Fic
Title: A Very Different Game
Fnadom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters/Pairings: Jaime/Catelyn, Cersei/Various
Word Count: 1,957
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, dub-con, sexual violence, references to incest.
Notes: Written for redcandle17 during my asoiaf_equinox exchange.
i. Slayer, King
He didn’t really much care for being King. The Iron Throne was uncomfortable and he sat on it as little as possible, leaving most of the actual ruling to his father. Tywin was far better at this sort of thing than Jaime was anyway. He didn’t like to think about the inevitability of Tywin’s death and how he was going manage without his father as Hand. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen until after Brandon was old enough for take on the responsibilities of the kingship he would eventually inherit. Brandon was a great deal smarter than his father had ever been, and the vast time spent he with his grandfather insured that he would be better prepared as a Monarch than Jaime had been, barely more than a boy, when he killed mad old. The insult to Cersei that Tywin felt the Targaryens had made, had driven his ambition to a point where he was not willing to wait to see his grandchildren on the throne, Jaime would fulfill his dreams of kingship and that was that. Jaime hadn’t known of his father’s true intentions until after declarations had been made and it was too late to deny the claims that killing the old king made him the new.
He looked over at the woman sleeping beside him and thought she was worth the fuss his claiming her had caused. After the war, of the major houses, few had brides of a suitable age. Had Jaime not insisted, he probably would have been married to a crone or a child, just to solidify the ties between the new founded royalty and the great houses. What was the point of being king, if you didn’t get what you wanted?
His coronation didn’t please Eddard Stark, who’d thought to put his friend Robert Baratheon, distantly related to the Dragon Kings and the hero of the Trident, on the throne. Nor did it please their mentor, Jon Arryn. The allegiance of the North was anything but certain, when Jaime made his sole brazen act as monarch. He claimed Stark’s fiancé, Catelyn Tully as his own. War was very near breaking out, over Eddard’s offended pride, but Tywin was able to sooth Arryn by promising Cersei to him, and Eddard married Lysa Tully, a second daughter for a second son. Their first daughter, Lyanna, was betrothed to little Brandon almost at birth, binding the Starks to the Lannister ascent at the Red Keep. War was avoided, but Tywin was furious with Jaime for weeks.
His bride was lovely, auburn hair framing her pale face as she dreamt of unknown things. Over the years, he’d also learned that she was diplomatic and resourceful, heading up the royal court with dignity and grace. Tywin had long since decided that Jaime had made a smart decision, not knowing that it was her more obvious charms that swayed him.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he greeted her with a smile.
“Good morning, my lady queen.”
He leaned over to kiss her and found the urge to crawl back under the covers irresistible, pressing his body against hers Jaime clasped Catelyn around the waist and held her to him.
“Don’t you have meetings, my lord?”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” he replied, nuzzling her neck and running his free hand down her side, coming to rest at her bottom.
Rolling sideways, Catelyn ended up on top of him, straddling his torso. He stretched upwards, mouth surrounding one of her nipples as his tongue circled playfully. Arching her hips against him, she murmured his name.
He flipped her over, pinning her arms down as he continued kissing and licking both breasts and then continued downwards until finally he reached the parting of her legs and slowly kissing inwards reached her womanhood. He was gratified by the way she pressed her pelvis against him, encouraging him to continue. In the early days of their marriage she had thought such things improper for a lady of her position. Jaime never told her where he’d learned of them, and never asked her to reciprocate, it was better she think it was whores than know the truth about his sinful youth and the indiscretion with his sister. Childhood games, taken too far. He tried not to think of it. It was shameful, and moreover it reminded him that his happiness with Catelyn had forced Cersei to marry a man three times her age, and she’d never forgiven him.
He was gentle with his wife, teasing only lightly at the place Cersei had showed him when their games were more innocent, and later had him rub and suck when they were less so. Where Cersei had liked him to curl his fingers up inside of her at the same time, with Catelyn he alternated instead between sucking and pressing his tongue into her. He’d learned quickly that what Cersei enjoyed sometimes caused Catelyn more discomfort than pleasure.
Sliding back up her body, Jaime kissed Catelyn deeply, letting her taste her own arousal on his lips. Then he slid in at last, groaning as the familiar warmth surrounded him. The pace they set was slow, leisurely, Jaime had learned how much more pleasurable the ending was for both of them when enough time was taken. Holding back just a little, made Catelyn push back insistently, clenching tighter and tighter as he himself grew closer, panting in unison, she spasmed in response to his release, somehow it was usually the rush of his seed that drove her over the edge. He wasn’t sure whether it was the sense of his pleasure or the promise of another child with hair like the sun, that did it, but it was fortuitous for him.
Sometimes of course, it didn’t happen, on those occasions he would crawl down between her legs, tasting himself all over her, and coach her to it with his mouth, both by physically stimulating her and by whispering love and desire. How many times had Cersei tired of their games after she’d gotten what she wanted and left him aching?
They had barely recovered when the sound of little feet, running down the hallway, was followed by the appearance of little Joanna, their eldest daughter. She was about 6, and always escaping the septa.
Catelyn seemed to glow more around their children, and looking at the two of them, Jaime concluded that maybe being the King wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
ii. Adulteress
Cersei had wept bitterly when she learned that she was to marry to a man older than her father, and that Jaime was not only not going to save her, but was in fact the cause of this outrage. It turned out it wasn’t so bad, though. Jon Arryn was kind enough, and his age meant that she was not forced to endure the marriage bed very often. When she was, he was not violent or cruel, and that was more than could be said of many Lord Husbands. He doted on her, and was blind to her antipathy. So it was only a matter of time until she found ways to satisfy the needs that Jaime had abandoned. It hurt that his love was so false, so easily turned by a pretty simpleton. She was free of love though, now.
At first she’d taken up with Petyr Baelish, a nothing whom her husband had taken in mostly out of charity, but had proved indispensable to their finances. He was a skilled lover, with dexterous fingers and a wicked tongue. He was the one who taught her the joys of being taken from behind, the way he would slap against her and the feeling of being pressed into whatever surface was handy. It was something she never would have done with Jaime, because their interactions had always been about his worship of her, false worship it turned out. With Petyr, it was enough that they both enjoyed it.
Then Robert Baratheon came to visit his old mentor. He was twice the size of most men and he looked at her from the start like he’d already had her. She was horrified to discover how wet she was when he followed her to her solar and bolted the door. He fucked her without more preamble than unlacing his breeches and pushing up her skirt. His merciless pounding wasn’t calculated for anyone’s pleasure but his own and yet she found herself shrieking out in ecstasy so much that he nearly suffocated her covering her mouth with an enormous hand. Whore, his every movement said, and that was what drove her oven the edge, and the knowledge of that shamed and excited her.
From that point forward, they fucked at every possible occasion. Her body was raw but it ached more with desire than protest. Still, sometimes she would have to see to something and inevitably she would return to finding him thrusting into one of the maids. At first she refused to have him afterwards, but he just found someone else and so it was not long before she was climaxing to his length, coated in someone else’s juices. Discretion was so far gone, that Cersei knew she needed to do something.
Petyr had the solution, Jon’s death looked perfectly natural and Robert played right into their hands by offering immediately to marry the widow. Apparently she fucked like a peasant and that was something that made her a more desirable wife than the rest of the high ladies in Westeros. Words that should have angered her, they had just the opposite reaction. Petyr got a promotion and Cersei thought she’d finally claimed Robert as completely her own. She had to sleep some time though, and Robert’s hunger continued. She awoke one night to find him screwing her chamber maid less than ten feet from their bed.
Instead of feeling shamed, Cersei found she enjoyed watching. Jeslyn was dark, with small firm breasts and a long lean body. When Robert was done with her, Cersei called out for her to stop and come over to the bed.
“Kneel down in front of me and use that mouth of yours to serve me at least as well as you did my lord husband.”
Robert seemed entranced as he watched the girl he’d just had service his wife. Cersei pushed the girls face against her, bucking her hips. It didn’t take long for her to finish, with Robert rubbing himself watching.
“Lie down.”
The girl did as she was told, fear in her eyes. Cersei perched between her legs, pinching her nipples and then reached down, thrusting all four fingers of one hand into her at once. The girl cried out, as Cersei fucked her with her hand, slapping her occasionally and calling her a whore.
It felt good, good to treat someone with the same brutal sexual violence that Robert treated her with. That was the thing that made Robert so different from her former lovers. Jaime adored her, with Petyr it was mutually convenient, but with Robert he was merely using her for his own pleasure… and it was addictive. Now she found the other side was equally so.
She enjoyed watching as the girl panted, her thighs drenched with her own desire despite herself.
“Do you want me to stop, wench?” Her girl’s eyes were wild, “Because I will unless you beg me to do something else.”
The girls pleas were sweet music to her ears and the inhuman cries even more so. When Robert crawled up behind her, pressing her down onto the servant as he pushed in, and she felt the hot flesh against her on both sides, Cersei knew she’d found the solution to her problem.
Fnadom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters/Pairings: Jaime/Catelyn, Cersei/Various
Word Count: 1,957
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, dub-con, sexual violence, references to incest.
Notes: Written for redcandle17 during my asoiaf_equinox exchange.
i. Slayer, King
He didn’t really much care for being King. The Iron Throne was uncomfortable and he sat on it as little as possible, leaving most of the actual ruling to his father. Tywin was far better at this sort of thing than Jaime was anyway. He didn’t like to think about the inevitability of Tywin’s death and how he was going manage without his father as Hand. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen until after Brandon was old enough for take on the responsibilities of the kingship he would eventually inherit. Brandon was a great deal smarter than his father had ever been, and the vast time spent he with his grandfather insured that he would be better prepared as a Monarch than Jaime had been, barely more than a boy, when he killed mad old. The insult to Cersei that Tywin felt the Targaryens had made, had driven his ambition to a point where he was not willing to wait to see his grandchildren on the throne, Jaime would fulfill his dreams of kingship and that was that. Jaime hadn’t known of his father’s true intentions until after declarations had been made and it was too late to deny the claims that killing the old king made him the new.
He looked over at the woman sleeping beside him and thought she was worth the fuss his claiming her had caused. After the war, of the major houses, few had brides of a suitable age. Had Jaime not insisted, he probably would have been married to a crone or a child, just to solidify the ties between the new founded royalty and the great houses. What was the point of being king, if you didn’t get what you wanted?
His coronation didn’t please Eddard Stark, who’d thought to put his friend Robert Baratheon, distantly related to the Dragon Kings and the hero of the Trident, on the throne. Nor did it please their mentor, Jon Arryn. The allegiance of the North was anything but certain, when Jaime made his sole brazen act as monarch. He claimed Stark’s fiancé, Catelyn Tully as his own. War was very near breaking out, over Eddard’s offended pride, but Tywin was able to sooth Arryn by promising Cersei to him, and Eddard married Lysa Tully, a second daughter for a second son. Their first daughter, Lyanna, was betrothed to little Brandon almost at birth, binding the Starks to the Lannister ascent at the Red Keep. War was avoided, but Tywin was furious with Jaime for weeks.
His bride was lovely, auburn hair framing her pale face as she dreamt of unknown things. Over the years, he’d also learned that she was diplomatic and resourceful, heading up the royal court with dignity and grace. Tywin had long since decided that Jaime had made a smart decision, not knowing that it was her more obvious charms that swayed him.
Her eyes fluttered open, and he greeted her with a smile.
“Good morning, my lady queen.”
He leaned over to kiss her and found the urge to crawl back under the covers irresistible, pressing his body against hers Jaime clasped Catelyn around the waist and held her to him.
“Don’t you have meetings, my lord?”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” he replied, nuzzling her neck and running his free hand down her side, coming to rest at her bottom.
Rolling sideways, Catelyn ended up on top of him, straddling his torso. He stretched upwards, mouth surrounding one of her nipples as his tongue circled playfully. Arching her hips against him, she murmured his name.
He flipped her over, pinning her arms down as he continued kissing and licking both breasts and then continued downwards until finally he reached the parting of her legs and slowly kissing inwards reached her womanhood. He was gratified by the way she pressed her pelvis against him, encouraging him to continue. In the early days of their marriage she had thought such things improper for a lady of her position. Jaime never told her where he’d learned of them, and never asked her to reciprocate, it was better she think it was whores than know the truth about his sinful youth and the indiscretion with his sister. Childhood games, taken too far. He tried not to think of it. It was shameful, and moreover it reminded him that his happiness with Catelyn had forced Cersei to marry a man three times her age, and she’d never forgiven him.
He was gentle with his wife, teasing only lightly at the place Cersei had showed him when their games were more innocent, and later had him rub and suck when they were less so. Where Cersei had liked him to curl his fingers up inside of her at the same time, with Catelyn he alternated instead between sucking and pressing his tongue into her. He’d learned quickly that what Cersei enjoyed sometimes caused Catelyn more discomfort than pleasure.
Sliding back up her body, Jaime kissed Catelyn deeply, letting her taste her own arousal on his lips. Then he slid in at last, groaning as the familiar warmth surrounded him. The pace they set was slow, leisurely, Jaime had learned how much more pleasurable the ending was for both of them when enough time was taken. Holding back just a little, made Catelyn push back insistently, clenching tighter and tighter as he himself grew closer, panting in unison, she spasmed in response to his release, somehow it was usually the rush of his seed that drove her over the edge. He wasn’t sure whether it was the sense of his pleasure or the promise of another child with hair like the sun, that did it, but it was fortuitous for him.
Sometimes of course, it didn’t happen, on those occasions he would crawl down between her legs, tasting himself all over her, and coach her to it with his mouth, both by physically stimulating her and by whispering love and desire. How many times had Cersei tired of their games after she’d gotten what she wanted and left him aching?
They had barely recovered when the sound of little feet, running down the hallway, was followed by the appearance of little Joanna, their eldest daughter. She was about 6, and always escaping the septa.
Catelyn seemed to glow more around their children, and looking at the two of them, Jaime concluded that maybe being the King wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
ii. Adulteress
Cersei had wept bitterly when she learned that she was to marry to a man older than her father, and that Jaime was not only not going to save her, but was in fact the cause of this outrage. It turned out it wasn’t so bad, though. Jon Arryn was kind enough, and his age meant that she was not forced to endure the marriage bed very often. When she was, he was not violent or cruel, and that was more than could be said of many Lord Husbands. He doted on her, and was blind to her antipathy. So it was only a matter of time until she found ways to satisfy the needs that Jaime had abandoned. It hurt that his love was so false, so easily turned by a pretty simpleton. She was free of love though, now.
At first she’d taken up with Petyr Baelish, a nothing whom her husband had taken in mostly out of charity, but had proved indispensable to their finances. He was a skilled lover, with dexterous fingers and a wicked tongue. He was the one who taught her the joys of being taken from behind, the way he would slap against her and the feeling of being pressed into whatever surface was handy. It was something she never would have done with Jaime, because their interactions had always been about his worship of her, false worship it turned out. With Petyr, it was enough that they both enjoyed it.
Then Robert Baratheon came to visit his old mentor. He was twice the size of most men and he looked at her from the start like he’d already had her. She was horrified to discover how wet she was when he followed her to her solar and bolted the door. He fucked her without more preamble than unlacing his breeches and pushing up her skirt. His merciless pounding wasn’t calculated for anyone’s pleasure but his own and yet she found herself shrieking out in ecstasy so much that he nearly suffocated her covering her mouth with an enormous hand. Whore, his every movement said, and that was what drove her oven the edge, and the knowledge of that shamed and excited her.
From that point forward, they fucked at every possible occasion. Her body was raw but it ached more with desire than protest. Still, sometimes she would have to see to something and inevitably she would return to finding him thrusting into one of the maids. At first she refused to have him afterwards, but he just found someone else and so it was not long before she was climaxing to his length, coated in someone else’s juices. Discretion was so far gone, that Cersei knew she needed to do something.
Petyr had the solution, Jon’s death looked perfectly natural and Robert played right into their hands by offering immediately to marry the widow. Apparently she fucked like a peasant and that was something that made her a more desirable wife than the rest of the high ladies in Westeros. Words that should have angered her, they had just the opposite reaction. Petyr got a promotion and Cersei thought she’d finally claimed Robert as completely her own. She had to sleep some time though, and Robert’s hunger continued. She awoke one night to find him screwing her chamber maid less than ten feet from their bed.
Instead of feeling shamed, Cersei found she enjoyed watching. Jeslyn was dark, with small firm breasts and a long lean body. When Robert was done with her, Cersei called out for her to stop and come over to the bed.
“Kneel down in front of me and use that mouth of yours to serve me at least as well as you did my lord husband.”
Robert seemed entranced as he watched the girl he’d just had service his wife. Cersei pushed the girls face against her, bucking her hips. It didn’t take long for her to finish, with Robert rubbing himself watching.
“Lie down.”
The girl did as she was told, fear in her eyes. Cersei perched between her legs, pinching her nipples and then reached down, thrusting all four fingers of one hand into her at once. The girl cried out, as Cersei fucked her with her hand, slapping her occasionally and calling her a whore.
It felt good, good to treat someone with the same brutal sexual violence that Robert treated her with. That was the thing that made Robert so different from her former lovers. Jaime adored her, with Petyr it was mutually convenient, but with Robert he was merely using her for his own pleasure… and it was addictive. Now she found the other side was equally so.
She enjoyed watching as the girl panted, her thighs drenched with her own desire despite herself.
“Do you want me to stop, wench?” Her girl’s eyes were wild, “Because I will unless you beg me to do something else.”
The girls pleas were sweet music to her ears and the inhuman cries even more so. When Robert crawled up behind her, pressing her down onto the servant as he pushed in, and she felt the hot flesh against her on both sides, Cersei knew she’d found the solution to her problem.