11 Chapter 10 - Proceedings and Throne Room Fun

~ Small Council Chambers ~

"How are the preparations for the Tourney of the Hand coming along Lord Baelish?" Ned Stark questioned as the small council once again convened for another meeting. He sat at the center of the table on one side, followed by Varys, Baelish and Lord Royce on his left, while Pycelle, Stannis, Ser Barristan on the other side. These men made up the small council alongside the King and the newest position on the council which belonged to Randyll Tarly, Commander of the Royal Guard.

From the very few meetings that Eddard Stark had attended with this lot, amidst discovering the truth behind Jon Arryn's death and looking after his daughters, he had quickly learnt about two things. One, Robert was just a figurehead at this point since it seems he never attended the council meetings and only dumped his work, aka, ruling the realm on Jon Arryn. And the second thing, that the prince essentially controlled the city.

He had taken up the place of his father on the council when he was very young but due to difference in opinions between him and the former hand, Jon Arryn, started attending these meetings less and less until he completely stopped after his 12th nameday and only spoke with certain members of the council privately. Ned thought that he might have had something to do with his late mentor's death but he dissolved that thought quickly when it occurred to him that the prince was going to inherit the throne after his friend passed away, so he did not have to do anything to Jon Arryn as he could replace him the moment, he became King.

"It is coming along quite well Lord Hand; the prince had already sent his men to get everything ready and the preparations are coming along splendidly. It may be over in a few days I believe," Baelish answered in his creepy voice. Something did not sit right with him about him. The bastard had somehow come up from being the heir to a small house of the Vale and was now the Master of Coin? Something was up.

"Very well, is there anything else to discuss my lords?" Ned asked as he himself did not know enough about this place yet to drag this meeting further.

"No Lord Stark, we already have our orders from Prince Orys, so there is no need for you to trouble yourself," Lord Royce answered. He was man of honor and bravery and that was why he held the position of the Master of Laws. He was a staunch supporter of Jon Arryn and respected Eddard as well, since he was groomed by his Lord.

But unknowingly, his words annoyed the Northern Lord. He started feeling as if he had no role to play here since everything was being managed either by the prince or his men. He was here not only to uncover the truth about Jon Arryn's death, but also to help Robert in maintain the kingdom. Right now, he was feeling kind of insecure about his position but he hid it well.

"Good, then this meeting of the small council is over," Ned said, and the people began leaving one by one. Ned was about to leave as well, when he was stopped by none other than Lord Varys.

"Ah, finally my lord, let us speak in private. Its about the former hand's death," the bald eunuch began, catching Ned's attention easily.

~ Meanwhile, in the Throne Room ~

"Someday, your husband will sit there with you by his side" the Stark's septa started in a firm tone, eyes planted on the spiky throne reserved for the king, an accumulation of swords taken from the enemies, melted by the fire of a dragon and shaped into a throne. "And one day, you'll present him with a son of your own, in front of all the Lords and Ladies of Westeros."

Sansa had a dopey smile on her face imagining the day she and her prince would get married. He was everything she desired and more. He was a great warrior, a good ruler and an even amazing person. Someone who was loved by all. The welcome he received by his people when they entered the city confirmed that thought in her mind.

He stood up for her against his own brother and even protected her sister, who as usual almost ruined everything for her. Her prince not only saved her and her sister, but Nymeria and Lady were alive and well as well. Even though she was sad that they were not here with them, at least they were alive.

Her opinion of the Queen and Prince Joffrey had vastly diminished. She might be a dumb girl but even she could see the sadistic glint in the eyes of those two when they said they wanted her Lady dead. If not for her Orys, those two might have cut off both of their dire wolves' neck and had it displayed on the walls of the keep.

She was extremely happy she did not have to marry that asshole and neither did Arya have too. She barely paid attention to the rambling of the old bat as she got lost in her fantasies.

A gentle cough echoed across the room, gaining the attention of the two. A softly grinning Orys stood leaning against the Iron Throne, hands crossed over his extremely sculpted chest as he stared at them in amusement.

"Of course, your grace" the septa softly spoke up, offering a small bow as she moved for the gates of the chamber.

"Orys!" Sansa exclaimed in surprise as she was broken out of her dreams.

"Come on up over here" the dark-haired prince gestured to the pedestal, earning a timid look from curvy girl as she looked around in anxiety. "You're to be my future queen, Sansa, act like one."

"…" the tall, wide-hipped princess didn't say anything but his grinning expression eased her enough to walk up the stairs and approach him, making sure not to stare at his perfectly chiselled abs and chest…and groin. God why was talking to him so difficult!? Even though they had made out before, she still felt nervous around him.

"Sit on the throne" Orys said nonchalantly.

"W-what?" Sansa exclaimed in surprise. Did he know what he was saying?!

"You heard me, sit" Orys commanded this time.

"I c-can't!"

"Yes, you can" The curvy redhead did not move from her place, causing the young prince sigh. "Fine, how about we sit together?"

"T-together?" Side by side… bodies touching…a mere inch apart from intimate touches… Her cheeks reddened instantly as the thought raced through her mind. "We s-shouldn't … w-what if someone sees us?"

A shiver went up her spine at the word 'us'.

"They will see Lady Sansa, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, First of her Name, Queen of the Northerners and Protector of the Realm sitting beside her future husband and king " Orys started in a mock polite tone, offering a cheeky grin. "Plus, my men are guarding outside and will not allow anyone with enough authority to enter this room."

It was so corny but by the God if those words didn't make her feel lightheaded and ready to faint. "Arya was right; you're a g-goofball"

…

…

…

"She then realised what she said and put her hands on her mouth, but before she could start apologizing, Orys simply began laughing. "Hmm, looks like I will have to visit Lady Arya and correct my opinion of her soon. But insulting your future king? Bold move, Lady Sansa. I may have to punish you now," the prince said huskily as he brought his body close to hers and pressed them against each other as he began kissing her neck.

She could feel his well-toned body against hers and it made her feel… tingly between her legs. She could not help but let out soft moans as her prince began marking her neck.

"Time for your punishment." That was all the warning she got.

"Eeepp!"

The next thing she knew, everything had changed.

The redhead bombshell was laying across Orys' lap, stomach down. Her chest pressed against his thighs, as her thick rear cheeks were raised in the air. Her cheeks (FACE) were extremely red, realising his intentions and what the punishment was going to entail. "Isn't this wonderful…my lady?" he said as one of his arms snaked across her chest before resting on her fleshy left breast.

It made her heart flutter. "It is…" She did not know where that came from, but she was not complaining. What surprised her, stunned and utterly shocked her even, was the fact that she wasn't putting up the least possible amount of protest after he pulled her down. How could she? This was what she had once dreamed about… during a particularly naughty dream.

"Now, you called your future king a goofball? Right?" Orys said as he began massaging her back causing her to release soft moans and pleasure sounds.

"Yes, my prince. I apologize for that," she spoke up timidly.

"And is that polite?" he asked as his hands FINALLY moved downwards.

"No…AAAH!" she let out a scream, filled with pleasure and a little bit of pain.

Orys had just… slapped her rear?! As if she were a common whore?! She found that degrading, but she couldn't bring herself to stop him. Because… she found that she… quite liked it.

"No, what?" Orys questioned, smacking her behind again, causing her to release another moan. Something was starting to build up inside her lower area.

"No, Your Grace," she said as she panted. Her face was all red and she had the sudden urge to start touching herself… the same she had seen her mother do to herself once.

"Well done, Sansa. Now, insulting your future king requires heavy punishment. So, start counting," Orys commanded before hiking up her skirt and small clothes, causing her to reveal her milky flesh and red hand print that was quickly forming on it.

"Yes… Your Grace," Sansa said, accepting her rather pleasurable punishment/fate. By the end of her rather enjoyable punishment, the color of her hair, face as well as that juicy ass was the same shade of red.

If a member of the Stark House had walked in on them right now, they would have fainted from sheer shame, thinking how the Stag was corrupting their gorgeous flower.