Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

The Mad Lion and the Wolf Bitch	By : ArizonaIceT Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 47466 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones. These stories are just for fun, not profit

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
“You have to tell her” Her father suddenly says.

Ned had called Arya into his new chambers. When she arrived, he gives her a rueful smile. Arya knew she wouldn’t like what he had on his mind.

“Tell who what? She questions. Her father just frowns at her.

“You know what.” He answers back. Arya looked at her feet. She did know. Sansa.

As far as Sansa was concerned, she was still betrothed to Joffrey. A select few knew of Joffrey’s declaration of marriage to Arya, only those present in the throne room at the time. To Sansa, and most others, things were still on as originally planned. Her father stares at her, not letting her off the hook. She fidgets in front of him, like whenever she got in trouble when she was younger.

“Why can’t you tell her?” She finally mumbles. Ned frowns, but looks sympathetic. He gets up from his desk, walks over and puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Because I didn’t raise a coward”

Arya’s eyes flash at him.

“I’m not a coward.” She says haughtily. Ned just smiles at her.

“I know you’re not. That’s why I expect you to be honest with Sansa. I know you two don’t get along, and I know she’ll be hurt, but you have to tell her. It’ll be better for everyone.” He explains. Arya just snorts. Damn her father for always being honorable, but she had to admit, he was right. She’d eventually know anyway. Better to treat a wound than let it grow infected. Sansa would be heartbroken regardless, but Arya could try her best to make her see, to make her understand.

It was for the best and-

*Knock Knock*

A knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” Ned calls out.

“It is just I.”

Varys.

The bald man enters the room with a look of concern on his face, which in turn, causes Ned to be concerned.

“What is it?” Ned asks.

“I think you need to come with me Ser Stark….your daughter might want to come too. There’s an incident in the garden.”
____________________________________________________________________________
Joffrey was honestly having a hard time.

Who knew being king would be so…consuming. The meetings, the lords and peasants coming to him with all their little problems. He never knew a moment of peace. Hells, he barely was able to see Arya given how late his nights went. He couldn’t wait until his grandfather arrived so he could take over as Hand of the King. He served as Hand previously. He’d help alleviate the burden, but for now, he had to deal with his mother who informally took it upon herself to act as the de facto hand. Always questioning him. Always babying him. Joffrey found himself slipping away to one of the many gardens of the hold when he had a free moment. It was his only respite from everything and everyone. There he could be alone.

Well, besides The Hound of course, who rarely left his side during the day. But unlike everyone else, The Hound never complained, which is why Joffrey liked him so much.

Joffrey stood in a garden, breathing deeply, The Hound stood not too far behind him. He used to hate when his mother brought him to the gardens. He thought of it as womanly, but now he saw the appeal. It was serene. He was able to relax and just-

“Joffrey!” A shrill voice calls out behind him. Joffrey flinches and looks back.

Sansa.

Just what he needed. Fucking needed. He frowned and looked at The Hound, who just shrugged. Sansa walked towards him, with a big smile plastered on her face. That made him frown even more.

“Joffrey, your grace” She says walking up to him. “It is so good to see you. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you last.”

“I’ve been busy,” He says stiffly.
“Oh I know. My condolences on your father. He was a great man” Sansa says bowing her head. Sansa didn’t know his father. Who was she to talk about how ‘great’ he was.

“And now that you’re the king, we must begin to plan our wedding. Oh, it’ll be such a wondrous day. We’ll have birds and horses and-”

“Sansa” He tries.

“-I was thinking the we go with the color orange, to compliment the red and gold and-”

“SANSA” He tries once more.

“Our children will be so beautiful-”

“SHUT UP YOU DAFT COW!” He finally screams, pulling her out of her day dream. She looks at him as if she’s been slapped, eyes wide, mouth agape. He’s had enough of her, and her airheadedness. Luckily, he didn’t have to put up with her any longer.

“J-Joffrey, my love? Why would you say such a hurtful thing.” She asks, on the verge of tears. Joffrey just rolls his eyes.

“I am not your love.” He explains. “Our marriage contract has been terminated.”

Sansa’s eyes were now the size of saucers.

“What do you mean? Was it something my father did?” She rambles out. She’s on the verge of hysterics. Joffrey hated hysterical women. He stayed silent, watching her with visible disgust. “Is-is there someone else?”

“That’s none of your concern.” He answers, perhaps a bit too quickly because the look on Sansa’s face changs. Indignation flashes in her tear filled eyes. Joffrey didn’t want to deal with this, he felt a headache coming on. He motions to The Hound, and strides past Sansa towards the exit.

“Is it a Tyrell?” Sansa calls out behind him. “I promise, I’ll be a much better wife than that-that whore! Joffrey please, I’ll be a dutiful wife. I’ll give you such beautiful, strong children.”

Joffrey stops in his tracks. He decided to have a little fun. If she wanted to know, who was he to keep it a secret. Afterall, they’d be related soon enough.

Joffrey turns to face her and smiles.

“Do you really want to know?” He asks in a pleasant tone. Sansa sniffles and nods her head feverishly.

“Well-”
____________________________________________________________________________

Ned strides through the keep quickly, with Arya following close behind him.

‘Oh, what did that boy do?’ Thought Arya as they made their way to the garden. As they got closer, they could hear Sansa’s wails and cries. The noise only spurred Ned to walk faster, best he could still favoring one leg. When they arrived, a small crowd had formed, nosy spectators trying to be informed on the salacious going ons of the castle.

Sansa sat in the middle of the garden, absolutely wailing, her face red, tears running down her cheeks, as Joffrey just stood there looking down at her. Ned pushes through the crowd, and kneels down next to Sansa.

“Sansa, please, calm yourself. What is the matter?” He asks, concerned. Joffrey scoffs and Ned shoots him a hard look. Sansa pays no mind to her father, and continues to cry and sob. Arya stands next to Joffrey and looks at him

“What did you do?” She whispers harshly in his ear

“Nothing. Just told her the truth.” He says nonchalantly. Arya frowns at him.

“You should’ve let me handle it.” She refutes. She knew Joffrey was blunt, but whatever he said to her turned her into a blubbering mess. He just scoffs and waves his hand.

“It doesn’t matter. She would’ve done...this regardless.” He says gesturing to Sansa.

Suddenly, Sansa’s wailing stops, and she locks her eyes on Arya. She scowls deeply, looking strangely ugly for such a beautiful girl.

“You-” Sansa growls, surprising Arya. Sansa was on her feet, quicker than Arya ever seen her move, and lunges at Arya. Arya’s sword training kicks in, and she sidesteps Sansa with ease, causing her to crash in a heap on the ground.
“Sansa! Stop this” Ned yells, trying to get to his feet, but it falls on deaf ears. Sansa spins and gets up, and starts swiping her arms at Arya.

“You ruined everything! You ruined everything you bitch!” She screams. Arya just dodges and deflects her blows, unsure of what else to do. She didn’t want to hurt her sister, even if she was acting like this.

Joffrey, who had been in a bit of shock at the display, finally got his wits about him, and signaled to The Hound. The Hound walked up behind Sansa, wrapped his hand around her waist, and lifted her clear off the ground. Sansa kicked and wiggled, trying to break free, all the while still spitting venom at Arya. Joffrey walks up to the struggling girl, and slaps her across the face, hard.

“ENOUGH” Joffrey says, tone leaving no room for argument. Everyone goes silent. “If you were anyone else, your head would be on a fucking pike for attacking my betrothed.”

The crowd begins to murmur. Looks like the secret was officially out to the public. Arya looks around. Everyone looks shocked, surprised that Joffrey would pick HER, over the beautiful Sansa Stark. She always hated having eyes on her, but she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at Joffrey’s public declaration of her. When she looks back at Sansa, her happiness is quickly dashed. Sansa looked catatonic. No longer screaming and crying; face just devoid of….anything. Arya didn’t like her sister, but she didn’t want this.

“Joffrey-” Ned starts.

“Careful Stark-” Joffrey interrupts. “Careful. This wouldn’t be happening if you didn’t have such a spoiled brat as a daughter.”

Ned, frowns, but remains silent. Joffrey wasn’t wrong. Sansa’s behavior was inexcusable. Joffrey walks back to Arya, and grabs her hand. He begins to walk them out of the garden, but not before stopping next to The Hound.

“Hound, take Lady Sansa to her rooms. Stay with her until she calms down, and makes sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like throwing herself from the tower.” Joffrey commands in a low voice. The Hounds looks a bit uncomfortable and then nods. Satisfied, Joffrey drags Arya out of the garden, leaving behind the spectators to gossip and speculate.
____________________________________________________________________________

Your Sister

It didn’t make sense.

Your Sister

It just didn’t make sense.

How, how could this have happened. She was supposed to be a princess. A queen. She did everything right, everything a good lady was supposed to do. She kept herself fit, did her makeup, was obedient; she did everything she was taught.

Yet, she lost her chance at happiness, to-to-

Arya.

Fucking Arya. The Stark Wild Child. Joffrey had picked her.

Sansa just couldn’t wrap her mind around it. It didn’t make sense. What, in the name of The Old Gods or the Seven, did he see in Arya? She plain faced, ill tempered, and had all the grace of a direwolf. Her one saving feature was her hips, which Sansa was secretly jealous of, though she’d never say it of course.

It just didn’t make sense.

Maybe she did something to displease Joffrey? What could she have done? She tried to be attentive and dutiful, like her mother and septa taught her. Apparently it didn’t show for much. Fresh tears ran down her eyes as she laid in her bed and stared at the ceiling. The Hound had carried her to her room, and plopped her down. He was still stationed outside her door. She felt like a prisoner.

‘Who would want me now?’ She thought miserably. She had caused a scene in public. People had seen Joffrey reject her. It was only a matter of time before word got out, that she wasn't good enough, at least that’s what she thought. She convinced herself that her father would now have to marry her off to a lesser lord just to get rid of her. She envisioned a whole wretched life for herself as she laid in bed.

She couldn’t handle this. She needed something, anything to take her mind from her thoughts. She turned her head to her night stand.

Wine.

By custom, the servants brought wine to the room everyday. Sansa rarely partook in it, being taught to be conservative with it by her father.

Fuck it.

She figured the whole castle thought she was trash anyway, might as well indulge a bit.
___________________________________________________________________________

Sansa was absolutely piss drunk. Not that it took much. 2 cups already had her head feeling light, and here she was on her fifth. Sansa’s face was as red as her hair at this point. But the alcohol had the intended effect: she was no longer sad, now, she was just absolutely livid.

How dare Arya?

How dare she take something that was her birthright. She was the oldest after all. It was right to be given the most favorable marriage options, and all that came with it. But Arya, like the little gremlin she was, had to scamper in and ruin everything for.

‘She probably doesn’t even like him. She probably thinks this is all a big game, just to get at me’

That had to be it, she thought. Arya had never shown any interest in princes or the prospect of marriage before. In fact, she actively derided it. Why would she have a sudden change of heart?

Who knew wine could be so enlightening.

Sansa took a sip from her empty cup. Noticing her wine ran dry, she throws it across the room in annoyance. The goblet clanged against the far wall, before clattering to the ground.

Strange

Maybe it was the wine, but Sansa swore she saw the wall give where the goblet hit.

Getting to her feet, Sansa stumbles across the room to the wall. It looked as if some of the stone had shifted. She pushed on the offending area, and the stone, or rather the egress that was fashioned to look like stone, swung open inwards. Sansa squatted down to get a better look.

A passage. Well this was might interesting.

Sansa had heard about the Mad King’s paranoia. That he had built in trap doors, safe rooms, and even rumors of a passage system to move throughout the castle covertly. She supposed the rumors were fact.

Looking at the passage, Sansa’s wine fueled mind began to turn.
____________________________________________________________________________

The girl had been strangely quiet, The Hound thought.

She had been pretty consistently sobbing for the last few hours. He heard a clang a while ago, but figured she dropped something. He supposed he should check on her though, to make sure she hadn’t split her own wrist open.
The Hound opened the door and peaked in. He saw a mass under the covers of the large bed.

‘Hm. Sleeping. Finally cried herself to sleep.
____________________________________________________________________________

Sansa drunkenly shuffles through the tunnels, not knowing where she was going. She just wanted to be out of her gilded cage of her room. The tunnels were dark, illuminated only by the small candle she brought.

Maybe this was a mistake. It’d be rather anticlimactic if she tripped and died in these tunnels, unbeknownst to anyone.

The tunnels had various branching paths, and without any fort of map, Sansa just picked aimlessly. On the current path she was on, Sansa could make a faint light in front of her. She keeps walking until she hits a wall, no, a door, She pushes slightly, and it opens, only to more darkness. Confused, she steps forward and feels fabric. She steps forward more and before she knows it, she’s falling forward, landing on her stomach.

The secret passage apparently was built to lead into a wardrobe.

But not any wardrobe.

Sansa got her bearings and looks around.

She was in Joffrey’s rooms.

She beams at no one in particular. The Gods were truly in her favor, showing her the passage, and then showing her the way. Now she could talk to Joffrey. Reason with him. Shoe him that she was the one he should be marrying, not Arya. She could.

“Piss off!”

Sansa froze. She thought someone was reading her mind, but then realized the voice came from the sitting from the sitting room. It was Arya’s voice.

Sansa hops back in the wardrobe, and closes it, leaving just enough for her to peak through and see what was happening. Arya marches into the bed chamber with a deep scowl on her face. Joffrey follows closely behind her.

“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m the-”

“Oh come off it!”

Sansa was shocked at how Arya was talking to Joffrey. She expected him to react harshly, like he did with her, but surprisingly, his face softened.

“What do you want me to say.” He asks.

“I don’t want you to say anything.” Arya replies, folding her arms.

“I’m sorry-.” He tries. Arya gives an unlady like snort.

“No you’re not.”

Joffrey smiles at this and shrugs.

“You’re right, I’m not. Sansa was a pain in my ass. Now she knows where she stands.”

Sansa nearly whimpers. To hear Joffrey talk about her like that. She wants to retreat and run back to her room, but she continues to watch.

“You didn’t have to hit her” Says Arya, frowning. “You didn’t have to THREATEN her.”

Joffrey just waves his hand dismissively.

“She was attacking you. What kind of king would I be if I let someone attack my betrothed without consequence.” He explains. Sansa frowns from her hiding spot. SHE was meant to be his betrothed.

“I can handle myself Joffrey.”

“Why do you even care so much? You hate your sister.”

Arya goes silent, and looks at the ground. Sansa wonders if her sister really did hate her. She knew they never really got along, in fact they were polar opposites, but hate? Sansa didn’t think she was that bad of a sister to her. Sure she made fun of how she looked, and demanded all the nicest things over Arya, and disapproved of her personality, but she also…..she also-

In that moment, it dawned on Sansa that she couldn’t think of one nice thing she did for Arya. Not one thing that they bonded over. They were always at each other’s throats. Maybe….maybe Arya did-

“I don’t hate her. ” Arya says in a small voice. Sansa let herself smile at her sisters words, She didn’t hate Arya either.

“Well it’s no matter. What’s done is done. The Hound is watching her so she doesn’t do anything stupid. So now…-”
Joffrey began to run his fingers up Arya’s arm. Arya pulls back, nose wrinkling in annoyance.

“Really? You think I’m in the mood for you right now, after all you’ve done today?”

Joffrey just gives her a smirk.

“Cute that you think you have any say in the matter.”

With that, Joffrey grabs Arya roughly by her hair. She winces as he pulls her into a kiss. Immediately, she melts into it, hands going to his head, pulling him in deeper.

‘Oh my...they’re not going to-’

The two kiss and move until they fall onto the bed. They begin ripping at each other’s clothes, stripping layer after layer, until they’re both left in their small clothes.

‘My Gods, they are!’

They were going to fuck. She should've known Arya never did anything by tradition. Sansa shouldn’t be surprised that she gave up her maidenhead before marriage. She felt scandalized….but also a bit jealous. Everything they were doing just looked so intense to her, passionate. Nothing like the songs and poems about lovemaking.

“Roll onto your stomach” Joffrey commands. Arya does without hesitation, sticking her ass up in the air, wiggling it. Joffrey lifts his hand and reigns down a slap to her ass, causing her to moan out. He delivers another to her other cheek, watching it ripple and jiggle on contact.

‘Hmph. It’s not fair that Arya was given such an ample backside. I’m the oldest!’ Sansa thought drunkenly.

Joffrey rolls Arya’s smallclothes down her thighs, exposing her dripping cunt. He then lowers his own, and his cock bobs free. Sansa can’t help but stare. It was bigger than she had thought he’d be, not that she thought of his cock. That would be unladylike.

Joffrey lines his cock up with Arya’s entrance, and rams forward. Filling her. Arya moans out lewdly as Joffrey sets a rough pace.

‘I-is he always like this?’ Sansa questions at Joffrey’s rough treatment of her sister. He’s gripping her hips, ramming into her with force. He calls her names like ‘whore’ and ‘cunt’, and Arya just moans and take hit, fucking back into his thrusts.The loud slapping of their fucking fills the room.

Sansa can’t handle this. She should return to her room, and try to scrub this memory from her mind, but her feet feel like stone, not allowing her to move. So she does the second best thing: She covers her ears and shuts her eyes, trying to drown them out, and place herself somewhere else.
____________________________________________________________________________

2 hours.

It took 2 hours for their fucking to finally stop, with Joffrey roaring, and telling Arya to take his seed. Sansa lost track of how many times Arya yelled out in climax; after a while her moaning and screams blended together. Yes, after 2 hours of crotches slapping, moaning, cursing and smacking, did silence fall over the room. Sansa decided to wait another 2o minutes before peaking her head out.

Joffrey and Arya were laying in the large bed, fast asleep; exhausted from their love making. Sansa quietly stepped out of the wardrobe, and walked toward the bed. She looked over them, in each other’s arms, still covered in sweat. The room smelled like sex. She looked over them, and she wanted to hate them. She wanted to hate them for making her feel terrible, making her feel unwanted.

But she couldn’t.

She still felt utterly miserable, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate them. They just looked so happy there, in each other’s arms. Maybe she should’ve seen this coming. Their kiss, all those months ago on the Kingsroad. The passion in it. It was all so obvious now, but hindsight never helped anyone.

He had chosen Arya. And that was that. No tantrum Sansa could throw would change that. She was his, and he was hers.

And Sansa was nobody’s and had no one.

She decided now was a good time to return to her room.

But not before swiping the wine on the nightstand.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Mad Lion and the Wolf Bitch