’s virgin cunt.
He’d been so close to penetrating it. It was all he could think about as he
furiously stroked himself, as if it would be the last time he would ever touch
himself again. For the first time in his mortal existence, he self-pleasured
while thinking of another woman: his daughter.Cersei never crossed his mind
once. A new obsession had planted its seed in his twisted brain.
He could have relieved himself in front of her, Jaime thought. He could have
gotten her to spread those beautiful thighs for him and touched herself while
he stroked his heavy cock.
That look in her eyes… those fucking tits…
“Fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkk!”
An aggressive growl rumbled through his chest as he groaned a mind-shattering
orgasm, shooting wave after wave of cum onto marble tiles.
Jaime was breathless, greedily gasping for air. He’d thoroughly exhausted
himself. He collapsed on his bed and tried to calm his breathing while his cock
slowly softened after that ferocious beating.
Guilt and shame oppressed his very existence. He and Cersei were surely damned
to Hell; he didn’t want to damn his daughter, too. Myrcella was too pure, too
precious. He’d already regretted crossing the line with her, now that his mind
was not consumed with lust.
 
===============================================================================
 
A/N: sorry for the long hiatus! Hope u guys enjoyed this chapter!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 9 *****
The first thrust: A feral cry of pain and pleasure; a sobering reminder of the
illicit nature of his intrusion. His breath against her flesh, his chest
against her breasts. Lips and tongues colliding in a dark duet. Her body
opening, his body possessing, claiming.
The second thrust: her screams of ecstasy silenced by a lustful kiss. Blue silk
shredding and tearing at her thigh, a handprint clutching her creamy flesh. The
sound of war drums pounding in his chest.
The third thrust: The promise of his speed and animalistic aggression.
Sansa could hardly contain her pleasure as she shut her eyes and surrendered to
sinful desire. At long last, her father had impaled her with his rigid cock
after days of abstinence since they’d arrived in King’s Landing.
She needed him inside her as much as she needed air to breathe. He’d done this
to her: transformed her into a mythical nymph, forbidden to all, but one.
“Is this how you want it?” Ned growled, penetrating her with all his strength.
“Rough?” He tugged on Sansa’s nipple and kissed her into silence when she
screamed in pain.
“Please, Father,” Sansa breathed, desperate for his speed.
“Do you wish me to fuck you like a brothel whore?”
The sound of his words sent a thrill down her body, exhilarating her with heat.
Sansa had seen the way Tywin and Cersei Lannister had fucked; she’d witnessed
how rough he’d been with his daughter, how sadistic. Such a sight should have
left her permanently scarred, but instead, it had awoken a secret yearning,
deep within her.
“Is that what you want?” Ned clutched her throat and resisted the urge to buck
into her.  
“Y-yes…oh God, yes, Father… please.”
Something changed in his eyes and it rightfully terrified Sansa, because what
he did next made her feel nothing but regret. She felt a loss of contact as he
slipped out of her body.
“Leave,” Ned demanded. His voice calm, yet assertive.
“I… I don’t understand.” Sansa frowned, straightening up from the table.
“If I wanted to fuck a whore, I need only to venture into such lowly
establishments. I may be a lot of things, Sansa, but I never treated your
mother like a harlot, and I will never treat you like one, either.”
She wanted to die for making him look at her with repulsion. She never thought
her father would react the way he did. He’d been her first and only lover.
Sansa was not properly educated in the worldly ways of sex.
“I’m sorry, Father. Please for—”
“I’d like for you to leave.”
“But—”
“Continuing this—whatever it is—with you is wrong. Things were never supposed
to escalate this far. I had a duty to fulfill as your father: a tradition I was
expected to uphold. I fulfilled my part. What we are doing now is a shameless
betrayal to your mother. I’ve allowed you to intoxicate my mind and the result
has been this.”
Unsure of herself and twice insecure, Sansa mustered up the courage to bridge
the distance between them. She couldn’t stand to see her father in pain, so
guilt stricken. His blatant regret had hurt her more than words could describe.
“You were never supposed to desire me,” he said, confessing it more to himself
than to her.
“It’s not entirely your fault.” Sansa reached for his face, but he recoiled
from her touch.
“I will not tell you again, girl,” Ned voiced with powerful authority. “You’ve
bewitched me long enough.”
As dejected as Sansa felt, she knew that it was pointless to argue with him.
She longed for him, body and soul, but she couldn’t convince him of that when
he was willingly pushing her away.
A tear rolled down her cheek as she brushed past her father and let herself out
of his bed chamber.
 
 
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