Lord Eddard Stark stood uneasily in the small council chamber as tension crackled through the air. Prince Joffrey had excused himself moments ago, leaving them to wait for King Robert's arrival. The evidence against Littlefinger lay spread across the table - damning ledgers showing years of systematic theft.
But something felt off. The numbers were damning, yes, but not enough for a death sentence. At most they could strip Baelish of his position and send him to the Wall. Yet there was an odd stillness in the air, like the calm before a storm.
Ned noticed Littlefinger's usual smirk had faded somewhat. The Master of Coin kept glancing at the door, fingers drumming restlessly on the table. Even the Spider looked unsettled, though he hid it better.
When the doors finally burst open, Ned's blood ran cold. Robert stumbled in, clearly just roused from a drunken stupor, but his eyes... gods, his eyes. Ned hadn't seen that look since the Trident, when Robert's Warhammer had sent rubies flying from Rhaegar's chest.
It happened so fast. One moment Robert was swaying in the doorway, the next his warhammer was already swinging in a deadly arc. The crack of Baelish's ribs shattering echoed through the chamber like thunder. Blood sprayed across the council table as the hammer crushed through flesh and bone.
The other council members scrambled backwards. Varys went white as milk. Grand Maester Pycelle actually fell out of his chair. But Ned was already moving, muscle memory from a thousand battles carrying him forward to grab Robert's arm before he could swing again.
"ROBERT! STOP!" Ned roared, straining against his friend's berserker strength. The king was like a force of nature, all rage and power focused on reducing Baelish's corpse to pulp. "He's dead! IT'S DONE!"
That's when Ned saw him - Prince Joffrey standing in the doorway, watching the scene with cold satisfaction. The boy hadn't even flinched at the violence. If anything, he looked... pleased.
Realization hit Ned like a punch to the gut. Robert had been practically comatose with wine when they'd sent for him. There was no way he'd spontaneously worked himself into this killing rage. Someone had to have... guided him there.
As Ned finally managed to pull Robert back from Baelish's mangled remains, he studied Joffrey more carefully. The prince's face was a mask of proper concern now, but those green eyes still glittered with triumph.
This wasn't justice. This was an execution that had been carefully orchestrated to look like a king's rage-fueled impulse. And Ned was certain Joffrey had somehow engineered it all.
He should have been horrified. This kind of manipulation, this calculated violence - it was exactly what he'd feared from the Lannisters. But then unbidden, the memory of Arya's tear-stained face rose in his mind. His little girl, trembling as she described the fire that had nearly claimed her. How Joffrey had charged through the flames to save her, earning scars that still showed above his collar.
The boy was ruthless, yes. But his ruthlessness seemed reserved for those who truly deserved it. Ned had seen enough of court politics now to know that sometimes mercy only invited more treachery. A clean death, even a brutal one, could be kinder than letting vipers continue to spread their poison.
Looking at the scene before him - Robert's heaving shoulders, Baelish's ruined corpse, the shocked faces of the council members - Ned made his choice. He would guide this deadly young prince, teach him to temper justice with mercy where possible. But he would not condemn him for protecting what was his.
After all, wasn't that what Starks had always done? Winter was coming, and sometimes the pack had to bare its teeth to survive.
Fresh from his victory over Littlefinger, Joffrey strode through the Red Keep with a predator's satisfaction coursing through his veins. The memory of Baelish's final shocked expression before Robert's warhammer caved in his chest brought a smile to his face. All it had taken was whispering the right words in his drunk father's ear. The rest was simply letting Robert's rage do the work.
Now he needed to celebrate properly. His feet carried him instinctively to Sansa's chambers, finding her alone as he'd hoped. She looked up from her needlework, cheeks flushing prettily at his entrance.
"My prince," she started to rise, but he was already crossing the room in long strides.
"Stay seated," he growled, desire thick in his voice. Her eyes widened as he reached her, one hand tangling in her auburn hair while the other cupped her face. The first kiss was gentle, teasing - he'd learned that Sansa responded best when properly warmed up.
"I heard shouting from the council chamber," she whispered against his lips. "Is everything...?"
"Handled," he assured her, nipping at her lower lip. "we won't have to worry about Littlefinger anymore."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, Joffrey saw relief in her eyes as he told her about Baelish's machinations against Joffrey for a while now. His clever wolf was learning the ways of court - sometimes problems needed permanent solutions.
He deepened the kiss, tongue exploring her mouth as his hands began wandering. Sansa's needlework fell forgotten to the floor as she pressed against him, small whimpers escaping her throat. Her innocence still amazed him sometimes - how she could be both proper lady and wanton temptress in the same moment.
"Joff," she gasped as his lips found her neck. "The door isn't closed yet... someone might..."
"Let them," he growled, hands working at the laces of her dress. "They will leave if they do not want to die."
The dress loosened, exposing creamy shoulders that he immediately attacked with lips and teeth. Sansa's head fell back, soft moans encouraging him as his hands slid inside the fabric to cup her breasts. Her nipples were already hard peaks against his palms.
"Please," she whimpered, arching into his touch. "I need..."
"Tell me what you need, little wolf," he purred, pinching one nipple and making her gasp.
"You," she managed. "Inside me, please Joff..."
He groaned at her words, cock straining against his breeches. His free hand hiked up her skirts, finding her smallclothes already damp. Just as he was about to tear them off...
"Hmmm..."
The small voice froze them both. Joffrey whirled around, keeping Sansa behind him as he faced the intruder. Arya Stark stood in the doorway, looking both embarrassed and... hungry?
"Seven hells, Arya," he snapped, though without real heat. This wasn't the first time the younger wolf had caught them in a compromising position. "I've told you before - you're too young..."
"I know what you do with Myrcella," she blurted out. "I know what you do with my sister And... and with the Queen."
Joffrey went very still. Behind him, he felt Sansa tense. Those particular activities were supposed to be very, very secret. If word got out...
But something was off about Arya's tone. This wasn't blackmail - he'd heard enough threats in his life to know the difference. The girl was practically vibrating with nervous energy, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with what he now recognized as pure want.
"Please," she whispered, and gods help him but his cock twitched at the need in her voice. "I want... I need... what you do to them. To Sansa. Please."
Joffrey's predatory gaze shifted between the Stark sisters, his mind already racing with possibilities. The way Arya trembled in anticipation, her small frame taut with desire, stirred something primal in him. But first.
"Come here," he beckoned to Arya, voice rough. "But don't touch. Not yet."
He turned back to Sansa, who lay spread across the bed like a feast. Her auburn hair fanned out around her head, lips swollen from his kisses. His cock twitched as he watched a blush spread down her neck to her perfect breasts.
"Mmmhhh..." Sansa moaned as he dragged his fingers up her inner thigh. "Watch and learn Arya, this is not like we did before..."
"Tell your sister what you want," he commanded, circling her clit with his thumb.
"I... I can't do that Joffrey, just let her watch..." Sansa whimpered, trying to hide her face.
Joffrey grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at Arya. "You can. And you will."
"I want..." Sansa's voice was barely a whisper. "I want your cock inside me... stretching me... filling me up..."
"Louder," he growled, sliding two fingers into her dripping cunt. "Let her hear how desperate you are."
"Please fuck me!" Sansa cried out as he curled his fingers. "I need you so bad... need your cock..."
"Good girl," he purred, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to her lips. "Clean them."
Sansa's tongue darted out, licking her own juices from his digits. The sight made Arya whimper from where she stood.
"Watch carefully, little wolf," Joffrey smirked at Arya as he positioned himself between Sansa's legs. "This is how you beg for a cock Arya learn..."
He thrust in slowly, savoring the way Sansa's pussy stretched around him. Her back arched off the bed as he bottomed out, a long moan escaping her throat.
"Look how well she takes me," he told Arya, beginning to move. "Every... thick... inch..."
Each word was punctuated with a hard thrust that made Sansa cry out. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the room as he picked up speed.
"Touch yourself," he ordered Arya. "Show me how much this excites you."
Arya's hand disappeared beneath her skirts as she watched, transfixed by the sight of his cock disappearing into her sister again and again.
"Such a tight little cunt," he growled, hands gripping Sansa's hips hard enough to bruise. "Gonna fill you up soon and breed you proper..."
"Yes!" Sansa screamed. "Fill me up! Give me a golden haired child"
Her walls clenched around him as she came, triggering his own release. He buried himself to the hilt as he started pumping thick ropes of cum into her willing body.
Joffrey observed the Stark sisters with a predatory intensity, his mind already plotting how to proceed. Arya's small frame trembled with anticipation while Sansa lay spread across the bed, his seed slowly leaking from her well-used cunt.
"Come here, little wolf," he commanded Arya. "Time to learn your first lesson. Clean your sister up."
Arya hesitated only briefly before crawling between Sansa's thighs. Her first tentative lick drew a gasp from both sisters.
"Good girl," Joffrey praised, settling beside Sansa. His hands found her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he spoke casually. "The small council meeting was... productive today."
"Mmmmh..." Sansa moaned, arching into his touch as Arya's tongue grew bolder. "Is that why... ahh... why you are so happy?"
"The position of master of coin is empty," he smirked, pinching her nipples. "and soon the Tyrells will be making moves in court for the position but they need an reason to be close to the capital of the kingdom."
"The... ohhh... Rose of Highgarden?" Sansa gasped as Arya found a sensitive spot.
"Exactly. I want you to write to her. Offer her position as your handmaiden when we're married."
Sansa's brow furrowed even as pleasure coursed through her. "But would she accept? She's heir to Highgarden..."
"She'll accept," Joffrey said confidently, rolling her peaks between his fingers. "The position brings power, influence. And the Tyrells crave both almost as much as you crave my cock."
To emphasize his point, he twisted her nipple sharply, making her cry out. Below, Arya redoubled her efforts, lapping eagerly at their combined juices.
"I'll write... after..." Sansa panted, grinding against her sister's mouth.
"Good girl," he growled. His cock was already hardening again at the sight before him. "Arya, on your back. Let's see if you're as eager to take cock as you are to taste it."
Arya scrambled to obey, laying back with her legs spread. Her small cunt glistened with arousal, pink folds puffy and inviting. Joffrey positioned himself between her thighs, rubbing his tip against her entrance.
"Watch carefully, Sansa," he commanded. "Watch me take your sister's maidenhead."
Sansa's eyes were dark with lust as she observed. Joffrey pressed forward slowly, feeling Arya's tight walls resist his intrusion. Her body trembled beneath him, a mix of fear and desperate want in her eyes.
"Relax," he murmured, showing unexpected gentleness. "The pain passes quickly if you don't fight it."
Sansa stroked her sister's hair soothingly. "Breathe like I taught you for dancing. Deep breaths..."
Arya nodded, chest rising and falling as she tried to calm herself. Joffrey pushed deeper, groaning at her incredible tightness. When he met her maidenhead, he paused.
"Look at me," he commanded. When her eyes met his, he continued: "You want this? Want me to make you mine like your sister?"
"Yes," Arya whispered, then stronger: "Yes, please... I need it..."
With a grunt, he thrust forward, breaking through her barrier in one smooth motion. Arya cried out, tears springing to her eyes as pain bloomed between her legs. He held still, letting her adjust to the invasion.
"Such a brave girl," he praised, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "Taking my cock so well your first time."
Gradually, he began to move, shallow thrusts that slowly deepened as Arya's whimpers of pain transformed into moans of pleasure. Her small breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples hardened to tight peaks.
"Touch her," he ordered Sansa. "Show her how good it can feel."
Sansa's fingers found Arya's clit, circling the sensitive bud as Joffrey increased his pace. The younger Stark writhed between them, overwhelmed by the dual sensations.
"Such a tight little cunt," he growled, grip tightening on her hips. "Going to fill you up just like your sister. Mark you as mine."
"Please!" Arya cried out, her body tensing. "Want it... need your seed inside me!"
"Beg prettier," he demanded, slowing his thrusts torturously.
"Please, my prince," she sobbed. "Fill me up... breed me... make me yours!"
With a roar, he slammed deep, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into her virgin channel. Arya screamed her release, walls clamping down around him as pleasure crashed through her small frame. Beside them, Sansa moaned, fingers working frantically between her own legs.
As they caught their breath, Joffrey surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction. Two Stark sisters, thoroughly claimed and marked as his. The realm would never know what happened behind these chamber doors, but he would always remember the sight of them writhing beneath him, begging for more...
"Write that letter tomorrow," he told Sansa as he withdrew from Arya's thoroughly used hole. "The Rose of Highgarden will make a fine addition to our... household."
His seed leaked from both sisters now, marking them as thoroughly his. Soon, he'd have another flower to deflower, another noble lady to corrupt and claim. But for now, he was content with his wolves.
"Clean each other up," he commanded, settling back to watch. "Show me how well you've learned to share."
The sisters moved together eagerly, tongues finding each other's sensitive flesh. Their moans filled the chamber as they tasted his essence mixed with their own juices. Joffrey smirked, already planning his next conquest. The game of thrones was so much more entertaining when played between the sheets.
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