Thread: Valar Morghulis...Valar Dohaeris: A Parody (Malfrost & darkangel76)

A warmth rippled over Missandei's skin when she felt Jorah walk up behind her, his scorching hand reaching for her arm as his fingers gently closed around it. He was burning up and fear worked its way into the very depths of her heart. They'd only just found each other, two suffering souls amidst so much chaos and turmoil. Meereen was no longer the great city Daenerys had conquered. The Sons of the Harpy had gone deathly quiet, but so had the rest of the people. Women were crying in the streets as men collapsed with fever, unable to walk or speak, some unable to move at all! And now the Unsullied were dying within the confines of the great pyramid, the one place all were meant to be safe from harm. But even its thick stone walls couldn't keep this illness away. Thank you, Jorah, Missandei whispered. She glanced over her shoulder, her steps slowing down just enough so that his shadow swallowed her whole. His body brushed against hers, so welcome as everything plummeted into the seven hells. They could only hope that Tyrion or Varys had a plan. Something! This plague was spreading far too fast and she knew they all thought the same thing... Was it just Meereen? Dany rested her hand against Daario's chest and smiled up at him, her violet eyes softening slightly. The meeting will be brief, she affirmed. Time is our enemy now. Her hand slid down his torso and slipped into his, palm against palm as fingers entwined. Come. You need your rest, she all but demanded, trying to lighten the mood. But she could still see that strange star shining outside in the sky, its light a reminder that something was wrong. The sooner we meet with the small council, the sooner I can tend to you myself. At that, Dany tugged on Daario's hand and pulled him into the corridor. They all had work to do, plans to make. Meereen wasn't safe and just how far had this plague already spread? Dany had her thoughts on the matter and it wasn't something she wanted to face. But the time had called for action. Her Unsullied were dying and now Daario...it was far too much. Something needed to be done before all of Essos succumbed to this rot. Tommen had yanked Margaery down, his lips finding hers and demanding they part so that his tongue could explore and taste. She was his Queen, his lover and wife! This was what she'd wanted and hoped for from her gentle Tommen, that one day he'd become the man she knew lingered beneath that sweet exterior. He'd found his inner beast, that primal sense of self as he probed and prodded, his hips taking just as much as his tongue. He pulled away and began nibbling along her flesh, searing bites that caused her to call out, bittersweet agony as his mouth finally latched onto her breasts. Tommen...Tommen! Margaery cried as Tommen sucked on the large bits of flesh, teeth grazing her nipples hungrily and finally sinking deeply into the rosy pink. Nnngg...ahhh! she screamed, her eyes rolling back. Margaery wanted more. More of this raw lust and passion! More of her Tommen! This was everything she'd hoped for in her marriage to the King! His hand was firm as he slapped her ass, hard, his mouth relentless as he sucked and slurped her fleshy breasts. In and out, in and out, he refused to ease up as he thrust against her seething cunt. The sweet sounds of sex resonated everywhere as he crashed against her, bruising her body, her whimpers only urging him on and begging for more. Her juices were running down her thighs, slicking the skin and dampening his balls. More, Tommen... Margaery begged, her breaths short. Tommen didn't disappoint. He grabbed Margaery's waist and turned her over, her body splayed before him, her ass up in the air. He gripped her hips and thrust himself deep inside her aching cunt, forcing her down almost upon her stomach. Oh by the god... Margaery panted. Her cunt was quivering, her clit begging for release, but Tommen didn't seem ready to show mercy. He pounded against Margaery, his meaty balls slapping her clit with each thrust. She clutched the sheets beneath her, tears streaming down her cheeks. This was agony, sweet, beautiful agony! She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out! That look seared her soul. Sansa felt as though her breath was suddenly stolen from her body, like she was being plunged into the icy waters near her home back in Winterfell. But she held Lord Baelish'sPeytr'sgaze. He seemed bothered, almost uncomfortable. It was unlike him to show any sign of fear or weakness and that meant she truly needed to be afraid. A part of her felt as though she ought to be frightened that he'd go to such lengths to preserve his own life... No. He'd said their lives. Peytr always worked alone, never for or with another. But he obviously saw something in her. Perhaps it still had to do with self-preservation, but a man willing to see her as something useful, as something necessary to thrive was far more than anyone else had ever seen her to be. Suddenly her knees felt weak beneath her and she looked up into his eyes. Men? Sansa whispered, though she found herself leaning into Peytr's touch. How is it that you have been so fortunate? It was an innocent question. She feared that the one man willing to see her survive might suddenly fall ill...what then? Do you really think staying locked up will keep...keep us safe? She took a step closer, her body so close she could feel the heat emanating from his. I...I'm not ready to die.