Chapter Text
* * *
Brienne was not reassured by Jaime Lannister’s words.
“I am not just saying that.” He held up his right arm. There was a rotten, putrid stump where his hand had been. “Seven hells, why does this keep happening to me?”
“Brienne Tarth?” A bearded man stood before her. He wore a white doctor’s coat and a head mirror. He spoke briskly and exuded an air of competence.
“Yes?”
He smiled at her. His blue eyes twinkled. “I’m your surgeon.”
“Why do I need a surgeon?”
“Because you’re missing half your face,” Robin Arryn told her, not looking up from the miniature trebuchet he was playing with.
Brienne reached up and removed the blood-soaked compress on her cheek.
Very carefully, Robin aimed the trebuchet in the direction of Jaime. A baby went flying.
A tall, fat man in red robes leapt into the air, caught the baby, and raced to the end of the emergency room waiting area. He threw the baby into the end zone. As it hit the ground it turned into a cantaloupe. “Touch-down,” he screamed.
* * *
Sansa's mouth watered at the cakes. They all looked so luscious: sponges with layers of homemade bright red jams and cream; tortes with chocolate ganache, and her favorite, the lemon cakes: the perfect blend of light and sweet and tart.
"Like you," Mr. Lannister told her as he fed one to her out of his hand.
Sansa obediently took a bite and nibbled. She looked down and realized she was naked, but no one else seemed to mind. Kevan and Dorna weren’t paying any attention at all. Mr. Lannister dandled her on his knee and brushed an errant crumb away from her lips.
“The Tyrells will come back into the fold soon enough,” he predicted.
Lancel started to say something and then nodded. “Yes, Uncle Tywin.”
“Sansa!”
Sansa was busy licking Mr. Lannister’s fingers, noting with satisfaction his sharp intake of breath.
"Temptress," he hissed.
* * *
“You're late,” she loftily informed him.
“What is this doing here? Why are you here?” He couldn't remember the young woman’s name, only that his sister-in-law, Dorna, adored her and kept on saying anxiously to anyone who would listen that she was sorry her eldest son had messed this up.
“Bow before your queen.”
Tywin swirled around to see a man with red-gold hair in a doctor’s uniform standing behind him. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“Dr. Beric Dondarrion just won a battle for me,” the ginger-haired vixen on the throne told him. “He stopped your hostile takeover in its tracks.”
Tywin dimly remembered reading that the barbs had pierced one King Aerys so many times he was called King Scab. This girl was barelegged, save for tall black leather boots and a short black skintight dress, but the creamy flesh of her impossibly long legs was unscathed. He wondered why.
Margaery Tyrell sat to the right of the Iron Throne, on a cushion on the floor, with her legs curled up behind her. “Because she is the one true queen of Westeros and captain of the Enterprise, you fool.” She was naked except for a collar studded with purple gemstones, and Tywin realized she was chained to the throne.
“Don’t be rude, pet,” the queen scolded. “Now about that leveraged buyout.”
* * *
“You’ll scare Robin!” Mrs. Arryn hissed.
“Brienne Tarth? I know you’re frightened, but you need to come along now.”
She stared at the surgeon. “But you’re missing half your fingers.”
“Right.” He beamed at her as if she had gotten an answer right. “But I’m left-handed so it’s perfectly fine. Four less fingernails to clean!”
Brienne shook her head. “I want another surgeon.”
“Wench, don’t be so picky. It’s just your face.” Gone was the chainsaw. Now there was a pasta attachment and Jaime was cranking it and green fettuccine was coming out.
“My name is Brienne and I want another surgeon.”
The bearded man with the twinkling blue eyes considered. “Well, there is Dr. Beric Dondarrion.”
“Does he have all his fingers?”
“Aye.”
“I’ll take him.”
* * *
“Is this true?” Mr. Lannister demanded.
Sansa furrowed her brow. She couldn’t figure out why her sixth-grade homeroom teacher was at Lancel’s parents’ house bothering about her schoolwork now of all times. She was enjoying herself so much, particularly as Mr. Lannister tweaked her nipples.
Miss Mordane transformed into Dr. Beric Dondarrion, right before her eyes. “Sansa has not done her homework for today.”
“You’ve been very naughty.” Mr. Lannister considered her. “You’ll have to be punished.” He lifted her out of her chair, even while Dorna was telling everyone all about the quilt she was making, turned her over his knee and spanked her.
The blows were light at first.
Too light, Sansa thought. “Harder.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Please,” she begged. “Mr. Lannister, please.”
He obliged her.
She squirmed as the sensations tingled through her body. The ache between her legs was nearly unbearable. “Mr. Lannister,” she moaned.
“There. I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
“This roast chicken is marvelous,” Kevan told his wife. “And you made my favorite potatoes.”
* * *
Tywin couldn’t quite understand why there were massive monitors in front of the throne or how he knew the plump woman speaking earnestly to everyone in the television audience.
“This way, they’ll curdle and you’ll have chocolate scrambled eggs.”
Margaery Tyrell pointed at him. “He’s a spy for the Romulans.”
He was also naked, but as the queen directed a pleased and lingering glance over him, he felt no shame or embarrassment.
“He’s not a Romulan at all,” the queen said slowly. She sat up, crossed her legs, and licked her scarlet lips. “He’s here for me.”
Tywin realized she was seeing him for who he truly was.
“I will do a mind meld to see what he knows,” Dr. Beric Dondarrion announced.
“No,” the queen decided. “I want to do the mind meld. He’s all mine. Mine,” she repeated.
“But you’re not a Vulcan,” Dr. Beric Dondarrion protested.
She had hopped off the throne and wrapped her fingers around Tywin’s cock. “Neither are you.”
“Hold still,” Margaery Tyrell purred. “Queen Sansa must be obeyed.”
* * *
Jaime came with her and helped her lie down on the table.
“Why are you tying me down?”
“So you won’t move.”
“And why am I naked?”
Jaime didn’t answer, but he was naked too. The pasta attachment was gone and he was fitting something else over his hand.
Dr. Beric Dondarrion turned around and Brienne shrieked. He was now missing an eye. As he stripped out of his clothes, she saw at least six major wounds all over his naked body.
“You’ll like this, wench.” Jaime held up his right arm. On it was now what Brienne recognized as a Hitachi Magic Wand. The good one, she somehow knew. It was the same model Sansa had opened up on her name day. The one that had come from her sister-in-law, Margaery, who ran a hotel called The Crossing. The one that Margaery said should only be plugged into an outlet with enough electrical capacity.
Dr. Beric Dondarrion stood to the side and grinned. “Get on with it.”
“But you’re the doctor.”
Jaime chuckled. “He just stands there and looks good. I’m the one who’s going to operate on you.” He spread her legs further apart.
“But it’s my face that’s hurt.” Still she found herself widening her legs to accommodate the vibrator on Jaime’s stump.
* * *
“Oh, he must be the Hand of the King,” Margaery Tyrell drawled.
The woman on the monitor stopped beating her chocolate scrambled eggs and shook her head. “Hand of the Queen.”
“Your poor hand must get so tired,” the queen murmured. “Here, let me.” She pushed him onto the Iron Throne, dropped to her knees, and began running practiced hands up his legs.
“The Romulans want more money,” Dr. Beric Dondarrion announced. “And a babysitter.”
“There will be no more money,” Tywin announced. “And I am done babysit—”
“This has been Cooking with Walda and I wish you—”
And then there was blessed silence. “No more talking,” Queen Sansa pronounced. “Let me take care of you now.” She bent over him and brought her ripe, plump lips around his cock.
* * *
“Just relax, wench.”
It was very hard to do that with the Hitachi Magic Wand being just where it was.
“Should we be using this in the water?” Brienne managed between moans.
Jaime smiled reassuringly at her. “I’m completely grounded.”
The lights began to flicker.
“Try it now,” Dr. Beric Dondarrion directed.
“What?”
Jaime licked her cheek. “Strawberry syrup! A complete success.”
* * *
Sansa stood before him, naked and quivering. She dimly heard Lancel asking for more salt for the chocolate pudding, Mr. Lannister’s clothes melted off him. He led her to the back of the room.
“No,” she protested. “I want everyone to see.”
“If you had done your schoolwork like a good little girl, I would have obliged you.”
Sansa pouted.
He lifted her onto him and fucked her against the wall. “Say my name.”
“Mr. Lannister.”
Again he thrust into her. She was so happy. Except were those bells in the distance? She dug her nails into his back, writhing as he filled her with his cock.
“Louder, temptress.”
“Mr. Lannister!”
No, they weren’t bells. It was like a swarm of angry bees.
“You’re not saying it loud enough.”
“No, no, don’t pull out. I need you so much. Mr. Lannister!”
The buzzing engulfed her.
Sansa sat bolt upright. It took her a full moment to realize that she was in her bed. She could hear Margaery showering, probably trying to get ready for her early morning meeting, the one she was being so close-lipped about. Blinking furiously, well aware she was sopping wet between her legs, Sansa fumbled for the alarm clock, and then for the vibrator in the bedside table drawer.
* * *
Mr. Nestoris had been perfectly civil, so civil she wanted to slap him, but he had shut down every one of her requests. He had mentioned her family, of course, but once she’d indicated they were not an option, that had pretty much been the end of the appointment.
Two and a half Blue Fairies and all she had to show for it was a throbbing headache. Sansa, meanwhile had barely finished one and from the sounds Margaery had heard coming from her bedroom, had had one whopper of a dream.
She walked through the streets toward the restaurant where she was meeting Sansa for lunch. It was in the historical district, and as she passed by several tourist attractions, she saw something that intrigued her, but it would need to wait.
Sansa was already seated and gulping down her glass of water when Margaery joined her.
She was relieved Sansa had picked a place frequented primarily by tourists. Aside from Tywin Lannister, who was glaring at them as if they had personally offended him, there wasn’t a soul in here that she knew. Sometimes it was better to be anonymous, particularly when the thought of having to answer multiple questions from well-meaning friends and family about how her business venture was or was not going. “Thanks,” Margaery told her when Sansa produced two Tylenol after they placed their order. She could see Sansa about to question her about the meeting. “So tell me about it.”
“What?”
“That dream you had.”
It wasn’t that easy, though. If not a prude, Sansa was very private.
“Was it about Lancel?”
“Well, he was in it.”
“Was I in it?”
Sansa smiled then. “No.” She grew serious. “Someone older.”
“How much older?”
“Older. Like inappropriately older.”
“The rule is half your age plus seven,” Margaery reassured her.
Sansa didn’t say anything.
“Oh. Oh.” Margaery twisted her lips into a knowing smile. “Well, rules were made to be broken.”
* * *
Tywin thought of the market crashing, his family name in the dirt, cartoon kittens, and juice boxes, and finally, despite one setback when the two women had walked by his table and he’d had a long glimpse of Sansa Stark’s shapely legs, he was back to normal.
He dealt with the check and rose to leave. He was done with semi-retirement. If the Board balked, he’d start another business.
“You go. I’ll see you at the apartment. I think I left my scarf—” a female voice said from behind him.
He turned to leave and walked straight into Sansa Stark.
The pause was one of the longest and most awkward of his life. Her face was flushing and he could feel his own cock starting to spring to attention. “Hello,” he managed. Dripping noses, demands for his money, Go-Gurt, that stupid cartoon monkey. There. That was better.
“I didn’t think you remembered me.”
“You used to date Lancel,” he barked.
She blushed again. “Things . . . he . . . was complicated.”
Tywin snorted.
“The situation was complicated,” she clarified, her lips twitching.
“Are you seeing anyone now?” The moment the question left his mouth, he cursed himself. What did he care what this young woman did or who she did it with?
Sansa Stark seemed startled. “No.”
“I shouldn’t keep you. You must be busy.”
“Excuse me.” She bent down to retrieve the long blue silk scarf that had fallen down the chair back, exposing several inches of silk stocking-clad thigh. She started to straighten, but paused.
He realized she was eye level with his erection. String cheese, little girls who needed to be escorted to the bathroom, sycophants, insolent young pups who thought they knew every—
“As a matter of fact,” Sansa Stark said slowly, as if coming to a decision, “I have the rest of the afternoon off.”
* * *
“The ghost tours are very popular,” Edric informed her. “I think it’s the due to a lot of programs like A Haunting and Ghost Hunters. Oh, and you might want to talk to the people at the Aerys Targaryen Asylum for the Criminally Insane. They’ve been on a couple of those shows and they do a very nice business with the tourists these days. Before, the place was just a white elephant that no one wanted to buy.”
Margaery thanked him and went into the lounge. She hunted through her contacts for Brienne Tarth’s email. Sansa had been distracted through lunch. There was no need to bother her with this. Brienne would be able to get her the contact information for the ghost hunting firm.
Then she called back to The Crossing. After asking him how everything was running in her absence, she took a deep breath. “Robb, baby? I think it’s going to be okay.”
* * *
She was checking her mailbox in the front office when Jaime Lannister came in.
He saw her and approached her with concern. “Are you all right? I wasn’t sure I did the right thing not waking you up last night.”
Bits of her dream had been coming back to her all day long. “I’m fine. I think.” Blood was rushing to her head as she thought about his hand and the Hitachi Magic Wand. She glanced around the front office, but it was mercifully empty. He was just her principal. He would never be interested in someone like her.
“I know it’s the end of your day, but I was wondering if you would mind staying a little longer. That company you told me about it is due here any minute and I thought they’d like to hear about your encounter.”
What Brienne wanted to do was to go home and sleep for days, but she agreed to wait.
“And if you aren’t doing anything this weekend, maybe I could make it up to you with dinner?”
The flutter was back. This was a bad idea. She worked under his supervision. It was inappropriate.
I’m completely grounded.
“Mr. Lannister?”
They turned around.
“I’m Davos Seaworth from Crownlands Pararnormal Investigations. The rest of my team will be here in a moment.”
Brienne stood very still. It was one of the people from her dream. If the beard and twinkling blue eyes wasn’t enough, the four missing fingers on his right hand was.
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject: Retaining your services
We own and manage The Crossing, a recently renovated hotel and spa, located in the heart of the scenic northern Riverlands. Since taking ownership, we’ve experienced a number of incidents. We would be very interested in retaining your services to help us deal with these spiritual manifestations.
Can you help us?
Sincerely,
Robb and Margaery Tyrell-Stark
The Crossing Historic Hotel and Spa
* * *