The bells of the Great Sept of Baelor tolled in measured peals, echoing through the high halls of King's Landing and beyond. The Great Sept's seven‑sided structure, each wall bearing a statue of one of the Seven, stood as the stage for the union of two houses. Princess Myrcella Baratheon processed down the aisle in a gown of ivory and cloth‑of‑gold, the Baratheon stag embroidered in subtle gold within the folds of her skirt. Her hair, braided with faint threads of silver, shimmered in the candle‑light. Custom decreed that a bride wear the colours of her father's house until the moment of cloaking—tonight, she wore the stag's gold and black over the snowy ivory of maidenhood
Across from her stood Ser Artys Arryn, his falcon‑and‑moon crest polished to a mirror sheen, his blue cloak of House Arryn clasped at his shoulder. The High Septon, robed in whites and golds, recited the vows of the Faith of the Seven: Father, Mother, Warrior, Maiden, Smith, Crone, Stranger. Their voices merged into the incense‑heavy air. Evening sunlight filtered through stained‑glass windows, turning the stone floor to a kaleidoscope of crimson, amber, and cold grey
The groom reverently placed his hand upon Myrcella's and spoke the long vow: "I, Ser Artys of House Arryn, heir to the Eyrie, take you Myrcella, daughter of House Baratheon, to be my wife. To honour you, to defend you, and to hold you in my house, in peace and in war, in the light of the Seven, so long as we both shall live."
She replied, voice steady but warm: "I, Myrcella of House Baratheon, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, take you Ser Artys, to be my husband. To stand with you, to serve the realm, and to unite the Houses Baratheon and Arryn, in the sight of the Seven, so long as we both shall live."
At the final word, the High Septon pronounced them husband and wife. Artys pulled Myrcella to him and kissed her gently on her lips lips—then slowly removed her stag‑broidered cloak and replaced it with a blue falcon cloak trimmed in silver, symbolising her entry into his house and the protection of his family. This ritual cloak‑exchange symbolizing the bride going from her father protection to her husbands a cloak of golden stag was removed and a cloak of blue and silver with the crescent moon and falcon was wrapped around Myrcella.
A feast followed in the Great Hall of the Red Keep. Candles flickered beneath vast tapestries of Baratheon hunts and Arryn falcons soaring above snowy peaks. The tables groaned with great boars, honey‑glazed hams, salted sea‑bass, and goblets of Arbor red. Guests raised their cups to hail the new Lady and Lord of the Vale.
King Robert Baratheon, booming and jovial, stood and pounded the table. "By the Seven and the old gods of the Vale, let it be declared: Ser Artys Arryn shall rule the Vale in his father's stead until Lord Jon Arryn returns. And the wedding of House Baratheon's princess to the heir of the Mountain‑and‑Vale shall be celebrated at the turning of the new year
Queen Cersei Lannister nodded once, her look measured. "The Faith will bless it under the Seven. The Vale and the Crown united by marriage."
In accompaniment to the marriage, the dowry was announced: the royal charter for the free city of Arrynton, to be built at the base of the Mountains of the Moon. King Robert signed the parchment in golden wax, sealing its status: freed from certain Crown taxes for ten years. Artys would be its founding lord. This was unprecedeted and would mean the The Vale would be the first kingdom with permission to have two cities within its borders .
Myrcella's cheeks were flushed from the dancing, her laughter light and frequent. Her golden hair had been unbound after the bedding ceremony, cascading down her shoulders in silken waves that caught the light like pale fire. She leaned in close to Artys, her perfume a mix of Dornish roses and cinnamon.
She brushed his hand beneath the table, fingers cool and lingering. "You've been quiet tonight, my lord husband," she said softly, voice playful. "Surely that brooding look isn't for me? Or do you mourn your bachelorhood already?"
Artys smirked faintly. "Only mourning the lack of wine strong enough to prepare me for a wife so bold."
R18
Myrcella's lips parted in mock offense. "Bold? And here I thought I was modest, compared to the company I've kept."
She cast a glance toward her handmaidens seated at a lower table. Artys followed her gaze briefly, catching a familiar shy smile from Lady Alysanne and the practiced neutrality of Marei's expression.
Myrcella leaned closer, her breath warm at his ear. "They've taught me many things these past weeks. About silk. About kisses. About what a wife should know…" Artys reminded himself to present Marei with something exuberant.
Her voice dipped lower, the words more suggestion than confession. "Marei showed me how to use my tongue, how to make a man crumble. And Alysanne... she read to me certain very interest books from Lys . I can't wait to try them all with you."
Artys's pulse ticked up despite himself, his body responding to her bold, slutty words It turned him on to watch what he thought was an innocent princess be such a naughty girl . He was surprised by her drunken audacity, her willingness to share such intimate details in public.
She pulled back with a radiant smile, eyes twinkling like twin stars. "But I've saved the most important lesson for tonight."
Artys chuckled, fingers tightening around his goblet , his cock growing hard at her touch. "And what lesson is that, my princess?"
Myrcella tilted her head innocently. "That a husband should never leave his new bride waiting escpecially on so willing."
From the dais, a servant called for the harpers to play something sweet before the feast ended. Servants moved about refilling goblets and gathering the last of the roasted boar.
Artys turned back to Myrcella, voice low, his eyes dark with lust. "I thought you were a shy maiden."
She grinned, her hand moving to his thigh, then higher, her fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his trousers. "I was. You've ruined me already, my lord. And you've yet to even try."
Their laughter was quiet, shared between them alone. The realm may have seen a young bride and a noble knight seated side by side in the great hall of the Red keep And as Myrcella's hand teased him beneath the table, Artys knew, he was in for a night he would never forget.
Myrcella leaned in closer, her voice a low, sultry whisper. "Marei showed me how to ride a man until he can't see straight. She had me practice on a pillow, grinding my hips, imagining it was a cock beneath me. And Alysanne... she taught me how to suck cock, how to take it deep, how to make a man lose control."
Artys's breath hitched, his body aching with need, his mind reeling from her explicit,. "Myrcella," he growled lowly, "you're playing with fire."
She grinned, her hand still teasing him beneath the table. "Good. i hope my lord husband would discpline me I have done such wicked things, I've been practicing with Alysanne and Marei. I've learned a lot husband."
Myrcella's hand moved more boldly now, her fingers tracing the length of his cock through his trousers, her touch firm and insistent. "Marei and Alysanne fingered me until I came so hard I saw stars. They taught me how to beg for it, how to ride their fingers, how to grind against their hands. I begged them for more, for something bigger, something harder. I begged for a cock, Artys. I begged for yours."
Artys's jaw clenched, his body tensing with a mix of lust and restraint. "Myrcella," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You're driving me mad."
She grinned, her hand still teasing him beneath the table, her fingers brushing against the sensitive tip of his cock, making him ache with need. "Good. I want you mad with desire. I want you to take me, to use me, to claim me, to make me yours. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight and I want to love every minute of it."
Since Myrcella was a princess of the blood anyone to lay a hand on her could lose the hand so she asked Ser Jaimie to carry her to the bedding chamber. But Artys sadly was not spared the embarrassment as bunch of drunken women giggling took the opportunity to strip him. Marei gave him a smile and slipped out of the crowd following Ser Jaimie into the bridal suit to Maegor holdfast.
Artys entered the bedchamber, the heavy door closing behind him with a resonant thud. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and something more primal, a promise of pleasure and possession. His eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the candles, and there, on the marriage bed, lay Myrcella.
She was a vision, her ivory skin contrasting starkly with the deep blue of the silk sheets. Her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders in wild, untamed waves, framing her face and spilling over the pillows. Her green emerald eyes sparkled with a mix of innocence and mischief, her lips parted slightly, inviting and enticing. Between her thighs, a patch of blonde hair beckoned, a secret garden waiting to be explored.
Artys approached the bed, his heart pounding in his chest, his body already responding to the sight of her. He climbed onto the mattress, his movements predatory, his eyes never leaving hers. Myrcella watched him, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.
He pinned her down, his body pressing against hers, his hands roaming over her soft, supple skin. He started at her neck, his tongue tracing a path down to her collarbone, tasting her, claiming her. Myrcella moaned, a soft, breathy sound that sent shivers down his spine.
He moved lower, his mouth capturing one pink nipple, sucking and nipping, drawing it into a hard peak. Myrcella arched her back, pressing herself against him, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh. He lavished attention on her breasts, his tongue swirling around each nipple, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, making her cry out with pleasure.
Artys continued his exploration, his mouth moving down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body responding to his touch, her need for him growing with each passing second. He settled between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips, holding her in place.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with lust, his breath hot on her skin. "I'm going to taste you, Myrcella," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Every inch of you."
She nodded, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement, her body trembling with anticipation. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out, tasting her, exploring her. He started slow, gentle, his tongue teasing her folds, drawing out her moans, making her writhe beneath him.
Myrcella's hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles white, her body tensing as waves of pleasure washed over her. Artys continued his assault, his tongue delving deeper, his fingers joining in, stretching her, preparing her for what was to come.
As he licked and explored her most intimate places, Myrcella's moans filled the room, her body arching against his touch. "Marei taught me to ride like this," she gasped, her voice breathless, her body squirming beneath him. "She said to grind my hips, to take him deep, to make him beg for more. She showed me how to clench my muscles, to milk him, to draw out his pleasure. She told me to whisper dirty things in his ear, to tell him how much I want him, how much I need him, how much I love him."
Artys groaned, his body responding to her words, his tongue moving faster, his fingers pumping in and out of her, drawing out her orgasm, making her scream his name.
He moved up her body, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. Myrcella kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on.
Artys trailed kisses down her neck, his hands roaming over her body, touching, teasing, tantalizing. He moved to her armpit, his tongue flicking out, tasting her, exploring her. Myrcella tensed, a reluctant moan escaping her lips, her body reacting despite her initial hesitation.
"Artys," she whispered, her voice a mix of protest and pleasure, her body yielding to his touch, her hips lifting, inviting more.
He continued, his tongue swirling in her armpit, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, drawing out more moans, more pleas, more surrender. Myrcella's hands moved to his hair, her fingers tangling in the strands, holding him in place, urging him on, her body arching against his, her pleasure building, threatening to overwhelm her.
"Marei and Alysanne kissed me," Myrcella confessed, her voice a soft, breathy whisper, her body trembling with pleasure. "They taught me how to kiss, how to use my tongue, how to draw out pleasure. I loved it, Artys. I have been so wicked."
Artys's body tensed, his orgasm building, threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel Myrcella's body coiling tight, her pleasure building, her need for him growing with each passing second.
He moved up her body, his cock hard and ready, aching to be inside her. But instead of entering her, he positioned himself at her entrance and then pulled back, his cock sliding out of her wetness. He moved up, straddling her chest, his cock throbbing and ready to release.
Myrcella looked up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure, her lips curved in a satisfied smile. She reached out, her small hand wrapping around his shaft, her touch tentative, unsure.
"Like this?" she asked, her voice soft, her eyes filled with innocence and a touch of mischief.
Artys nodded, his jaw clenched, his body tensing with need. "Yes, just like that. But slower. And more spit."
Myrcella nodded, her tongue flicking out, wetting her lips, preparing herself. She leaned in, her mouth capturing the head of his cock, her lips stretching around him, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. She took him in, inch by inch, her mouth warm and wet, her suction strong and insistent.
Spit dribbled from her chin, her efforts clumsy but earnest, her eyes never leaving his, a silent promise of more, always more. Artys groaned, his hips snapping forward, his cock sliding deeper into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, making her gag slightly.
But she didn't stop, her head bobbing up and down, her hand working in tandem with her mouth, stroking, squeezing, drawing him in, consuming him. Artys could feel his control slipping, his body tensing, his orgasm building, threatening to overwhelm him.
With a final thrust, he came, his cock pulsing, his seed spilling into her mouth. Myrcella moaned, her body convulsing with pleasure, her mouth working to swallow every drop, her tongue licking him clean, her eyes never leaving his, a silent promise of more, always more.
As he pulled out, Myrcella licked her lips, a satisfied smile playing on her face. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with satisfaction and a hint of pride.
"Did I do good, my lord?" she asked, her voice a soft, breathy whisper, her body pressing against his, inviting, enticing.
Artys nodded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Very good, my princess. But remember, we can't do this too often. I don't want you to get pregnant until you're sixteen."
Myrcella pouted, a mix of reluctance and understanding in her eyes. "I know, my lord. I understand. I just... I want you so much. I want to feel you inside me, to be filled by you, to be claimed by you."
Artys leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting his own essence on her lips. "And you will, my love. Soon. But for now, let's enjoy each other in other ways. I promise, it will be worth the wait.