AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the long, long delay. I have started a new job and I'm doing my Masters and, as you may expect, it is not easy. I would very much like to continue this story, but I don't know if I'm gonna be able to bring it to an end. There are too many plots planned, too many POV's. Even so, I had the draft for this chapter on my desktop for three months now, and today I decided to use my Christmas break to re-read it, polish some parts and update the fanfic. I would also like to wish all of you a happy new year of 2018. Review if you like it (or if you don't)... and sorry for the disgusting beginning.


PREVIOUSLY: In the Vale, Myrcella made a move against her mother-in-law. Faking an attack, Myrcella managed to get Lysa arrested and trialed. However, even though she believed Lysa was to be pardoned and sent to a Motherhouse, Robert ordered her death. Later, Lady Anya threatened Myrcella, letting her know she knew that Myrcella was working with Littlefinger. She advised Myrcella to pick her side wisely in the future. In the end, Petyr kissed her, right after promising to make her queen.


MYRCELLA III

There is no turning back from this, Myrcella thought bitterly, unlacing her husband's pants.

The castle was submerged in an eerie silence. A handful of candles were still lit, casting light and shadows down the corridors. The soft and gentle sounds of life surrounded the semi-darkness. The occasional hoot of an owl hunting in the cold darkness. The crackle of wood burning on the fireplaces. The purr of cats sleeping, close to each other, to keep themselves warm.

The sweat ran down Myrcella's forehead. She had never felt so below herself and yet, she had never felt such a craving for power. Something had changed. The touch of Littlefinger's lips on hers, the fact that someone had seen in her something more than a little girl and, of course, the feeling that the world was under her grasp. Yes, everything had changed. Yet, here she was, being nothing more than a whore.

You can call yourself Lady of the Vale, but you don't have power and you're a fool if you believe you do.

She could still feel the tingle of Lady Anya's words as if the woman had slapped her every day that had passed since Lysa's death. In a way, she knew the woman was right. On the other hand, she wanted to prove her worth.

Her hand moved. Up and down. Up and Down. It was the sickest and twisted game she had ever played. Up and down.

"Oh, what are you doing?" Robert moaned, giggling like a child. Her skin crawled.

For the seventh time since Lysa's death, she had tried to make love with him, show him how he could enter inside her and make a baby. An heir. But for the seventh time, he had gruntled, irritated, complaining how sticky she was between the legs, how hot he was and that the sweat filling his forehead was gross and uncomfortable.

There are other ways to please a man.

Yes, there were. Littlefinger was still the owner of half of King's Landing brothels, so he knew how to please a woman, a man, and even a eunuch. He had shown her, during their private meetings, how she could do a pleasing job with her hand. No, it wouldn't be enough to make a baby, but it would make Lord Robert happy enough to whisper in his ear.

It's like a game, she tried to convince herself again. A game that hurts. Her arm was paining. A game that will make him happy.

It was unexpected, but it worked. At first, she thought Robert was in pain, but then the scream of surprise turned into a scream of pleasure and, without further notice, he came. His seed was something liquid, nothing more than a few drops of something that resembled watery milk. Feeling her stomach turning, Myrcella pulled her hands from him and, before throwing the dinner, went to the water basin to wash her hands.

In just a few minutes, she was back at her husband's side on the bed, pulling the warm blankets and furs around them.

"Can you do it again?" He asked, kissing her freezing hand.

Myrcella managed to fake a laugh.

I would rather die.

"Maybe later, my sweet." She said, touching his face softly. He shivered at her touch. It was always cold now. Winter was upon them, and every day that passed the world seemed colder than the previous day.

"Why?" He asked, pressing his body against her, hungrily. "I could play this game forever." He said, smiling to show all his teeth. "What I felt… It was like my heart was going to burst, but it was not my heart who burst… It was-"

"Well, I could play this game again..." Myrcella said, and her hand danced down his chest. "But Robert, you know what I want in return."

Immediately, those words had the effect she dreaded. He pulled away immediately and the smile vanished.

"I told you!" He said, angrily. "It can't be done. The Lords don't want to go."

"You are the Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East." She repeated, already losing her patience. "The Lords have the duty to obey to you, my lord, and you must obey the orders coming from the king. Not the other way around."

"But Lady Anya keeps saying that your brother is not the king."

Myrcella gulped.

One of these days I will throw her into a cell.

"Robert, must I say this again?" She said. "My brother has no other choice. The Starks killed Joffrey and Sansa Stark, and then they kidnap the bastard child to start a war. If you want to survive the Winter, you must be at the side of whoever is sitting on the Iron Throne. We need peace."

"The Vale is at peace." He said. "We don't have to partake in-"

"What will you do when the country is divided by war, under snow storms, and your people start growing famished because the carriages bring food cannot reach the Moon Gates?" Myrcella asked sternly. "Isolate yourself, Robert, and the Vale won't survive until Spring without a rebellion."

"A rebellion?"

"Oh." Myrcella took her hand to her mouth, faking regret. "I should not have said that-"

It was exactly what she wanted to say.

"Have you heard something about a rebellion?" Robert asked, his voice shaking.

"Oh, it's nothing, my sweet."

"Liar!" He said, clasping her arm. "I don't like the word rebellion. You know I don't like that word."

The incredible tales of how her father had started a rebellion against the Targaryens had always impressed Robert Arryn. But somehow, it also scared him. The idea of losing his authority before his own men and being backstabbed like the Mad King made him paranoid. So, it was the perfect way to reach his heart. She had only to find out which chords to stroke.

"Well… I really do think it's nothing, but… Myranda heard some whispers down in the kitchen. A maid from Lady Anya's entourage."

"What of it?" His grip was surprisingly strong.

"Do you know Ser Harry Harding?" She asked, feeling her face grow red.

Robin's mouth opened, aghast.

"Yes, of course. You know we've met."

"Well, there are whispers, my lord… People are saying he'll be a better lord when Lady Anya finds a way to kill you in your sleep." Myrcella snarled, not aware how the words sounded leaving her mouth. "I'm sure it's just gossip. Jealous people saying hurtful things they don't intend to do."

"GET OUT!" Robert started yelling. "OUT! IT'S-A LIE! A LIE!"

Hiding a smile, she didn't ask twice. Hastening her pace, Myrcella left the room, closing the door behind her.

Ser Arys was waiting for her right outside.

Myrcella looked at him somberly, as if he knew exactly what had happened in the room behind her back. She simply shook her head and started walking down the corridor, back to her room. Back in her private chambers, she stripped down from her nightgown and went directly to the water basin to scrub her skin again. She could still feel Robert's seed in her hands. Only when dawn was breaking through the slits of the window, did she get into the bed, but she didn't sleep.

Once again, she was waiting.

A war was about to begin somewhere in the Riverlands, but another a war, a private one, was about to end in the next few hours. The Lords of the Vale, as Lady Anya had promised, had given close attention to Robert in the wake of his mother's death. And all of them knew as news of Joffrey's death reached their ears, that a great decision would have to be made regarding the Vale's involvement in the conflict.

"We need to be part of this war." Littlefinger had confided to her. "You must convince your husband."

She closed her eyes, but not to find sleep.

Yes, she could see it, gleaming in the darkness.

A golden crown.

Not something fancy, with gemstones gleaming in it. No, the crown she had in mind was a simple thing. A ringlet with a single ruby. Nothing more. Had she ever dreamt about such crown? About ruling the Seven Kingdoms? Well, a part of her knew it could happen, even if was highly unlikable. When she was nothing more than a toddler, when Tommen was not even born, she had been the second in line to the Iron Throne, after Joffrey.

Just like I am now.

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She liked the sound of that. According to Littlefinger, there was a way to do it. They would not even have to harm Tommen. The only thing she had to do for now was to convince Robert to rally the Vale's army.

It was mid-morning when, finally, a maid came to her room.

"My lady, Lord Baelish is here for you."

"Send him in, please."

As Littlefinger appeared on her door, she was surprised. He was not wearing black, as he had done since he had heard the news of Catelyn Stark's demise. He was wearing a long, grey fur and high knee boots, as well as gloves.

"You are leaving." She realized, raising her hand to her mouth. Shock crept through her skin, shaking her to the core. "Those this mean we have failed?"

Littlefinger closed the door before saying anything else.

"You are right., I'm leaving." He said, and only then a smile flowered in his lips. "And do you really think we could have failed? You should know better, Your Grace." He said, placing a hand on her waist. "Your lord husband summoned the Lords of the Vale this morning to let them know we are marching to war."

Myrcella laughed, feeling a pang of relief.

She did not know how or why, but when she realized she was kissing Lord Baelish, tasting again his hard lips, she did not regret it. They kissed for a few seconds before Littlefinger pushed her finally back.

"I don't have much time." He whispered, locking her head between his gloved hands. "Soon, you'll be leaving the Vale with an army, heading to the Riverlands. It will take a while until you join your brother's army."

"What will we do then?"

"Taking hold of Riverrun, for starters." He said. "I suppose your Uncle will want to make sure the Riverlands are secure."

"And then?" She asked, feeling her voice tremble.

Littlefinger gave her one last kiss, finally releasing her from his grip.

"And then the game starts again, Your Grace. You'll get your crown sooner than you think." He said. "But first, I've to make sure you have more friends on your side. I'm headed to the Stormlands to let them know the daughter of Robert Baratheon is ready to fight for their respect. The Stormlords crave for glory and power, tired of being shunned into poverty and darkness. You'll be their champion." He said, smiling. "And I have another gift in mind. If my informants don't fail me, next time I see you again I'll place a crown on your head."

"Next time?" She said, feeling desperate. Her hands descended through his chest, headed to his pants. "Can't you send someone else…?"

Littlefinger laughed, grabbing her wrist to stop her.

"Believe me… You need me somewhere else, fighting your battles for you." He looked around. "There is no much else I can do here."

"Yes, there is…" She said, pressing her body against him.

This time, he gave him to her touch.

By nightfall, when Littlefinger left her room headed to the stables, Myrcella Baratheon smiled to herself, hiding her naked body under the furs of her bed. She was winning, finally. Her mother in law was dead. Her lord husband was committed to following her orders for a handjob. And Littlefinger was leaving for the Stormlands to get her a crown.

"Mother would be proud…" She whispered to the cold dark, imagining Cersei Lannister inside a carriage, being transported to Dorne as a prisoner. "I have learned how to play this bloody game."